square-eyed-geek’s Top Ten Films of 2021

There’s hectic years, and then there’s 2021, which in some ways was just as fraught and difficult as the dreaded 2020. But instead of dwelling on that, let’s dive right in to why we’re actually here: the best film releases of the last 12 months. Yes, my viewing habits have once again been rather sporadic, what with less trips to the cinema (I’m still wary of sitting in a crowd) and fewer online screeners available (although thankfully the wonderful Glasgow Film Festival offered an extensive virtual strand this year). As such, some of the bigger releases won’t be on here – films that I’m sure I would have liked just as much as many others did. But hey, this list is all a bit of fun, so I thought I’d write it anyway. You never know, there might be a title I mention that you’ve not yet seen, and which you’re eager to check out after you’ve read about it. And honestly, that’s my only goal with this blog – to share the things I love with all of you, in the hope that you’ll enjoy them as much as I did.

As with my previous top tens, I’ve compiled this using UK release dates for this year, mostly to make this list easier to keep track of. So without further ado, here’s my favourite films of 2021!:

10. Lamb

Lamb (2021)

This intriguing folk horror about a couple (Noomi Rapace and Hilmir Snær Guðnason) who take in a new born lamb has a deliberate, unrushed pace that creates a terrifying sense of dread throughout – a method that makes this a mesmerising yet very uncomfortable watch. Writer-director Valdimar Jóhannsson keeps his cards close to his chest during the first part of the story, hinting at all sorts of macabre goings-on at the edge of frame as we try to guess where it’s heading, until a genuinely unexpected reveal that will have you reassessing everything that’s already happened. Shots of the desolate but beautiful Icelandic landscape and close-ups of farmyard animals add to the overall tension of the narrative, as do the performances from the exceptional cast, particularly Rapace who gives a brilliant and heartbreaking turn as the lamb’s adoptive mother, her face barely masking the fear she has that her new, happy life can’t last forever.

(Read my full review of Lamb here).

9. Sound of Metal

Sound of Metal (2019)

When heavy metal drummer Ruben (Riz Ahmed) begins to permanently lose his hearing, he suddenly finds himself very alone in a world he can’t understand in this bold and emotional drama from writer-director Darius Marder. With amazing sound design which allows us to hear what he does (or doesn’t), Marder puts us in Ruben’s shoes as he struggles to adjust to this new change in his life, trying to learn sign language while still hoping to gain enough money for a cochlear implant so he can go back to how things used to be. Ahmed’s portrayal also handles both sides of that story, showing the pain Ruben feels at all that he’s lost, but offering a glimmer of hope at what he may have found, if only he can stick with it. An intimate portrait about identity, as well as a wonderful account of the deaf community and what it can do for so many people, Marder’s film is an incredible, touching drama, with a beautiful final message that will stay with you for a long time.

8. First Cow

First Cow (2019)

Kelly Reichardt returns to the screen with this gentle 1820s Oregon-set tale of the first cow brought to the region, and the two chancers (John Magaro and Orion Lee) who see a golden opportunity to steal milk from the animal to make delicious oily cakes they can sell. Yet this is first and foremost a moving story about human kindness and friendship, the bond between this pair of outsiders growing ever stronger as the money starts rolling in and they navigate their troubles together. And there may be plenty of that just around the corner when the rich owner of the cow (Toby Jones) takes a sudden liking to them and their baked goods. Reichardt’s drama has a low-key realism that keeps us hooked throughout that charming narrative, her understated direction letting the stunning landscapes and performances speak for themselves, especially Magaro and Lee who are both wonderful as the odd couple at the centre of the tale. There might not be a lot going on here plot-wise, but this is a powerful and captivating film nonetheless, and one with an absolutely heartbreaking ending that will leave you reeling.

