The Best Movies Directed By Women of 2018 So Far

It’s already been a standout year for female filmmakers.

How important has 2018 been for female filmmakers so far? Well, in January we witnessed the debut of the #TimesUp movement and the second global Women’s March in as many years. February saw female directors nearly sweeping the Sundance awards. March brought the biggest-budget film ever directed by a woman of color, along with a much-needed conversation about inclusion riders. In May, Cannes Film Festival was marked by two protests led by actresses and filmmakers demanding inclusion and diversity. And just this month, inequalities in the media industry were brought into the conversation once again thanks to both a damning research report by USC Annenberg and a feature-length documentary about this very topic, Half the Picture. So yeah, it’s been quite a year for women filmmakers.

The year has also already brought us loads of excellent films with women at the helm. So far, only four movies with female directors (A Wrinkle in Time, Blockers, I Feel Pretty, and Forever My Girl) have broken into the top 50 at the domestic box office, but that doesn’t mean the good work isn’t out there. Some of the best upcoming films, among them The Miseducation of Cameron Post, Tigers Are Not Afraid, I Am Not A Witch, and Night Comes On, have been making waves on the festival circuit but are still awaiting their theatrical release. Others have been relegated to super-limited theatrical releases, but it’s never too late to catch them on streaming services, VOD, or home media. Below, check out ten standouts from the first half of 2018.

The Rider (directed by Chloe Zhao)

A paintbrush-stroke pastel sky frames several scenes of The Rider, too perfect to be real, like something out of an Americana jigsaw puzzle. Yet the wonder of Zhao’s second film is that it is real, and so is almost everything else about this deeply affecting neo-Western. The rodeo cowboy with a debilitating head injury (Brady Jandreau)–a quietly tragic symbol of an unsustainable American ideal–is real and, along with his family and friends, all played by the people who these events really happened to. It makes sense that these people are the real deal, more or less re-enacting their own life stories on South Dakota’s Pine Ridge Reservation because Zhao’s films hold more truth in a single sequence of verisimilitude than most do in their entirety. The casual authenticity of small-town life is revealed to us with tremendous care and understanding that makes other renderings of rural America seem like a farce in comparison. Pain and longing, decades or maybe centuries old, are held in gestures and communicated in fleeting moments. A cowboy goes to a pawn shop to sell his best saddle. Two men run through the motions of a complicated handshake, one leading the other who is immobilized by permanent injury. An animal is put down, while a human is knocked in the dirt, but breathes on. And all this, too, is America.

Outside In (directed by Lynn Shelton)

Shelton’s latest is a novel idea executed with incredible tenderness. Chris (Jay Duplass) is a newly-freed felon, released from prison after twenty years served for a crime he didn’t commit. Both arrested in his development (now nearly forty, Chris travels by bike, gets a minimum wage job, and platonically pals around with a teenage girl) and made wise by his punishing isolation, the character strikes a fragile balance that an emotionally raw Duplass embodies masterfully. Fittingly, Chris tries to move beyond his long-muted life in the small Pacific Northwest town where he grew up, and its drizzly grey tones serve as a fitting backdrop. We soon find out that he was freed by the tireless work of his former teacher (Edie Falco), and though their relationship makes up the bulk of the story, it’s Chris’ quietly moving day-by-day odyssey through post-prison life that makes the film a standout.

A Wrinkle in Time (directed by Ava DuVernay)

Big, bold, and beautiful, DuVernay’s adaptation of the classic kids’ book didn’t quite get a glowing reception upon its release. Still, there’s plenty to love about this ambitious adventure film, first and foremost its message of radical self-love and acceptance. Believe it or not, DuVernay pared down the stranger bits of L’Engle’s galaxy-spanning story of faith and family, opting instead for a hero’s journey that nails home the tear-jerking theme that nothing in the universe is more foundationally important than cultivating care for yourself. Storm Reid is a memorable newcomer as Meg, a strong-willed girl searching through space for her missing scientist father. Meanwhile, a trio of fairy godmother-types played by Oprah, Mindy Kaling, and Reese Witherspoon brought us some of the most dazzling technical design–makeup, costumes, and visual effects–of the year so far.

Seeing Allred (directed by Roberta Grossman and Sophie Sartain)

This documentary is similar in structure and subject to another noteworthy woman-directed Sundance doc from this year: RBG. But while Ruth Bader Ginsburg is shown to be increasingly well-liked for her hard work and critical eye for the law, Seeing Allred’s subject, Gloria Allred, appears to be having quite the opposite experience. Throughout the documentary, Allred is frequently dismissed as sensationalist, greedy, and grating by pundits and politicians alike for her purposefully public work as a women’s rights attorney. With cohesiveness and ease, Grossman and Sartain take viewers behind the curtain, letting us see both the soft side of Allred and the motivation behind her take-no-shit toughness. Ultimately, the film tells not only Gloria’s own life story but the story of an invaluable social movement. The recent American legal history that Seeing Allred unearths, from workplace sex discrimination to marriage equality to the legitimizing of victims’ rights, is often disheartening but always necessary viewing.

You Were Never Really Here (directed by Lynne Ramsay)

Heavy on the senses and light on dialogue, Ramsay’s latest is a powerhouse of cinema that should more than suffice to cement the We Need to Talk About Kevin director as a modern auteur. Joaquin Phoenix plays Joe, a strange, haunted man who kills people with a hammer for money. The film is a kind of darkly hypnotic magic trick, circling around and around the traumas and violence at its center while withholding the full visual extent of its horror. It’s an assault of shadowy colors, unnerving sounds, and richly designed sequences, all of it combined to grip like a vice. Despite this the plot also feels incredibly straightforward, like a gritty throwback in the best way. Joe loves his mom, kills people, and doesn’t do much else until an important young girl (Ekaterina Samsonov) goes missing, presumably kidnapped by human traffickers. What happens next is surprisingly subtle, but also wild and grandiose in all the right ways.

