50 Best Films of 2020

2020 was a very good year for cinema in a way that a normal year is not. It's a need on my part to say this because the emergence of such rich, compelling cinema in what is essentially the year of a virus outbreak, is nothing short of fascinating. I was thinking, when the first wave peaked, that I'll restrict my list of the best films of year for just twenty-something films. However, I ended up immensely liking nearly ninety films. A big plus was the discovery of miniature independent cinema, and the nearly surreal evasion of big-budget studio features from across the world. Even as I make this list, I regret ditching out some of them just because they couldn't make the top fifty. 

Although there are a lot of films which must be embraced and watched in a larger scope, films that range from Pushpendra Singh's Laila Aur Saatt Geet to Christopher Nolan's Tenet to Lawrence Michael Levine's Black Bear. However, these are the top five films that really need to be acknowledged as honourable mentions.  

Violation- The only film that I watched from last year's Toronto IFF, Dusty Mancinelli and Madeleine Sims-Fewer's beautiful debut feature is equal parts powerful and provocative. 

The Trial of the Chicago 7- Aaron Sorkin is not so much as a revolutionary filmmaker as he is a revolutionary screenwriter. His writing skills actually power through this poetic, revolting re-creation of one of the fiercest movements in the sixties world, which feels just as timeless and timely as it can be. 

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom- While George C. Wolfe's adaptation of August Wilson's play risked initially at being a white man's chronicle of Black culture, Ruben Santiago Hudson's timely rendition to the theatrical writing, the charmingly emotional energy held by late Chadwick Boseman and the electrifying prowess of Viola Davies rescue the film and make it a powerful, important piece of Black cinema. 

The Twentieth Century- Indie filmmaker Matthew Rankin's bizarrely crafted and oddly coloured idiosyncratic fantasy takes the Canadian history and constructs an almost queer and cutting-edge satire out of nominal resourcing and strange ways of shooting and perceiving things, promising a talented new voice in cinema. 

Babyteeth- Trust on this unconventionally brilliant Australian romantic comedy to subvert the casually cheesy tropes used by the American romantic tragicomedies. Starring Eliza Scanlen in on of the most defining performances of her career and a very strong turn from Essie Davies among others, this lesser-than-life indie brims with glitters. 

50. One Night in Miami 

Regina King is already one of the most promising figures of Hollywood, breathing life into her characters with beauty and grace. With One Night in Miami she reveals a steely resolve in her storytelling and an ability to figure out the spine of a film as someone behind the camera. 

An adaptation of a play that imagines four of the pioneers of America's black community, meeting before the major turning points of their life, this is a true mainstream streaming cinema, with glossy colours, rich aesthetics and impressively straightforward monologue. However, the greatest strength of this film is that it makes all the right people do all the right things, meanwhile painting a sharp, realistic and bleak portrait of America as almost any other region stepping into a contemporary future. 

49. Cat Sticks

Monochrome photography, in a very unconventional if inconvenient manner, reveals all the colours of life. They are the true genesis of artistic expression and I love modern films being shot in black and white. Ronny Sen, a Calcutta-based monochrome photographer, makes a fictional feature debut that works as a sort of recreation of the lives of his brown sugar junkie friends who lost their lives to the addiction. 

Cat Sticks doesn't paint fatal the injuries and indulgences of these friends. Neither does it paint a very pin-pointed picture of death. However, it takes a mainstream narrative, sharpens its edges and smoothens its pace to rectify the character studies of a drug addict. It also portrays Kolkata like you'd have never seen in any photograph or montage, which is a big plus for me. 

48. Last and First Men 

The black-and-white medium elicits less pleasure and more emotion in composer Jóhann Jóhansson's swansong, his directorial debut in feature-length. Starring the seductive voice of Tilda Swinton as a figure of narration, this documentary footage movie takes us to the world, towards the end of humanity. Monuments grow human volumes and voice grow legs in themselves. 

Immersively mixed into sound and scooping out tension from almost immediate quietness, there's a lesser chance that one can actually define what Last and First Men is. I can't even say with a sure tone that it's a feature film. However, it mixes the finest elements of cinema and the alchemy constructed is deeply thought-provoking. 

47. Bad Education

Cory Finley is a rich black comedic master. Yes, I do know that he's made only Thoroughbreds before this. However, with that film he established a rare ability of mining out a feeling from a seeming nowhere and produce instantly bizarre sense of humour. 

His sophomore feature Bad Education extends this legacy quite competently. Starring Hugh Jackman in one of the finest performances of his career as Frank Tassone, a principal who creates a web of lies to hide one and systematically constructs an educational scam, Bad Education starts out as an exceptionally acted satire laced with a positively thrilling black comedy. However, this blend becomes so wild and potent nearing the climax that I was left wondering if it's any of that, or all of that. It's a film filled with a sort of gravity and it has a lot of wit, transcending its confirmed status as a compelling entertainer. And speaking of acting, Geraldine Viswanathan is a fucking revelation and the bitch is having a friggin good time! 

46. Shithouse 

Cooper Raiff's SXSW-selected freshman feature doesn't actually attempt to explain his signature as a filmmaker or promise a glorious talent in terms of his body of work. It introduces himself, first and foremost, as a capable writer who can mine out enriching Richard Linklater-esque conversations for the Generation-Z and strike a chord with his relatable body language as an actor. 

Starring him alongside an excellent Dylan Gelula, Shithouse is a sweet and savoury coming-of-age story wrapped in a refreshing new bottle. It deals with loneliness and companionship in unexpectedly heartfelt ways, the kind that go from utterly simple to utterly wild one fantastic scene at a time. The charming sense of humour which embodies even the passingly mentioned supporting actors, crazy conflicts abound with a palpable touch of tension and a weight of niceness carried around without a speck of effort, makes Shithouse stand out with everything quirky about it. 

