The top 25 films of 2020 so far

It hurts to see a wholly original Pixar feature fail to hit the bull’s-eye, and it’s especially disappointing because just when this tale of two elfin brothers questing after a “Phoenix Gem” that will briefly resurrect their dead father threatens to take flight, it falls to earth under the weight of a convention-bound studio note. There are other problems (Chris Pratt is a little too frat-boy for the voice of a DnD enthusiast), but then there’s Octavia Spencer playing a restaurant-managing manticore — which, frankly, deserves its own movie. It works like every Pixar movie not called “Cars” works, but something special clearly got compromised here.

A Frankenstein’s monster of a franchise film, which means its well worth watching even when it’s hastily sanding down its edges to appease its mainstream-minded executives. Margot Robbie is so thrillingly in command as the unhinged Harley Quinn that you can’t help but wish she’d been given her own vehicle before moving on to her exploits with the Birds of Prey. Then again, it’s hard not to fall in love with a comic book film that occasionally slips its leash to become a militant feminist yarn. Director Cathy Yan and cinematographer Matthew Libatique are clearly having a ball, and the supporting cast (particularly Ewan McGregor and Chris Messina) is off on another planet. It barely holds together, but it’s a better kind of mess than “Suicide Squad."

We haven’t had a good ocean floor-set knockoff of “Alien” since the 1989 duo of “DeepStar Six” and “Leviathan," so if that’s your thing (and, if not, what’s wrong with you), the early January arrival of William Eubank’s unabashedly derivative B horror flick is for you. Kristen Stewart fully commits to the role of a deep-sea engineer, and the rest of the overqualified cast (including Vincent Cassel and John Gallagher Jr.) follows her lead. It’s nothing more than a sturdily crafted monster movie, but when was the last time a studio made one of those without an eye toward creating a franchise? Be sure to watch it in a dark room (screen glare ruins this darkly lit movie) with the sound jacked up.

Commercial photographer Autumn de Wilde makes a convincing leap to features with this stylish retelling of Jane Austen’s yarn about a spoiled but goodhearted matchmaking young woman. You’ve seen it all before, and you’ve seen it done better (in Douglas McGrath’s 1996 version with Gwyneth Paltrow and, of course, Amy Heckerling’s “Clueless” with Alicia Silverstone), but Anya Taylor-Joy is immensely appealing in the title role, while Bill Nighy swipes every scene as her lovingly rankled father.

You might not have noticed, but Will Ferrell has been in a decade-long creative slump. Aside from his appearances as Lord Business in “The Lego Movie” franchise, he hasn’t made a legitimately good comedy since 2010’s “The Other Guys” (your mileage may vary  greatly with “Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues”). This David Dobkin-directed spoof of the annual Eurovision song contest (made famous by Abba in 1974) isn’t terribly original and overstays its welcome at a full two hours, but this is easily the best material Ferrell’s had to work with in a long time. Ferrell and co-star Rachel McAdams are winning as a pair of aspiring Icelandic musicians who, thanks to a freak boat explosion, find themselves representing their country in the lovably tacky competition. Dan Stevens is a scene-stealing delight as the ostentatious Russian singer Alexander Lemtov.

The strangest thing happened in January 2020: A new “Bad Boys” movie screened for critics, and they generally liked it. The directing duo of Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah took over for action vulgarian Michael Bay, and they invigorate this 25-year-old franchise with snazzy set pieces. But it’s the acknowledgment of age, particularly on the part of devoted family man Marcus Burnett, which gives this bevy of bedlam a degree of poignancy that was certainly lacking in the conscienceless “Bad Boys 2." Will Smith, Martin Lawrence and Jerry Bruckheimer understand that fans of this franchise genuinely love these characters (people actually cheered when Mark Mancina’s inexplicably mothballed theme played over the opening credits), and they deliver an entertainment that honors that investment.

One-time filmmaking wunderkind Josh Trank infamously ran his career into a ditch when he followed up the low-budget, anti-superhero wonder “Chronicle” with an ultra-dark reboot of “Fantastic Four” that bombed with audiences and critics. Five years later, he’s back with a relentlessly dour labor of love about Al Capone’s syphilitic last year on this planet. Tom Hardy growls and grimaces under a load of makeup — an outsized performance that subverts the gangster’s larger-than-life stature in American history and movies. The film’s hook — Capone stashed $10 million away before he went to jail, but he can’t remember where — exists only to give the narrative some conventional forward momentum, but at its core this is an unremittingly grim study of a once-powerful man in physical and mental decline. 

Elisabeth Moss once again brings astonishing nuance to the role of a victimized woman in a spiral that may or may not be partially of her own making. Though Leigh Whannell’s clever reworking of H.G. Wells’s sci-fi/horror classic tips its hand as to the outcome, the filmmaker and his star do a disturbingly effective job of getting us to question whether this is real or all in her tormented head. In other words, it’s a master class in the efficacy of gaslighting (with a conventional, yet satisfying conclusion). 