The Tale (directed by Jennifer Fox)

At age 13, documentarian Jennifer Fox was the victim of coordinated sexual abuse at the hands of two adults she trusted and thought she loved. This is the story she retells–again and again, with varying levels of sickening detail dependant upon the moment-to-moment lucidity of her long-repressed memories–in HBO’s The Tale. Laura Dern plays adult Fox on screen, while Elizabeth Debicki and Jason Ritter play her doting abusers with all the predatory nonchalance of a pair of wildcats on the prowl. It’s young actress Isabelle Nélisse, though, who is the key to unlocking this unique story in all its unbearable realities. As a young Jennifer, she’s confident in her place within an adult relationship, except when she’s crippled by nauseating anxiety. She’s sure this is simply her first great love story, but her older self keeps getting in the way by remembering otherwise. The Tale thrives in these uncomfortable, contentious spaces between denial and acceptance, truth and self-preserving lie, knowing and understanding. In the end, Fox’s knack nonfiction helps her create a deeply upsetting, undeniably important film.

Angels Wear White (directed by Vivian Qu)

A giant statue of Marilyn Monroe–mid-dress-clutch in The Seven Year Itch–is installed in a small Chinese beach town at the beginning of Angels Wear White. She’s one of the titular angels, and serves as a totem of reluctant womanhood throughout the film, even as she’s postered-over and neglected. Meanwhile, four girls at various stages of adolescence endure their own unasked-for transitions to womanhood, which they face down with alternating anxiety and naive excitement. Two of the girls–both twelve years old–quickly become victims of sexual violence which threatens to tear apart their families and community. The other two girls, both older yet by no means equipped for something so adult, are involved as witnesses. Qu’s sophomore film is at once intriguingly broad–it explores classism, institutional corruption, and sexual exploitation with open, serious eyes–and affectingly personal. Each girl fights her own ambivalence toward an unfair world, and some fare better than others.

Set It Up (directed by Claire Scanlon)

Otherwise known as the Netflix original that launched a thousand think-pieces, Set It Up is a thoroughly fun and modern rom-com that’s getting widespread credit for reviving a flagging genre. Its best asset is fascinating cast featuring everyone from Lucy Liu to Taye Diggs to Pete Davidson to Zoey Deutch. Deutch and Glen Powell pay a pair of overworked assistants who scheme to hook up their intimidating bosses (Liu and Diggs) to land themselves a moment’s peace. It’s a far-fetched concept, but the characters’ irreverent self-awareness makes it work, and a virtual Mad Libs of comedy-dense scenarios–MLB kiss cam! Food delivery hijinks! Bikini-wax-related sneakiness!–keeps things fresh even as it hits each of the familiar romantic comedy beats. Film buffs won’t find anything particularly deep or artsy here, but fans of the genre will recognize Set It Up as the kind of enjoyable, sweet entertainment that’ll survive endless rewatching.

Revenge (directed by Coralie Fargeat)

Rape-revenge movies are controversial for a reason. The exploitation they revel in is often stomach-turning, and the revenge (often realized by a bloody girl in itty-bitty clothes or a loose cannon man who’s angry on her behalf) hard to discern from male fantasy. So a genre-busting rape-revenge film directed by a woman? That’s something to see. Make no mistake, Revenge still has all the blood, guts, and titillation to be expected, but it inverts some of the grosser and more tired tropes of the subgenre in an exhilarating way. Most notably, heroine Jen (Matilda Lutz) is a badass for the ages, a young woman whose sexy confidence is never mistaken (at least on the audience’s part) for “asking for it,” and who survives based on her own sheer willpower and MacGyver-style skill. Lots of rape-revenge films feel unending and over-the-top, but Revenge is a lean survival saga with bravery in its heart.

The Strange Ones (directed by Lauren Wolkstein and Christopher Radcliff)

An unsettling, enigmatic slow-burn, The Strange Ones holds the same quietly mesmerizing dread as past indies like Martha Marcy May Marlene or Upstream Color. Two brothers (Alex Pettyfer and James Freedson-Jackson) take a cross-country trip, but their motives, relationship, and even destination are obscured to us. As they stop at diners and motels, telling differing and clearly false stories to the strangers they meet, an ominous curtain falls over their every move. The lush wilderness that surrounds the two lends the film an otherworldly vibe, and Freedson-Jackson’s performance as an eerie, tuned-out kid makes the whole thing feel perched to topple over into science fiction. The film constantly plays with our expectations of pacing, taking a long time to get where it’s going, then lingering there even as we wish it wouldn’t. Like some of the best stuff out there, it’s less of an enjoyable popcorn flick and more of an experiment in the ever-expanding limits of the medium.

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Prestige Horror Has Arrived

The public perception of horror is changing, but what does that mean for our cinemas?

To my best recollection, I went to my first movie in 1990. I’ll never know the film because all memory was erased by the sheer terror of the trailer for Childs Play 2. It’s a chicken or the egg question really: was I frightened of Chucky before the trailer or did that spark my childhood fear of the doll? It left such an impression that even as an adult, Chucky’s visage makes me uneasy. And this is true to the power of film as art; even childhood memories of schlock can wield an emotional punch in the present.

These powerful foundational memories are why the cinematic experience is so important to so many. But in the reactionary days of streaming media, the idea that the cinematic experience is the only way to appreciate film has become a topic of conversation for shadowy elistism “Film Twitter”.

And I get it! It’s understandable to find the notion ludicrous that a film may be better viewed at home. There is nothing like watching a story unfold twenty feet high. You naturally feel the energy of an engaged audience. It can make a tepid film memorable. But it can also turn a masterpiece into a frustrating memory.

Enter Prestige Horror. Or are we calling it Elevated Horror? Didn’t I just read a think-piece calling it Post Horror? The confusion in what to call this new trend is just the beginning of the mixed feelings the horror community has about this new public embrace. On one hand, we are getting incredible films like The Witch and The Invitation. Conversely, though, the dialogue surrounding these character-driven fright films have begged the question: is there an undercurrent of disrespect for horror? Others have openly asked whether this new contextualization is actually best served outside of the cinemas, from the comforts of home.

