My Top 10 Films of the Decade | 2010-2019

Arrival

Many of my top picks wrestle with humanity on an intimate scale, tackling topics like love and self-validation. This one takes on some of the biggest and most deeply human questions possible. Are we alone in the universe? Is there other intelligent life out there? I’ve never understood why science fiction films don’t garner the same type of critical recognition as dramas when they ask these questions. Some might only see Amy Adams talking to aliens for two hours, but this isn’t just another Hollywood “aliens come to Earth” story. It’s a manifesto on just how little we know. We as humans are limited by our languages, our perspectives, and our perception of time. The central question of the film is, “how do we communicate with a species we don’t understand?”

This driving puzzle exposes our ignorances while poking at our resistance to accepting new ideas. Villeneuve blatantly exposes a worldwide inclination toward trigger-happy warfare. If you’re looking for it, the conversations with the aliens can be viewed as a metaphor for modern politics and foreign diplomacy. How do we communicate and form bonds with Russia or China when our cultures are so different? How do we create alliances rather than enemies?

There aren’t many directors working right now who are asking these kinds of questions in their work, let alone in a massive science fiction movie with two A-list stars. Arrival marked the fifth of his six films in the 2010s for Denis Villeneuve, who may have been my most revered director of the decade alongside Paul Thomas Anderson. He strikes next with his adaptation of Dune this coming December. I’m eager to see what he gives us in the coming decade not only because I love his iconic visual style but also his fearlessness in tackling big ideas.

Birdman

This could be considered the Decade of the Long Take. It gave us films like Gravity, The Revenant, Roma and 1917. Doing a film as a oner does not automatically equal greatness or importance. Of course, it’s a tremendous technical achievement but I’m recognizing Birdman primarily because of its story, or more specifically, how the camerawork and story work together. It’s a story about questioning oneself and one’s value. Michael Keaton’s character goes through a mid-life crisis, which is all too relatable in our career-driven society. He wants to deliver a breathtaking play that will knock the socks off critics and preserve his self-worth. Underneath that, though, it’s about a father and daughter struggling to repair a relationship that was torn apart by the father’s career and character flaws.

In the end, all Riggin wants to do is put on a performance worthy of his inner-most self. It’s about the two sides of a person: the artist and the human being. He wants to achieve his dreams, live up to his expectations of himself, spread his wings and fly away. Save for the last two being more literal than figurative, these are aspects of life many of us, particularly those in creative careers, can relate to deeply. The first time I saw this film, it made me confront my own inner dialogue and my fears of failure. That’s a powerful message to leave an audience with. It’s also worth noting that this film made the second out of three consecutive years Emmanual Lubezski took home the Oscar for Best Cinematography. Many people may have forgotten about that by now, but I maintain that it’s good to pay respect to one of the most impressive feats in Oscar history.

First Reformed

Like Arrival, this one is about the big questions. It’s a harrowing story about a pastor wrestling with his faith, questioning our place on Earth and what we have done to it. Ethan Hawke delivers one of the most compelling performances of his career as pastor Toller. He is confronted by the scientific facts of climate change after a young woman asks him to lend counsel to her husband, Michael, a severely depressed eco-activist who has become increasingly radical in his activism. He tells Toller how he doesn’t want his wife to have a baby for fear of bringing a child into a world we are sure to destroy. Needless to say, this movie isn’t exactly a tea party.

Although it’s rather heavy to digest, Paul Schrader’s sharp direction and poignant screenplay make it riveting to watch. It functions like a mystery as it sets us up to wonder what Michael and Toller will do, how they will resolve the guilt and fear and uncertainty building inside them. As Toller begins to unravel, the bomb becomes a symbol of his inner destruction. It also represents the “bomb” that is climate change, an unstoppable force that, if it goes off, could be the end of man. The story unfolds as a dark, modern parable. In the grand scheme of the history of this century, I think First Reformed could be one of the most important and prescient films on this list. It left me speechless after the credits rolled, mind-rattled, on edge, and desperate for more answers. It’s a brilliantly impactful film, prompting you to ask yourself some questions about your own beliefs and faith, and once you see it, you’ll be unspooling its resonance for years.

