Best of 2022

You know the drill by now, folks. Here’s my favorite media from this past year, whether or not it came out in 2022.

Books

Somehow, despite my track record, I managed to read 17 books this year. I know, right? I fell back in love with reading in 2022, and actually made an effort to find the time to slowly make it through my to-read list (and the fact that I was forced into the habit of reading quickly because of work and school definitely helped). Because of the nature of the way I consume media, I enjoy most of the books I choose to read. But here are a few of my favorites.

Never Let Me Go — Kazuo Ishiguro

Incidentally, I saw the movie adaptation last year before reading this book, on my ever-continuing quest to see all of Andrew Garfield’s films. And while I liked the movie, I found it so utterly sad that I didn’t think I would be reading the novel any time soon. So, as fate would have it, this was the first book was assigned for my literature class this past Spring. Somehow despite the film changing a lot of key details (and also making the story more centered on the love triangle than the book is) they tonally are almost identical. Ishiguro’s prose isn’t super flowery or intentionally profound but the simplicity of it works exceptionally well with the subject matter. It’s funny how a book published in 2005 and set in the 1990s can be so relevant to current times, and while the book was sometimes even more sad than the film, it’s well worth it.

Cat’s Cradle — Kurt Vonnegut

I said it’s funny how a book published in 2005 is so relevant to current times, so how about one from 1963? Ever since I read Slaughterhouse Five last year, I was itching to read more Vonnegut — something about the unassuming nature of his stories (despite their covert and often overt commentary) was incredibly appealing to me, and this novel did not disappoint. I might even go as far to say I liked it better than Slaughterhouse Five. You can’t really go wrong with Vonnegut, in my opinion (and perhaps also the opinion of the public, seeing how much of a classically American author he is) and if you have no experience with him, Cat’s Cradle is a great place to start.

Choke — Chuck Palahniuk

Another repeat author from last year! My sophomore year English teacher recommended this novel to one of my best friends but then told him to not talk to her about it after he read it. And honestly, I get why. This is not a book for the faint hearted. Reading it very much gives the feeling of playing hot potato with Victor, the main character, with one of your hands being “he’s a good person” and the other being “he’s an absolutely terrible person,” oftentimes sticking a bit longer in the latter. It’s absurd, satirical, funny, and bold, and if you end up reading it — and I highly recommend that you do — please don’t talk to me after.

If We Were Villains — M.L. Rio

I tend to be overly critical of books deemed “dark academia,” so I was very pleasantly surprised by this novel. Following a tight-knight but fractured group of acting students at a Shakespeare college conservatory in the Midwest after one of their classmates is murdered, If We Were Villains not only tells a compelling tale of sacrifice and loss and love that straddles two timelines, it is also distinctly aware of the Shakespeare it quotes; unlike many other modern texts that deal with famed older ones, is actually in conversation with the plays it depicts. Does it have some iffy aspects to it? Yes, absolutely — this novel is not perfect. It is, however, extremely compelling, so much so that I didn’t put it down for two whole days, until I finished it.

Music

This was a weird music year for me, in that I found myself almost exclusively wanting to listen to entire albums at a time instead of making a playlist and listening to that. These albums aren’t really at a Fall Out Boy-2008-song-transition level (though who is, really?), but they are a pleasure to listen to from beginning to end.

Ivory — Omar Apollo

This album kind of slid under my radar when it first came out and then somehow, inexplicably, I found myself playing it on repeat three months after it was released. This is album-adjacent, but in 2022, it’s incredibly hard for regular people, let alone celebrities, to maintain some kind of privacy. It’s hard to create a barrier between what’s posted online and what’s happening in real life, and frankly when I hear about celebrities like Lee Pace being able to do it successfully (re: this lovely article), I can’t help but be glad. So in that same vein, there’s this weird expectation that people of interest divulge details about themselves, but Omar Apollo kind said “screw that” and just wrote songs that were from his experiences without ever stating anything to the public beforehand. The songs on this album are unapologetically queer (as is Apollo), but he never “came out” beforehand, and I just…love that for him. Not that there’s any wrong way to come out, as long as the person doing so is in control, but stories like Apollo’s are so rare nowadays that I can’t help but sit back and admire them. Now, none of that wonderful little anecdote was about the actual music on Ivory, but I think it goes unsaid now that Omar Apollo has had his finger on the pulse of what’s happening in the pop/alternative R&B world for a while now, and this album just proves it.

