Bernard and CJ kick off 2016 by looking back at Way Too Indie’s Best Films of 2015 list as well as looking at the big releases that are in theaters right now. From The Hateful Eight, to Joy, Anomalisa, The Revenant and more, they’ve got you covered as you brave the winter cold to see the latest movies at your local cinema. You’ve seen our Best of 2015 feature already, but do the boys agree with how things ultimately shook out on the staff-voted list? Considering CJ’s infamously dissentious nature, things could get interesting. Plus…INDIE PICKS OF THE WEEEEEEEK!!!

Topics

• Indie Picks (5:54)
• Best Films of 2015 (16:50)
• Winter Movie Guide (52:45)

Articles Referenced

The Hateful Eight Review
Joy Review
Anomalisa Review
The Revenant Review
Sisters Review
Tangerine Review

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It’s easy to look back over the past 12 months and try to find a common thread, a trend or recurring idea that can make sense of the mass of films unloaded for public viewing. Everyone loves a good narrative, and in a world where chaos reigns, it’s nice to see some order. Indeed, look at the list of our 20 films below and you can see similarities pop up all over: stories of struggles both internal and external, whether it’s fighting the patriarchy of the past, present and postapocalyptic future, facing down the most powerful institutions in the world or the narrative of history itself, escaping captors, making it through wars both sensical and nonsensical, trying to just pay the bills or unshackling oneself from the past. They all share a common bond of people trying their damnedest to succeed, overcome and survive.

But this theme doesn’t apply to every film here, nor does it apply to everything that came out in 2015. Our list also has films that melted our minds, dragged us through the mud, awed us with their grace, and entertained us with their pure, visceral delights. Summing up the year through a neatly packaged narrative is nice, but it’s also far from a true representation of what cinema brings. It’s a messy, chaotic world of movies, and when we put together a list like this the real unifying aspect is their high quality.

From the big, daunting universe of cinema in 2015, Way Too Indie is proud to present what we think are the 20 best films of the year.

Way Too Indie’s 20 Best Films of 2015

#20. Room

In Lenny Abrahamson’s Room, there are no limits to love. A film as simple as it is emotionally sweeping, there are few films released this year that evoked such a visceral emotional response from its audience. The film is an exhilarating thriller portraying a modern nightmare of captivity—a scenario that never ceases to grip the public’s attention when it pops up in the news—but is entirely focused on the will of the human spirit, and the ways we not only survive in such heinous situations but thrive. In the story of Ma (Brie Larson, a career-best performance), and the world she builds for her five-year-old son Jack (Jacob Tremblay, also mesmerizing) within the walls of a tiny room, we are given an example of the purest sort of love. One of sacrifice, fierceness, and audacity. By seeing the universe through the eyes of a small child—a universe at first only four walls wide and then suddenly much, much larger—it’s impossible not to form a renewed appreciation for the simple things in life. But more than that, it’s impossible to walk away from Room and not find oneself profoundly introspective about what it means to actively live and actively love. [Ananda]

#19. Steve Jobs

Somehow, Steve Jobs became persona non grata this fall. Between the box office performance, the fatigue surrounding the subject matter and the behind the scenes issues exposed by the Sony leak, nothing seemed to go quite right for the film. Do not be mistaken, though: Steve Jobs should not be missed. It’s a biopic with an utterly unique structure and breakneck pace. Aaron Sorkin’s script commands the spotlight even more than Michael Fassbender’s stirring performance. The three-day approach proves effective as Sorkin intelligently navigates the inherent limitations, managing to capture the essence and scope of one highly influential man’s life. His conversations are verbally balletic, never ceasing to surprise in their wit, but never stooping to overly showy, self-serving writerly panache. Steve Jobs is a whirlwind of a film, exploding with thunderous brio and making its piercing impact with the ink-dipped arrowhead of a skilled writer’s pen. Its imperfections don’t change the fact that it’s a landmark in biographical filmmaking. [Byron]

#18. Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem

In Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem, Ronit Elkabetz stars as the title character, a woman seeking a divorce from her husband. It sounds simple enough, but the Amsalems are Israeli, and in Israel there is no such thing as a civil marriage; all marriages are granted by Orthodox rabbis in a religious ceremony. Ergo, all marriages must be dissolved the same way. That means the husband give his full consent for a marriage to be dissolved. If he doesn’t want it, she doesn’t get it, and Viviane’s husband doesn’t want a divorce. This turns the film into a fascinating courtroom drama, but not in the traditional sense; rather, it becomes a drama that takes place almost entirely in a courtroom, with the occasional scene occurring in an adjacent waiting room. This gives the film contrasting feelings of intimacy and claustrophobia. Elkabetz is superb as Amsalem, conveying the frustration of a woman trapped in an unhappy marriage and finds herself trapped again, this time in a system that stacks the deck against women and all but ignores them in the process. [Michael]

#17. Hard to Be a God

Rarely have I seen a film’s atmosphere so gorgeously and meticulously realized to the extent of Aleksei German’s final masterwork. Hard to Be a God follows a civilization of men and their out-of-sorts, peculiarly human god. They represent man as a whole, embodying his struggle through the early stages of primality. When do we leave behind beasts and garner the right to call ourselves men? More pressingly, do we ever, or have we been kidding ourselves for the last few thousand years? Hard to Be a God works so well chiefly because it cements itself into a primal world, one dominated by sludge, blood, and shit, so unbelievably well. Furthermore, in lieu of the film’s obvious rejection of sentiment, it is intriguing how it integrates the idea of God into its narrative. It doesn’t suggest that he doesn’t exist or has neglected us, but that he is struggling alongside us and, even more frightening, that he’s just as helpless. German’s magnum opus is a rattling, maddening three-hour journey into the depths of man’s darkest sensibilities. [Cameron]

#16. The Assassin

The moving image is rarely as entrancing as it is in Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s The Assassin, the Taiwanese master’s first film in over seven years. Expensive in its design, methodical in its every graceful move, the film penetrates the mind as swiftly and silently as Shu Qi’s Nie Yinniang disposes of her first target in the picture’s opening moments. Shot on film by Ping Bin Lee and designed by Huang Wen-Yin, Hou’s regular collaborators, The Assassin has a mise-en-scene that’s second to none this year. The subtle phenomenons of nature play a vital supporting role, one in which animals and flora are treated as sharing the same atmosphere with humans. More than any other film of the year, The Assassin shines the brightest light on the unique and boundless nature of its artform. It is spellbinding in every sense of the word. [Nik]

#15. Son of Saul

Son of Saul is a wonderful debut film of filmmaker Laszlo Nemes, which tells the story of Saul (Geza Rohrig), a prisoner and Sonderkommando member at Auschwitz who his searching for a rabbi so he can give his son’s body a proper burial. The film is incredible, from Rohrig’s outstanding performance to Nemes’ fantastic direction (all the more impressive considering it’s his first feature film). But I want to pay special attention to the work of cinematographer Matyas Erdely and the team behind the sound design of the film. Erdely beautifully shoots the film in a tight 4:3 frame, often putting Saul at the center and keeping the eye focused on his actions with most of the settings around him hard to fully take in visually. This is where the sound design is key, as it forces us to imagine the horrors around Saul. Together these elements create a truly unique experience adding up to one of the most powerful films to be released this year. [Ryan]

#14. The Forbidden Room

Guy Maddin and Evan Johnson’s sensational hodgepodge of silent-movie storylines are maniacally cut up into dozens of threads, then re-assembled by two drunk, blindfolded men with a brilliant sense of humor. The Forbidden Room is unlike anything you’ll ever see. Ever, not just in 2015. Studded with stars from all over the world, from the well-known like Charlotte Rampling, Roy Dupuis, and Geraldine Chaplin, to more local faces like Louis Negin and Gregory Hlady, the film is full of greedy volcanos, aswang bananas, catchy musical numbers, delusional doctors, scorned lovers, men breathing oxygen through flapjacks, and mustaches with a life of their own. Relentless with its pacing and editing, it’s not something that’s easily recommended (it broke the record for walk-outs when it screened at Sundance earlier in the year). But, it’s on here for a reason: through the unique structure and absurdist tone lies one of the most heartfelt odes to the wonders of cinematic storytelling. [Nik]

#13. The Look of Silence

The Look of Silence is every bit the masterpiece its companion piece, The Act of Killing, was. Joshua Oppenheimer returns to the residual horror of the Indonesian genocide, this time through the eyes of a victim. An optometrist named Adi Rukun confronts his brother’s killers under the pretense of testing their failing vision, and through his careful questioning the remorseless thought process of a monster is slowly dismantled. If there is any surreal sensibility left over from Oppenheimer’s last film it is in the shadow of death that haunts an eerily quiet land teeming with ghosts crying out in vain. The “silence” of the title is all around, both in the insightfully observed environment and the empty murmurings of men submerged in denial. The capacity human beings have to rationalize and normalize wickedness is on full display, and it’s mesmerizing in a terribly morbid way. Powerful, sobering and absolutely essential. [Byron]

#12. Inside Out

Inside Out is a tearjerker, which comes as no surprise—Pixar has been making us cry like babies for two decades. That’s sort of their whole deal. What makes this particular movie so special is how impossibly elaborate it is, conceptually. To represent one cognitive experience, visually, is a feat in itself. What Pixar’s done here is visually represent dozens and dozens of cognitive experiences and made them work in concert. It’s a tender, inventive, entertaining study on human emotion that speaks to the heart despite being so brainy. It’s also unique in that someone can watch it at five years old and then again at forty and have two wildly different and yet equally profound experiences. Next year, Pixar’s engaging sequel mode again with Finding Dory, but they took a big risk with an out-there movie like Inside Out and proved that there’s no shortage of new ideas coming out of the trailblazing East Bay studio. [Bernard]

#11. Mommy

Young Canadian filmmaker Xavier Dolan came into filmic fruition when he was only nineteen with the release of I Killed My Mother. Almost seven years and five films later, one of the youngest directors in the industry has created one of the most moving films of the 21st century. Despite its 2014 premiere at Cannes, the film did not receive a proper US release until January of 2015, meaning most people didn’t get a chance to experience its profundity until this year. Mommy focuses its narrative on the widow Diane (or “Die,” for short) and her difficult son, newly discharged from a behavioral rehabilitation facility and potentially suffering from a number of psychological disorders that cause him to have angry, violent outbursts. It’s shot in the unique 1:1 aspect ratio, which at first may seem like a peculiar decision, but once you’ve fallen deep into the emotional abyss of this heartbreaking tale, you’ll understand how a stylistic choice can transform into an emotive choice within a matter of seconds. [Eli]

#10. Phoenix

Christian Petzold’s Phoenix is perhaps the best film since the post-war era that deals with the holocaust, even though it’s not as interested in dealing directly with the images and happenings of the holocaust as that statement suggests. Instead, it’s about the scars of tragedy, and how great tragedy has the terrifying power to rob individuals of their identity. The film follows Nelly, a Jew from Berlin, as she returns to her home and her husband after living through the concentration camps. We never see flashbacks of what she went through. She tells us all through the expression stained onto her reconstructed face. Floating through the frame like a ghost, Nelly attempts to piece together her past, and Phoenix is a harrowing testament to how emancipation from tragic circumstance doesn’t erase the psychological wounds said tragedy has inflicted. It also deals with the idea that friends of those affected have absolutely no idea how to respond. How does one respond to such an atrocity? Though not technically a ghost story, Phoenix registers as an emotionally draining portrait of a wandering soul knocking on the door of a world from which she’s been exiled. [Cameron]