45. The Forty-Year-Old Version 

As unpredictable New York City might be, the fact is that people inhabit it. One can say the exact same things about Radha Blank, the film's director, its think-tank, its protagonist (or the subject of "this documentary"?). She is unpredictable, yes, but also charming, lived-in and wholesome. The playwright-turned-rapper turns into a director with her Sundance-premiered feature debut film. 

A thoroughly engaging black and white film that more than ably captures the whimsicality of a woman turning forty in a buzzy metropolis, The Forty-Year-Old Version witnesses Radha dealing with herself like a teenager figuring out his/her spirit. Nice touches of vulnerability, romance and friendship abound in the cutting-edge black comedy of the film, and it's full of style and substance. 

44. The Wild Goose Lake 

Diao Y'inan is at times so at ease with his material of blood, gore, and intimacy, that he casually reminds of the Bollywood contemporary Anurag Kashyap. With a lesser budget and interplay of coloured lights, however, he constructs his fourth film with the kind of attention that is captivating. 

A neon-coloured neo-noir is only how English cinema from the past few years defined it for me. However, the genre is weaponized to construct a tale of hyper-masculine violence and Chinese gritty rural realism by Y'inan, and his approach, coupled by the fantastic performances from Hu Ge and Gwei Lun-Mei, works absolute wonders. 

43. 1956, Central Travancore 

Malayalam filmmaker Don Palathara is currently one of the most powerful voices in Indian cinema. Although this is not a name you'll be widely hearing in conversations around the post-modern greatness of Malyalam films, he's been doing quietly poweful work under the rug. Before his unexpectedly satisfying breakout of two subsequently amazing films, he broke out towards an internal applause with this quiet mood-piece. 

Palathara has crafted an elegant period drama in 1956 CT. It takes a period in history and recreates it verb-by-verb, with dialogues that take you to this middle ground of twentieth-century, post-independence southern India getting divided on the basis of linguistics. It also blends into the mix a rich country folklore with vapid lower notes of imagination. However, at its core it's a wonderfully sustained and incredibly human story of two brothers adrift from each other. 

42. The Painter and The Thief 

Documentarian Benjamin Ree takes a very fascinating subject at core: a relationship between a painter and the thief who stole her Masterpiece. While the premise itself sounds like the perfect pitch for a black comedy escalating into a heartwarming drama, the documentary approach is far from it. Ree establishes a connection between his subjects in a way that is deeply humane and charming. In the process of figuring out the whodunit of this case, the film gently and swiftly explores what these characters actually are. 

No, we do know from the beginning that this woman right there is a middle-class expressionistic painter and the man right there is a crooked thief. However, the film's strength is that it seamlessly lets us see the kind of humans they are beyond. At its core, then, The Painter and The Thief is a good old tale of love, lingering and yearning. 

41. I'm Thinking of Ending Things 

Existential poet Charlie Kaufman returns to the game after five years of 'Anomalisa', and this time, he actually goes on to confirm that he really, truly knows the male perspective-- the male head. In this gloriously adapted version of a novel written by Iain Reid, an intersectional story tells a deeply affecting and horrifying parable of existentialism. 

While no rewatch could completely make you comprehend the vivacious dilemmas the film deals with, its visual symbolism and the Lynchian undertones they hold elevates it from being quite complex, to quite detailed and nuanced. It also benefits from terrific performances by everyone from Jessie Buckley, Jesse Plemons and the terrifyingly perfect Toni Collette. 

40. Kajillionaire 

Miranda July's Kajillionaire is a definitive coming-of-age film of the year. It's a perfect recommendation for a lazy evening, or even a charged-up one when needing a much-needed head rush. Starring Evan Rachel Wood in a classically wonderful performance as Old Dolio, with a marvelous supporting turn from Gina Rodriguez, Kajillionaire is a character study that becomes so many things at once that the idiosyncratic tone, which feels unsure initially, sits right with everything. 

And what else does it become? It's an infectious coming-of-age screenplay, playing out with an affection for feel-good cinema. It's also a positively thrilling heist thriller, and then, the queer romance at its core becomes another one of its big plusses. In other words, it marks Miranda July on the map of the great female filmmakers, which had somewhat already happened in Me and You and Everyone We Know. 

39. I'm Your Woman 

Julia Hart cracks the code of a different sort of female representation with I'm Your Woman. Her immense talent and peculiar skills work for propelling a deeply subversive story. This, basically, is a subtle and quietly absorbing film running parallel to that entertaining gangster saga you have been seeing from forever. Working as a sort of answer for what the wife of the criminal on a run is actually doing in her dungeons, I'm Your Woman is an inspiring work of art in ways more than one. 

I think one of the best things about the film is that it has a cast which has the ability to make the familiar look entirely more interesting than would be expected. Rachel Brosnahan sheds her Marvelous Mrs. Maisel skin and gets under that of the mature yet fiercely moving Jean. She delivers an origin story of sorts and she does it with a sense of purpose. Props to the technical team, for capturing the atmosphere in an essentially tension-inducing manner. 

38. Saint Maud 

Darkly observed and deeply expressed, above anything else Saint Maud is an enchanting, engaging entry into the contemporary horror landscape in the form of the Welsh filmmaker Rose Glass, who might just blend as a quartet entry into the Holy Trinity of twenty-first century horror: Ari Aster, Jordan Peele and Robert Eggers, that is. Her study of obsession over religiosity, and love towards God is as immaculate as her study of female behaviour at its messiest, and we should give a big hand of applause for that. 