Judd Apatow turns the tragedy of Pete Davidson’s young life (his fireman father perished in the collapse of the World Trade Center on 9/11) into a tough-love character study about an aimless twentysomething forced to get his life together. Davidson’s knuckleheaded charm takes some warming up to, but, as if often the case in Apatow’s films, the colorful supporting cast draws out the star’s sympathetic qualities. Marisa Tomei is wonderful as an unconditionally loving mother who’s fed up with her son’s go-nowhere antics, and Bill Burr gives a revelatory performance as a divorced firefighter who begrudgingly takes Davidson under his wing. Apatow’s penchant for narrative shagginess feels self-indulgent at times, but every digression contributes to a more meaningful whole.

Eliza Scanlen delivers a breakout performance as a teenager battling cancer and the tedium of her otherwise privileged existence. She throws her family’s life into turmoil when she falls for a drug-dealing older boy (Toby Wallace), who, while sweet at times, is an incorrigible troublemaker without much of a future. Then again, Scanlen’s character doesn’t know how much of a future she has either, which gives this coming-of-age drama a sharper edge than the genre typically allows. This isn’t groundbreaking stuff, but Scanlan’s performance gives it a live-wire intensity that’ll leave you excited to see what this talented actor does next.

If “O.J.: Made in America” can win an Academy Award for Best Documentary, Jason Hehir’s 10-part examination of the greatest winner in the history of professional sports counts as a feature too. Alas, it’s nowhere near as probing due to Michael Jordan’s cooperation, but Hehir manages to get across the six-time NBA champion’s epic self-absorption. That most of Jordan’s contemporaneous interviews are conducted with a tumbler of brown liquor on an adjacent table speaks volumes. Inadvertent truths occasionally escape his smug lips. This is a man who lived to be the greatest — and now lives in hell.

Ben Affleck has been public about his battles with alcoholism, which imbues his portrayal of a drunk hired to coach the high school team he once led to a championship with a deep, unresolved sadness that doesn’t vanish once the film pulls the obligatory uplifting switches. Gavin O’Connor (“Miracle”, “Warrior”) is no stranger to the stand-up-and-cheer formula, and this familiarity gives him the confidence to let Affleck’s affliction get  really ugly before he gets anywhere close to turning his life around. This is Affleck’s finest performance by far and one that hopefully won’t get forgotten by the awards folks at the end of this unprecedentedly bizarre year.

Given the outrageously awful state of the world, it’s tough to lose one of our greatest living satirists to an uncalled-for adaptation of Charles Dickens’ sprawling masterpiece, but you also can’t fault Armando Ianucci (“The Thick of It," “In the Loop," “The Death of Stalin”) for wanting to take a crack at something more humanistic for a change. There are times when this fast-paced take on “David Copperfield” feels like an experiment in narrative streamlining, and the film may work better for those who don’t know what’s missing (a ton). But the colorblind casting and spiky banter are welcome change-ups from the numerous missionary-position takes on this evergreen material.

We’re just skimming the surface of the #MeToo revelations, but Kitty Green’s “The Assistant” might wind up being one of the most clear-eyed takes on the culture of sexual harassment in the entertainment industry. At 85 minutes, this film is a bullet that strikes straight and true at the heart of a culture that enabled male predators to leverage their power for sexual gratification. Julia Garner is excellent as the assistant who does the right thing only to be brushed aside by a compliant human resources employee. Drop what you’re doing and watch it now.

Cynics goofed on Barack and Michelle Obama’s deal with Netflix, but the work they’ve promoted thus far is worthy of your attention. This documentary from James Lebrecht and Nicole Newnham depicts the origins of the disability rights movement spearheaded at Camp Jened. Much of what these brave souls accomplished (particularly Judith Heumann) is taken for granted nowadays, which makes this essential viewing for schools and everyone who thought it was funny to prop a door open by hitting the wheelchair button.

One of the most cathartic cinematic moments of 2020 arrives early in this engrossing documentary about the unusual friendship between artist Barbora Kysilkova and Karl-Bertil Nordland, who stole two of her prized paintings. After forgiving recovering addict Nordland for absconding with her work (and having no clue where it got off to), she asks him to sit for a portrait. When Kysilkova reveals the finished painting, Nordland breaks down into guttural sobs. Somewhere in this broken human being is a deep appreciation for art, and this abundantly talented painter has captured his essence. From that point, you are invested not in the recovery of the purloined art (though that constantly hangs over their interactions) but their mutual interest in one another. It’s a work of tremendous compassion.