#9. Buzzard

Accurately describing Joel Potrykus’ Buzzard is a difficult task. The film doesn’t really fit into a specific genre, and the loose storytelling structure only complicates things on that end. Still, there’s something undeniably captivating about the tale of a millennial burnout that decides to rebel against his routine life. It’s not that the film is particularly relatable—Marty, the protagonist, is the embodiment of the worst society has to offer—but Buzzard takes viewers on a journey that gets far too real at times. Marty’s frustrations with his dead-end job, the boring people around him, and his way of living have the ability to cut very, very deep. From the beginning, Potrykus views a mundane subject with a bizarre lens, and Buzzard only gets weirder and weirder as it progresses. By the conclusion, it’s apparent just how effective the film is, despite its relatively low-key nature. Unlike any film you’ve seen this year, Buzzard is strangely comedic, unexpectedly dark, and certainly worth checking out. [Blair]

#8. Beasts of No Nation

Beasts of No Nation is a special convergence of extra-textual information. Being the first major fiction feature release from streaming outfit Netflix is a big deal, especially since they clearly had aspirations for awards with its purchase. More fitting, it is the first feature film from writer-director Cary Joji Fukunaga following his incredible breakout success with the first season of True Detective. Those already following Fukunaga’s career, however, know just how talented of a storyteller he is. Beasts of No Nation is his highest effort production, an absolutely beautiful film with often intense subject matter. The film studies the rise of young boy Agu (Abraham Attah) through a rebel group of fighters in an unnamed, nondescript African country. Through the eyes of Agu their war is truly unknowable—and the film purposefully makes no effort to help the audience understand what this group is really fighting for. This can be frustrating at times, but Fukunaga is persistent in his focus on tone and the specific actions of its main character. This creates a more ethereal movement, which is all the more frightening given the film’s horrendous nature. Along with Attah, who gives a fantastic and difficult performance for a young and inexperienced actor, Idris Elba’s towering role as the rebel group’s Commandant is among the most complex characters of the year. [Aaron]

#7. The Duke of Burgundy

Love is love, and few films express that statement as strongly as Peter Strickland’s The Duke of Burgundy. Starting out as a cutesy homage to the European erotica films of the ’70s (Jess Franco fans need to run, not walk, to this movie), Strickland explores the BDSM relationship between Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen) and Evelyn (Chiara D’Anna), two women whose “roles” in the relationship don’t exactly match their true selves. With cinematography, production design, and a mood that feels lifted straight out of a dark fairy tale, Strickland’s dreamlike elements work together to heighten the universal truths at his film’s center. Here is a film that understands the work and compromise that comes with a relationship, the constant push and pull between selfishness and selflessness that can threaten to tear people apart, and it’s all shown through a hazy realm that leans more on the side of fantasy than reality. Yet Strickland puts emotions at the forefront, and by doing so lets the strength of Cynthia and Evelyn’s undeniable feelings for each other overshadow the luscious world they reside in. Love stories this original and beautifully realized are so rare, we should feel lucky we even have the chance to see them. [C.J.]

#6. Sicario

After directing a slew of extraordinary films who would have thought cinematic genius Denis Villeneuve’s latest effort would be his strongest and most politically resonant film to date? Well, maybe some, but it’s going to be a daunting task for Villeneuve to keep his streak of brilliance up for much longer; if he does, he’ll be reaching the unspeakable heights of consistency only names like Kubrick and Kieslowski have attained. Sicario concentrates on an FBI agent (Emily Blunt, in a gorgeously realized performance) who pulls herself into quite the plight when she accompanies a government task force on an enigma of a mission along the United States/Mexico border. To say any more about the plot and the manner in which it unfolds would be a disservice to a film with such an airtight narrative structure and masterful pacing. It’s a socioculturally relevant thrill-ride that you’ll have to experience for yourself, but its shocking and increasingly tense nature may be too extreme for some viewers. [Eli]

#5. It Follows

What can be said about It Follows that hasn’t already been said a million times before? It’s one of the greatest horror films to come along in years and a movie that works on multiple levels, with a new discovery being made upon each new viewing. A sexually transmitted monster has all the potential in the world to come across as cheesy, tacky, and otherwise ineffective, but director David Robert Mitchell approaches the subject matter with such a level of genuineness that it’s impossible not to take seriously. Featuring excellent, naturalistic performances from its young, often inexperienced cast, there’s a subtle nature to almost everything about It Follows. From the romance to the horror and even the humor, it’s all downplayed, which makes it all the more effective in the end. Many horror movies fall apart because their characters aren’t relatable, but in the It Follows universe, teenagers behave like teenagers—not like horror movie characters—and the film is all the more impressive because of that. From top to bottom, it’s easy to see why It Follows has been so well-received by audiences and critics alike, and its theatrical success serves as a beacon of hope for the future of independent horror. [Blair]

#4. Carol

There are so many exquisitely composed elements to Todd Haynes’ achingly beautiful new movie Carol that it becomes difficult to single out the aspects that make it so great. There is Phyllis Nagy’s delicate script, adapted from the Patricia Highsmith novel The Price of Salt, which allows the film’s central romantic plot to unfold in a patient and deliberate way. There are the wonderfully ornate period sets and costumes, with bold red accents that jump off the screen thanks to Edward Lachman’s stunning cinematography. And, of course, there are the performances—not just from the always-excellent Cate Blanchett or Audrey Hepburn-esque Rooney Mara—but an earnest Sarah Paulson, a scorned Kyle Chandler, and a sleazy John Magaro, as well.

The first of Haynes’ six feature films in which he didn’t contribute to the script, Carol is the director’s most precise work to date—from its production details to the performances. While the filmmaker’s movies often focus on LGBT identity, the striking thing about the intimacy in Carol is its universality. Therese and Carol are more than women in a lesbian romance affected by the obstacles of a bygone era; they’re people stifled by the expectations placed on each of them.

As Blanchett stares across at Mara over a cocktail or a shop counter, you’ll want to lean in closer, too. The pair’s carefully chosen words tease out the affair. Watching them slowly go back-and-forth, with alluring smirks and guarded looks, is among the most entrancing pleasures in film this year, as is the sound of Cate Blanchett simply saying, “Therese.” [Zach]

#3. Ex Machina

The trio at the heart of filmmaker Alex Garland’s directorial debut, Ex Machina, represents an intricate blend of old and new. Invoking memories of past great fictional characters like Doctors Frankenstein and Moreau, Pinocchio’s creator Geppetto, and even Willie Wonka, is Nathan (Oscar Isaac), the inconceivably wealthy and immeasurably intelligent inventor of a fictional Google-like search engine. Representing the future is Ava (the spellbinding Alicia Vikander), an artificially intelligent robot created by Nathan. Caught between creator and creation is Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), a whiz of a programmer whom Nathan recruits to test Ava’s believability as an AI, but a simple man nonetheless and the pivotal completing part of this most bizarre of love triangles. As Caleb studies Ava and gradually becomes taken by her, so too does Ava study, and fall for, Caleb. Watching them both is Nathan, whose motives for recruiting Caleb become cloudier as the days pass. What first presents itself as a futuristic drama laced with themes of morality and anchored by a peculiar alpha-male (Isaac is terrific as the genius recluse), gradually becomes a riveting psychological thriller that keeps the viewer captivated and drives to a bold ending. Sci-fi noir is alive and well and is not to be missed with Ex Machina. [Michael]

#2. Spotlight

Tom McCarthy has done the unthinkable. Just one year after directing the horrific flop The Cobbler, McCarthy turns in a film that not just rinses the bad taste out of our mouths from his previous effort, it puts him in the conversation for one of the best films of the year. Spotlight is a gripping newsroom drama based on the Catholic Church’s sex abuse scandal uncovered by the Boston Globe. Though despite the grim subject matter, watching Spotlight unfold is utterly entertaining. That’s because the film keeps its foot on the acceleration for the whole ride, providing plenty of energy and tension without wasting a single moment.

Spotlight is a well-oiled machine firing on all cylinders. Not only does the electrifying pace carry the neatly arranged script, but the ensemble cast puts on a clinic on how to act as a team. It also doesn’t hurt that the cast is comprised of A-listers like Stanley Tucci, Mark Ruffalo, Michael Keaton, Liev Schreiber, and Rachel McAdams, each performing at the top of their game. Any one of them could have stolen the show by flexing their acting muscles; instead, they show discipline by working together, creating incredible chemistry and making the entire film better in the process. Without being exploitative (which would have been easy given the subject), Spotlight exceeds by focusing on the teamwork of its investigative journalism case. The film doesn’t just do a few things right, it does everything right, which is why Spotlight is one of the best procedurals in years. [Dustin]

#1. Mad Max: Fury Road

There are many things I expected from George Miller’s long-awaited next installment/reboot of his Mad Max series. I knew there would be explosions. I knew there would be cars embellished with crazy apocalyptic garnishments. I knew there would be a lot of sand. And I figured there would be a fair amount of zooming vehicles flipping and being walked on as though the laws of physics don’t apply in this futuristic world. I did not expect there to be larger themes than your garden variety hero tale. And I certainly did not expect the hero to not be Mad Max. Waiting 30 years to create the next vision of his gasoline-fueled future, Miller proves he has ungodly amounts of patience. Patience to ensure that technology would catch up with his vision, and patience to ensure that when he told his next story it would be to an audience who could fathom that even in a world of chaos, the significance of equality is fundamental to our humanity and worth fighting like hell for. Not everyone has embraced the surprising themes of Fury Road, but those tickled by just how exciting, fun, and road raging this action film is can’t help but admit that what raises it to perfection are the kick ass ladies leading the charge and the deeper issues they face. Mad Max: Fury Road closes with a quote from the future: “Where must we go…we who wander this Wasteland in search of our better selves?” Miller pushes us to consider our place and responsibility, no matter the wasteland we call home. And like his War Boys, his mouth shiny and chrome, Miller presents his film as though to say “Witness me!” Turns out an action film can be a visual extravaganza and hold itself up with a stiff backbone of ethics and morality. Witness the bar being raised. [Ananda]

Here at Way Too Indie, we have plenty of love for foreign language films. Not only do foreign films provide an easy way to travel to new lands and learn about different cultures, but they can also push boundaries, provoke new ways of thinking, and offer unique views from what we’re generally accustomed to. Some of the best films of 2015 came from places like Argentina, Israel, Spain, and Hungary. So if you’re looking to explore new boundaries and look beyond what’s available in English, be sure to check out the following list of diverse films.