Blue Weekend — Wolf Alice

My friend has been asking me to listen to Wolf Alice — but also this album in particular — for way too long. I don’t know what made me finally sit down and commit to it (maybe it was being in the band’s city of origin), but I am so, so glad I did. Modern rock music is often a hit or miss but this band and this album are prime examples that it can be done, and done very well. From more guitar-heavy songs to almost ballads to songs that build in a way that makes you feel like you’re soaring through the air, this album has it all.

Bronco — Orville Peck

Oh, Orville Peck. What I thought might be (and perhaps what my friends hoped would be) a short-lived foray into country music,—though mostly, specifically Orville—here I am, still listening, my cowboy boots also still going strong. While I still love the masked cowboy’s first album and EP (Pony and Show Pony, respectively), this sophomore album is in a whole other ball game. It’s irresistibly catchy, genuinely heartfelt, and so much fun. Every kind of song you could ever want from an artist like Orville Peck is on this album, and from the gorgeous-as-usual music videos to the poetic-as-usual lyrics, every part of this album both met and surpassed my expectations, and I couldn’t recommend it enough.

Chlöe and the Next 20th Century — Father John Misty

I feel like if you walked into a club in Los Angeles in the 1960s you would hear music that sounds like this. Father John Misty has always delivered scathing criticism of Hollywood fame culture, consumerism, and more, all to beautiful melodies and toe-tapping beats, and this album is no exception. I absolutely adore the use of strings and brass on this album, and seeing him live in London this past Spring with a live saxophone player was a magical experience. If you like old jazz, 70s ballads, or just…good music, listen to this album. Personal favorites include: “Chlöe,” “Olividado (Otro Momento),” and “The Next 20th Century."

Harry’s House — Harry Styles

Is it a surprise that this album is on this list? I’m guessing it’s not. I’m not going to try to say something profound or original, or try to explain anything about the album or artist (because really, I’m kind of just assuming most people — or, at least, most people who read this blog — know who Harry Styles is by now). But I will say this: this album grew on me. My first time listening, I absolutely loved “Little Freak” and “Love of My Life,” with “Matilda” coming in as a close third, but the rest of the songs I was less excited about. And while I still do love the less traditionally pop-y sounds of Styles’ first two albums, this one quickly endeared itself to me after a few more listens, and I’m sure it’ll do the same for you.

The Car — Arctic Monkeys

(One of) my absolute favorites are back, and better than ever. Arctic Monkeys have this really interesting album-to-album trajectory where if you listened to Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not (their first album) and then this newest one back to back, it would be a very jarring experience to say the least. Yet if you listened to their discography in chronological order, the change is much more subtle. I truly love that this band has been able to stay true to themselves for so long by simply continuously reinventing, not to the point that they’re unrecognizable, but such that you can tell that they’re not afraid to try new ideas and sounds.

Stick Season — Noah Kahan

It is no understatement for me to say that this album took over my life. Unfortunately I think my obsession with it fell between the two Spotify-data-collecting periods, so it may just be voided entirely, but when I say that this album was on repeat for over a month, I mean I was literally listening to it from beginning to end at least four times a day. Yeah, I don’t know what happened either. Given the title “Folk Malone” by the internet, Kahan uses a uniquely Northeastern folk-country-pop sound to bring his songs and sorrows to life. This is not an album filled with songs of happiness, but something about the truth behind the lyrics is felt in the sound, and made it impossible for me to stop listening to it.

Being Funny in a Foreign Language — The 1975

Oh, The 1975. Yet another holdover from my middle school emo phase listening habits. It’s hard to describe how I feel about this band, and even harder to describe their music. They’ve always been more than vocal about the issues they perceive in the world through their lyrics, and this album is no exception. Previous albums (their last two, specifically) have been hyper-focused on capturing the intricacies of social media and the real-life social failings that happen as a result. Previous albums had openers like “The 1975” (the Notes on a Conditional Form version) featuring a speech by Greta Thunberg, songs like “Give Yourself a Try” noting the changing of the times through record-collecting, and Siri-spoken word numbers like “The Man Who Married a Robot / Love Theme” (which I incidentally made an unofficial music video for). This album is just as loud with its messaging, but notably different in what it’s actually saying. As Pitchfork notes in its review for the album, “at 44 minutes, it’s the band’s shortest and most focused album yet, one that perpetuates a simple message: Love will save us. It’s cliché, it’s obvious, it’s slyly profound—it’s the 1975.”