Starring Morfydd Clarke in a horrifically golden form (which is her career-best in more ways than one), Saint Maud deals with a titular young nurse who is dealing with a strange form of spiritual crisis, and is invited to take care of a chronically ill dancer named Amanda. While one might argue that beneath the surface the film is only a hollow British chiller, it is negated by the overall classiness and its observation of the fight between faith and existence. 

37. Unmadiyude Maranam 

Filmmaker Sanal Kumar Sasidharan cracks the code of an allegorical satire with his comprehensively sly and powerful new fiction-plus-fact cinema. The film tells the story of 'The Insane' whose destructive, harshly true dreams manifest themselves in reality and result in political upheaval that results in police going ahead and unleashing their unsparing brutality towards him. The film then goes on to expand its anarchy as realistically as possible. 

In an Indian film where a director constitutes messaging purely by dreaming his art off, sometimes the intent matters alone. However, what makes Unmadiyude Maranam stand out is the fact that Sasidharan walks that extra mile to construct a compelling language in itself for his cinema, thereby cracking the code of representation. 

36. Sound of Metal 

While Anthony Hopkins did top him with his seminal performance in The Father, there's no arguing over the fact that Riz Ahmed gives a completely flawless performance that does a lot more than completely shouldering the competent film he stars in. His excellence permeates through each and every frame of the film, courtesy of his fabulous delivery. He gets the film's conflict between acceptance and passion, and manages to still stand above it, which is nothing short of incredible. 

Looking beyond, Sound of Metal is also one of the finest screenplays of the year. Darius Marder's sophomore feature is intelligent and extremely palpable from the beginning to the end. However, there's a tinge of patch here that makes you wonder whether the film will be as great deducing Riz Ahmed from it. 

35. Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution 

Directors James Lebrecht and Nicole Newnham reopen pages from an incredibly personal history with Crip Camp: A Disability Revolution. The film takes a set of conversations between people and those between people and the system and traces masterfully the struggle to get implemented the discrimination against disabled act (ADA), 1990. 

What makes this incredibly powerful documentation stand out from the others on the movement is that it takes an empowering revolution, and finds its roots in an inspiring and positive past, foregrounding from a summer camp that changed the outlook of its inhabitants for beautiful results. And most importantly, the film works due to its profound, meaningful and empathetic outlook. 

34. The Nest 

Director Sean Durkin's follow-up to Martha Marcy May Marlene is brilliant in every sense of the word, but also the most flawed film to get such an... upward place, if you will. However, no film I have seen this year pulled the rug out of my feet quite as masterfully as The Nest. It follows the O'Hara family as they move from a rich life in America towards one in England for making a fortune out of the roots, where a completely unexpected and disappointing life lurks around the corner. 

Masterfully dissecting the rule of capitalism, Sean Durkin starts and ends out as a dysfunctional family drama with a crumbling marriage story. Of course, no points for guessing that the two god-tier performances from Carrie Coon and Jude Law elevates this understated drama to an affecting one. However, eventually The Nest becomes an uncomfortable and scary horror film about what the ghost of American Dream does to people who tend to move away from it. The reality definitely isn't farther. 

33. Two of Us 

I absolutely love when directors who already choose deeply fascinating stories to tell, run an extra mile and tell them in a deeply moving and nuanced manner. At that, Filippo Meneghetti chooses a uniquely old-fashioned way of looking towards this romance between two elderly French women. 

The way the romance between the protagonists Nina and Madeleine is staged, relies partially on the performative prowess of its leads. And why not? Barbara Sukowa and Martine Chevalier are both truly extraordinary verterans who look the part and act it with flair. What makes it all the more moving is the fact that none of the actresses have capitalised on the fact that these are old women having sex with each other and kissing and embracing passionately. However, what makes the film truly stand out is the fact that Meneghetti pulls his strings like a true master. He stages their forbidden love as if wanting to induce a certain anxiety, and also puts in fantastic camerawork with pinkish tints to make the film look visually stunning in digital. This is the arrival of a brilliant young voice in French contemporary cinema. 

32. Identifying Features

Fernanda Valadez's Identifying Features, apart from being one of the most hard-hitting screenplays of the last year, is also remarkable visual storytelling. Starring Mercedes Hernández, this film is an unnerving immigrant drama about the state of being an outsider, and the grief of a mother on the journey to find her child. In only a running time of fewer than two hours, the film reveals the political complexities between two nations and the systems that inhabit them. Through hefty reserve, Valadez also reflects upon the fleeting human connections that bind us to all the world's materiality. A mystery interlineations the seemingly simplistic lost-and-found narrative, also making it more subversive and alluring than it initially lets on.

The ingenuousness is extremely immersive and sharply constructed, and the ending, though easy to see by a distance, is mounted gut-wrenchingly, and in a way that signifies the entire film: the lived-in mastery is not evoked out of least bit melodrama or even attention to detail. It's all about the crudity that envelopes human identity.

31. Ema 

Chilean master Pablo Larraín needs no introduction. He is certainly a diverse storyteller who can tell original stories with groundbreaking conviction, but his remarkable trademark of telling inspired-by-real-life tales in a concrete fashion needs no introduction either. Ema stands as a fabulous example of the former. On the surface, the film only is a character study of the titular woman: a young wife and mother grappling with the loss of the child and seemingly coming-of-age, meanwhile exploring her passion as a professional dancer and a flamethrower. 

It's infuriating to think of the fact that men will gaze at Ema as an erotic fantasy. However, that only goes on to prove the point of this film, its ultimate success of litmus test. The sexually provocative odyssey of our flamethrower protagonist stands as not just an allegory for her own liberation but in many ways of ours, as we observe her dysfunctional family coming to terms with dysfunctions of theirs if not erasing them altogether. Another plus is to see Gael García Bernal getting undermined by an excellent young female co-star, the fresh-faced Mariana Di Girolamo. 