Way Too Indie’s Best Foreign Films of 2015

10,000 KM

It’s hard to believe 10,000 KM was a debut feature considering how Carlos Marques-Marcet’s film is so mature and expertly crafted . Right off the bat, Marques-Marcet demonstrates his filmmaking abilities with a remarkable 20-minute take that follows a couple from room to room around their cozy Barcelona apartment. This single scene isn’t just impressive from a technical standpoint, it also provides exposition on their relationship and introduces the central conflict of the film. Just when they decide to settle down together, one partner receives a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in Los Angeles. But they won’t let geography put their intimate relationship on hold, especially when modern technology allows them to be just a click away from video chat, Facebook updates, and instant messaging. However, Marques-Marcet illustrates the frustrations from a lack of a physical presence, and how being digitally connected simply isn’t the same. It’s an up close and personal film, with both characters confined by the interiors of their apartments and bound by their laptop screens. 10,000 KM features a simple yet universal love story told in a bold, unapologetic, and genuine way. [Dustin]

Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem

A pressure-cooker courtroom drama for the ages, Ronit and Shlomi Elkabetz’s Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem is both a direly important film and a stunningly artful one. The story is one of frustration, frustration belonging to the eponymous Viviane, an unhappy Israeli wife desperate to be free of her marriage. The injustice is this: In Israel, divorce can only commence if the husband consents; the wife has no say. The film takes place entirely within the cold walls of the Rabbinical courtroom in which Viviane’s pleas for separation are squashed over and over again. Few films are as frustrating, and few films are as inspired. Ronit Elkabetz is transcendent as Viviane not just because she’s a great actor, but because the pain she’s expressing is same pain felt by thousands of women in Israel today, ones who can’t escape the horror when the camera stops rolling. [Bernard]

Hard to Be A God

Conceived in the 1960s, shot in the 2000s, and finally finished in 2013, Aleksei German’s magnum opus Hard to Be a God could easily claim the title of filthiest movie ever made without anyone batting an eye. German’s sci-fi adaptation takes place in the future, but the setting is a recently discovered planet that’s just like Earth, except the planet’s civilization is currently living out its pre-Renaissance era. The camera, always moving and in deep focus, captures it all with a realism and sense of immersion that few films have achieved before, making Hard to Be a God a simultaneously grueling and exhilarating experience. Not many people will be up for German’s challenge here, but those willing to roll around in the mud will find themselves awestruck at the staggering, groundbreaking vision on display. Some films are hard to shake off, but Hard to Be a God is in a class of its own; this is a movie you have to scrub off. [C.J.]

Mommy

Xavier Dolan’s emotional tale of a single mother’s struggle to raise her troublemaking teenage son is one of the most unexpectedly intense films to come along in quite some time. Utilizing a strange yet aesthetically pleasing 1:1 aspect ratio, Mommy feels contained and dangerous. The teenage boy, Steve (Antoine-Olivier Pilon), has a tendency to grow uncontrollably violent, giving the film a suspenseful aura. The bizarre nature of the mother/son relationship, led by a fantastic lead performance from Anne Dorval makes Mommy an absolute must-see and one of the best of the year. The remarkable soundtrack is merely a bonus. [Blair]

Phoenix

German filmmaker Christian Petzold and the always stunning Nina Hoss have already collaborated with one another on multiple cinematic endeavors, but it seems their developing actor-director chemistry has, at long last, culminated in a masterpiece. Petzold’s post-Holocaust psychodrama is a slow-burner focusing on the fragile and traumatized Nelly Lenz, a facially disfigured (and essentially unrecognizable) concentration camp survivor who emerges from the War as the sole survivor of her family. From there, the audience follows her on a covert journey not only to discover whether her husband—in her “previous existence”—might have given her up to the Nazis, but if so, whether she’d be able to accept that fact and readjust to the exhausting task of simply living again. Hoss’ tour de force performance is a behemoth exertion of emotionally realized acting ability, and the film concludes on a such a remarkable note that you may need a fellow viewer to help peel your jaw from the floor once the end credits start rolling (unless they, too, are stuck in the same predicament). [Eli]

The Assassin

Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s wuxia masterwork is one of the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen. Its detractors accuse it of being unbearably slow, but I found myself unable to keep up with it. Each image contains so much content to observe and digest, from the props and costumes to abstract items like the placement of shadows or the nuance of facial expressions. Shu Qi’s marvelously restrained performance anchors Hou’s limitless vision. The cinematography is unspeakably gorgeous, and some of the shots are all-timers. The artistry is so unfathomably gorgeous and immersive that, unless one is an expert at cinematic self-discipline, unpacking its narrative and how the characters precisely relate to one another will require multiple viewings. The Assassin is the only film released this year I’ve had the pleasure of watching four times, and each time the experience was equally rich, if not richer, than that first overwhelming, borderline spiritual experience in theaters. This is the kind of film that reminds me why I love cinema — its ability to transport the viewer to exotic, wondrous realms, its power to make ancient characters immediate, and it’s breathtaking ability to leave me in a state of borderline paralysis. [Cameron]

The Look of Silence

Three years ago, Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing was a complete revelation—a cathartic, powerful documentary about a genocide told from the perspective of those who perpetrated it. When I heard about the follow-up project, called The Look of Silence, I doubted it could possibly recapture the unique quality. It’s true, The Look of Silence isn’t as big as The Act of Killing, but it is just as (if not more) visceral. The new film lacks the other-worldly personalities of the gangsters, but turning the perspective to the victims allows for Oppenheimer to tone down the style for a straight-forward emotional gut punch. The film absolutely keeps Oppenheimer’s edge, though, by bringing together the victim subjects face-to-face with the men responsible for their personal loss—this happens a few times within the film with different groups, but each play out in different and surprising ways. The Look of Silence isn’t just a supplement; it stands on its own, captures new voices in this larger story, and creates a number of incredible moments of emotional release that stand apart from the original. [Aaron]

When Marnie Was There

In 2014, people endlessly praised Studio Ghibli’s The Tale of Princess Kaguya as yet another masterpiece from the slowly dwindling company (after Hayao Miyazaki’s retirement, Ghibli announced they would be taking a bit of a break). But in my opinion, this year’s When Marnie Was There blows Kaguya and other recent Ghibli titles out of the water. Adapted from Joan G. Robinson’s novel, Marnie follows depressed adolescent Anna as she spends the summer with relatives of her adopted mother. Feeling alienated and alone, Anna’s expectations of a dismal summer change when she meets Marnie, a mysterious girl who lives in an isolated mansion right next to the sea. By Ghibli standards director Hiromasa Yonebayashi’s visual style is subdued, but it’s still stunning in its naturalistic beauty, and the film’s honest portrayal of depression is both welcome and seemingly unprecedented for a children’s movie. When Marnie Was There may not showcase the same fantastical imagery of Kaguya or classics like Spirited Away but its story, a supernatural tale of friendship that travels through time, has just as much imagination and power as the company’s best work. [C.J.]

White God

Rare is the film whose animal actors are more compelling than its human ones, but such is the case with the brutal, rousing, sharply allegorical White God, written and directed by Hungarian filmmaker Kornél Mundruczó. The beating heart of this arresting tale of doggie rebellion is the collective canine presence, dogs playing deadly, desperate revolutionaries in a more convincing, emotionally stirring manner than the throwaway fodder in most wartime period pieces. It’s hard to imagine a revenge fantasy wilder and more unique than Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds, but Mundruczó’s film is exactly that. Suspenseful, powerful, sentimental, technically honed—few moviegoing experiences were as rich in 2015. Watching the dogs rip and claw at each other for the sake of their despicable owners’ entertainment isn’t an easy thing to stomach, but through a parabolic lens, there’s a profundity to all the thrashing and gnawing, particularly when fang meets human flesh. [Bernard]

Wild Tales

A 2014 Academy Award nominee for best foreign language film, Wild Tales didn’t receive a U.S. theatrical release until early 2015. Typically, films released that early in the year don’t come up around award season—usually because films are often dumped there, but even the good ones are easy to forget over time. Wild Tales is an unforgettable exception. Made up of six independent short films, Damián Szifrón’s film packs a darkly-tuned punch, exploring revenge and retribution in a variety of situations. Each of the segments aren’t created equal (ranking them seems to be a necessary part of every review), but they bring together a similar style and tone that ties them all into a cohesive unit which builds upon it self from beginning to end. The standout piece is the opening scene, the shortest and most clearly defined by the film’s theme. From there, Wild Tales explores corrupt bureaucracy, personal slights, sexual infidelities and even more with humor and a definite dark streak. It might not have the emotional resonance of the other films on this list, but you won’t find a more entertaining one in the bunch. [Aaron]

Honorable Mentions

With a ton of exceptional foreign films to choose from, there are going to be some worth mentioning that just missed the cut. For instance, Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s emotional sister confinement film Mustang, and Jafar Panahi’s Taxi fell just a couple votes shy of making our main list. And it would be shame not to acknowledge the efforts of Céline Sciamma’s fresh coming-of-age drama Girlhood, the beautiful sensory experience of Blind, the Icelandic black comedy Of Horses and Men, and remarkable Holocaust drama Son of Saul.

Well that was fast. Seems like just yesterday we were recalling our favorite movie moments from 2014. It’s hard to believe but we’re already halfway into 2015! So it’s time for us to reflect back on all the releases since January. Sure, the year has given us a fair amount of flops, like Tomorrowland, Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2, Hot Pursuit, The Cobbler, Aloha, and Entourage to name a few, but luckily in the deluge of releases we’ve come to expect these days, 2015 has delivered a few films worth flocking to theaters for.

There’s something for everyone on our list of the Best Films of 2015 So Far. Eclectic even for us, our diverse inventory includes some of last year’s Cannes Film Festival standouts, a must-see horror film, a Wes Anderson-esque western, several low-budget indies, and to round things out, a big studio action film who’s inclusion among our favorites is one of the more intriguing and pleasant surprises 2015 has thrown at us.

There’s plenty to look forward to later on in the year—we’re looking at you Knight of Cups—but in the meantime rest assured you already have some watching to keep you busy as Summer begins.

Way Too Indie’s Best Films of 2015 So Far

#20. Clouds of Sils Maria

There are few better words than “layered” to describe the labyrinth that is Oliver Assayas’ Clouds of Sils Maria, which made Kristen Stewart the first ever American to win Best Supporting Actress at France’s prestigious César awards. Normally this external detail might prove irrelevant to the work itself, but for a film that focuses so strongly on the generation gap and the notion of aging in the entertainment industry, the fact that Stewart’s subtle performance has overshadowed Juliette Binoche’s more sensational lead performance on the awards circuit is interesting in a self-referential sort of way. Indeed, the concept of parallels seems to go hand in hand with the predicament that Binoche’s character, Maria, finds herself in when she agrees to take part in a revival of the play that once upon a time sparked her career. However, issues of identity and the psychology of the performer are explored when Maria’s original role of Sigrid is given up to a young Hollywood celebrity, and she is forced to play the girl’s opposite as the older and more fragile Helena. Clouds will likely be remembered for its terrific performances, but Assayas’ writing and direction are what allow it to take some strangely enigmatic turns, especially in the second and third acts. It’s these puzzling moments that raise thought-provoking but potentially unanswerable questions in the mind of the viewer, and transform the experience, as a whole, into a difficult one to shake. [Eli]

#19. Faults

This feature debut from Riley Stearns contains just the right combination of absurdity and hilarity to make it one of the most entertaining movies of the year. Much of the success of Faults comes from the brilliant lead performance of Leland Orser, who plays an eccentric cult deprogrammer on the decline of his career. In order to pay back his agent from his recent book tour failure, he takes on a job to deprogram a woman (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) currently under a cult spell. From there, the film evolves into a thrilling chamber piece with unpredictable outcomes. Stearns crafts a wildly hypnotic film from a bare bones setup, establishing himself as an upcoming director worth keeping an eye on. With Orser and Winstead at the top of their game, Faults stands out as one of the best indie debuts of the year. [Dustin]