Television

This was quite a busy year in the television world. Peaky Blinders, and Derry Girls ended, and while I absolutely wish I could use the following space to talk about them, I would really just be repeating myself from previous years. So, while I will say that you should watch those shows, I’ll also say that you should watch these. Here’s the best shows I saw this year, plus where to watch them.

Heartstopper (Netflix)

This show is, in a word, saccharine. This show is not, by definition, the most original idea in the world, but it is inventive, and absolutely endearing. Heartstopper is based on a (originally published online) graphic novel series, one that I’ve been following for a few years now, and it’s genuinely so cool to see how it’s been adapted to television while still retaining the artistic style of the comics. It’s a story featuring a diverse and genuine set of characters; it’s awkward and colorful and sweet, and I can’t help but smile thinking about the kids who’ll get to grow up watching this show.

Abbott Elementary (ABC)

This show is the rebirth of the modern sitcom, and I don’t say that lightly. It’s smart, thoughtful, and above all, funny. Watching the rise of Quinta Brunson from Buzzfeed to here has been such a privilege, and I am so, so happy to see what a shining light this show is. I’ve been loving the return to the weekly release model for TV shows, and since this is network, it follows (and is uploaded to Hulu the day after it airs). This show is lighthearted but genuine, quirky but not annoying about it, and so easy to love. It’s currently in its second season (with a full 22-episode order, no less!!), so hop in now.

Our Flag Means Death (HBO Max)

I have never experienced a tone switch in a TV show the way I did with this one. I don’t want to spoil anything, because it really is so fun to experience, but you go into this show and it sells to you that it’s one thing only to turn itself on its head and prove itself to be something else — not nulling what it previously established, but building upon it. I’m not going to get into things like historical accuracy because I don’t know enough to, and frankly I don’t think this show is exactly aiming for realsim, but where this show isn’t perfect in its conversation with its source material, it is perfect in its joviality. There’s no other way to say it, this show is fun, and if you want a pirate-filled good time (who wouldn’t?), watch Our Flag Means Death.

Barry (HBO)

You, probably, looking at the picture I chose for this: that’s a haggard-looking white man holding a half-eaten donut.

Me: yeah…but he’s so messed up I wanna study him under a microscope

And if that isn’t a glowing review, what is? All jokes aside, Barry is unlike anything I’ve seen before. On the tin, it’s a half hour black comedy, but in experience, it’s more than that. It’s some of the best writing on television right now, filled to the brim with incredible performances, and has one of the most nail-bitingly devastating season finale’s I’ve seen in recent years. This show is a lot, but it’s worth it.

The Bear (Hulu)

As a former Shameless-watcher, it was very weird seeing Jeremy Allen White in this show, but after I got over that, it was easy to see that The Bear is a diamond in the rough. From my very basic outsider knowledge of the restaurant industry, it seems like prime material for a show, and this one knows it. It’s a show about restaurants but also family and the aftermath of loss and Chicago and chocolate cakes and giardiniera. The entire cast is incredible, and the seventh episode is an actual feat in filmmaking. Hungry? Watch this show.

The Boys (Amazon Prime)

Speaking of shows that are a lot…there’s this. The Boys is a show that I can’t not include on this list because of all the great things about it, but it’s also a show that I feel like I need to avert my eyes to recommend. Every possible content warning you can imagine (and 50 more you could never imagine) is present in this show. It’s never been subtle about its politics but I think this series has really blossomed in its latest season. Even though, for nostalgia reasons, it pains me to say this, I’ve started really actively disliking most of what Marvel makes nowadays. And in doing that, I’ve started retroactively noticing things about its past that I shouldn’t have brushed past. The Boys feels like an answer to my unasked-questions. It is, however, produced by Amazon, which is a major detractor, but I also know that it would not exist in the way that it does without the creative freedom that platform gives it. I don’t really know if this review was compelling in any way, but this show certainly is.

Severance (Apple TV+)

I was really struggling trying to find a photo for this because even though while watching it, this show is truly visually stimulating and gorgeously framed, no matter what, in still images, it looks like the blandest corporate atmosphere you can imagine. Which, I guess, is the point. This show is highly serialized, meaning that each episode plays a role in unraveling one of the many mysteries within the story — every episode ties to the last and sets up the next, so there’s no filler, even if you feel like there is in the moment. Between Bill Hader with Barry and Ben Stiller with this, 2022 is the year of famously-funny actors directing incredible dramas. You might have noticed that I haven’t talked about the plot of this show at all, and that’s on purpose. Anything I say will be too much information, so you just need to see this.