Ridley Scott, producer of AMC’s horror hit The Terror recently talked with The Wrap about just this,

“[And with TV] you are at home. And by being at home you are kind of uneasy. ‘Cause if you are by yourself, you’re looking over your shoulder in the room. — if horror can be called ‘fun’ and being scared to death can be called ‘fun,’ then yeah, I think it works better at home rather than sitting in a room full of lots of people. Sitting by yourself, the fear can be really scary if the show is very effective.”

Within the shared experience of horror cinema, there is a level of implied audience interaction. Obviously not uninvited stand-up acts, but the stereotypical image of a crowded theatre, audiences losing their minds in delight. No other genre welcomes unintentional nervous laughter, full-throated screaming, and audible whispering of “No, no, don’t go in there!” in a room full of strangers.

And for teen screams, slashers, ghost flicks, and the like: this feels natural. An emotional recall of midnight screenings with electrified audiences. But how do we reconcile this natural reaction when the current pop horror has begun exploring headier deconstructions of family dynamics? Is it possible that this shared audience engagement can potentially disrupt our own personal experience?

Take Hereditary, the current horror du jour. In the film, a key character makes a recurring sound, a clucking noise. It reminded me of a nouveau Friday the 13th or Jaws theme, a simple sound used to terrorize younger siblings for generations to come.

This new “Boo!” is used effectively, but also frequently. So often that the implied audience interaction that horror can allow for took over. First one phantom “Cluck!”  a few rows in front of me. Another soft “Cluck!” a few minutes later. As more of the audience fed on this implied interaction, likely feigned attempts to break the tension, it was quickly followed by other hallmarks like audible pejoratives of “NOPE! NO WAY!” during any startling moment.

Like live theatre, there can be a symbiosis between spectator and spectacle: a cyclical fueling of energy. In films like Mayhem or Mom and Dad, as the action builds, this engagement can be pivotal to the experience. But with this new crop of emotionally complex horror distancing itself from popular popcorn-infused terror, is the implied interaction still appropriate?

Imagine an audience for a film like Sebastian Lello’s Disobedience audibly saying “Oh damn!” when the orthodox patriarch finally loses his temper. While that may be the emotion you earnestly feel, typically you reserve expressing it in the moment for films that carry that type of dramatic weight. And while horror is exceptional at forcing an immediate reaction, that doesn’t mean we should act on the urge to vocalize our experience presently.

But to be clear, we’re not talking about the inherent screams and laughter cinema gives us. This isn’t about suppressing or policing your response to a film, but rather simply reading a room. Quelling that innate need we have in the age of Twitter for immediate reaction. We should recognize what it is: a subconscious interpersonal response to fear. It’s akin to the etiquette of haunted attractions, rather than cinema. Having less to do with your experience than it does with your desire to deflect your fears through a quip shared by those around you.  

Like pulling out your phone or talking during a film: the implied interaction becomes inappropriate in this trend of character-driven genre storytelling. And if that’s true, coupling with Ridley Scott’s argument that the isolation of home intensifies your experience, why are we still reticent to praise the home viewing experience. Hereditary may pack a larger unnerving punch if the viewer is as isolated as the home in the film. You definitely wouldn’t have to worry about strangers attempting to nervously break the tension.

It’s most confounding when you consider that for many who grew up during the Blockbuster era, our first introduction to certain films were at home. This past experience seems to always be discounted in favor of cinema. Living in rural Texas, we didn’t have repertory theatre’s to introduce us to The Thing or Tremors. We had video stores and TV recordings with endearing overdubs of profanity. Getting up early on the weekend to watch A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master from Hollywood Video. These moments made me fall in love with film just as much as the first time I saw Evil Dead II with a crowd.

But with prestige horror like Hereditary and A Quiet Place, they don’t play like party films. You don’t expect an audience to tear down the house during an A24 release. But this conversation also isn’t about haranguing nervous giggling, but rather respectful engagement and awareness. These quiet personal stories may have a heightened, more profound effect at the most personal place in our lives: our homes.

But it deserves to be stated that the cinema experience is special. No one is minimizing that. While digital is the industry standard, watching a film print still has a lived-in quality that can’t be paralleled. The grain, stray hairs, and cigarette burns can give a film its character. There is history too in the print itself which can be an exhilarating thought. How many people were inspired to write their first screenplay or direct their first film after watching this print of Lamberto Bava’s Demons? How many dreams and aspirations have this print kicked off?

Just like live theatre, seeing a film with an audience can also bring a new layer of appreciation. Jokes that may have flown over your head suddenly land as others around you respond to it. A quiet moment holds new weight as a room collectively holds their breath.

Some films are parties, while others are wakes. Recontextualizing our cinema experience is about reconciling with that difference. There are no sides, it’s not about demonizing one over the other, but it is about awareness and respect. If elevated horror has taught the public one thing, it’s that the genre is far more nuanced than they ever gave it credit for.

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The Transformation from Novel to Arthouse Film

Some of the most creative films can find their source material in a piece of literature. But what do we get out of giving these stories a unique re-telling?

Many films as of late that have been finding their way to the big screen are not stories being told for the first time. They are often based on pre-existing novels—more often than we might realize. Of course, there are the obvious adaptations of the famous classics, but the ones that often go unnoticed are the sleek arthouse flicks that fly under the radar in terms of their status as adaptations.

Two of this year’s most prominent indie releases fall under this category: Lynne Ramsay’s visceral thriller You Were Never Really Here and Sebastián Lelio’s religion-infused LGBT drama Disobedience. It is significant that both of these adaptations were given such focus on their artistic direction—the purpose of these films isn’t just to put these novels up on a screen in an effort to make more money (which is often the case with major blockbuster adaptations of popular novels), but to breathe new life into the story and share it with a broader audience.