#18. Seymour: An Introduction

The old saying “those who can’t do teach” doesn’t apply to Seymour Bernstien, a legendary concert pianist who, at the peak of his career, gave it all up to become a music instructor and composer. Ethan Hawke, one of Seymour’s most famous pupils, made Seymour: An Introduction as both a documentary tribute to his mentor and a megaphone through which the 85-year-old’s wisdom and philosophies can touch those around the world, beyond his cozy NYC apartment. It’s a strikingly cinematic documentary about a man who’s developed an ultimate understanding of the link between music and life itself. A sampling: “You can establish so deep an accord between your musical self and your personal self that eventually music and life will interact in a never-ending cycle of fulfillment,” Seymour says on-camera. The man’s a master on the keys, but has a way of making words sing, too. [Bernard]

#17. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

Me & Earl & the Dying Girl, the arthouse response to The Fault in Our Stars, isn’t quite the genre-redefining coming-of-age film some made it out to be when it premiered and won at Sundance last January. But it’s still a charming and likable enough film that supplies a nice alternative to the constant assault of summer blockbusters like Jurassic World and Terminator Genisys. Thomas Mann, in the lead role of Greg (the ‘Me’ of the film’s title), turns in a good performance that shows some promise for a career that initially started with duds like Project X, but it’s Olivia Cooke who really shines as his classmate who has recently been diagnosed with cancer. And Jon Bernthal continues his streak of great supporting turns; someone give this guy a much deserved leading role already! [Ryan]

#16. Jauja

Transfixing. That’s the first word that comes to my mind when I think about Lisandro Alonso’s fiercely strange Jauja. Filmed in a vintage 1.33:1 Aspect Ratio, the film boxes in its characters in a squircle with seemingly magical capabilities and, by way of a cinematography that’s got a wondrous use for depth-of-field and a mise-en-scene that engages empty spaces like no other film this decade, it creates a magnetic bridge between audience and screen. To put it another way, watching Jauja is to cinephiles what going to church on Sundays is to devout theists; an altogether spiritual experience. It’s set during the time of conquistadors, and first half is easy enough to follow; Danish Captain Gunnar Dinesen (Viggo Mortensen) brings along his daughter Ingeborg (Viilbjørk Malling Agger) on a joint expedition with an allied Spanish infantry. There’s tell of a mysterious army general who has vanished into the desert, never to be seen again, and when Inge disappears one night, Dinesen must gaze into the abyss of this desert in order to find her. That’s when the second half of the film takes over; surreal, compelling, and intimate, the film takes on transportational qualities as we follow the more and more perplexed Denisen. The allure of Jauja is almost as hard to explain as Dinesen’s conversation with the woman in the cave, and it’s got “acquired taste” written all over it, but for fans of meticulous shot composition, and a vibe that’s neither wholly David Lynch or wholly Andrei Tarkovsky, but some transmutated hybrid of the two, it’s a film that dives into the beyond and comes up for air with a plethora of treasures. Alonso is an arthouse storyteller known for stretching out thin plots and narratives in lieu of a viscerally visual journey, and Jauja is his most unforgettable one yet. [Nik]

#15. Heaven Knows What

Based on lead actress Arielle Holmes’ unpublished autobiographical novel, “Mad Love in New York City,” the Safdie Brothers’ newest output reaches uniquely authentic heights, primarily through Holmes’ distinct performance as Harley: a fictionalized depiction of her homeless and heroin-addicted former self. This imitation of life may be the closest to pure documentary that the world of fiction filmmaking has been in some time. To see Holmes maneuver her way through a simulated version of her troubled past is already haunting, but juxtaposed with Sean Price Williams’ floating camera and Isao Tomita’s heavy electronic synthesizer score, the film’s hyper-realism frequently borders on dreamlike surrealism and hits some unforgettable notes. Much of the film consists of Harley’s endless attempts to satisfy her insatiable appetite for a fix, as well as her interactions with other drug addicted and alcoholic members of the New York City homeless population. The repetitive and consistently uncomfortable nature of the film may repel some viewers, but for those fascinated by cinema that replicates reality on a deeper level than the norm, Heaven Knows What may end up being one of the year’s biggest surprises. [Eli]

#14. Appropriate Behavior

I find it quite fitting that Desiree Akhavan’s film début (writing, directing and starring) was the first that I watched and reviewed in 2015, and here it now finds its place among the best we’ve seen so far. Not a bad way to start the year, I’d say. This hipster Iranian-American bisexual rom-com feels as fresh as HBO’s Girls did back in 2012, but with an added diversity that show has always been sorely lacking in. Her jokes have the audacity of Broad City but with the wit of Woody Allen. As the film’s star, Akhavan portrays Shirin, a woman dealing with a break-up from the woman she sincerely loved while hashing through her naïve cultural confusion and general millennial narcissism. The film is at its most hilarious when exposing the ridiculousness of the young urban elite and their kombucha drinking, co-op volunteering, entirely self-conscious faux heroism. But while poking fun at her own generation, Akhavan adds a sense of romanticism even while being a woman behaving badly. On a list sorely lacking in comedy, you can be sure Appropriate Behavior has earned its spot here by being tear-inducingly funny and unapologetically sincere. [Ananda]

#13. Li’l Quinquin

Bruno Dumont’s Li’l Quinquin is, by a wide margin, the funniest film of 2015 so far, and that’s saying something considering how downright grisly it can be. Starting off as a sort of French rural riff on the recent surge of murder mystery miniseries, Quinquin follows the residents of a small countryside village when someone starts chopping up townspeople and stuffing their body parts into cows. As the 200 minute film—originally a 4-part miniseries in France—gets closer to finding a possible suspect, it becomes apparent that Dumont has little interest in solving the case. What begins as a quirky whodunit gradually transforms itself into an exploration of humanity, mainly our capacity to do good and/or evil. But even that reading is a bit of a reductive take on Dumont’s complex, philosophical and frequently uproarious work. People unaware of Dumont’s films will find Li’l Quinquin to be a great starting point, and those already familiar with his output should be shocked to find that he’s been hiding such an incredible sense of humor for this long. [C.J.]

#12. Girlhood

Every 16-year-old girl ought to have the world at her feet. Not all do. Marieme (Karidja Touré), the central character in Girlhood (Bande de Filles), does not. When she realizes she must do something to untether herself from a dead-end home life that includes a disinterested mother and an abusive older brother, her hopes of a higher education as a means of escape are dashed. It’s the film’s most devastating scene. When she says to her offscreen guidance counselor, “I want to be like others. Normal,” she is met with, “It’s a bit too late for that.” At 16 years old, she’s told it’s too late to make a positive change in her life. She remains undaunted, and instead looks for something else. This sets in motion a series of decisions and events that, in the hands of writer/director Céline Sciamma, resonate like those in other great coming-of-age films, yet remain completely devoid of the melodrama so prevalent in those films. It’s a remarkably genuine approach that not only grounds the film in terrific realism, it keeps the viewer highly engaged because all expectations of cliché are shattered. This refreshing take on the struggles of a lower-class teen is enhanced greatly by the talent and beauty of first-timer Touré. She is undaunted by the hopelessness of her situation, yet she never comes across as the type who dots her eyes with hearts, instead conveying sweet innocence in a hardscrabble shell that is simultaneously sympathetic and inspirational. It’s a performance worthy of praise in a film worthy of this list. [Michael]

#11. Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem

In Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem, Ronit Elkabetz stars as Viviane Amsalem, a woman seeking a divorce from her husband, Elisha (Simon Abkarian). This is the basic concept, but nothing else about the film is basic. It’s set in Israel, where there is no such thing as a civil marriage; each marriage is performed as part of a religious ceremony, and must be dissolved that way, too. Based on religious tenets, a husband must give his full consent for a marriage to be dissolved, and if he doesn’t want the divorce, the divorce doesn’t happen. Suddenly, this woman who has been trapped in an unhappy marriage finds herself trapped again—a prisoner of a system that stacks the deck against the same women it all but ignores in the first place. This makes the rules as much the antagonist of the film as the husband, if not more so, and it’s the film’s stroke of genius. Co-written/co-directed by star Elkabetz and her brother Shlomi, the film is a courtroom drama like I’ve never seen before, morphing from a tale of a wife trapped in a bad marriage to a commentary on a culture that treats women as afterthoughts. Not only is Elkabetz’s co-direction sensational, her performance is unforgettable as well. As the woman who will not be denied no matter how many men get in her way (husband, judges, witnesses), Elkabetz shows the weariness and frustration borne of years of roadblocks (the film spans five years!), with a steely layer of resolve beneath. With terrific storytelling fundamentals, compelling emotional depth, and crackling dialogue, the Elkabetz siblings could be Israeli filmmaking’s answer to the Coen Brothers. [Michael]

#10. White God

White God, which premiered and emerged victorious in the Un Certain Regard section of last year’s Cannes Film Festival, is a harrowing, brutal melodrama about animal cruelty that equally serves as a metaphorical story of class/race issues that have always troubled society. While the film sometimes falls short of fully realizing its potential due to shifting tones and a couple other missteps, it’s original and far too interesting to pass over. The film also features some of the most wonderfully cinematic images and some of the best editing of any film to be released so far this year. So if you missed White God during its limited theatrical run in the U.S. this past March then keep your eye out for it when it’s released on blu-ray and DVD July 28th. [Ryan]

#9. Hard to Be a God

Conceived in the 1960s, shot in the 2000s, and finally finished in 2013, Aleksei German’s magnum opus Hard to Be a God could easily claim the title of filthiest movie ever made without anyone batting an eye. German’s sci-fi adaptation takes place in the future, but the setting is like entering a time machine into the past; a recently discovered planet that’s just like Earth, except the planet’s civilization is currently living out its pre-Renaissance phase. The camera, always moving and in deep focus, captures it all with a realism and sense of immersion that few films have achieved before, making Hard to Be a God a simultaneously grueling and exhilarating experience. Not many people will be up for German’s challenge here, but those willing to roll around in the mud will find themselves awestruck at the staggering, groundbreaking vision on display. Some films are hard to shake off, but Hard to Be a God is in a class of its own; this is a movie you have to scrub off. [C.J.]