7. The Power of the Dog

The Power of the Dog (2021)

Jane Campion’s drama is a slow-paced affair to begin with, Campion delicately unravelling all the threads of Thomas Savage’s novel as she introduces us to Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and George (Jesse Plemons) – two brothers who run a ranch with very different temperaments. However, when George moves his new bride Rose (Kirsten Dunst) into their home, things shift into much darker territory, the resentful Phil suddenly showing just how nasty and manipulative he can really be. This is a film that always seems on the verge of violence, Campion hinting at a masculine rage Phil is barely able to contain, particularly around Rose’s son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) who he takes an instant disliking to. Yet there’s also a haunting beauty to this that draws us in to this turbulent Western world, Campion’s lyrical direction and intimate shots highlighting an unexpected sensuality in the narrative. The cast are incredible too, but it is Cumberbatch who leaves a lasting impression, his performance bringing Phil to life in all his terrifying glory, while also giving him a gentleness that leaves us feeling oddly sad for this horrific monster of man.

6. Black Bear

Black Bear (2020)

This inventive, meta tale about a filmmaker (Aubrey Plaza) taking some time out at a cabin in the woods starts out like any other ordinary drama, her presence causing all sorts of delicious rifts in the relationship of her welcoming hosts (Sarah Gadon and Christopher Abbott). Yet where it goes next is even more fascinating, writer-director Lawrence Michael Levine turning the very idea of storytelling on its head to deliver something totally unpredictable, his film making us question what we’ve already seen while showing us all new sides to his intriguing characters. Plaza is a tour de force in this too, her portrayal of tortured artist Allison both fierce and filled with pathos and pain, especially in the second half. Not everyone will like the change in the latter part of the plot, but there’s no denying this is still a divine, taut thriller about how we often sabotage ourselves and those around us.

(Read my full review of Black Bear here).

5. Limbo

Limbo (2020)

A drama about refugees stuck on a remote Scottish island sounds like the start of a very depressing story, and indeed Ben Sharrock’s film tackles this subject matter with heartbreaking poignancy. But where Limbo really soars is in its surprising use of humour – laugh-out-loud, absurdist scenes that contrast the serious side of the narrative, making these moments hit all the more harder when they do happen. Sharrock shoots the majority of his wonderful film in a 4:3 aspect ratio, reflecting how trapped the migrants feel even amongst the vast Scottish landscapes, with young Syrian refugee Omar (the exceptional Amir El-Masry) particularly lost in this strange new place away from his family. A beautiful, moving film about the despair many face at the hands of such a ridiculous system, yet one that shows the power of compassion and community as well. It also has the most hilarious opening sequence of any release this year. You’ll never listen to Hot Chocolate’s ‘It Started with a Kiss’ the same way again.

4. Another Round

Another Round (2020)

A group of friends decide to test an intriguing theory out – that the human body has a blood alcohol level that is .05 percent too low, and we would therefore perform better with a couple of glasses of booze in us every day. It’s an odd idea for a plot, but writer-director Thomas Vinterberg and co-writer Tobias Lindholm make it work with a delicious mix of comedy and drama, creating a delightful yet incredibly dark film that shows how drinking can help and hinder, in all sorts of unexpected ways. However, what starts as a story about getting wasted (or slightly wasted) becomes something even more poignant and reflective as it unfolds, Vinterberg turning this into a wonderful celebration of life itself. With bold, realistic performances from the ensemble cast (particularly Mads Mikkelsen and Thomas Bo Larsen), Vinterberg’s film is one of his finest, and will have you laughing and crying in equal measure. It also features an amazing dance sequence – a scene that I guarantee will give you a spring in your own step after watching it (and which will make Scarlet Pleasure’s ‘What A Life’ your earworm for the rest of the week).

3. Riders of Justice

Riders of Justice (2020)

Yes, it certainly was a good year for fans of Danish cinema and Mads Mikkelsen. For me, this Mikkelsen release just about won over Another Round, mostly for its macabre, absurdist comedy and its surprisingly emotional delivery. And I really am a sucker for an Anders Thomas Jensen film too. Mikkelsen is exceptional as Markus, a man reeling after a tragic accident and with so much pent-up rage and anguish that he doesn’t know where to put it. But when an unlikely trio (Nikolaj Lie Kaas, Lars Brygmann and Nicolas Bro) tell him they believe the incident was actually the work of a notorious biker gang, Markus suddenly has an outlet, setting out to enact some well-earned vengeance on the baddies responsible, while his three new friends tag along for the ride. With scenes of side-splitting humour (mostly courtesy of Bro as the foul-mouthed Emmenthaler) and explosive, bloody violence, there’s rarely a dull moment in Jensen’s gripping thriller. Yet what stays with you is how unexpectedly touching and tender this is, with Mikkelsen and Kaas giving career-best performances as two characters both affected by loss in highly different ways. An incredible comedy-drama about finding help from others and being brave enough to ask in the first place, and a film you’ll want to revisit time and time again.