Both films are based on relatively lesser-known books of the same name: “You Were Never Really Here” having been penned by Jonathan Ames and “Disobedience” written by Naomi Alderman. This obscurity of source material tends to be a common trait among these types of films when based on a prior work. This gives directors more liberty with the rendering of their story, and more freedom to be ambitious with where they take it. Their film is likely how most people will first encounter the story, which allows more room for emphasis on authorship by the filmmakers. There is no need to worry about an overbearing fanbase that will outrage at differences between novel and film, as can be the case with adaptations of more popular novels.

These adaptations are able to utilize the medium of film to their advantage to enhance or alter the storytelling in ways that cannot be done through a novel alone, and by taking the art film route, this format can be used to its full advantage.

You Were Never Really Here follows a man named Joe (portrayed with a devastating performance by Joaquin Phoenix) who tracks down missing girls for a living but is haunted by his own past. It is ultimately a tale about trauma, and images are masterfully used onscreen to communicate memories and the emotions associated with them in a way that is different from the way in which words can.

While it follows a fairly chronological narrative overall, the film uses some non-linear storytelling techniques to convey a sense of context for the main character’s state of being. Often without any sort of concrete segway, the film would cut to the same memory from Joe’s childhood before eventually cutting back to the present day. The abrupt transitions demonstrate the brutal effect these memories have and the unpredictability of when exactly they will pop into the protagonist’s head. Joe’s mind would also often revert to the same memory, the film utilizing different cuts or longer takes to reveal more and more of the presence in his mind that haunts him, which is blurry and obscure to the audience when first shown and only becomes clearer towards the end of the film. This type of presentation of memory is something very unique to the visual medium and has the ability to creatively toyed with as it is here.

Disobedience is about a young woman named Ronit (Rachel Weisz) who returns to visit her Jewish Orthodox community after her father’s death having spent several years estranged from it. While there, she reconnects with an old romantic flame (Rachel McAdams), who is now married to Ronit’s male cousin.

It is clear from the outset of the film that Ronit has been ostracized by the community and driven away from it for reasons that are initially unclear. However, it isn’t immediately that any of the characters are willing to verbally point out this fact after Ronit returns, much less declare why it happened. Rather, there is a clear built tension between the characters created by the actors onscreen, and the film pulls off scenes with extended periods of silence that are nonetheless very telling. This technique of visual communication is yet another that is allowed to be wholly embraced in these types of films when adapting pre-existing stories.

Both stories are quite emotionally poignant, and their ultimate power over the viewer lies in striking these emotions correctly. In not being able to rely solely on words, filmmakers take on the responsibility of making sure this is done with the advantage of having their own unique artistic perspective. If done unsuccessfully, these stories will fail to resonate with viewers in the way they must. That is why their transformation into these sorts of artistic endeavors is so important—there is room for this balance to be achieved.

This isn’t to say that art films are better than the books they’re based on—they can often both evoke quite similar emotions and experiences, but go about doing so with much different executions. In fact, movies often inspire viewers to seek out their source materials. But what is most important is that these stories are continuing to be told at all and that they are resonating with the hearts and minds of those who encounter them.

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Where Has Blockbuster Romance Gone?

Today’s biggest franchises could use a few more sparks.

Romance to the modern blockbuster is a wisdom tooth—it shows up late to the scene and ends up being either inconsequential or downright problematic, a vestigial structure left over from an earlier evolutionary era that serves no modern purpose.

At least, that is increasingly how it’s being treated.

I’ve already lamented the increasingly uninspired love life of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but it is clear now more than ever that the problem is far bigger, and spreading like a particularly virulent flu. From Star Wars to Jurassic World, romance has been largely tossed aside. The few efforts made, from Finn and Rose’s awkward peck in The Last Jedi to Claire and Owen’s peripheral relationship woes in Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom, come across as overwhelmingly awkward, like a square peg being forced into a round hole.

Films that do put romance front and center are being increasingly treated like a niche market—color-by-numbers rom-coms and indie LGBTQ romances (and Love, Simon, which ironically manages to be refreshing by bridging the gap). To be clear, there is nothing wrong with either of these sub-genres. But once upon a time, romance used to be the heart of the movies and movie stardom. It was the romantic chemistry between leads that sparked careers and drew audiences—a fundamental component of what made most movies tick, regardless of genre. In today’s biggest films, when great screen chemistry between love interests does occur, it feels more like a lucky coincidence than anything else.

Admittedly, “Golden Age” Hollywood had plenty of problems. It could be formulaic, and sexist, and racist, and propagated all kinds of problematic ideas and practices. But nonetheless, it had its genius. It’s magic. And today, as we continue to grapple with various negatives rooted deep in cinema’s past, there are perhaps certain things that have been unnecessarily sacrificed.

There’s nothing wrong with romance, with appreciating a good love story. Nothing inherently anti-feminist or retrogressive about enjoying a compelling meet-cute. Hollywood could still use more compelling, well-rounded female characters—but, perhaps contrary to what some may argue, there’s nothing that makes that fundamentally incompatible with romance. The issue isn’t female characters having love interests, but when female characters are just love interests—ornamental but fundamentally useless, like narrative glitter.

Even ten, fifteen years ago, romance wasn’t just an independent genre, but an important part of nearly every self-respecting blockbuster—Jack and Rose in Titanic, Will and Elizabeth in Pirates of the Caribbean, Jake and Neytiri in Avatar. Compare the importance of Pepper and Tony’s relationship in the original Iron Man to the relationships in any of the MCU’s Phase Three films.

Take a moment to think back on iconic Hollywood movie romances. The ones with lines that people quote, scenes that people spoof, the fictional couples that people practically know as a unit: Harry and Sally, Jack and Sally, Jack and Rose, Han and Leia. Those four couples span genres—comedy, drama, sci-fi, the crossover of crossovers that is The Nightmare Before Christmas—and three decades.

Now try to think of a similar pairing from the past five years—one from a major film from a major studio that is, to use the technical term, canon. In other words, a pairing that exists openly in the work itself as opposed to being built up from actor chemistry and a few charged exchanges by dedicated fans.

Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Now, maybe you have a couple in mind, or maybe you don’t—I’m not saying it’s impossible, only that it’s more difficult than it used to be, and only getting harder. And that’s a loss.

Films, especially big, flashy Hollywood films, are not life. They are life edited and glamorized and stylized and dialed up to 11. But to truly be great—and I am of the opinion that there have been some genuinely great Hollywood films over the years—they still have to be fundamentally true to the human condition, to the state of being a person and living life and having feelings.

Classical Hollywood perhaps oversold romantic love—made it too formulaic, too central at the expense of everything else. But the response to that should not be to universally minimize romance as much as possible, to just scrape it out entirely and call it a day. Modern blockbusters can often feel oddly flat. Shallow. Underwhelming. And, like most issues, there are undoubtedly many components at work. But it seems, considering romance and compelling romantic chemistry fueled the fire of Hollywood through its most powerful decades, that revitalizing and remodeling that energy to suit modern demands—that is, inclusivity, diversity, and well-developed characters—could only help the modern blockbuster gain a much-needed edge.

Because there’s a void there, and yet nobody seems to even be trying to fill it.

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The Nick Hornby Rom-Com Returns in the ‘Juliet, Naked’ Trailer

Nick Hornby, Rose Byrne, and Ethan Hawke team-up to squash fandom in favor of romantic pursuits.

Obsession is tricky. How do you discern when passion deteriorates into addiction? As someone who spends a good portion of every day preoccupied with movies, I have a hard time recognizing when fandom turns toxic. Obviously, typing The Last Jedi into the search bar will send you down a wormhole of horrors committed by despicable degenerates and stunted ignoramuses.

Where obsession gets tricky is in identifying its negative hold on yourself. I treasure my enthusiasm and the enthusiasm of others. As I type, I’m also ticking down the seconds until the San Diego Comic Con where I can dive into the wave of the like-minded, and geek out over the minutia of Star Trek or Conquest of the Planet of the Apes‘ validity within the franchise.

We’re an easy mark for ridicule to outsiders. The 40-Year-Old Virgin cuts deep. Like everyone, we need a good ribbing to understand why we behave the way we do.

Nick Hornby certainly appreciates fanaticism confused as fandom. Diving into High Fidelity and Fever Pitch will reveal the fetishistic struggle faced by consumers of pop culture. Often the message is to take a breath and poke your head out of the basement to smell the roses. His heroes will never be free of their mania, but respite often comes in the form of romantic pursuit.

Fellow geeks, the time has come for another cinematic trip to the therapist’s couch. Juliet, Naked takes a jab at your idolatry and demands introspection. We’ve all been Chris O’Dowd here, but thankfully Ethan Hawke rarely shows up to school us.

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The Best Sci-Fi and Fantasy Movies of 2018 So Far

We list the 10 greatest speculative fiction films from the first half of the year, ranked.

Three months after I tried and failed to do a proper list of the best science fiction and fantasy movies of 2018’s first quarter, things are looking a little better for the speculative fiction genres. Part of that is thanks to the start of the blockbuster movie season, though a lot of tentpoles, including works from Marvel and Pixar, failed to meet my expectations to the fullest.

Yeah, I’m a tough critic. But for me, sci-fi and fantasy are genres with high bars. There’s still only a few exceptional works among the bunch below, but the rest are definitely recommended. If there’s anything worthy that I’ve missed, send me a note and I’ll consider it for the next pass. I should point out, though, that yes, I’ve seen most of the big releases you might think I’ve overlooked. Except for Upgrade. That one came and went before I could catch it.

For now (and let’s hope it continues getting even better), here’s my ranking of the best 10 sci-fi and fantasy movies released through the end of June:

10. Psychokinesis

Korean filmmaker Yeon Sang-ho follows up his breakout 2016 film Train to Busan and its animated prequel, Seoul Station, with a lighter and slighter effort that’s still thoroughly enjoyable. This time Yeon tackles the superhero genre with a rather small-stakes story. Psychokinesis stars Ryu Seung-ryong (Miracle in Cell No. 7) as a man who gains powers in a way that’s unimportant. It’s what he does with them that matters. He doesn’t try to save the world or fight crime. He tries to patch things up with his estranged daughter (Shim Eun-kyung), who is having trouble battling real estate developers. The combo of disbelief and cynicism that superpowers are met with here is uniquely amusing, while the movie ends with quite the kicker.

9. Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom

I really don’t get the negative reception of Fallen Kingdom, especially in relation to the other Jurassic movies. Director J.A. Bayona and D.P. Oscar Faura deliver the most stylish installment of the franchise, and their execution of what’s admittedly a goofy story (frankly, the original isn’t scripted that well either) contains the best thrills and peril and adventure since Jurassic Park 1. And when it gets kinda dumb, even for a Jurassic movie, whether or not it’s intentional, Fallen Kingdom plays almost like one of Joe Dante’s horror comedies. It’s more entertaining and affecting and thematically rich in its ethical quagmire than critics are giving it credit for.

8. Deadpool 2

More of a comedy than a real superhero movie (it’s also on my list of the best comedies of the year so far), the Deadpool sequel goes a little too far with the amount of plot it wants to throw at the wall here. But when it’s not trying too hard to give us the convoluted introduction of Cable, Deadpool 2 is another very funny spoof of the superhero genre. And of time-travel movies. It’s also got some terrifically directed action sequences, care of former stuntman David Leitch, and Zazie Beetz is sensational as Domino in those sequences that are illustrating her power of luck.

7. Fahrenheit 451

There’s an irony to any movie adaptation of Ray Bradbury’s “Fahrenheit 451,” but the story remains essential in any format, just as the content of the contraband books of its plot still function and matter the same when uploaded to the internet or memorized by the rebelliously erudite. HBO’s new version manages to keep the gist of the work it’s based on while seeming like it’s been significantly updated. It’s maybe more relevant than ever given the Tower of Babel that is the increasingly divisive media making the variety of content actually seem bad because of the decrease in media literacy. The actors and story around the theme are a little flat, but they’re a functioning vehicle for the more considerable aspects of the adaptation.