Inside Llewyn Davis

As previously stated when discussing The Social Network, if one thing defined the ‘10s, it has to be social media. The steady rise of Instagram and Twitter signaled a change in self-promotion and the entertainment industry in general. More people than ever know how it feels to see everyone around them getting famous yet struggle to do so themselves. Inside Llewyn Davis is for those people, the little people with dreams of making it big, who feel like they’re stranded in a crowd. It’s a gorgeous, melancholy portrait of the young musician swimming against the current. It’s profound in its subtlety and substantiated by some truly tear-jerking musical sets by Oscar Isaac. I would be hardpressed not to include a Coen Brothers film on my list. Sure, some people might argue that the Coens’ best work is behind them, living in 2007 or perhaps in the ’90s. “Watch Inside Llewyn Davis,” is all I have to say to that. 

 

Lady Bird

I couldn’t help but feel like Greta Gerwig’s Lady Bird signaled a new generation of directors. There are many other great young directors, of course, but none other perhaps as lauded and openly embraced as Gerwig. Her irreverent humor and masterful dialogue catapulted her into being one of the most exciting screenwriters on the block.

Besides solidifying Gerwig in the eye of Hollywood, this film signaled the true rise of Saoirse Ronan and to a lesser extent Beanie Feldstein and Timothee Chalamet, who had just come off of his debut, Call Me By Your Name. Pair such a promising cast with Gerwig’s script and you get one of the most uproarious and honest portrayals of modern teenagers in recent memory. After I first saw it, I distinctly recall thinking, “I wish this film had existed when I was in high school.” It’s an important film due to its potential to stand as a touchstone coming-of-age story for the next generation of teens and children. If nothing else this coming decade, we can look forward to more beautiful films from Greta Gerwig. 

The Lobster

Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos put forth a very impressive decade with four directorial features. I first became aware of him after 2011’s Alps, which I loved. I’ve seen everything since, up through 2018’s The Favourite, which was surely one of my favorite films from that year. I, however, believe The Lobster to be his masterpiece. It’s a satirical, dystopian love story with the darkest of humor. It jeers at the ideas of love and mating, reducing them to incompassionate social “requirements”. The concept of citizens being obligated to find a partner or otherwise be sent to a quasi-hotel-meets-prison where they will have 45 days to find one, or else be turned into an animal of their choosing, is one of the most compelling and nefarious social commentaries I’ve seen in a film. It’s an altogether peculiar metaphor for modern love that made me both laugh and cringe.

Sure, this may not be the most romantic “love story” to put on a top ten list. That’s the point though. I think this film speaks on behalf of the underlying angst in modern dating, the frustrations of dating apps, and a generation of people who might no longer view marriage as the social obligation it once was. Dark humor of this nature may not appeal to everyone. But to me, it cuts to the core of our sensibilities and offers a glimpse of what society might be like if it weren’t for manners, taboos, and formalities. There were many other great romances this decade, such as La La Land, Carol, Silver Linings Playbook, and The Big Sick, but this is the one that most affected me and the one I expect to think about the most in years to come. 

Moonlight

Perhaps no film on this list shook me as hard emotionally as Moonlight. As I said about Phantom Thread, there are almost too many aspects of this film to compliment. It’s visually stunning despite being mostly comprised of intimate, domestic scenes between two characters. There aren’t any open vistas or intense action scenes here. Every shot is deliberate, stunning and haunting. This is of course accentuated by the performances. Ashton Sanders, Alex Hibbert and Trevante Rhodes are mesmerizing in their mosaic portrayal of Chiron. Additionally, Mahershala Ali plays support and delivers an iconic performance, cementing himself into the public consciousness. (This is something we can all be thankful for.)

They, and the direction of Barry Jenkins, tell a triptych story that captures the difficulty of dealing with trauma over the course of almost twenty years. It brims with emotion in every scene, never shying away from it. Jenkins asks difficult questions about masculinity and homosexuality while forcing the viewer to confront Chiron’s hardships right with him. It’s one man’s journey toward accepting himself, struggling to stay above water as his environment rejects him. It’s an ultimately tragic love story with a Shakespearian aura about it. I feel like it will stand as a pillar of this decade for its unique storytelling, emotional resonance, and for serving as a pioneering work for LGBTQ representation in Hollywood. This latter point alone would make it important, but Moonlight is not a mere token or representation based pick. It has great social significance if you want it to but it also has the benefit of being a tremendously well-made film.