(Read my full review of Riders of Justice here).

2. Minari

Minari (2020)

Lee Isaac Chung’s 1980s-set film about a Korean-American family moving to Arkansas is endlessly charming and wonderfully sweet, with many moments captured with such vividness they feel like real memories come to life (Chung based the story on his childhood). Stunning cinematography gives a magical quality to the rural landscapes Jacob (Steven Yeun) tries to tame in order to start his own farm – an endeavour his wife Monica (Yeri Han) is apprehensive about, particularly after they’ve both left behind well-paid jobs in California. But it is their adorable son David (Alan Kim) who really steals our hearts and the narrative, his world suddenly turned upside down by the arrival of his grandmother (the amazing Yuh-jung Youn), who insists on several changes in their household that David hates (least of all replacing his beloved Mountain Dew with a healthy Korean drink). With Chung’s confident direction coaxing understated yet emotional performances from his cast (Yeun and Han are especially brilliant as husband and wife) and a compelling mix of comedy and drama throughout, Chung has created a richly-textured portrait of family life that is so enchanting, you’ll never want it to end.

(Read my full review of Minari here).

1. Petite Maman

Petite Maman (2021)

For the longest time, Minari was my number 1 film of the year. Then this little gem came along and easily skipped ahead to the top spot. Written and directed by the magnificent Céline Sciamma, this captivating tale of childhood, friendship and grief follows the young Nelly (Joséphine Sanz), who’s trying to process the recent death of her grandmother while she helps her parents (Nina Meurisse and Stéphane Varupenne) clear out her grandmother’s old home. Yet when the close bond she has with her Mum is threatened by the loss hanging over them, Nelly meets a new friend (Gabrielle Sanz) in the nearby woods – a relationship that she soon comes to realise offers her an incredible opportunity. To talk any more about the plot of Petite Maman would ruin the joy of seeing it for the first time, so I certainly won’t do that. But needless to say, Sciamma has created another delightful, poignant story, adding an unexpected magical element that is fascinating to watch unfold. However, there’s also a subtlety to her writing that focuses on the realism of her narrative, which at its heart is a profound reflection on the relationship between mothers and daughters, portrayed here in all its glorious ups and downs. With Claire Mathon’s cinematography highlighting the dazzling beauty of nature, and spellbinding music by Jean-Baptiste de Laubier (aka. Para One), this is a sublime, fairytale-like drama filled with wonderful moments that capture the joy of childhood and the power of imagination, as well as a film that will have you utterly transfixed from start to finish. And if you don’t shed a tear or two during the boat scene, then you’re a stronger person than me.

(Read my full review of Petite Maman here).

(Films that just missed out on the top ten: Apples, After Love, In the Earth, Palm Springs, Censor, Dreams on Fire, Bo Burnham: Inside, Underplayed, Rosa’s Wedding).

And that’s it for another year of my favourite top ten films. Thank you for taking the time to read my thoughts on these brilliant releases of the past 12 months. Stay safe, and I hope we all have a better and brighter 2022. (As always, post a comment below if there’s anything you think I left out of my top ten, or if there’s any films I’ve included that also make your 2021 list!).

Minari – Farming, family and finding a place to call your own

The Arkansas landscape is given a wonderful, magical quality throughout Lee Isaac Chung’s Minari (2020), stunning vistas gleaming in the radiant sunlight while buzzing insects and other creatures hide amongst long luscious grasses or gigantic swaying trees. Every corner of it seems to be brimming with life. It’s the perfect metaphor for the Yi family’s own hopes and dreams when they first arrive there, that blank rural space stretching out around them and offering so much promise for the future. But while the children (Alan Kim and Noel Cho) are impressed by their new home (“It’s like a big car!”), tensions are already rising between Monica (Yeri Han) and her husband Jacob (Steven Yeun), particularly when Jacob reveals he’s going to turn the land into his very own farm.