Pushing Daisies (HBO)

When I was watching this show and told people as much, they either had no idea what I was referring to or thought it was incredibly strange that I was watching it now, in 2022, when it originally aired in 2007. And listen, are the graphics aggressively of their era? Yes, but that’s part of the charm of Pushing Daises. With only two seasons (though how I wish there were more), this show is a quick watch, and everything from the story to the production design to, yes, the graphics, works harmoniously to create a wonderful world I couldn’t help but excitedly jump into. Even though I just finished this series, it’s one of those shows I know I’ll be coming back to time and time again, just for the comfort of the retro interior of Ned’s pie shop.

Films

In my last “best of” post, I prided myself on the fact that I watched over 100 films in the year. This year, I hit 100 in early May, and if all goes well, I’ll get to exactly 200 before the new year. Consuming media of any kind comes with this weird, eventual realization that no matter how many books you read or films you watch, you will never even make a dent in the number that are already out there. But this year, I sure as hell tried to leave at least a scratch. Here’s my favorite section of this post, and some of my favorite films I saw this year. I do my best to recommend movies that I either think the audience of this blog might not have seen, or movies that I simply can’t not talk about — I limited myself to 20 entries, but if you’re looking for more recommendations, I have a list at the very end.

The Fall — Tarsem Singh (2006)

2022 is the year of a Lee Pace renaissance. And by that I mean he’s off doing whatever it is he does in his free time on his farm in New York with his dog and husband and I’m sitting here in 2022 watching everything he’s been in. But that’s actually not how I ended up watching this movie. I saw the first twenty minutes of this film in my cinematography class last year, and instantly fell in love with the style and story. I was able to track it down early this year, and it did not disappoint in any way. From an absolutely endearing little girl as the protagonist to masterfully-chosen music to a surprising grounding in Indian locations and stories, this film was everything I wanted and nothing I expected. I could not recommend it more.

After Yang — Kogonada (2022)

The first word I would use to describe this film is “tender.” That’s just what it is, from its slow cinematography to its subtle story to the stunning performances within it. This is a story with technologies unknown to us in the present, humanoid/encyclopedic robots, and clones for daughters and friends, but it’s also one of the most people-oriented films I’ve seen from recent years. It’s a film about unconventional families and growth and what it means to be human, and if you’ve seen any of Kogonada’s visual essays or his first feature film Columbus, you’ll love this.

The Batman — Matt Reeves (2022)

I saw this film two times in one week, both in theatre, the first in iMAX. And it was so worth it. In a weird way this film revived my faith in what a superhero movie can look like. The format of a noir detective thriller is something I haven’t seen before in a superhero film, let alone in a recent film in general, and the intent behind this in everything from the visuals to the web of characters to Pattinson’s incredible performance is beautifully executed. It’s one of the only three hour long movies I’ve ever seen that doesn’t actually feel that long — it feels shorter. And if none of that was enough to convince you to see this, maybe the killer score (Michael Giacchino never disappoints) or the Nirvana song used in it that I subsequently listened to on repeat, will.

Red Rocket — Sean Baker (2021)

This movie opened in a wider release in the United States just after I left for London, so by the time it made it across the Atlantic, the anticipation was killing me. I actually haven’t seen Tangerine or The Florida Project (I know, I know) so I didn’t really have a point of reference for Baker’s work, but Red Rocket blew me away. Simon Rex’s performance is central to this film, and as a viewer you quickly get caught up in his lies and charisma. It’s gorgeously shot, super-saturated, and a wonderful addition to the list of films with morally-ambiguous protagonists.

My Beautiful Laundrette — Stephen Frears (1985)

I feel like I’d heard so much about the cultural impact of this film without ever actually knowing what it was about, so it was a welcome surprise to watch it in one of my classes this year. There’s a lot going on in this film, and not all of it gets resolved; my professor talked about how it’s essentially three movies in one. But despite the fact that there’s three plots fighting for attention and a boldly 80s score (shoutout Hans Zimmer?? lol) and text stylization, this film very quickly endeared itself to me. With a plot that centered around the cultural differences and significances of the characters without feeling trite or over-the-top, watching this film just felt like a breath of fresh air. Whether you watch it for the British story centered around Pakistani immigrants or the gay love story that doesn’t end in tragedy or Daniel Day Lewis’s absolutely iconic frosted tips, I promise it’ll be worth your while.