30. Dick Johnson is Dead 

The Queen of European cinema, Agnés Varda lives on in many filmmakers who are making features and documentaries both, be it Greta Gerwig or Miranda July. An underrated. successor is the documentary filmmaker Kirsten Johnson. Not only does she know the deliberations of the craft, she also twists them to tell these delightful and thoughtful stories that few will choose to capitalise upon. 

In his brief review of her brilliant latest documentary Dick Johnson is Dead, IndieWire film critic David Ehrlich said, "It's easier to see things than recall them." Probably that's exactly what makes this Netflix doc one of the most nuanced and focused archives of the recent times. As Kirsten prepares her memory-losing doctor father for inevitable death, one watches the process with teary eyes and a big smile on their face, primarily because how incredibly personal it feels and how acceptance of the loss of a parent is the greatest thing a child can do as an ode to them. 

29. Straight Up 

Queer director James Sweeney spins a delightful coming-of-age story and blends it with a thrillingly popsicle-like romantic comedy in Straight Up. Spinning a fascinating coming-out story in form of a universally relatable dilemma for twentysomething people, the film follows its male protagonist grappling with the mystery of his sexuality, thinking that he might just be straight and not really gay. 

The best thing about Straight Up is not its genre-twisting, unnatural and entertaining plot arcs. The best thing about Straight Up is not even its two shining leads- James Sweeney and the sensuous Katie Findley- delivering exquisite performances. The best thing about Straight Up is that it introduces us to an intriguing, smart directorial voice that knows exactly how to figure out a wildly original tone. Most of all, he gets what obsessive-compulsive disorder does to people and why hyper-articulation by young individuals needs to be humanized rather than be mocked upon. 

28. My Octopus Teacher

 

Nature documentary filmmakers Philippa Ehrlich and James Reed make their feature directorial debut with a Netflix special that became the most popularly talked about documentary of the year as well. A deserving winner of the Oscar for Best Documentary, the primary reason why this film works is the fact that it takes an incredible human and wildlife relationship story and treats it with such empathy, which was very long lost, or perhaps never acquired, by the National Geographic stuff that is ever ready to get a simplistic label stamped all over it. 

The film, while telling the story of Craig Foster and his relationship with this cute eight-legged being, attracted serious Twitter conversation about itself. However, I think the social media's unnecessary romanticism and fetishized portrayal of this relationship is exactly what the film doesn't foster. It's a patient, sublime observation of how things work under the water and above it, and for once, blurs the lines and celebrates Mother Nature. 

27. Rocks 

Sarah Gavron is one of the most imperative filmmakers to watch out. While I haven't seen Suffragette (2015) starring goddesses Carey Mulligan, Meryl Streep and Helena Bonham-Carter or Brick Lane (2007) starring Tannishtha Chatterjee and Satish Kaushik, her minuscule, powerful British gem Rocks proves more than just enough of her mettle. She takes a bunch of teenager girls and crafts a charming story around them, one that transcends the boundaries of class and race, or genres such as even coming-of-age. 

Starring Bukky Bakray and Kosar Ali in one of the year's finest lead actress- supporting actress pairs, the film deals with a nearly abandoned girl's struggle to keep herself together despite her mother's look-out for independence. What could have been a searing tragedy sits well as a liberating origin story of a delicate form of feminism emerging in a budding mind. In the process, a festive-like, seasoned and warm school friendship is also explored. 

26. Shirley

 

Madeline's Madeline director Josephine Decker has a peculiar directorial voice that shines the brightest when it's on a murkier side. Her deliberately wild and thoroughly grand biographical chapter on the renowned horror author Shirley Jackson goes on to prove this. Based on a book by Sarah Gubbins which twists and turns the eventful life of Shirley by introducing fictional turnovers for her life, this is a twisted take on mental health, queer companionship and ideals of a toxic wedlock. 

The film works way beyond what its talented actors have to offer. It has tonnes of surreal energy, and there's a real emergency whenever the ideas of Shirley translate visually on the screen. Like all the gold-standard thrillers, it's the finest when the quietest. In fact, if the horror elements were enhanced, this could have almost been an A24 film. The performances, though, are fantastic. Elisabeth Moss obviously shines as Shirley in one of the best performances of her illustrious career. However, the two subordinate players Michael Stuhlbarg and Odessa Young steal the show with their revisionist, fashionable acting skills. 

25. Small Axe: Mangrove 

Steve McQueen has from always been a very powerful storyteller. His 12 Years A Slave was such a potent historical and social thread that the Academy decided to award it the Best Picture. However, with his five-part anthology mini-series Small Axe on the BBC, McQueen has finally proved himself as an extensively powerful chronicler of community. And the series itself is nothing short of being the revelation of the year. 

Its first instalment 'Mangrove' is based on the true story of Mangrove Nine, its owner Frank Crichlow, and the trial on the Old Bailey in the 1970s. It's a film densely packed with A-Listers and consists of sustained punchlines and riveting turns. While this does resemble Aaron Sorkin's The Trial of the Chicago 7, the difference is vast, majorly because the film impacts not just on the level of its screenplay's ferocious nature, but also because of its powerful filmmaking and the brilliant new directions it forges its story towards. 

24. Small Axe: Red, White and Blue 

A biographical film comes in a reserved format and hardly makes a step down a different territory even when it tries to do something unconventional. Steve McQueen very much changes that in his powerful observation of cop-cum-author Leroy Logan. He doesn't play by the 'competent biopic' beats- it exceptionally shows Logan's life as a family person as well as a scientist who gave up his profession for serving people. However, McQueen also looks at the larger picture, often with much more detail- he effectively showcases the oppression of a black family by the hands of the superior white system. 