Monica might be apprehensive, but Jacob isn’t worried about his plans, no matter how challenging they are. After all, this is the 1980s, Ronald Reagan is in office, and the American Dream is really the only thing anybody needs to get by. Indeed, this is a story all about finding a place to make your mark and having the ambition to do it, a quality that Jacob clearly has in spades. “Working outdoors makes me feel alive,” he says at one point – a poignant moment that allows us to understand just why he’s invested everything into this idea, his excitement at being able to provide for his family in a more rewarding way particularly palpable. So when the reality is harsher than Jacob expected, we’re as crushed as he is. Every dry crop and lost sale is something that pains him and causes him to walk a little less tall, Chung’s delicate writing and Yeun’s understated yet emotional performance expertly portraying Jacob’s anxiety about what he’s putting his family through, as well as the failure he starts to feel like.

The family start to adjust to farm life...
The Yi’s adjust to rural life (Photo credit: Melissa Lukenbaugh/A24)

Elsewhere it’s a clash of cultures that is making it hard for other members of this Korean American family to adjust to rural Arkansas life, an idea that writer-director Chung explores in intriguing and very different ways throughout his narrative. While Monica is supportive of Jacob in his endeavours at first, for her the farm is anything but peaceful, the fact that they aren’t close enough to a hospital causing her to become increasingly concerned about what will happen to her son David (Alan Kim) who has a heart murmur. She also finds herself longing for her home country and missing the Korean community she was a part of in Calfornia, the isolation of the farm further emphasising her loneliness (something highlighted by Yeri Han’s moving performance, her emotions often barely contained beneath her stoic expression). For David though, America has been the only home he’s ever known, and that’s how he’d like it to stay thank you very much. He even stomps around in tiny cowboy boots – an image that shows us just how immersed in the culture he really is. So when his Grandma (played with great vivacity by Yuh-jung Youn) comes to stay and brings several changes to the household (including a healthy Korean drink to replace his beloved Mountain Dew), David suddenly starts to think that farm life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially when he has to share a room with her. “Grandma smells like Korea,” he complains to his sister Anne (Noel Cho) during one hilarious and telling exchange. “You’ve never even been to Korea,” she retorts.

While there’s a striking sense of time and place in Chung’s writing, it’s his ability to focus in on the distinctive, everyday details that makes Minari truly enchanting – moments that he captures with such vividness that they can be nothing other than real (Chung based the story on many of his own memories of growing up on a farm). Whether it’s sitting down for a game of cards, playing on a handmade swing, washing outside in the sunshine, or eating a banana with a slice of cheese, these scenes feel so authentic that it’s as if we’re watching an actual family onscreen, particularly as many of them involve the adorable Alan Kim and his impressive acting skills. A sequence in which he triumphantly runs away after tricking his Grandma is especially hilarious, Kim’s enthusiastic, endearing performance allowing us to side with him, even when he’s misbehaving. Indeed, Chung’s emphasis of the lighter, funnier touches are what makes his film such a wonderful experience, these moments drawing us into the Yi’s world and letting us laugh alongside them as they try and adjust to their new rural life. We’re so enraptured by it all that when the emotional notes of the story are revealed, they seem to come out of nowhere, hitting us that much harder and helping us identify with the family’s struggles even more.

Yuh-jung Youn in Minari...
Yuh-jung Youn as Grandma (Photo credit: Melissa Lukenbaugh/A24)

With that compelling mix of comedy and drama working alongside his poignant and intimate writing, Chung turns this into a richly-textured portrait of family life, his confident direction of the brilliant cast further adding to the film’s realism. He explores those themes of cultural differences, ambitions and the American Dream in a refreshing, engaging manner without straying into the one topic we’re expecting to see about an immigrant family, instead showing the Yi’s being welcomed with open arms by the people of Arkansas – something that could have been sickly sweet, but which Chung portrays in a genuine, heartwarming way. With breathtaking cinematography by Lachlan Milne and a spellbinding score by Emile Mosseri to match that beautiful, sublime landscape, this is a mesmerising, tender film with a delightful message at its heart about family and the sacrifices we make for those we love. The only flaw is that it ends, so captivating is the world Chung has created that you’ll want to stay in the company of the Yi’s for a lot longer than its 1 hour 55 minute running time.

(Originally posted on The Digital Fix: https://www.thedigitalfix.com/film/film_review/gff-2021-minari)