#8. Slow West

Before a frame was even shot, Slow West was flooded with promise. The feature-length directorial debut of John Maclean (DJ of the disbanded The Beta Band) stars Michael Fassbender and Ben Mendelsohn in two of the central roles. Surely the film would be interesting, but what resulted was something more. Following Jay (Kodi Smit-McPhee) across the American West as he searches for the love of his young life, Slow West could have simply been a solid western. Instead, Maclean and company aimed higher: an absurdist send up of the genre, a coming of age cautionary tale, and a moralist adventure all in a simmering 83 minutes. Slow West is a rollickingly fun western, in equal measures tense and hilarious, absurd and painful. But what’s more is the astounding promise it shows of first-timer Maclean. Whatever he’s got cooking up next (hopefully another vehicle for his buddy Fassy) we’ll be there. [Gary]

#7. The Duke of Burgundy

Peter Strickland’s sumptuous tale of a rocky lesbian relationship inside a surreal BDSM bubble came out at the very beginning of the year, and still beats the competition in terms of pure cinematic sensuality. The narrative follows butterfly expert Cynthia (Danish vet Sidse Babett Knudsen) and her younger lover, Evelyn (Italian debutante Chiara D’Anna), as they cope with ebbs and flows of a deep relationship that’s starting to lose steam, noticed mostly through the oft-hilarious cracks in their masochistic role-playing scenarios. The Duke of Burgundy has a perfect balance of fearless indulgence, and is incredible on multiple levels thanks to Strickland’s methods of cinematic persuasion; his use of a hauntingly romantic score by Cat’s Eye, visually stunning montages that are edited in staccato-like fashion and pledge allegiance to Stan Brakhage’s chaos of celluloid, and setting his story in what looks like an enchanted château from Renaissance Era folklore. The Duke of Burgundy is above all else a tight embrace of everything that sets cinema apart from all other arts. Add to that the re-definition of “toilet humor,” the evocative lead performances that beautifully compliment each other in the way they contrast, and the unadulterated imagination at work—from the costumes to the butterflies, and the all-female world with no sense of time or place,—and you have a film that breaks conventional cinematic barriers in order to express something infinitely universal; love. In all its kinky, silky, paranoid, powerful, glory. [Nik]

#6. Buzzard

Buzzard isn’t a complicated film, but I find it difficult to describe in any intelligent way. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be completely confounded and charmed by its off-kilter sensibilities. As you are more than likely to not have seen Buzzard, here’s a little on the plot: Marty is a temp office worker, video game and horror film aficionado, overall slacker in the suburbs of Detroit. As he makes increasingly outrageously dumb decisions, he becomes more and more paranoid that the authorities (or something even more sinister) are out to get him. The film is a punk splashed throwback with its roots calling back to Alex Cox. Buzzard recent ties are to the comedy of Quentin Dupieux and Tim & Eric, and it more than holds its own against these more established and polished figures. There really isn’t much more I can say about the film than it is delightfully weird, awkward, and very, very cool. Joel Potrykus’s sophomore feature will hopefully be his indie breakout, though I surely hope he never loses his edge. [Aaron]

#5. It Follows

It Follows carves fresh terrain for horror movies, turning the sound of approaching footsteps into a signal of terror. David Robert Mitchell’s stylistic second feature film is a creepy, fun experience wholly unique in its approach. When a new boyfriend passes a sexually transmitted demon onto Jay (Maika Monroe), she and her friends work together to dispose of the monster and rid Jay of her curse. With striking cinematography and nods to John Carpenter classics (notably its ominous, synth-heavy score), the unsettlingly tense terror created in this film is surely among the greatest scary movies in recent memory.

Rather than make the true source of his scares the It Follows monster itself, the director Mitchell utilizes long takes that often place the demon off in the background slowly encroaching on Jay and her friends. The longer that a shot lingers, the more your dread will build. It Follows is a masterwork in the manipulation of anxieties. Its terrifying encounters with an unforgettable villain and the haunting imagery in It Follows leaves a chilling impact that will make you wonder what’s behind you. [Zachary]

#4. Wild Tales

With Wild Tales, Damian Szifron reminds us that, deep down, we’re all a bunch of filthy animals. The characters in this blissfully chaotic anthology movie do things we wish we had the balls to do, breaking free of their societal restraints to indulge in the sweet nectar of violence, revenge, greed and infidelity. Each of the film’s six short stories are insanely entertaining in their own way, and though terrible, terrible things happen across the board, the biggest surprise is how much fun it is to watch these people’s lives fall apart. Maybe it’s cathartic, maybe there’s a bit of wish-fulfillment going on, or maybe it’s just good, old-fashioned, pulpy entertainment. Wherever the film’s true appeal lies, what’s abundantly clear is that Szifron is a badass storyteller with a unique vision. In the film’s final story, a man stands over his lover. He hurt her badly, and she’s hurt him right back. They’ve raged and cried and thrashed at each other, and now they’re drained, stripped of everything. He opens his arms and doesn’t say a word, but she hears him loud and clear. “This is us, baby. We’re filthy animals, but at least we’ve got each other.” We’ve all got a wild side, and Wild Tales reminds us to embrace it because it’s what makes us human. [Bernard]

#3. Mommy

Love as the bond between mother and son is the subject for Xavier Dolan’s latest and perhaps best release so far Mommy. Following a widowed single mother struggling to make ends meet, Diane (Anne Dorval) raises her violent, ADHD son Steve (Antoine-Olivier Pilon), with the help of Kyla (Suzanne Clement), a mysterious neighbor who has a curious verbal tick. Together, the three lost souls function as a patchwork family unit, accomplishing more together than they would be capable of apart. Although the movie concerns itself with characters managing in difficult circumstances, the energy with which Dolan allows the story to unfold gives the film surges of stylistic adrenaline.

Shot in a 1:1 frame with warm, yellow hues that somewhat resemble an Instagram video, Dolan’s camera moves frenetically, whipping from one side of a conversation to the other in order to accommodate Mommy’s tight aspect ratio. The square frame helps draw the viewer’s eye inward toward the middle of the picture, providing an intimate view of these characters as they have deeply personal experiences. Through adversity Mommy remains an exuberant celebration of minor daily achievements, emphasizing that attitude often dictates outcomes. This is a deeply empathetic movie with several heart-wrenching sequences. All of this comes accompanied by an assortment of iconic late ’90s needle drops (“Colorblind” by Counting Crows, “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” by Eiffel 65, “Wonderwall” by Oasis) and the best use of a Lana Del Ray song in cinema yet. [Zachary]

#2. Ex Machina

It’s no surprise that début film director Alex Garland made his chops for years as a screenwriter—his script for Ex Machina is one of the best sci-fi scripts in years. There is always a particular balance that has to be struck with good, smart science fiction, wherein the intellectual scientific and philosophical concepts need to be accessible while not watered down for mass consumption. The film is primarily a film made up of conversations between two people at a time (either programmer whiz Caleb and towering genius Nathan, or Caleb and femmebot Ava), and the dialogue is sparkling, full of lofty ideas and technical jargon without much of a reference key. I’ll admit there were times that I felt a little left behind in the conversation, and I frankly should be when two very smart people are talking about very smart ideas. That doesn’t mean that I couldn’t follow what was going on or felt the film was intellectually impenetrable, because its simplified location and high-concept premise, along with its eventual genre trappings, kept it all accessible. This all helps Ex Machina to be a unique science fiction film while tackling familiar science fiction themes. The three primary leads all give very different but equally brilliant performances, but Alicia Vikander rightly has gotten the most attention for her breakout role as A.I. seductress Ava. Simply put, if the actress in the Ava role doesn’t deliver, the film doesn’t work. Because a majority of the film’s premise has Caleb literally testing Ava to see if she has the capacity to be human, the audience is focused in on every word she says and motion she makes. It’s not really a spoiler to say that Caleb is fooled in ways, and so was I. [Aaron]

#1. Mad Max: Fury Road

His name is Max. His world is fire and blood. And this movie is barely even about him. How did a not-so-indie summer blockbuster action flick make it to the coveted #1 spot on this list? By doing what indie films do best—bring innovation to the big screen. In this way Mad Max: Fury Road is the most indie-spirited film out this year. Director George Miller, who made the original Mad Max for less than half a million dollars, and who has maintained that indie spark, is a patient man, who waited until the time was ripe and technology could accommodate his vision. Never has such patience paid off quite so well. Literally—as this film is doing nicely at the box office—but also in providing one of the most provocative action films to come out of the genre. Forget that its visuals are beyond stunning and its pace remains breakneck with hardly a second to catch one’s breath, it has sparked some of the most lively conversation of the year around feminism, female film leads (like I said, this film isn’t really all that focused on Max, it’s Charlize Theron’s Furiosa who should have top billing), and the surprising social commentary a post-apocalyptic action film can stir up on such lofty subjects as injustice, slavery, objectification, and male-dominance. Those who don’t want to think can enjoy the visuals, fast cars, and flame-throwing, but those who find an added pensiveness to their action film to be an invigorating bonus, will find Fury Road to be a whole new kind of avant-garde. [Ananda]

On this week’s show Bernard is joined by CJ, a.k.a. “The Dastardly Dissenter,” who lives up to his alliterative moniker by going head-to-head with Bernard as they review Sundance darling Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, which nearly moved Bernard to tears and moved CJ closer to the theater exit. The boys also share their favorite movies about making movies and take a look back at the year in movies that was 2015. All that, plus some ripe Indie Picks on this very contentious episode of the Way Too Indiecast.

Topics

• Indie Picks of the Week (2:05)
• Thoughts on 2015 Films (8:20)
• Favorite Movies About Making Movies (27:48)
• Me & Earl & the Dying Girl Review (41:53)

WTI Articles Referenced in the Podcast

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl interview
Hard to Be a God review
Wild Tales festival review
Tu Dors Nicole review
Jauja review
The Duke of Burgundy review
Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem review
Ex Machina review

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We all have those movies that we really enjoy, but for one reason or another aren’t in any hurry to revisit. Sometimes it’s because the material is full of gruesome violence or hard to watch moments, which can ruin our desire to sit through the torture ever again. Other times it’s hard to justify repeating another three and a half hours on a well-made, but painfully slow movie (we’re looking at you Jeanne Dielman!).  It’s easy to be torn on these films. We’re quick to sing their praises—but not as quick to recommend them.

Here’s a list of some of our favorite films we loved watching the first time, but don’t see ourselves returning to anytime soon. Enjoy watching them, but please don’t ask us over for the viewing.

#1. Irreversible

If you’re not aware of Irreversible, consider your lifespan lengthened by at least a few months, and know that the film tells the story of Alex (Monica Bellucci, in career-defining mode) and her boyfriend Marcel (Vincent Cassel, brilliantly unhinged) over the course of a single night, in reverse chronological order. In terms of raw emotion, it makes Memento look like a Cheerios commercial. Considering it’s been over 10 years since it came out, it’s no spoiler to say that Irreversible contains the most realistic rape scene I’ve ever seen in any film, and once that scene was over, I knew that Gaspar Noé had created something equal parts impactful and degenerate, and that one viewing was more than enough. Technically speaking, the film is genius (for the time it came out, its camera trickery was fresh and exciting). I may have been more affected than I would’ve otherwise had anyone but Bellucci been cast (full disclosure, guys: she’s my eternal crush), but I’m pretty sure that it’s Noé’s unflinching depiction of humanity at its most depraved, the scarily realistic performances, and that emotional sledgehammer of an ending/beginning, that makes me never want to see Irreversible again while simultaneously admiring its undeniable artistry. [Nik]

#2. The Act of Killing

It’s hard for me to think of any other film in the last several years with the same impact as The Act of Killing (review). Joshua Oppenheimer’s investigation into the deaths of millions during a military coup in 1960s Indonesia is like diving head first into the worst of humanity. What Oppenheimer observes (and participates in) is a world where evil prevails. Military leaders responsible for massacring entire villages are hailed as heroes, corruption runs rampant, and families of the survivors have to stay quiet if they want to live. What’s so bothersome about Oppenheimer’s film isn’t just seeing the casual disregard for human lives; it’s the way he implicates the viewer and their complicity in the on-screen horrors. The Act of Killing is a monumental piece of filmmaking, but it’s also one that forces viewers to confront the severe costs of their inaction and ignorance. It’s an ugly film, one that made me feel physically ill watching it, and one of the best documentaries I’ve ever seen. I just know that it’ll be a long time before I see it again. [CJ]