And Then We Danced — Levan Akin (2019)

There’s just something beautiful about watching people be passionate about something they care about, even if you know nothing about that thing. And there’s something captivating about watching people who are good at dancing, dance. This film, yes, has scene upon gorgeous scene of Georgian dancing, but it’s also a story of unconditional friendship and complicated families and forbidden love. It’s about generations of cultures clashing. This recommendation feels a lot like when I recommended Portrait of a Lady on Fire in my 2020 recap post, in that I know that most of the people reading this post will not watch this movie. But I had to include it. And if you ever feel the need to sit down and become taken with something you didn’t know you needed — maybe something you didn’t even know existed — give this film a chance.

The Bad Guys — Pierre Perifel (2022)

There are a million things I could say about this movie in terms of technical aspects, but none of that is as interesting as my mere experience of seeing this in theatres. I saw this movie alone at ten in the morning. I walked in expecting an empty theatre but instead found myself sitting directly behind three guys, about my age (I would guess), who—and I kid you not—laughed at every single joke in this film. Like, if a joke or gag was happening, at least one of these three was laughing. Sometimes just a snort, sometimes full, bending-over, barking laughter. And sure, this movie was funny, but my experience watching it is forever painted by how good of a time these guys were having watching it. The Bad Guys isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but the fact that three young people were able to sit in a theatre at ten in the morning and laugh their heads off at a kids’ film just…gives you hope, you know?

The Lost City — Adam Nee, Aaron Nee (2022)

Ah, the mid-budget rom-com. This movie is on the higher end of mid-budget (depending on your definition of the category) and it gloriously fills the void of this kind of movie in recent years. The Lost City is — and I mean this in the best way — so, so stupid. It’s absurd and campy and genuinely hilarious. It’s the kind of movie that makes going to the movies actually fun. Listen, I love a good drama, something that feels like a sucker punch to the emotions, but I also appreciate and know the necessity of fun, action packed movies like this one where you just get to watch Sandra Bullock and Channing Tatum riff off each other in a situation neither of their characters are remotely prepared for. Daniel Radcliffe is an absolute gem in this (as he is in most things, if we’re being honest) and Brad Pitt’s entire character arc left me genuinely more shocked than I have been watching a movie in a very long time.

Everything Everywhere All at Once — Daniel Scheinert, Daniel Kwan (2022)

Rarely am I at an almost complete loss for words after leaving the movie theatre. Usually I’m able to string together some kind of coherent thought, even if it’s just “that was such a pretty movie.” But after the Everything Everywhere All at Once screening (one that was over a month after the film’s original release, in London, and introduced by the Daniels, no less), I had so many thoughts I couldn’t articulate any of them. This is such an important film. For its ingenuity, its boldness, its humor, its tackling of huge topics from generational trauma to queer love. This is a movie about family, and about being kind—something that resonates more and more with each passing year as the world becomes more complicated by the second. I don’t want to tell you about the plot of this film, I don’t even want you to look at a trailer. Just go and watch it. If there’s any movie on this list that you watch, let it be this one.

Tokyo Story — Yasujirō Ozu (1953)

This movie is gorgeous and heartbreaking and beautifully told. It’s about valuing people and caring for those who have cared for you, and I had the absolute pleasure of getting to see it in theatres at the British Film Institute. Somewhere in the first third of this film you start to feel a profound ache in the centre of your chest that doesn’t fully let up until the whole thing is over. It’s meticulously shot and wonderfully acted, and if you somehow come across it and are willing to just sit back and watch a no-frills story unfold, I urge you to press play on Tokyo Story.

La Haine — Mathieu Kassovitz (1995)

Set against a backdrop of protests, chaos and police brutality in Paris, La Haine is more relevant than ever. It’s a film about its political climate but it’s also a film about its characters individual struggles, the tense dynamics of the friend group, and the way that individuals are affected by larger societal issues and events. It’s gorgeously shot, unexpectedly funny, and just over an hour and a half of absolutely engaging storytelling. Weirdly while watching it I couldn’t help but compare it to Do The Right Thing, if only for the fact that both films take place over the course of a single day, but despite the tonal differences, both films are masterpieces in their own right. This is the kind of film you need to put on, and then sit back and be taken on a ride for. You need to let yourself get so immersed in the world that looking away from the screen makes you wonder why your world isn’t in black and white.