Playing out like a thriller where authority invades the minority, Red, White and Blue shines the brightest when it spotlights the inner workings of the system with efficiency. The best part of the film is the young, dazzling performance of John Boyega. He truly proves his immense capabilities as an actor, often reminding of the brilliance of the young Denzel Washington. He's just why the film works so very much. 

23. The Woman Who Ran 

Hong Sang-Soo's movies cater to the most constructive space of mind in the most heartfelt way possible. And it's still a very narrow way to describe the emotional intricacy the characters interlace. Like the majority of his work, The Woman Who Ran eyewitnesses Sang-Soo create a plenitude of expressions which contemporary cinema has often left unexpressed. Through three simple conversations, that a woman shares with her three female friends, the writing reveals a layer of comfort the more subversive parables deny to those who listen to them. There are doorbells, there are streets, there are beautiful passages, there is food, and there's this woman at the crossroads of the trinity of conversations- Gam-Hee- describing her relationship with her husband, and the sheer intimacy of it when she describes how inconsequential it is that she's meeting her old friends.

There's some sort of a dominant theme at the kernel of the conversations, whenever the writing entangles its strands when they play out to you on the screens. And yet, there's nothing more comforting when we see Gam-Hee moving down the alley and perhaps briefly, relish herself, no matter how comforting the actuality might be, the interactions feel way less physical and way more celebratory. The Woman Who Ran is a consistently brilliant self-criticism and a poetically interesting ode to feminist comprehension.

22. Thappad 

Anubhav Sinha is revising his course. He is creating a form for himself that's largely surprising, mostly due to his overtly bad masala movie roots. Mulk (2018) worked as a debut of sorts, which was a little too simplistic, yet entertaining sermon on the Islamophobic India. The second film was decidedly better, with Article 15 (2019) artfully deconstructing the state of the marginalized in India, albeit with a 'saviour' problem that was quite substantially negated by the larger spectrum. 

His third film in the sequence is Thappad. What starts out as a story of a man inflicting a single slap on his wife in high-class Delhi, becomes a case study of thousands of women living in this country. It uses not a fictional story, it provides a face to the reality which have gripped Indian women to their core. Led by a rarely fantastic Taapsee Pannu, the film also consists of a fine ensemble that acts out with every bit commitment and energy. One of the most promising screenplays of the year, Thappad is a rare, inspiring, inspired Bollywood film that actually, masterfully works. 

21. Wolfwalkers 

Tomm Moore and Ross Stewart craft a compelling, nearly Little Women- level contemporary echo of a period folktale with their passionately animated Cartoon Saloon movie. On one level, it's a wholly warm and sincerely satisfying ecological fable about the civilization created by man and how sprouting young minds can help in destroying the seeds of this forced industrialization, and bring about a change. 

However, on another level, this Irish feminist fantasy talks about darker things. Through its protagonist Robyn, it establishes the systematically evil roots of constant enforcement of patriarchy. Though the man-king is not right-out established as a misogynist objectifier, the film in a nuanced way traces out the mediaeval era gender roles and the struggles of little girls in order to break free. Even then, it doesn't use wilderness as an excuse to drive this larger point. And looks beautiful throughout, which is another big plus. 

20. Promising Young Woman 

A pop-culture revenge drama on the surface, Promising Young Woman's writing revealed so many glittering layers upon further contemplation that it made both Emerald Fennell and Carey Mulligan household names. And deservingly so, because this Sundance breakout is absolutely wild-- its avenging angel plot serves as a schematically powerful Me-Too allegory. It takes all the 'nice' guy types around us and gulps them down in one shot. 

Basically, the film, following a thirty-something woman named Cassandra who teaches slight, sleuthing predators the unforgettable lesson for their life, gives a thoughtful edge to her murky and sinister brand of feminism. This not only gives her cause a very thoughtful and intimate reason, it also gives us a passing sense of why the beautifully coloured production design, and eye-candy costumes and cinematography. Carey Mulligan gives an adjective-defying, startlingly excellent and immersively matchless performance as Cassie, single-handedly elevating the film to the greatness it achieves. This is the contemporary actress of the twenty-first century, a true successor to the twentieth century greats. 

19. Josep 

Few animation filmmakers have this tendency to take their sincerely applause-worthy material and elevate it to serve a greater purpose, meanwhile being worthy enough in the genre constructions. Pete Doctor took the mind of a teenager girl, made Inside Out, and elevated sublime doses of sentimentality to make one of the very best films of the decade two-thousand-tens, animated or not. Similarly, Aurel takes the two-dimensional art of Jean Louis Milesi with Josep and churns out one of the best biopic films. 

Aurel's overwhelming, wholesome yet heartbreaking recreation of life and times of intermittently war-torn caricaturist Josep Bartoli dodges the same old formula of rise and fall and rise of an artist and tells his story like one would tell of any other human. But there's always a sense that we're hearing of a greatly creative person, the finest thing being that we're never spoonfed any of that. There are these rich moments that transcend the boundaries of these beautiful sketches and come to life in abundance due to their minimalism. This is a quietly penetrating and minimalist portrait of a man, and also the best animated film since the inception of the it in independent circuit of world cinema. 

18. Time 

Garrett Bradley's Time is arguably one of the most important films you will see in recent times. The black-and-white documentary, following the journey of a wife as she tries to set her husband free from the unjust incarceration he was subject to for a bank robbery, is very impassioned and personal for an experience, but it stays away from the needless confines of sentimentality or melodrama because the woman in the picture, Sibil Fox Richardson, is a figure that evokes inspiration, bluntness, unprecedented solidity and also restraint in her use of power. When she speaks, she builds an acute world, undemanding of the attention of her audience but attracting the audience towards it.