Andrew Patterson’s debut film is a crackerjack sci-fi throwback to the eerie, dialogue-driven glory days of “The Twilight Zone” and “The Outer Limits." Though Patterson’s got style to burn (he opens the film with a bravura, walk-and-talk tracking shot that shows off his visual wit), the film is at its most spellbinding when he keeps his camera locked in on his actors’ faces and lets his dialogue work its eerie magic (it helps that stars Jake Horowitz and Sierra McCormick are magnetic as hell). Though the plot is eventually little more than a “War of the Worlds” homage, you’ve never seen the story told this way. 

You are not the person you were at 15. Or 21. Or 30. The surviving bad boys who wrote “Paul Revere” and “Girls” make this case to an audience in what plays a little bit like a power-point presentation. But it’s clear that Adam Horowitz (King Ad Rock) and Michael Diamond (Mike D) would get lost in digressions without a script, so you forgive the scripted nature of the production. This Spike Jonze-directed documentary is both a delayed wake for Adam Yauch (MCA), and a plea to young men to go wild and immerse themselves in other cultures but always, always respect women. You wish like hell Yauch was out there keeping his goofball brothers in check, but they’re keeping the faith. They also won’t tour again without him, which, if you’re a fan, drills a deep, deep hole in your heart. But that’s how it must be.

A righteously angry drama about a young Pennsylvania woman forced to journey to New York City for an abortion. In 2020. The premise alone may make some furious, and writer-director Eliza Hittman delivers her story straight, no chaser. Sidney Flanigan is superb in her acting debut as 17-year-old Autumn, who hits the road with her best friend to terminate an unwanted pregnancy without her parents’ consent. This is a vital film that will hopefully play as a relic of a less enlightened era a year from now.

We may never get to see Hugh Jackman scam his way into River City’s heart as “Professor” Harold Hill, but his portrayal of charming embezzler Frank Tassone is the next best thing. Based on a real-life scandal, Tassone and his equally conniving accomplice, Pamela Gluckin (Allison Janney), run a complex scheme that bilks a wealthy Long Island suburb’s school system of $11 million. Cory Finley’s film offers an acutely observed, tremendously entertaining account of this mindboggling crime, but it’s first and foremost a high-wattage showcase for Jackman. It’d be a pleasure to get financially wiped out by him.  

Eighty-four-year-old Ken Loach comes roaring back to fiery form with this incendiary drama about a family screwed over by the 2008 financial crash and the grind of the gig economy. Loach’s movies of late have lacked for dramatic thrust; they generally left you feeling he’d be better off writing angry op-eds than making films. But this richly observed movie hooks you with its sympathetic family unit and lands haymaker after haymaker until you’re ready to start erecting guillotines. This is socially conscious filmmaking at its most urgent and effective.

As if there were any doubt after 2018’s sensational “Madeline’s Madeline," Josephine Decker makes it startlingly clear with “Shirley” that she is one of the most gifted and original filmmakers working today. Though Decker generally observes the basic narrative conventions of the biopic genre, she still manages the full force of her florid visual style on this account of author Shirley Jackson (Elisabeth Moss) struggling through the composition of her latest novel. Moss is superb as the tormented writer, who finds herself strangely smitten with her pregnant houseguest (Odessa Young). It’s a harrowing look into a devilishly creative mind that will hopefully earn Decker more creative freedom going forward.

Kelly Reichardt reteams with screenwriter Jonathan Raymond for another masterpiece. "First Cow" is a leisurely paced, tremendously rewarding 19th century tale about two men (John Magaro and Orion Lee) making a living in the rough Oregon Territory via their delectable "oily cakes." Reichardt once again employs ye olde academy ratio (i.e. the 4x3 frame of old films and discarded televisions) to give viewers an unvarnished sense of hard frontier living. It's a film that requires investment; you participate in a Reichardt film and come out on the other side with a new understanding of how America, for better or much worse, became America.

Spike Lee loves to cook a cinematic gumbo, and this is the first time all of the disparate ingredients (war film, crime film, father-son film, civil rights jeremiad) mix together to comprise a zesty whole. You’re approaching the film wrong if you’re expecting it to work in a conventional manner; Lee allows the characters’ concerns/obsessions/madness to dictate the flow of the story. It’s a dialogue between five old black men trying to make sense of the futile mission that destroyed their lives, but it makes room for other parties (the Viet Cong, volunteers removing landmines, war profiteers) to have their say. It’s a brilliant olio and one of Lee’s finest films.

The best way to watch this exhilarating genre pileup from Brazilian filmmakers Kleber Mendonça Filho and Juliano Dornelles is to drop what you’re doing right now and fire it up on Amazon Prime. Do not watch the trailer, do not read the plot summary; don’t even look at the poster. This is a sui generis cinematic experience that starts off as a quiet, slice-of-life rural drama but most assuredly does not end that way. It is endlessly inventive and pretty much the reason we go to the movies.