Speed — Jan de Bont (1994)

An action movie for the ages. A script that I cannot believe actually compelled someone to make it. Keanu Reeves at his noodley-est. Him and Sandra Bullock separately, in real life, developing crushes on the other and not doing anything about it resulting in palpable on-screen tension. Oh, yeah, and absolutely improbable stunts involving various forms of public transportation. Sold yet? I feel like I’ve been just referencing the concept of this movie without having actually seen it for so long. The way the tension builds in this film is a masterclass for action movies everywhere. Despite its absurdity it’s actually quite a tight story with little to no loose ends. It’s bombastic (no pun intended) and the kind of movie that has you asking yourself how they could possibly escalate the situation more, only for you to be shown how.

Top Gun: Maverick — Joseph Kosinski (2022)

This year’s list is odd, I’ll give it that. There’s this dissonance in my brain that occurs when I think about Top Gun: Maverick too hard, because on one hand, is it military propaganda? Absolutely. And on the other hand, is it a genuine return and ode to summer blockbusters, a feat of in-camera effects and stunts, and an acknowledgement of Tom Cruise’s aging whilst still being a stronghold in the film industry? Also yes. This industry is changing by the second. It always has been, but especially right now. Movie stars aren’t what they used to be. The concept of celebrity isn’t what it used to be. Tom Cruise is one of the last of the originals, and if this film is anything, it’s an announcement that he’s not going anywhere, not yet at least. But beyond the narrative beyond the narrative, this film is really just a good time. Its aerial stunts make you feel like you’re flying, its plot is just convoluted enough to keep you on your toes (it knows what it is and who you are and doesn’t try to be a smartass about it), and has just the right tone and touch of nostalgia without bashing you over the head with it. This movie was made for wide appeal, and boy does it appeal widely.

Cha Cha Real Smooth — Cooper Raiff (2022)

It’s really weird being almost the exact age of the protagonist of a film when you see it. Because I can’t say whether the visceral reaction I had watching this film is a result of the film’s prowess or just my own connection to it. I can’t say how I’ll feel when I’m not this age. But I will say this: Cha Cha Real Smooth is another welcomed addition to the category of films that ultimately come down to kindness. Andrew (the protagonist) is just so, so kind. Of course he has his low moments, of course he’s angry at times and selfish and everything else a multifaceted human being is. But he also cares so much — about his mother, his brother, and quickly, Domino and Lola. He gets people on the dance floor because he truly wants everyone to be having a good time. There are parts of this film that make it clear that it’s not supremely sophisticated (it’s only Raiff’s second feature after his 2020 debut with Shithouse) but it’s so easily lovable that it kind of doesn’t matter.

Hunt For the Wilderpeople — Taika Waititi (2016)

Even though, and for reasons that elude me, whole swaths of the internet seem to have turned against Taika Waititi this year, Hunt for the Wilderpeople is proof, at least for me, that he is deserving of his accomplishments. All the humor and heart that people like in his take on Thor? All the colors and focus on character? Things like that, things that Waititi has now made himself known for, are at the core of this film. In a word, it’s endearing. This movie walks the line of kindhearted and cliche, without ever dipping into the latter. At its core, it’s a story with so much heart, and it’s a film you can just tell is a labor of love. There’s a good reason why this film is the highest grossing in New Zealand’s history, and it isn’t just the beautiful aerial shots of the mountains. At just over an hour and a half, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend an evening than to sit back and watch Hunt for the Wilderpeople.

Before Sunrise — Richard Linklater (1995)

If we’re being extremely unkind, this film is a 101 minute long podcast. It’s limited when it comes to a strong structural plot (a premise and some devices used to propel the film forward throughout, but there isn't not much more). The characters frequently monologue, or at the least have deep conversations whilst doing benign things like sit on a crate in an alley. But the thing is, the thing is, that’s exactly why I loved this movie, and exactly why it works. A less sophisticated work might try to utilize deep monologues only for them to feel tiresome (*cough* Midnight Mass *cough*) but I could endlessly watch Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy discover the meaning of life through conversation. This movie is the first in a trilogy, and the whole thing is worth your time. This is one of those romcoms where the term romcom almost feels inadequate to describe what’s happening in the film, and I could not recommend it more.