Frankly, when she does that, she embodies the film too. The direction by Bradley is anything but physical. It is moving because the two women, one behind the camera and the other, getting recorded, channel the empathy and the discourse with effortless ease. The last few minutes do become about the family, the memories they'll cherish from the past and will continue to do so in the future, but the film is really revealing about the endurance a community must develop for the rotten system of the white man, and it also deconstructs some particularly discomforting truths about it. This still looks very inventive because it does so by taking the viewer into an inviting space that's never hard to correlate with. Zac Manuel, Justin Zweifach, Nisa East exquisitely shoot the film in a neat black and white, perfectly in-sync with the opulent music crafted with inherently melodious score by Jamieson Shaw and Edwin Montgomery induce unadulterated technicalities to the film, elevating it to the heights it deserves to go. This film colored my heart monochrome! 

17. Boys State 

As someone who cherished being an active part of political conversations right from the school time, and being an ex-Humanities student, Boys State hit me on a personal level. If it got out at the time when I didn't take cinema watching seriously, I would have connected with it due to my steep familiarity with the conversation and the underlying 'point' as such. However, at this point in my life, I need to applaud Jesse Moss and Amanda MacBaine's slight, grounded and almost entirely human approach towards a supposedly heavy discussion on democratic federalism and nationalism, which is kind of exactly a stepup for which this institution was made in the first place. It is also elevated by a smart choice of people to talk to- the four subjects are instantly available as human teens and not structurally "composed" future politicians.

Without playing to strict archetypes or resorting to sensational outlook, the film essentially depicts power plays and tricks from the book. The rich political literature isn't overflowed, instead it is beautifully reflected towards the current state of the US, often intelligently so, as there's little adult intervention. An attentive and committed to cause third party view is what ensures this. Particularly, the parts about Rob, René and Steven are charismatically observed. In fact, keeping aside the too loud portrayal of Eddy both as a person and as a growing political chair, it remains a precise, precious piece of art that powerfully coheres right from its first half.

16. The Assistant 

Few films possess such quiet, tremendous power as The Assistant does. Through this film, Kitty Green has made not just a very loud noise, but also a deeply resonant directorial debut that slips its points away without any pointers or powerpoint presentations. With a piercingly slow-burning pace, the film mines out enough impact and power to have you stay invested. Also, the subtle, suggestive nature of the dialogue is so disturbing that it succeeds in reminding you of the infamous Harvey Weinstein case. 

Also, one cannot be entirely appreciative of the film without admiring how great Julia Garners is in it. She is expressive to the least and attentive to the most, taking the cues patiently and almost plotting and writing the film on her own. She uses the particularly unattractive, middle-class looks of hers to construct a deeply unsettling happening taking place. Which is an astonishing change for a Hollywood indie. 

15. The Father 

Theatrical writing and screenwriting has these sharp differences. If you're able to capture cinematic ambience into a theatrical play show, it'll be deemed appreciable. However, theatricality can work only to a measured level with respect to cinema. Fortunately, playwright Zeller does know this measure. As he adapts his French play La Pére into a full-length British film, he pulls off one riveting cinematic punch after the other and in full knowledge of it. He uses exceptional sense of transitioning sequences, brilliant production design and a constantly building-and-breaking emotional infrastructure to full potential.

The major reason why The Father works this well is the extraordinarily subtle performance delivered by Sir Anthony Hopkins. This is a true veteran in complete submission and acceptance to an extremely humane and vulnerable role. As old Anthony, he lets us see through him to the level that it comes off as scary. After so many years, his performance is the one that I can call truly and completely deserving of the Best Actor Oscar, because no one but he merits it. Props to the flawless production design by Cathy Featherstone and the supporting cast led by the obviously great Olivia Coleman, which entirely succeeds in staying true to the film's honest psychological tension. 

14. Sthalpuraan 

Directed by the indie filmmaker Akshay Indikar, Sthalpuran is quite a suggestive title: sthal is a place, space, to contemplate, for the ideas to germinate, to die, and to ripe. The film caters to the concept of space on a deeply personal level, as it takes a slice from a little boy's life- Dighu, and his older sister Durga (which is clearly not the only Satyajit Ray reference in the film), seek to know where his father left suddenly. It caters to the chronicle of space in such a cramped situation because when it isn't building the inherently warm, comforting atmosphere of the roaring seashore village where the film plays, it delves into the inner chambers, the yellow sheets of Dighu's diary. But this is not the manipulative space in which the director takes us- instead, it's a very visual medium, an opportunity explored, and not just exploited. The performances sync into the film's nerve, and there is no acting. There are people, and there is space.

The expression of the fantasy elements is nailed by the minimalist cinematography and exquisite sound design. It minutely details the role, and the nature, of the crucial element in childhood's utter fascinations, wonders, and circles of thoughts: which has to be time. The running time in itself feels surreal because what the film sells is just the last minutes of the film. The simplicity of its dialogue and the Apu Trilogy-ish wisdom of the film's narrative (as well as craft) works wonderfully well. The film maintains a consistent, stimulating rhythm and it pulses with sheer charming authenticity. 

13. Shiva Baby 

There's so much to love about Shiva Baby for what it really is, and so much more for what it isn't. It isn't a course-rectifying coming-of-age drama which focuses on its more sexual bit or tantalises the chaos at this very relatable portrait of a funeral, and in this case a Jewish one. The protagonist and the people around her are not caricatures- characters such as Danielle and Maya are brought to life by excellent artists like Rachel Sennott and Maya Gordon. 