#3. Shame

It’s always hard to delve so deeply into the life of someone that is in many ways broken, and a second time might just prove too much for many. In the case of Steve McQueen’s Shame (review), Brandon’s life is certainly one that I don’t feel capable of entering again, even as a witness. Ultimately, this is a testament to the quality of the film—the raw emotion that we are confronted with is exactly what makes it so hard to watch. Fassbender is disconcertingly convincing as a man whose day-to-day life is an endless search for another orgasm, with each one simply acting as a step towards finding the next. The concept of dissatisfaction at every moment is portrayed so precisely it would be beautiful if it wasn’t thoroughly depressing. Both Fassbender and McQueen inject Brandon’s character with so much apathy that we can’t help but feel for him – it’s almost as though we are doing the feeling for him. And while that’s involving and highly compelling, it is also far too emotionally draining to go through again. [Pavi]

#4. Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire

There are films I describe as “essential” viewing while almost always following up with the word “once.” I don’t think there is any shame in admiring a film greatly and recognizing that being in the mood to watch it repeatedly in one’s lifetime is highly unlikely. I’d even go so far as to say that Precious (review) was one of those films I might never had seen if I’d truly known what I was getting into. Does it have amazing performances? Yes. Does it have moving emotional transformations? Yes. Does it have an unnecessarily long title due to someone’s ill-placed concern that there’d be any confusion whatsoever in confusing this film for a superhero action film released in the same year? Weirdly so. Additionally, it has the abuse of a pregnant teen by her welfare-addicted mother, repeated rape from her father, and a cast of characters who finally give this young woman the support she needs to take control of her life. But for every heart melting scene are about 10 scenes of a mother throwing pots and TVs at a girl living a hell that most of us couldn’t even dream up. The ratio is a tough balance. But I still say see it. Once. [Ananda]

#5. Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father

Easily one of the most shocking and disturbing documentaries I have ever witnessed (and not simply because one of the subjects shares my name), Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father illustrates one man’s journey to memorialize his murdered friend, when that friend’s ex-girlfriend announces she’s expecting a son. The tone indicates early on that the only way this story will end is in disaster. Documentarian Kurt Kuenne tracks the life of Dr. Andrew Bagby from his childhood when he and Kurt made films together as friends, through Bagby’s adulthood, marriage, and ultimate murder. In speaking with Bagby’s family, Kuenne paints a picture not only of a good man killed in cold blood, but the frightening fallout from his murder. Throughout the film, you’re left angered that so little was done to prevent what ultimately occurred; however, it’s also easy to understand the inevitability of this tragedy. That doesn’t make watching events unfold within Dear Zachary any less devastating. The documentary may not be an intricately constructed masterpiece but the story it portrays is among the saddest realities an audience will have to face, just not one you’ll want to watch twice. [Zach]

#6. The Hunt

At about the 15-minute mark, The Hunt (review) takes a turn so unsettling that the film becomes uncomfortable to watch, and it remains uncomfortable to watch for its duration. The film tells the tale of a man—a kindergarten employee, no less—who is wrongly accused of being a pedophile. A young, confused child points the wrong finger at the wrong guy for the wrong reason and that guy’s life is over as quickly as word of his alleged actions can spread through the small, close-knit community and its micro-mob mentality. Pedophilia is like no other crime. When kids have potentially been exposed to a pedophile, there is no “innocent until proven guilty” in the court of public opinion. The film maximizes this wonderfully, especially in its depiction of the townspeople’s actions. What ultimately sells the tension, though, is that the viewer knows he’s innocent. This is no whodunit. There is no playing around with “did he or didn’t he?” and waiting for that “twist” to drive the final opinion on the film. His innocence is a fact, which raises the stakes on his pathos, which ratchets the unease of the viewer. Tack on a last shot for the ages and this unforgettable film is best left preserved in the memory. [Michael]

#7. Hard to be a God

It’s hard for me to add any other superlatives that CJ hasn’t already used in his fantastic write-up of the downright depraved Russian film Hard to be a God. Alesky German directed this brutal and savage film about a group of scientists who travel from Earth to another planet going through their own Medieval Age. Told not to interfere with the going-ons on the planet, they must sit back and watch as people are viciously murdered and treated like scum. German’s film is 3 hours of straight unholy debauchery where people trudge through mud, carcuses (human and animals) and mounds and mounds of excrement. If the setting isn’t disgusting enough, German constantly has objects (animate and not) directly in front of the action to add an immediacy to the ongoings, putting you right in the middle of all the action. About an hour in, I started to get queasy and almost had to stop watching. There has never been a film like Hard to be a God and there will probably never will be. [Blake]

#8. The Master

Initially my thoughts leaned to movies that evoked a positive memory such as Master and Commander or The Last Samurai–movies I only ever saw once but loved so much that I purchased them–and then never got around to watching them again. Their length and tendency towards tediousness always at the forefront when passing over them come movie night. The possibility for a future viewing is still there, however. On the other hand, it’s hard for me to say that I loved The Master (review). In fact, for a very long time I was determined to vocalize my absolute dislike for it. I don’t remember a second of that movie that I wasn’t cringing. But in thinking about where the roots of my aversion were, I couldn’t admit that it was the performances. Philip Seymour Hoffman, Joaquin Phoenix, and Amy Adams were outstanding. Ultimately I came to the realization that, in fact, this movie was really well done. Centered around self-worshiping, semi-psychotic, narcissistic con-men who prey on the weak and vulnerable, one has no choice but to respond with vitriol. So…kudos to everyone involved in the making of such a great movie, but I will never watch it again. [Scarlet]

#9. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer

Honestly, the concept of loving a film despite never wanting to watch it again really doesn’t register with me. If there is something in a movie that works for me, no matter how violent, draining or depressing it might be, it’s going to be something I will consider revisiting. That said, John McNaughton’s troubling Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer is a film I’m not itching to see again for a long time. Known primarily as a horror film—I remember seeing the VHS in the same vicinity of the video store as other 1980’s gems Chopping Mall and Brain Damage, but Henry is far, far from these silly blood-splatter flicks. It’s darkly honest and straight-ahead script and documentary shooting style is a fascinating approach to the genre, but also a bit icky. Truthfully, there aren’t a lot of scares, but the intense commitment of everyone involved (from the screenwriters, to the director, to star Michael Rooker) get us inside this character, eventually taking us places we really don’t want to be. Personally, the film is made all too real in part by the Chicago street cinematography—though Wicker Park and its surrounding areas have dramatically changed over the last 30 years, it’s still recognizable enough to make me a little more aware of my own environment. [Aaron]

#10. Enter the Void

Yes, another Gaspar Noé film on this list. Adding to his collection of challenging films, Noé trades the excessive violence and brutality of Irreversible for excessive visuals and runtime in Enter the Void. The film (review) is packed with intoxicating visuals from pulsating neon lights to ghost-like camera movements that pass through walls and buildings, completely disorienting the senses like an acid trip. And because it clocks in at over two and a half hours—it’s one long trip. There’s a lot to admire from artistic and technical standpoints as some moments in the film are unlike anything seen before in film. However, the sensory overload eventually becomes exhausting to the point you’d wish it would just end already. Not helping matters is a meandering script which stretches about 30 minutes worth of material into 161 minutes. If you ever wanted to experience DMT without actually doing it, one time through Enter the Void should do the trick. But unlike the drug, you won’t be itching to go back to it. [Dustin]

#11. Mr. Nanny

I’m pretty sure Mr. Nanny is legitimately considered one of the worst movies of all time. Hulk Hogan plays a former professional wrestler who becomes a nanny to make ends meet…so yeah. It’s ridiculous. But you know what? When I watched it as a kid in the early ‘90s, I had the time of my f*cking life! I’ve been a huge Hulkamaniac since birth (I had a plush toy and action figures and video games), so to see my red-and-yellow hero star in his own movie was the coolest thing ever! I remember laughing my little ass off at every single dumb gag and thinking the Hulkster was going to be a HUGE movie star (my taste in actors is better now, I promise). I saw the movie on a VHS tape rented from Blockbuster (those were the days) and never saw it again, probably because it sucked so much no network wanted to run it. But man, did I have a blast watching it that day. Sure, I could probably find it again online and replace my old memories with new, sh*tty ones, but what’s the use in that? [Bernard]

Back in the 1960’s, director Aleksei German wanted to adapt Arkady & Boris Strugatsky’s sci-fi novel Hard to Be a God into a movie. He started working on a screenplay, but the project got shelved for over 30 years. Cut to 2000, where German finally starts filming his long-gestating project. The production, an elaborate and presumably expensive one, didn’t finish until 2006. After that, German spent his time finishing the film until his death in early 2013. His wife and son continued his work, eventually finishing the film for a festival premiere later that year. Now, just over a year later, Hard to Be a God finally makes its way to the US, getting a limited theatrical release from Kino Lorber.

When it comes to discussing Hard to Be a God, the film’s 40+ year journey to the screen becomes an inevitable topic, and not just because of that story’s compelling nature. It also helps provide context for watching German’s film. This is over 4 decades in the making, and every single frame shows it. German has ended his career on a bang so loud it can start an earthquake. The only thing I could do while watching Hard to Be a God was sit in awe at the onslaught of barbarity, at the realization of something so vivid and tactile yet horrifyingly alien. A film like this could only be made with decades of preparation.

An opening piece of narration sets the scene: it’s far into the future, and the setting is a faraway planet called Arkanar. The planet is exactly like Earth, except its civilization still remains far behind the times. They’re essentially living in a pre-Renaissance era, meaning everyone is a bumbling idiot at best or a complete savage at worst. Astronauts from Earth come down to observe the planet, with the hopes of finding and protecting the planet’s intellectuals so Arkanar can start making progress. One of these astronauts, Don Rumata (Leonid Yarmolnik), has spent years living on Arkanar, slowly going mad from the squalor surrounding him. One of the first scenes, where two men giddily laugh as they smear shit on each other, does all the necessary explaining for his growing insanity.

That sort of scene eventually becomes commonplace by the end of the film’s 3-hour runtime. Arkanar is, to put it simply, a hell hole. People frequently rape, kill and torture each other, everything gets treated as a toilet, and torrential rains turns the ground into mud going up to people’s knees. Rumata’s efforts to save intellectuals tends to go awry (early on, a poet gets drowned in a pool of excrement). Part of the plot involves Don Reba, a fascist dictator ruling the area Rumata resides in. To ensure his power won’t get threatened, he convinces the masses to blame the intellectuals for their problems. And unfortunately for Rumata, he can’t do too much to help; as an observer, he can’t get too involved or use his own advanced skills. He can only watch, pretending he’s on the same level as everyone else yet fully aware he can exert plenty of intelligence and power over them (hopefully by now the title will start making some sense).

Granted, the idea of spending 170 minutes watching nothing but misery certainly doesn’t sound appealing (there have been many stories of people fleeing the theatre, unable to take what German puts on-screen), but it’s by design. German shows humanity at its puerile worst, and his commitment to detailing such ugliness is awe-inspiring. It’s a film dedicated to putting viewers in a constant state of discomfort, with German using different techniques to make sure there isn’t a single moment of rest. The technique German uses most frequently, and to great effect, is throwing something into the foreground of a shot. Whether it’s a hand, a dead fish, a face, or anything else, watching these things suddenly enter the frame in extreme close-up creates an effect similar to watching a 3D film.