Phantom Thread

First of all, this film is unbelievably, unspeakably gorgeous. It’s stunning on every level. The cinematography makes you feel like you’re floating in a fog at dawn. The costuming is brilliant, which at once meta-parallels and emphasizes the protagonist’s vocation. Meanwhile, Daniel Day-Lewis and Vicky Krieps deliver some of the most mind-blowing performances I’ve ever seen. They are preposterously deliberate and calculated while seeming so raw and authentic. Every aspect of their lives is so beautiful and specific, you wish you could jump inside the frame.

This is one of the world’s most tragic love stories. It aims at those who put work before relationships, anyone who has ever walked all over somebody. I simply loved everything about it when I saw it because it’s unapologetic. It’s dark and poetic, gritty yet tidy. Now after multiple viewings, I’ve found almost too many ways to praise this film. PTA is truly one of our greatest directors living and quite possibly my favorite still working. He made three films this decade that were all incredible, including this one, Inherent Vice and The Master.  I almost put The Master in this spot but decided to allow only one film per director in my top ten and I couldn’t live with not including Phantom Thread. Let it be known, though, that The Master is also one of the best films of the decade. I simply gravitate toward Phantom Thread a little more. The performances, grandeur, and its twisted sense of romance are too intriguing for me.

The Social Network

I’m a lover of all things David Fincher. While one could argue that this isn’t his best, I believe it to be his most important film. It’s a tremendously well-executed legal procedural on top of being a tragic character study. The high octane story was blessed by the pairing of Fincher and screenwriter Aaron Sorkin. Many have already come to revere this as one of the preeminent screenplays not just of this decade, but this century. It’s a sharp and exacting story about one of the most influential inventions in history: Facebook.

Other films like Eighth Grade have addressed the topic of social media this decade. However, The Social Network is the preeminent choice for having most acutely captured its impact. Some of us love social while many are appalled by what it has done to culture. We see the meteoric rise of Mark Zuckerberg and can’t decide whether or not to root for him during his subsequent legal battles.

I love this film because it’s about an anti-hero. In reality, we identify Mark Zuckerberg largely as a villain. But he gains our empathy in the film despite his flaws. He’s a compelling character in the same lane as Tony Montana, overly ambitious and horribly flawed, but also oddly relatable. I think audiences have always deeply related to anti-heroes. Look at the recent success of Nightcrawler, Drive, or 2019’s Joker for proof. The flaws of these characters reflect our own. They exhibit society’s darker tendencies and darker sentiments about how cruel, corrupt, and unfair the world is. Mark fights for what he believes is his, what he has worked and fought so hard for. It’s a story about the American dream at its precipice. It’s a near-spotless film that I genuinely believe will hold a rooted place in cinematic history.

 

Spiderman: Into the Spider-verse

I’m a fan of superhero movies. I love Superman but the movies aren’t great, the Dark Knight franchise rules, and most Marvel movies are “solid”. There are no two ways around it, superhero movies are here to stay. And even though I’m a fan, I can’t help but feel the saturation. That’s why innovative takes on them are so exciting. This decade we got Deadpool and Logan, which were both great, but I feel like Spiderman: Into the Spider-verse is the perfect remedy for inane, repetitious superhero movies.

I’ve always been an admirer of animation so when I saw this film in the theater it blew my mind. The visuals are mind-bending and unbelievably unique in how they blend together various animation styles. From the first frame to the last, this film is unrelentingly creative, each frame literally drips with ingenuity and heart. It oozes with sincerity, seeking to make the film feel like an actual comic book. But the animation alone wouldn’t have landed it on my list, otherwise, I could have picked any animated film. The story is adventurous and fun, like basically any action movie, but it has deeper themes about resiliency in the face of adversity and the value of family, which set it apart. The animation functions as a wonderful and whimsical playground for a surprisingly deep story. It speaks on family ties while delving into sci-fi territory, discussing multiple timelines and realities. It’s equal parts hilarious and humanist, with one of my favorite closing ideas of the decade. When Miles says, “You could wear the mask”, he encapsulates everything the film is about. This poetic and democratic message is empowering for a generation of young people who will watch this film.