Edward II — Derek Jarman (1991)

It is…very rare for me to write a long, earnest review on Letterboxd. I love the site, and I enjoy reading other people’s thoughtful reviews, but I usually fall back on jokes, because that’s what first draw me to the app (“this happened to my buddy Eric” in reference to Joker still gets me). But that said, when I saw Edward II and then sat down to rate and review it, I couldn’t make any jokes. I just couldn’t. So (and maybe this is just me being lazy) here’s the review, because I can’t say anything here that I haven’t already said there:

“The time is little, that thou has to stay. And therefore, give me leave to look my fill.”

So much of this film is masterfully crafted (the set design, costuming, acting, contrast between a Shakespeare-era play and the late 20th century queer rights movement, I could go on) but what this really comes down to are moments that pierce your soul. Mid-film, Isabella (Tilda Swinton) goes to Kent (Jerome Flynn) for advice regarding his brother and her husband, Edward (Steven Waddington). He lists off kings and their “minions,” from Alexander and Hephaestion to Achilles and Patroclus. In-context, his point is to essentially tell her not to worry, but stuff like that always just has me needing to take a deep breath and return to that quote from the secret letters between two British men during WWII, one of them a solider:

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all our letters could be published in the future in a more enlightened time? Then all the world could see how in love we are.”

Edward II lived in the late 1200s, Christopher Marlowe wrote this play in the late 1500s, Derek Jarman made this film in the late 1900s, and here I am watching it in 2022. History, unfolding upon itself. I wonder what they would think. The world is nowhere near perfect, but for centuries we sure as hell have been trying to fix it, hoping that one day, somewhere in the future, someone will have it better than we did.

Aftersun — Charlotte Wells (2022)

Half of me wants to not say a single word about this movie and just outright recommend it, and half of me wants to try to use this space to articulate my thoughts on this complex, heartbreaking, and quiet portrayal of a relationship between a father and his daughter. I absolutely loved how much Aftersun takes its time, how much it trusts not only its audience to understand, but itself to say what it needs to say in the way it wants to say it. There are these extremely long shots scattered throughout the film, upwards of a minute long, where sometimes there’s barely any on-screen action. And it’s beautiful. This film just feels like one of those rare ones where you can easily categorize your life into before you watched it and after. Aftersun is 90 minutes long, and although it feels longer than that, it doesn’t feel long. It’s understated and beautiful and sensitive and every other complimentary but vague adjective because I really think it’s best seen with no knowledge beforehand. I can’t say it’s for everyone, simply because of how experimental it allows itself to be, but I’d be remiss to not include it on this list.

The Banshees of Inisherin — Martin McDonagh (2022)

What do you do if your best friend of decades decides he no longer wants to associate with you? Not because of anything you’ve said or done, but because, in his words, you’re a bit “dull”? If you’re Colin Farrell’s character in The Banshees of Inisherin, you don’t take no for an answer. This film, despite its simple premise and lack of a plot more complicated than what I’ve just described, contains multitudes. Not only is is a very interesting character study of two contrasting figures, it puts opposing sensibilities and life outlooks against each other (is our legacy that which is told through our loved ones, or is it in the tangible things we leave behind?). It has McDonagh’s classic sense of humor, in that the situation at hand is serious and everyone in it takes it seriously, but there are just these small moments that have you laughing out loud. And on top of all of this, Banshees is set against the countryside on an Irish island, meaning that this film is gorgeous to look at, filled with lush greenery. Something about the subtlety of the film combined with the earnestness with which these characters approach their lives made it impossible for me not to love this film.

Glass Onion — Rian Johnson (2022)

The ever-awaited return of Benoit Blanc! This sequel to Knives Out took everything that worked in the original movie and heightened it. With stellar performances all around and Daniel Craig running around wearing ascots and speaking with a hilariously-unspecific and unrealistic Southern accent, what more could you want from a modern, social-commentary murder mystery? While I do think I personally prefer the autumnal, small-scale aesthetic of the first film, nothing about Glass Onion disappoints. I was lucky enough to see it in theatres for its one-week Thanksgiving pre-release, and while I wish that was an experience everyone could enjoy (this is a film made to be viewed with others), watching it on Netflix with a large group of people is good too. There’s not much more I can (or even want to) say, because the nature of a mystery film means you just need to watch it, no expectations.