The reason why the film deserves to be loved for what it does to you, is two words- Emma Seligman. In her feature debut she has only expanded her sophomore as a short filmmaker into wider detail, but I don't think any other filmmaker could have done that so masterfully, without losing a sense of charm or atleast including some more. She's brimming with strange, alchemical black comedic potential and she lets everyone see that on a hanging display. One cannot help but admire how she stages even the more emotionally moving scenes in tightly stringed scenario. This is an artist to look forward to. 

12. Never Rarely Sometimes Always 

NRSA is everything one can expect from female filmmakers when they handle the very 'female' issues. However, that's not everything about the direction of this film. Eliza Hittman's follow up to the tender, yet brilliant films Beach Rats and It Felt Like Love, takes the story of a lower middle-class teenage girl's secret abortion and makes it such a deeply felt study of pain and repression that you can't help but get moved by its delicate nature. 

The film does away from unnecessary dialogue and stringing of sequences. Neither does I stage any of its feelings into definitive scenes. However, that helps the film in remaining completely focused upon the various dilemmas and the internalized gender politics, which deserves a round of unwavering applause. Add to that the stunningly perfect young performances from the budding debutant Sydney Flanagan and the terrific Talia Ryder, and the parable of these two American girls becomes one of the entire globe. 

11. Athlete A 

Investigative journalism is considered a very worn-out and conventional way for documentary filmmakers when they explore any form of abuse. However, one cannot deny the fact that it induces, in fact, a lot of statistical maturity and emotional fluidity to the cause. With Athlete A, director duo Jon Shenk and Bonni Cohen follow the reporters who broke the story of systematic sexual abuse by a Gymnastics coach inflicted on the young girls in the US athletics scene. 

Brushing upon such disturbing facts with efficiency is a hard task. However, Shenk and Cohen delve into the inner feelings of these young girls and create a sturdy, solid picture of what they've been feeling through and what they must have gone through at the moment. It's a very good blend of the objective and the subjective, the distant and the intimate. It more than just works, because the balance itself is a mix of firm and delicate. 

10. Another Round 

The winner of Best Foreign Language Film at this year's Oscars, above anything else, Another Round is an insanely funny film. Even at its most tragic, scenes including relationship heartbreaks and deaths, the film maintains a sort of black comedic luster that is irresistible. The film also packs in a ridiculous amount of charm on its face. While all this isn't particularly unheard of, the fact that it comes in a film by Danish auteur Thomas Vinterberg, is something to be talked about and acknowledged. 

The film, focused on a group of schoolmasters performing a drinking experiment believed to increase efficiency, is internalized by its singular charmer- the ever-reliable and ever-expanding Mads Mikkelsen. Mikkelsen provides a sense of depth and detail to the film and his performance is enough to cover up some of the obvious flaws of this film and turn them into seamless strengths. 

9. Swallow 

Carlo Mirabella-Davis, with his Mubi-premiered feature film, has directed one of the strongest debuts of the year. Starring Haley Bennett in her career-best performance as a trophy wife named Hunter, the film starts off observing a secluded, rich pregnant lady who has the OCD of consuming sharp objects, leading to a somewhat disturbing but entirely logical chain of events. However, the film isn't just the psychological body-horror that you think it is. 

The sharp objects serve as a motif for the coming-of-age of a woman in a world of industrialized men. The rise of Hunter against the oppressive patriarchy of his good-natured, rich husband is impressively shown through colour-tinted windows and wide-angle shots which are particularly horrifying in how imprisoned they show Hunter as. Bennett is just brilliant- the way she goes from swallowing sharp objects to swallowing her systematic repression is extraordinary, and with her, the film rises from being just cinematically inventive. 

8. The Disciple

Directed by Chaitanya Tamhane, whose debut feature film Court was 2014's official Indian entry to the Academy Awards that year, The Disciple is easily going to be 'the that one' film which will exceptionally hard to top in his career. Basically, the film is a character study of Sharad, an Indian classical music student in Mumbai who is working hard upon his craft, only to his dismay that what he loves, doesn't love him back at all. 

This is a somber, delicate film played out deliberately in a slow pace and a meditative tune to its classical music interludes. And yet, in the undertones of its narrative and some of its extremely bleak edges, it plays out like a true horror film about ambitions moving away from a person and making him settle for something entirely banal. In the process, this journey becomes deeply moving and personal as well, meanwhile marking the arrival of a know-it-all storyteller for our times. 

7. Small Axe: Lovers Rock 

Another diamond standard entry into the Small Axe anthology, Lovers Rock is also its best. Starring newcomers and non-professionals, most strangely the fantastic Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn as Martha, the protagonist in focus, this is the biggest revelation of a series of stories that's the biggest revelation from the year. The film fills its stockings with potloads of sweet blueberry warmth, and becomes a festive delight all the way. 

Basically, the film plays out amid a West London residence's night-long blues party, with an hour-long musical sequence. However, never does it feel the slightest laboured or dull in the process. The romance is impressively packed in, so is the empowering suggestion of living as a black young woman in the turmoil of the 1970s London. However, it's the musical stretch that elevates this film to heights of greatness- it is loaded with an extraordinary charm, and it is so full of life that its quiet power just can't be denied. 

6. Quo Vadis, Aida? 

With Quo Vadis, Aida? director Jasmila Žbanić does something truly extraordinary. She plucks a fragment of an international organisation and even without properly weaponizing her, she makes an interesting and very valid point about its incompetence when it comes to stick their nose in the right place, at the right time. Aida is certainly not others- the UN translator is a very important part of the administration in this portrait of the 1995 Srebrenica genocide in the Bosnian war of 1992-1995. However, the film around her tells her story like any other facing the trials and tribulations of war, conveying pointedly fake promises of peace.