Cinematographers Vladimir Ilin and Yuriy Klimenko should also deserve a special mention alongside German, as their work feels revolutionary. Using frequent long takes with Steadicam, and shooting with black and white 35mm film, the camera veers and fumbles around every scene. Every shot uses deep focus, showing off each element in the frame in full detail. Every shot comes across like an event, with everything so meticulously constructed and choreographed it’s amazing to see all the organized chaos work so beautifully. The Steadicam’s movements, combined with German’s intense preparation, lend a documentary quality to some moments, as if a futuristic camera crew went back in time to film pre-Renaissance life. The fact that so many extras deliberately stare the camera down (yet another tactic by German to maintain a sense of unease) only adds to the feeling of observing something real, and not a fiction.

And ultimately, that’s what makes Hard to Be a God a great piece of cinema. Every second feels authentic, like looking into a completely different yet fully realized world. Plot and narrative take the backseat here; it’s there, but trying to comprehend it would be a fool’s errand. For me, at least on a first viewing, I had to let the film’s filth wash over me. Yes, German’s creation is extremely unpleasant, but it’s such a cinematic powerhouse it can’t be faulted. Hard to Be a God might be the closest thing to hell on film, and delving into German’s shit and mud-soaked world is an experience I can’t say I’ve had with any other film. It’s a staggering achievement, one bound to leave an impact for many years to come on the souls brave enough to get through it. It’s quite early, but I have a hard time imagining another film from this year topping Hard to Be a God. I kept getting reminded of films like 2001 and Playtime, where truly unique, singular visions comes to life through near-flawless execution. Films like these don’t come along very often. Hard to Be a God is an exhausting, disgusting, and draining experience. It’s also a complete masterpiece.

Every year, film festivals around the world premiere thousands of brand new films, and every person behind those works hopes a distributor will come along and pony up the cash to give their movie a nice release. The reality is that plenty of films have a hell of a time finding distribution.

Granted, there are a handful distributors in the US willing to put out some truly bold, excellent work (a few examples: Cinema Guild, KimStim and Strand Releasing). That doesn’t mean truly great films don’t end up falling through the cracks every year. Sometimes a film might be so challenging or strange it’s easy to see why no one will want to go near it. Other times it’s hard to believe why no one wants to get a certain movie out to as many eyeballs as possible.

That’s why we’ve made this list of our favourite films of 2014 that still have yet to find US distribution. These are films that should be on people’s radar, but might never see a proper release in the States. If you want to see any of these films, try to get the word out. And let this list be a message to anyone in distribution: We think these movies deserve to be seen. Hopefully you’ll agree.

Blind

Joachim Trier’s Oslo, August 31st is a devastating film, one that made our top 5 of 2012. The film’s co-writer Eskil Vogt makes his directorial debut with Blind, and while it doesn’t match the power of Oslo it comes close. After going blind, Ingrid (Ellen Dorrit Petersen) lives as a hermit in her apartment. She spends her time imagining the lives of different people, a distraction from her crumbling marriage and social life. Vogt shoots the film entirely through Ingrid’s perspective, so we only see what Ingrid thinks is going on around her, meaning elements of a scene can change on a dime. A conversation between two characters can suddenly change locations, and a person’s clothing can change between cuts, just to name a few of Vogt’s visual tricks employed throughout.

The way Vogt films Ingrid’s head space is what makes Blind so effective. It extends beyond gimmickry because of how much the style establishes Ingrid’s inner turmoil. It feels like a mature, European version of a Charlie Kaufman film, tackling deep, existential issues with stylistic ingenuity. After premiering at Sundance this year where it won a prize for its screenplay, Blind has only gotten a few festival screenings in North America, which is a shame. It’s one of the year’s best debut features, and establishes Vogt as a new directorial voice to keep an eye on. [C.J.]

The Creator of the Jungle

Interview with director Jordi Morató
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Back when I reviewed The Creator of the Jungle at Hot Docs, it quietly snuck up on me and became one of my favourites at the festival. It’s one of those stories where truth truly is stranger than fiction. Garrel, a man with the boundless imagination of a child, has spent 45 years building, destroying and rebuilding an elaborate playground in a forest. He builds structures, mazes, dams and even cave systems with nothing except for the materials around him. At the same time, Garrel would direct himself in Tarzan movies shot on a friend’s VHS camcorder, using his creations as a set for Tarzan’s home in the jungle.

Director Jordi Morató spent 18 months poring through and editing Garrel’s home movies, putting together an astounding portrait of one man’s battle to simply play with his toys in peace. Just when it seems like Garrel’s story has come to an end, Morató suddenly jumps ahead in time to reveal even more information about Garrel and his lifelong project. And as the camera opens up, going from muddled VHS footage to widescreen HD, the clarity of seeing Garrel’s work in full will make your jaw drop. Watching Creator of the Jungle feels like discovering a hidden treasure, but without any foreseeable distribution this film will continue to stay tragically hidden. [C.J.]

Doomsdays

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Interview with director Eddie Mullins
Secret Stash with director Eddie Mullins
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Eddie Mullins’ Doomsdays is a funny, idiosyncratic hangout movie about two fatalistic vagabonds named Dirty Fred and Bruho (Justin Rice and Leo Fitzpatrick, respectively) as they weave their way through the Catskills, looting rich people’s vacation homes in preparation for the impending apocalypse brought on by peak oil (google it…if you dare). The scruffy scavengers help themselves to whatever pills and booze they find and enjoy their charmed bromance with each other…that is, until a teenage boy and a pretty girl join their number and things get sticky.

What’s really special about Doomsdays is the way it’s filmed: the camera remains almost exclusively static, with the characters walking around, in and out of the carefully composed shots in surprising, interesting ways (think of a minimalistic, nature-set Tati film, where your eyes are free to roam the frame as they may). On top of all that, the cast is great, the writing is quippy and sharp, and the ending is pleasantly unexpected. (Bonus: there’s an awesome joke in the movie about Irish beans that I stole and totally use on my friends. Gets a laugh every time.) [Bernard]

The Editor

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Canadian filmmaking group Astron-6 have quickly made a name for themselves with their loving, comedic homages to trash cinema like Father’s Day and Manborg. The Editor, their latest film, is a huge step up from their previous output. The best way to describe The Editor would be saying it does to giallo what Black Dynamite did to blaxploitation.

It starts out as a murder mystery on a film set, with the film-within-a-film’s one-handed editor considered the prime suspect. If you’re familiar with giallo, it should come as no surprise that the plot soon becomes incomprehensible, involving plenty of subplots and characters with no rhyme or reason. All of this is deliberate, of course; Astron-6 hilariously embrace everything wrong with the giallo sub genre, from awful dubbing to rampant misogyny. Yes, people unfamiliar with what The Editor spoofs won’t get much mileage out of it, but those with some knowledge of what it’s doing will find themselves laughing the whole way through. Here’s hoping someone gives this future cult classic a chance to get out in theatres next year. [C.J.]

Episode of the Sea

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Lonnie van Brummelen & Siebren de Haan profile the small, remote fishing town of Urk in Episode of the Sea. What makes Urk unique is that it’s a fishing town without any surrounding water; it was an island until the government drained the water around it to increase farming. The townspeople refused to play ball with the government, so they traveled further to keep fishing. Episode of the Sea relates the different ways people of Urk have cleverly avoided different roadblocks to hold up their traditions. I reviewed the film at TIFF earlier this year, where it came and went as quickly as its hour-long runtime.

What makes Episode of the Sea such a delight to watch is the way van Brummelen & de Haan involve themselves into the process. Shooting on gorgeous 35mm in Academy ratio, rounded corners and all, the documentary finds a common bond between old fishing and filmmaking methods. The directors combine both worlds by having people from Urk perform for the camera, re-enacting conversations overheard and transcribed by the filmmakers. Episode of the Sea isn’t one side observing another; it’s an exchange between both filmmaker and subject, a documentary about the process as much as it’s about the results. It’s always nice to see a film break conventions in such a pleasing way. [C.J.]

From What is Before

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From What is Before observes a small barrio in the Philippines as it slowly gets destroyed under Ferdinand Marcos’ rule in the 1970s. Director Lav Diaz’s slow, patient approach opens the film up in a way that lets viewers feel every small detail of the world Diaz creates, teleporting them into characters’ lives in ways a more traditional narrative feature couldn’t do. And that method makes things all the more tragic once Marcos’ soldiers show up.

It’s standard procedure with Diaz’s films to mention how he takes a very long, patient approach to filming. From What is Before is over 5 and a half hours long, and for that reason it’s unlikely to ever get a theatrical release outside of festival screenings (kudos to Cinema Guild for putting out Diaz’s previous film, the four-hour Norte, the End of History, in theatres this year). Those willing to give Diaz’s work a shot will find a rich experience offering plenty of rewards. It’s all a matter of being up for the challenge. [C.J.]

Hard to Be a God

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It’s a film nearly 50 years in the making. Aleksei German started adapting Arkady and Boris Strugatsky’s sci-fi novel in the 1960s, only to start making it until 2000. Pre-production lasted until 2006, and post-production took another seven years. German never saw the final product; he died during post-production, leaving his family to finish the film for him.

And the final result of this decades-long filmmaking journey is a flat-out masterpiece, a film so singular it’s impossible to imagine anything else like it. The story takes place in the future on a planet similar to ours, except it’s currently going through the Middle Ages. Men from Earth have been sent down to observe the planet’s inhabitants, with explicit orders to not interfere with anything, save for trying to protect people smart enough to help move the planet’s civilization forward (anyone showing signs of talent and/or creativity usually get slaughtered immediately by the unintelligent masses).

German doesn’t just present a filthy, disgusting world of a backwards society. He makes you feel like you’re right there in the mud and shit with everyone. It’s like German is observing rather than creating; his vision is so epic in scale, so immersive in its execution it feels like every bit of this world is real and not a fictional creation. But be warned: German’s vision isn’t a pretty one. It’s showing the worst side of humanity, meaning Hard to be a God is far from an “enjoyable” experience. But it’s a towering achievement, and one of the only modern-day films to come close to matching the sense of awe and wonder of classics like Playtime and 2001: A Space Odyssey. [C.J.]

In the Crosswind

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One of my favourites from this year’s Toronto International Film Festival, In the Crosswind transforms what looks like a gimmick into something genuinely moving. Inspired by the true story of a woman’s struggle for survival during Stalin’s purge of Baltic nations in the 1940s, In the Crosswind primarily plays out through a series of elaborate tableaux vivants. Director Martti Helde spent months planning out each scene, and the preparation shows.

Shot in gorgeous black and white, and filmed in a series of long takes that bring Béla Tarr to mind, In the Crosswind uses the image of its frozen characters to evoke the feeling of suddenly losing your home, your family, and everything that grounds you in a specific time and place. These are people in constant transition, and Helde’s direct method of expressing that state of existence leads to truly affecting results. [C.J.]

L for Leisure

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Considering how much American indies get criticized today for their homogeneity, L for Leisure feels like it’s from a completely different planet. Taking inspiration from directors like Whit Stillman and Eric Rohmer, L for Leisure is a series of episodic segments following graduate students in the early 90s over different holidays. They chill out, talk about what they’re working on, smoke nutmeg to get high, play laser tag, water ski and just act really mellow.

