The Oscars. The defining declaration of a film’s quality, except not at all. The Academy Awards consistently frustrate me (especially after last year’s abominable slate of winners), yet for whatever reason I oddly adore the ceremony and the pretentious, insignificant chaos that is the awards race. So, given that we’re mere weeks away from the 2024 Oscars and I’m admittedly excited, it’s time to rank all 10 Best Picture nominees.
10. Maestro
Every year the Oscars have one distinctly abysmal Best Picture nominee that makes me go, “WHAT.” 2022 had “Don’t Look Up,” 2023 had “Triangle of Sadness,” and now 2024 has… Bradley Cooper begs for an Oscar for two hours. Yes, “Maestro” is visually breathtaking. Yes, Carey Mulligan is magnificent. But those elements cannot make up for “Maestro” being the most egregious Oscar bait I’ve seen in years, maybe ever. The film has zero emotional resonance due to its bland and underdeveloped screenplay. I feel like I knew more about Leonard Bernstein before I watched this film than after. You wouldn’t know Bernstein was an interesting person just by watching this dumpster fire. Nothing happens in the movie. Not a thing. “Maestro” actively challenges you to stay awake. It is so mind-numbingly dull and lacks any artistic merit beneath the surface level visuals. Watching this film is like being dead for two hours — it’s that brutally boring. I despised Cooper’s “look at me, I’m acting!” dreck to oblivion. There is no excuse for releasing a feature length Oscar reel. Not to be that guy, but I’m going to be that guy: this isn’t cinema. This isn’t a real movie. This isn’t acceptable. This is a soulless waste of time that is genuinely one of the worst films of the year.
9. Killers of the Flower Moon
Lily Gladstone’s performance as Mollie Burkhart is mesmerizing. She captures strength and frailty, love and dread, hope and cynicism — all in the same performance, often at the same time. This is brilliant work and I’m elated that she’s earned so much praise for it. Likewise, Robert De Niro gave his best performance of the 21st century, maybe even beyond that, as the skin-crawling William King Hale. However, those performances can’t make up for Martin Scorsese’s self-indulgent misfire. I apologize in advance for what will be a lengthy rant, but I must get my arguments across.
I despise the peer pressure to automatically bow down to Scorsese and his work, even when it’s deeply flawed like “Killers of the Flower Moon.” Not only is this movie at least an hour and a half too long, but it is set for failure from the get-go by focusing on a thoroughly uninteresting, one-dimensional, idiotic, and irritating character in Ernest Burkhart, when the real focus should have been on Mollie/the Osage, or at least on the FBI like the book this was based on. But of course, Scorsese wanted to work with his buddies and have Leonardo DiCaprio play the lead, and for whatever reason DiCaprio was unwilling to play FBI agent Tom White, who he was originally supposed to play, and instead wanted to portray this evil plank of wood moron. The first two hours are just the same plot point repeated over and over again: Ernest meets up with a shady character, asks him to kill an Osage member, the guy is hesitant but agrees, and then we see him shoot someone. The film beats you over the head again and again. Defenders of the film say that the repetitiveness demonstrates how these murders became a cycle and almost a way of life, but I found that effort unsuccessful. Since the film is from Ernest’s perspective and the evils just follow the same predictable structure, it isn’t engaging or impactful, and thus I unfortunately didn’t feel the emotions Scorsese attempted (or claimed to have attempted) to elicit.
Let’s talk more about Marty. This is criminally self-indulgent and self-absorbed direction, giving himself four cameos (three offscreen voiceovers and that “look at me” appearance at the end). How does that demonstrate his empathy for the Osage, or prove he acknowledges and repents his exploiting tragedy for entertainment like he claims? If that was true, why not make a documentary instead? Why insert himself offscreen three times when he easily could have hired someone else? Why focus the story on Ernest rather than on the Osage? Why pay his pal Leo $40 million if this came from a genuine and well-meaning place rather than a self-serving one? I’m tired of the discourse that this is Scorsese’s latest masterpiece or that it’s his most important film. It could have been his most important film, but he approached it from the wrong angle, both in the screenplay (I’m pleasantly surprised and grateful that the Oscars didn’t nominate this script) and the self-aggrandizing nature of the bloated runtime, cameos, and “I want to work with my buddies” approach. I won’t apologize for finding this film to be a frustrating disappointment and an acidic blotch on Scorsese’s career. It is overlong, repetitive, and full of questionable at best filmmaking choices (such as the exposition dump ending and Brendan Fraser’s razzie-worthy performance — how did he win an Oscar?). Scorsese has given us some all-time classics, but “Killers of the Flower Moon” isn’t one of them. We have to hold him to the same standard as all other filmmakers and criticize his work when appropriate.