Absolutely, the last few minutes are a definitive standout. Its depiction of the aftermath of that violent hour can be another short film altogether, a very intimate and perfect showcase of how the way of processing grief sticks out like a sore thumb when you don't know what to do with your sadness, and how hope explodes in the most unlikely place. However, the rest of the most one-and-a-half hour running time is extremely captivating as well. Jasna Đuričić pulls off an extraordinary performance as Aida, her translator being as smart and sharp as heartfelt. Her performance amps up the tension in many of the film's palpable scenes. Also, I absolutely adored how real the Selmanagic family is. I haven't seen such a familial charm in a war movie- it very literally sticks among itself and its conflict with the institutional setup is set up in a way that is more than just powerful.

5. The Metamorphosis of Birds 

Catarina Vasconcelos, in her seminal Portugese feature-length hybrid working as both a documentary as well as some kind of a non-fiction fantasy, has breathed life into a true-life parable that's deeply affecting on too many levels. The basic Press synopsis for the film says, "Beatriz married Henrique on the day of her 21st birthday. Henrique, a naval officer, would spend long periods at sea. Ashore, Beatriz, who learned everything from the verticality of plants, took great care of the roots of their six children. The oldest son, Jacinto (Hyacinth), my father, dreamed he could be a bird. One day, suddenly, Beatriz died." However, what follows is truly extraordinary, "My mom didn't die suddenly, but she too died when I was 17 years-old. On that day, me and my father met in the loss of our mothers and our relationship was no longer just that of father and daughter."

This is an extremely local film in its building of atmosphere. There's a strange tint of mystic surrealism in its storytelling and world holding. However, at heart and at its very fundamental, it can't be any more global. The Metamorphosis of Birds is an ode to mothers, who are gods without worshippers, sitting on the altar and developing the roots of her children. 

4. First Cow 

Kelly Reichardt is one of the most amazing female storytellers alive today. Her compassionate frames and sturdy gazes power her brilliant westerns, which come to life and embody it in the strangest of the places. First Cow, in that regard, paints an acute picture of American crisis and forges an unlikely, but gorgeous human connection. Starring John Magaro and Orion Lee, the film milks out humanism in barren, forested stretches of inhumane ambition, and acquires devastating beauty in this journey, however charming. 

The cow of First Cow is not just an allegory of the unprivileged man capitalizing on the indulgence of the rich, but also a metaphor for hunger, that invites both subsistence, but also substance. Having watched this film I'm sure I'll be giving it a rewatch to fully embrace its little delights, but I can really hear the film and still be fully satisfied: the cow being milked, the touching conversation between King-Lu and Cookie, and the film's intelligent sense of humor.

3. Minari

The Los Angeles-based filmmaker Lee Isaac Chung's new feature Minari is shot principally in Korean with sprays of English, but it is really mostly American. More so, I've never seen a Korean film that put me in a space as intimate and comforting. Easily the most reassuring and brilliant family drama in a long time, it speaks in a universal language because the family life, as depicted in and by the film, represents not just the fondness but also the grudges which members share. Though the family, house-on-wheels, and each blade of grass is the protagonist in such a film, it abstains from the usual turn and finds its affection in the youngest family member, David. The prospect works very essentially because as he and his older sister come of age we revisit the embraces of our parents who used to correct us when we did wrong things. It also tore me apart with the depiction of his relationship, which he cultivates along with the Minari plant, to his grandma, for I had a similar connection with my grandmother.

Chung's screenplay romances a very authentic family drama with the story of a breaking tie of marriage, but the cinematography by Lachlan Milne is the real writer, as it gazes upon the beauty of the surroundings and tells the story with utter simplicity but also fervid aptitude. Minari is an effective, minimalistic cinema at its most absorbing. A complete film by every means.

2. Nomadland 

Chloe Zhao's Nomadland is so mystic in its grounded authenticity that it doesn't feel like it's made- it's directed- at all. Zhao's improbable visual flair informs her distinctive, original filmmaking skills. Delightfully American in intent and meticulously honest in its minimalism, this film succeeds in becoming both a heartfelt portrait of a community which cinema needs to talk about more often, as well as an ingenious character study. If anything else, it only confirms the invigorating power of movies, because it achieves an ecstatic, inspirational screenplay without pushing any emotionally manipulative buttons.

It's not the sort of film that gets anything wrong for that matter. The cinematography by Joshua James Richards (who also shot 'The Rider') is simply incredible, brewing elements true to the craft of Terrence Malik. But the reason why it is my favorite film of 2020, is that it gave me the best performance of 2020- Frances McDormand channels the old-world mascot and the drifting wilderness, blending it movingly as the protagonist Fern. Each symphony, each layer to the writing, and every moment of excellence in Nomadland complements this performance, that truly feels one's own. She is this film, and this film is the purest that you'll see in a while.

1. Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains 

The delicate, tender, acute beauty of a Chinese scroll painting translates itself literally, cinematically in Gu Xiaogang's unreal, auteuristic debut into films. A supposed first entry into a trilogy, Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains is a swelling grand entry into the world cinema cannon which was sadly left dwelling about the film festival corners. I mean, I can see why- the pace is so deliberately constructed that it's easy to see why someone will get disinvested. 

On a revisit though, that would just come to mean that the atmosphere was very well rounded, a whole lot of emotional and physical investment was capitalised on the framing of the whole thing, and the family drama at its centre is occupied by realistically observed and well-rounded characters. There's a great deal of nuance in the film's wide-angle shots and the meaning that they carry within, none of this articulated without feeling. Dwelling is easily my favourite film of the year and I embrace someone who disagrees still.