Directors Lev Kalman and Whitney Horn spent several years getting L for Leisure made, traveling around the world to film different segments on 16mm (an aesthetic choice that’s essential to the film’s success). The laid back, dry humour slowly works its way into the brain, and by the end the dumbest exchanges can cause the biggest laughs (“I’m so mellow.” “Oh my god, I’m so mellow!”). Plus, L for Leisure has one of the year’s best soundtracks. Luckily you can buy the soundtrack, but as of now you can only hope the film might screen near you (or better yet: try to arrange a screening yourself). [C.J.]

Lake Los Angeles

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As an exceptionally quiet film—and when there is dialogue, it’s in Spanish—about illegal immigration and the dreams of those who come to America as refugees, I’m surprised I liked Lake Los Angeles as much as I did. This is, after all, covered ground. Add to all of that, much of the film revolves around a 12-year old girl, Cecilia (Johanna Trujillo), who spends a great portion of the film wandering through the cold desert of California. The film is bleak, shot mostly in washed out grays, blues, and browns. And did I mention throughout, the main character Francisco (Roberto ‘Sanz’ Sanchez) speaks love letters into a tape recorder for his wife back in Cuba? It sounds depressing, and so easily could be, except that director Mike Ott pieces it all together into an achingly touching tale of the need in everyone for companionship. It’s about the families we build for ourselves and the way we allow ourselves to be needed and loved by others. Most astounding is the performance by first-timer Johanna Trujillo who occupies much of the film as she escapes into the desert, surviving on her own and dreaming that her father is indeed on his way to find her. She shows incredible soul and depth for such a green actress and young person. It makes no statements on immigration or refugees, but uses this as a backdrop to a story of familial love bestowed and given. It’s a mesmerizing film that I hope to get to discuss with a greater audience in the future. [Ananda]

The Life and Mind of Mark DeFriest

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I had the privilege of seeing this film at the Los Angeles Film Festival and was moved by not only the tale of life-prisoner Mark DeFriest, but also of the greater magnifying glass held to the United States penal system. This documentary by Gabriel London showcases the intriguing personality of Mark DeFriest, considered the Houdini of the Florida state prison system due to his many remarkable (and at time hilarious) escape attempts. I remarked in my initial coverage of the film—and the impression remains—that under entirely different circumstances, Mark DeFriest is the sort of mastermind who should have had films made documenting the spectrum of his mind and the inventions he might have been able to funnel his genius into. Instead, due to a misconception, DeFriest was imprisoned for “stealing” his own father’s bequeathed tools. A short sentence that he would have quickly gotten out of if it weren’t for DeFriest’s absolute incapability of understanding and obeying the rules of justice in America. His sentencing—now compounded to life after so many escapes—is one injustice, the added ways the system have abused him only prove further that our one size fits all approach to justice in this country has made perpetrators of the peacekeepers. It’s an excellent documentary and I sincerely hope more people get the chance to see it. [Ananda]

Living Stars

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It’s an hour-long, but it might be the best thing to come out all year. Living Stars is the KISS Principle in action, a film with a concept so simple and enjoyable it’s hard to believe no one’s done it sooner. Directors Gastón Duprat & Mariano Cohn plopped their camera down in people’s homes across Buenos Aires with one direction: pick a song and dance to it. The results are pure joy.

Every scene unfolds in one take, with each dancer letting it all out in their home or workplace. Usually a friend or relative is in the background, watching or ignoring the action. The rigid form only makes it more fun when things slightly deviate from the formula (the reappearance of one dancer is one of the best surprises you could ask for). I watched Living Stars with a grin fixed on my face the entire time, and when it ended I watched it again. Living Stars shouldn’t just be seen, it should be prescribed as a cure-all for sadness. [C.J.]

Mirage

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Szabolcs Hajdu’s Mirage is one of those stories you describe in a single sentence. A stranger walks the desert lands of a foreign country, hiding out from those he’s wronged, searching for an existence. This is Hungary’s modern take on minimalist westerns, a cinematic hybrid channeling Jarmusch, Herzog, and Sergio Leone all at once. In other words, Mirage is brilliant at its highest points (leading man Isaac De Bankole walking towards the horizon, meeting various miscreants along his journey to nowhere) and only slightly off-putting at its lowest points (awkward humor, scenes that rely on the thin plot).

The good news is, its peaks outnumber its troughs and the film is an overall cinematic bundle of joy, full of staggeringly gorgeous wide shots, fantastic music, and plenty proof of how captivating De Bankole’s screen presence is. That it has no distributor doesn’t exactly come as a shock because marketing something like this would be like trying to sell an antique to a high-tech company; but here’s hoping this antique gets picked up soon because it’s a great reminder of the cinematic allure at its most stripped down form. [Nik]

Runoff

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It’s a sad truth that first time directors have the hardest time finding distribution—without a famous family member or benevolent producer out to champion for it, that is. And while I tend to be the hard-nosed sort that thinks directors need to earn their kicks in this world and work their way up, it’s rare I find a film debut as polished and moving as Kimberly Levin’s Runoff. The small-town tale of a farm family whose business suffers as larger corporations offer lower prices. Joanne Kelly plays Betty, the wife trying to support her husband in his business, especially as his health starts to wane, while being the sort of mother who hand-sews her son’s Halloween costume and connects with her elder son about his hopes and dreams for life after high school. The film’s visuals beautifully capture the allure of family life on a farm, engendering the same sort of pride felt by the protagonists. Performances in the film are all around wonderful, but it’s the building tension of the film’s final act as Betty is faced with hard and fast decisions to make, that Joanne Kelly truly shines, becoming a woman who fights for the life her family has built. Levin, who also wrote the film, isn’t afraid to get a little dark, grappling with harsh realities and moral ambiguity. While there’s no end to films on the disenchanted American Dream, this one is an engaging quiet watch worth getting to see on the big screen. [Ananda]

Still the Water

Naomi Kawase has no luck with US distribution, and I’m really not sure why. She’s a regular at Cannes, and her movies wonderfully capture the beautiful balance between man and nature. The latest one, Still the Water, premiered at Cannes and it follows in her usual style; meditative, lyrical, infused in Japanese tradition and mentality. Perhaps it’s that last aspect that drives US distributors away, thinking Kawase is too foreign for American audiences. Instead of seeing it as a great opportunity to show an audience a highly fascinating culture.

The story of Still the Water is a coming-of-age tale. A boy lives with his single mother on a Japanese island, meets and falls in love with a girl whose own mom is on her death-bed and whose surfer-dad is trying to keep their restaurant working. There’s a murder mystery subplot that doesn’t quite mesh with the rest of the film, but as a whole, the picture is full of so many touching moments and contemplative images. Kawase shows how deeply intelligent she is with a slow, assured, flow that washes over the viewer like a wave. It would be a terrible shame and a great loss to keep this one away from US audiences. [Nik]

Silvered Water, Syria Self-Portrait

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Less of a film and more of a prolonged, traumatic experience, Silvered Water, Syria Self-Portrait is an unflinching examination of a state in the throes of war. Exiled Syrian filmmaker Ossama Mohammed relied on the home footage of “1,001 Syrians,” as well as an elementary school teacher Wiam Simav Bedirxan. Mohammed uses text and online chat tones to recreate his conversations with Bedirxan as the two lament over the active destruction of their home country, only for tensions to reach the breaking point when Bedirxan stops immediately returning Mohammed’s messages.

Silvered Water, Syria Self-Portrait premiered as a Special Screening at this year’s Cannes Film Festival but went on to show at TIFF and the New York Film Festival. The footage assembled for the film is horrific in the worst ways, and even if you can imagine the atrocities, actually experiencing it on-screen is more devastating than you can prepare for. Mohammed’s film is an unprecedented look at war ripping a country apart from the inside, and deserves to be witnessed by unwavering eyes. [Zachary]

Tokyo Tribe

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Back at TIFF, I saw Tokyo Tribe and raved about it, saying it “will leave viewers dazed, assaulted, and mortified.” As a fan of Sion Sono’s work, I didn’t expect him to be able to top the insanity of his previous film Why Don’t You Play in Hell?. The opening scene of Tokyo Tribe, a sprawling single take musical number introducing the film’s major players, kicked my expectations directly to the ass-end of hell.

Taking place over one night, Sono’s musical/kung-fu/comedy/gangster/epic/action/thriller follows an impending battle between feuding gangs wrestling for power in a dystopian Tokyo. Sono’s ability to stack one crazy, hilarious idea on top of another reaches a fever pitch here, to the point where it can get exhausting trying to take it all in. That kind of style can leave people running in the opposite direction; I embrace Sono’s wackiness with open arms. The fine folks at Eureka will be releasing Tokyo Tribe in the UK, but no one has taken the opportunity to unleash Sono’s epic on US soil. You may not realize it, but you should be very jealous of the British right now. [C.J.]

Tu Dors Nicole

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Tu Dors Nicole, a Canadian production from Quebec, did get a release in Canada (that’s why I was lucky enough to see it). Unfortunately it hasn’t been picked up by a U.S. distributor yet. A black-and-white portrait of a young, twentysomething woman lazing around for the summer, Tu Dors Nicole has all the makings of a belated coming of age story. Director Stephane Lafleur thankfully finds a way to quietly break conventions. The hazy, melancholy look of the film immediately makes it distinctive, and its surreal touches can be downright hilarious.

I reviewed Tu Dors Nicole earlier this year at TIFF, and since then my opinion has only gone up. It’s a low-key delight, and hopefully some nice distributor will come along to let American audiences get a shot at seeing it (Are you reading this, IFC?). [C.J.]

Welcome to Me

This is just a matter of time, really. Co-produced by Will Ferrell, and starring the rising Kristen Wiig, Welcome To Me has Canadian distribution but somehow still doesn’t have US. Strange, not only because of the talent involved but because Wiig has never been funnier. Her Alice Klieg, a loner with Border Personality Disorder, becomes a millionaire overnight and decides to spend most on it on a television show based around her life. Major hilarity ensues.

Boasting a strong supporting cast (Wes Bentley, Joan Cusack, James Marsden, Tim Robbins, among others), and a scathing commentary on contemporary societal obsession with reality television and talk shows, Welcome To Me mostly exists as a showcase of Kristen Wiig’s monumental comedic talents. That should be more than reason enough to get distributor attention, so keep your eyes open. [Nik]

Wild Canaries

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Here’s an example of the kind of film that needs to be released. Wild Canaries follows Noah and Barri (writer/director Lawrence Michael Levine and his wife Sophia Takal), an engaged couple living in New York City trying to get by. After their downstairs neighbour dies from an apparent heart attack, Barri suspects foul play. Teaming up with her roommate Jean (Alia Shawkat), and ignoring her fiancé’s protests, Barri takes on the role of amateur detective in order to find the murderer (if there even is one).

It would be easy to compare Wild Canaries to Cold Weather, Aaron Katz’s low-budget indie mystery, but the two only share a few similarities. Levine’s film is a gleeful ode to madcap, screwball comedies like The Thin Man, going for big laughs. That broad, over the top sense of humour, combined with the nuanced relationship dynamics on display between Barri, Noah and the supporting characters, make for a wholly unique and exciting combination. The entire cast is excellent, with Levine and Takal playing Noah and Barri perfectly. Only a real-life couple could make you go from thinking these two characters can’t stand each other to believing they’re a perfect match. Wild Canaries is the shot in the arm American indies need right now. It’s funny, distinctive and isn’t afraid to be earnest. [C.J.]