6. Solo: A Star Wars Story

Certainly not the best Star Wars movie, but Solo is a good ride. The space Western prequel spinoff looks into the origins of an iconic character but should be appreciated as a more isolated adventure of its own, with Alden Ehrenreich making the role his own. Still, he is the least interesting part of his own tale, which is populated by wonderful new characters plus the freshly inhabited Lando, smooth and suspect as can be as played by Donald Glover. Not everything works, but it leaves you wanting to spend more time in its worlds and with those worlds’ inhabitants. Is it necessary? Of course not, and neither have been any other Star Wars movies after the first one.

5. Isle of Dogs

Oh boy, does Wes Anderson’s latest stop-motion animated feature have problems. The cultural appropriation and naive racial insensitivity are not to be ignored. That said, neither can be the artistry and storytelling of Isle of Dogs, and Anderson’s loving tribute to things he loves, including Kurosawa and Miyazaki films, never came across to me as fetishization or exploitation. There are creative works that can be appreciated and criticized in equal measure, and this often clever and funny dystopian adventure story filled me with wonder and joy even as and if I (mostly later) recognized its offenses. One thing we can hope for: Anderson has learned from his errs.

4. Annihilation

Featuring some of the most stunning visuals of the year, this mix of sci-fi and fantasy is a metaphorical monster movie that doesn’t shy away from going full-on surreal. It’s pretty cold as far as emotionality goes, in the spirit of other recent genre favorites of mine, Under the Skin and A Ghost Story, but Natalie Portman does a good job of selling her character’s heart and soul at least. And when it gets frightening, it’s blood-curdling. When it gets weird, it’s mindbending. It doesn’t matter if you see and accept that the film is all about cancer, just enjoy the trippy trip with a fabulous female cast into a restricted, reality-altering zone, and don’t worry if your mouth is agape most of the time. It’s just competing with your eyes in a contest of which one can go wider.

3. Black Panther

Marvel Studio’s best effort yet isn’t so much a superhero movie as it is a smorgasbord of cultural celebration honoring African heritage while delivering a classic political story. Some of the action could be executed better, but it’s an improvement on many others, and that stuff is all just obligatory filler anyway, while the true spectacle is in the design of the movie. And the empowering characters and complex performances and complicated themes of the narrative more than outweigh any faults. Almost everyone and everything in Black Panther is inspiring in some way, and there hasn’t been a more enticing fictional world since Shangri-La.

2. A Quiet Place

Who knew John Krasinski had it in him? The guy best known as Jim from The Office basically created a silent film  (maybe the best sci-fi silent feature since Metropolis?), all apt in purpose not just for narrative reasons (the alien monsters have an exceptional sense of hearing) but also for thematic reasons. And it’s engaging enough that we barely realize that we’re watching something that, given its lack of dialogue, is so incredibly abnormal. The fact that there’s so little speech isn’t the only way it’s unique, either. Most movies that would use an alien invasion story as a way of exploring parenthood would be talky in their explanation. A Quiet Place is visual in its explanation, and its action and horror are perfectly realized to boot.

1. Paddington 2

Do the Paddington movies count as fantasy? Talking bears aren’t real, of course, and while anthropomorphic animals aren’t common to the world of this franchise, the title character also isn’t looked at too strangely. It’s not fantastical for the people in the movies, that’s for sure. But as long as it’s impossible, and it is, Paddington 2 not only qualifies but tops this list — and most other lists, too, including the best comedies of 2018 so far. It’s an impossible story but it’s a hopeful one. The world of Paddington 2 is more utopic than even Wakanda. I wish all the movies on this list and for all time could be Paddington sequels. Well, maybe not really, but I wouldn’t complain at all if that was the case. More whimsical and honorable and wonderful than the first movie, the follow-up makes me more excited for the future of Paul King’s career and anxious to see if we do get a Paddington 3.

The post The Best Sci-Fi and Fantasy Movies of 2018 So Far appeared first on Film School Rejects.

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‘Sicario: Day of the Soldado’ Review: A Familiar Plot Executed with Thrilling Precision

“Fucking Mondays, huh?”

Denis Villeneuve’s Sicario (2015) is a brutal and harrowing commentary on the U.S.’s abusive relationship with our neighbors to the South, but it’s in the guise of an intense and exciting action/thriller. Stefano Sollima‘s sequel, by contrast, drops any pretense at thought-provoking importance and instead focuses on delivering a more generic story told once again with tension, suspense, and thrilling action sequences. Sicario: Day of the Soldado won’t make many of the same year-end “best of” lists as its predecessor, but as an electrifying and exiting piece of genre cinema it’ll be hard to beat for the remainder of 2018.

A routine nighttime round-up of people attempting to cross illegally into the U.S. sees one man break away from the others, fall to his knees in prayer, and trigger an explosive vest killing himself and wounding several officers. He was no lone wolf, as evidenced by a trio of prayer rugs discovered nearby, and when more suicide bombers take out a busy store in Kansas City the Secretary of Defense (Matthew Modine) decides it’s time for the U.S. to get its hands dirty — well, dirtier — and brings back Matt Graver (Josh Brolin) to get the job done.

Graver brings Alejandro Gillick (Benicio Del Toro) along for the ride, and with carte blanche rules of engagement they follow the terrorists’ trail and discover that the Mexican cartels are helping to smuggle them into the U.S. A bloody plan is put into motion to disrupt the cartels and get them fighting each other — Alejandro kills a cartel lawyer, they abduct the spoiled daughter of another cartel head — but like most U.S. plans involving foreign intervention it soon goes spectacularly wrong. Soon Alejandro and Isabel (Isabela Moner) are separated from the team, and in an effort to avoid an international incident Graver is ordered to dispatch them both.

We’ve seen this movie before — some elements from Sicario itself and others from the likes of A Perfect World, Gloria, and Logan — but the comfortably familiar narrative of a morally ambiguous antihero forced to care for and protect a child is an oft-revisited one for a reason. There’s drama and easy engagement in that dynamic, and it works beautifully here thanks in large part to Del Toro’s sad-eyed performance. A connection is formed between an empty man fueled only by vengeance (his own daughter was murdered by cartels prior to the first film) and a girl both oblivious and indifferent to the suffering her father causes. A sequence involving a deaf couple in rural Mexico is especially touching, and while these are easy beats to land they land all the same.

The script (once again from Taylor Sheridan) isn’t interested in redeeming Alejandro, but it finds conflict in the returning scraps of his humanity. He’s a severely damaged man, and while hes not above killing children the personal connections make protecting this one an imperative for him. Del Toro is a continually charismatic performer, and while he’s less of a mystery this time out he’s no less captivating. Moner does good work too shifting from a disaffected youth into someone no longer able to avoid the truth of her life. Graver’s convictions are challenged as well, and while it’s a bit more easily dismissed Brolin sells the twisting morality with subtleties in an otherwise brash performance. Alejandro and Graver are set loose with the understanding that there are no official rules anymore, but they both discover personal limits still exist.

None of that is to imply this is a sappy, soapy drama, though, as gunfire, grunts, and bloody carnage are still the order of the day. Sollima is no Villeneuve — and for that matter cinematographer Dariusz Wolski is no Roger Deakins — but while the action sequences lack the first film’s building dread and stark beauty they still deliver with intensity and adrenaline. An early ambush sees the world shrink from wide-open landscapes to close-quarter combat in mere seconds, and later exchanges are equally adept at blending tension and excitement. One sequence involving a grenade tossed nonchalantly into an enemy’s car is a memorable single-take, and the gun fights in general offer a precision in hardware, tactics, and impact that too many action movies gloss over.

Where the film is guaranteed to struggle, though, is in its broadly offered politics that suggest, on their surface at least, that “white America is under attack!” Sheridan’s less interested this time around in offering real (non-cliched) moral quandaries and instead goes straight to an exploitation well that feels as at home in Donald Trump’s America as it would in Chuck Norris’ filmography. It doesn’t sink to the depths of (the enjoyably cartoonish) London Has Fallen, but the broad strokes are still evident in its parade of brown-skinned bad guys gunned down left and right by our white heroes. Alejandro is the exception, and it’s no coincidence that he’s also the one who decides to draw a line in his culpability.

“Waterboarding is for when we can’t torture,” says Graver to an African terrorist shortly before blowing up the man’s brother as part of his interrogation technique, and it’s beats like this that will see a certain segment of audiences cheering. We gotta do what we gotta do to stop “these people” right? But while the film’s main muscle is spent flexing old-school, gung-ho American trueisms it still recognizes how neutered all this muscle ultimately is. There’s also a line that viewers seem destined to miss where it’s revealed that the terrorists in Kansas City didn’t even come through Mexico — they’re U.S. citizens from New Jersey.

Sicario: Day of the Soldado loses in a direct competition with the first film, but on its own merits it’s a grimly entertaining ride with thrilling action, a satisfying narrative, and a tease for a third film that we can’t wait to see.

The post ‘Sicario: Day of the Soldado’ Review: A Familiar Plot Executed with Thrilling Precision appeared first on Film School Rejects.

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Feed Me Cinema - Back for More Karlovy Vary Film Festival Goodness

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New Full-Length Trailer for 80s Indie Mystery Thriller 'Summer of '84'

"There's a serial killer on the loose! What else could possibly be this exciting?" Right?! Gunpowder & Sky has released the full-length official trailer for filmmaking collective RKSS' new film Summer of '84, which first premiered at the Sundance Film Festival earlier this year. This is the film that has been described as a mash-up of "Stranger Things", Stand By Me, and The Goonies, set in the 80's about a group of kids trying to figure out who a local serial killer is and stop him. The cast is lead by a group of four young kids, and the film stars Graham Verchere, Judah Lewis, Caleb Emery, Cory Gruter-Andrew, Tiera Skovbye, Rich Sommer, Jason Gray-Stanford, and Shauna Johannesen. The reviews for this from Sundance weren't as great as expected, but it still looks like it might be an entertaining film to watch later in the fall.

Here's the full-length trailer (+ quad poster art) for RKSS' Summer of '84, direct from YouTube:

You can watch the first teaser trailer for Summer of '84 here, to see the original festival introduction.

After suspecting that their police officer neighbor is a serial killer, a group of teenage friends spend their summer spying on him and gathering evidence, but as they get closer to discovering the truth, things get dangerous. Summer of '84 is directed by the filmmaking collective known as "RKSS" from Montreal, made up of François Simard, Anouk Whissell, and Yoann-Karl Whissell. Their first feature film Turbo Kid debuted at Sundance in 2015. The screenplay is written by Matt Leslie and Stephen J. Smith. The film first premiered at the 2018 Sundance Film Festival earlier this year in the Midnight category. Gunpowder & Sky will release Summer of '84 in select theaters starting on August 10th, followed by a VOD release. Who's in?

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Awful Trailer for Netflix Comedy 'Father of the Year' with David Spade

"Some people say I'm unstable, and I snap." Netflix has debuted the trailer for a comedy titled Father of the Year, one of the latest cringe-worthy Happy Madison productions from Adam Sandler's deal with the streaming studio. Surprise surprise, this one looks just as bad. Father of the Year is about two fathers who get into an epic fight of sorts after their college graduate sons challenge them to a showdown. David Spade and Nat Faxon star as the dads, Joey Bragg and Matt Shively star as their kids, and the also includes Bridgit Mendler, Bill Kottkamp, Dean Winters, and Kevin Nealon. This really looks terrible. If you want to watch a better fight movie, Fist Fight is a good choice. And if you want to watch a much better film about a father, Bobcat Goldthwait's World's Greatest Dad is an underrated gem. Just skip this and move on.

Here's the first official trailer (+ poster) for Tyler Spindel's Father of the Year, from Netflix's YouTube:

When a drunken debate between two recent college graduates (Joey Bragg & Matt Shively) about whose father would win in a fight is taken seriously by their idiot dads (David Spade & Nat Faxon), jobs are lost, relationships ruined, futures destroyed, and best friends come of age as they come to grips with who their fathers really are. Father of the Year is directed by American filmmaker Tyler Spindel, a former producer for "Chelsea Lately" who made his feature directorial debut with the film Deported in 2017. The screenplay is written by Brandon Cournoyer and Tyler Spindel. This is produced by Allen Covert and Kevin Grady for Happy Madison. Netflix will release Spindel's Father of the Year streaming exclusively starting July 20th.

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The Best Horror Movies of 2018 So Far

These are the best horror movies of the year — January through June.

2018 is half over now and the quality of horror movies hitting screens big and small continues to kick ass. The content varies to include zombies, ghosts, cults, mental anguish, bears, and maybe even Bigfoot, but the one constant is a steady stream of scares, terror, and unease.

Quick note: Three of this year’s best releases — Mon Mon Mon Monsters, Ravenous (aka Les Affames), and Revenge — all made my Best Horror of 2017 list based on their festival runs, so I’m not including them this year too despite it being their “official” release year.

Keep reading for a look at the ten best horror movies of 2018 so far.

Annihilation

Alex Garland’s latest is one hell of an experience, and while it’s both a drama of the soul and a trippy science fiction film it’s also more than a little horrific. From the nightmare of grief and depression to the terror of the unknown, the film brings darkness to life with beautiful visuals and colors that feel new as they strike your eyes. There’s also a scene with a bear that brings the horrifying goods, but while the visceral beats land hard it’s the film’s emotionally haunting observations that will stay with you after the credits roll. [Currently available on Blu-ray/DVD]

The Cured

We’ll probably never get a 28 Months Later, but thanks to The Cured that realization is a bit easier to swallow. This is a zombie tale taking place well after the outbreak and assault and instead focuses on recovery, and it comes with its own drama and terror. Its visual style owes itself in part to Danny Boyle’s film and helps this one deliver suspense, thrills, and intensity as it explores the high cost of kindness. [My review, available July 3rd on Blu-ray/DVD]

Ghost Stories

This horror anthology started life as a stage play but finds new life on the screen for a wider audience. A skeptic investigators three stories of the supernatural, and while they offer a variety of thrills the film’s at its most memorable with a framing device which builds into something truly special. Humor plays a big role too, although it’s the unsettling weight of the past that sits at the film’s forefront. [My review, currently available on VOD]

Gonjiam: Haunted Asylum

Found footage films get a bad rap for good reason as most of them are cheaply made and lazy as hell. There are good ones out there though, and this South Korean effort is exhibit A. It’s basic in its plot — idiots visit an abandoned asylum late at night — but in addition to some atypically solid performances the scares are frequent and smartly crafted fun. [Not currently available]

Hereditary

It’s not uncommon for memorably acclaimed horror films to get their start at the Sundance Film Festival — Saw, The Witch, and The Blair Witch Project are just a few — and this year’s breakout is Hereditary. The film focuses on a family in distress as grief and malicious forces have their way with them, and the personal terrors come in the form of some terrifically frightening sequences. The two lead performances are far stronger than the genre typically calls for, and they raise the film’s effect by association as characters we’ve come to care about descend into a truly horrifying reality. [My review, currently in theaters]

The Lodgers

Gothic chillers used to be the norm with genre films, but they went out of favor decades ago. One comes along periodically, though, and this year we’ve already had two. (Another great one is right below.) This Irish tale of dark family secrets and the supernatural tells a visually inventive, creepy, and sexy tale about guilt, ghosts, and a gross brother wanting to boink his admittedly hot sister. It’s the best movie that could have also been called The Shape of Water. [Currently available on Blu-ray/DVD]

Marrowbone

The writer of The Orphanage and The Impossible delivers another tale of children in danger with four siblings pretending they’re not orphans in order to avoid catching the eye of social services. It’s the least of their problems, though, as something in their house wants out. It’s a smartly told chiller with a fantastic young cast including George MacKay, Anya Taylor-Joy, Charlie Heaton, and Mia Goth. [Available August 7th on Blu-ray/DVD]

Primal Rage: The Legend of Oh-Mah

Bigfoot movies are my jam — seriously, I ranked 47 of them last year — and I’ll always watch new ones despite the sad truth that most are unmemorable. This year has already seen a few, and this is both the best of the bunch and a terrifically fun horror movie period. What starts as a familiar horror trope involving a bickering couple shifts gears with threats from nature, armed humans, and Bigfoot creatures who’ve evolved beyond mere growls and arm-swinging. Script creativity, solid practical effects, and a unique creature design make for a fun time with Sasquatch. [Available July 3rd on DVD]

Pyewacket

Adam MacDonald’s debut feature Backcountry made my Best Horror of 2015 list, and his sophomore effort seems destined to repeat that feat this year. Like that film, his follow-up focuses its terrors in the woods, but it trades our natural fear of hungry grizzly bears for supernatural horrors that are every bit as scary. MacDonald’s tale involves angry youths, devilish deals, and a demonic presence guaranteed to terrify, and it is not to be missed. [My review, available August 7th on Blu-ray/DVD]

The Ritual

Director David Bruckner’s solo feature debut may have premiered on the small screen (via Netflix), but it’s plenty big when it comes to the horror. It sends four friends into the woods one year after a fifth friend’s murder, but as devastating as that loss was they’re in for far, far worse. It’s a creepy tale that takes full advantage of its cold landscape, and it features possibly the best creature design of the past few years. Seriously, the beast alone is reason enough to watch. [Currently streaming on Netflix]

Honorable mentions: Insidious: The Last Key, A Quiet Place, Still/Born, The Strangers: Prey at Night, The Tag-Along 2

The post The Best Horror Movies of 2018 So Far appeared first on Film School Rejects.

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