8. Barbie
I’m mixed on this one. “Barbie” excels in its direction and performances, but dizzily falters in its messy screenplay that — let’s be honest — is just “The Lego Movie.” On a technical level, this film is truly an achievement. Barbieland is perfectly crafted with every minute detail given clear thought and attention. It is a world one can’t help but want to jump into and explore because Greta Gerwig flawlessly transports us and makes us feel like we know the landscape just as well as the dolls who inhabit it. Gerwig’s direction is inarguably some of the year’s best, not only with her brilliant technical precision but in how she handles the whimsical tone and performances. Everyone has raved about Ryan Gosling as Ken (and rightfully so), but I actually thought Margot Robbie’s performance was the standout, as she balanced the doll mannerisms with a deep vulnerability and innocence.
However, that screenplay needed some serious work. As soon as we travel to the real world, the narrative is a jumbled mess full of plot holes (How does the portal between the worlds work? Can anyone in the real world stumble into Barbieland as long as they have roller skates and sway into that exact location in Los Angeles?). Then there’s the unruly three act structure. Normally in films the second act is the longest, with the first introducing us to the characters and conflict, the second exploring the conflict, and the third concluding the film with a climax and resolution. With “Barbie,” there is a proper first act, but the second act is just the real world elements which only last for about 25 minutes, before we go back to Barbieland in the one-hour-long third act for a climax that drags and drags and drags. The film just would not end. Finally, let’s discuss the messaging, specifically the execution. I have no interest in getting into the culture war debate on whether “Barbie” is man-hating — everyone has their own interpretation and I honestly don’t care enough to comment on it. What I do care about is the quality of the satirical writing. Unfortunately, the execution of the messaging is so in-your-face, extreme, and repetitious, with a lazy ending in which the conflict is resolved by people ranting at others and explicitly stating the messages.
7. American Fiction
“American Fiction” easily has the smartest premise of the year. Unfortunately, it only partially lives up to its ambitions as a much-needed apolitical satire on race, because it only cares about being said satire for 40% of its runtime. The other 60% is a wildly inferior Hallmark Channel family melodrama distracted from the brilliant message on how insecure, implicitly racist white people decide what constitutes a “black story” for African Americans. Unfortunately, in between the satire we have to sit through our protagonist Monk mourning his deceased sister, putting his dementia-ridden mother in a nursing home, dealing with his drug-addicted brother, and fostering a romance with a neighbor. All of these miserably sappy interactions create an unruly ADHD screenplay that lacks focus. We go from a hilarious scene to a brain-stimulating conversation on race between two black authors to… Monk’s family housekeeper marrying a straight-out-of-a-sitcom local cop to his brother throwing a wacky house party. Why? Who cares?
There is a ton of potential in this story, much of which is executed to comedic perfection. Some of the best scenes out of any movie this year come from “American Fiction,” so it’s immensely frustrating whenever we cut away to the Hallmark sludge. Honestly, each time the film embraces the satire, it succeeds with flying colors. Every single joke in those sections lands, which is something almost no comedy accomplishes. “American Fiction” could have and should have been great, but it never reached that greatness because it couldn’t recognize its own potential.
6. Anatomy of a Fall
To be clear, there is a chasm in quality between this film and the previous four. “Anatomy of a Fall” is actually solid, whereas those other movies were either atrocious (“Maestro”), decent but flawed (“American Fiction”), or somewhere in between (“Killers of the Flower Moon” and “Barbie”). Justine Triet’s Palme d’Or winning film about a woman put on trial for the suspicious death of her husband only lives up to its acclaim after the first hour. For a long time, the film moves at an incredibly slow pace, one which is far more meandering than methodical. However, once the trial begins, the film dramatically picks up speed and becomes absolutely engrossing for the next hour and a half. The case is so thoroughly detailed to the point where you forget this is a fictional story and feel like you’re watching real court proceedings, albeit with a filmmaking flourish. Sandra Hüller is phenomenal in the film, able to play sympathetic and despicable simultaneously. The beauty of “Anatomy of a Fall” is that the audience never finds out whether she actually murdered her husband or not, and that ambiguity is the key to distinguishing the film from all other courtroom dramas.
5. Poor Things
We have finally reached the tier of films that I consider well-deserving of a Best Picture nomination. “Poor Things” is a wonderfully strange movie, packed to the brim with creativity and optimistic energy to match its unforgettable lead character Bella Baxter. Emma Stone’s Bella is in many ways the perfect protagonist: she is effortlessly likable while being just as flawed and strange as the rest of us. The screenplay by Tony McNamara impeccably balances slapstick comedy with Hero’s Journey storytelling, making for a one-of-a-kind demented Frankenstein story full of heart, imaginative visuals, and lots and lots of sex (this film is going to be uncomfortable for a lot of viewers). Emma Stone brings so much charisma and vulnerability to the character. She perfectly captures Bella’s naivety at the beginning of her journey, her torment in the middle, and her secure adulthood at the end. As Bella matures in each scene, Stone makes gradual alterations to her performance following along with the character’s evolution. It really feels like we’re watching someone mature from an infant to an adult at an accelerated — but never rushed — pace. Overall “Poor Things” has some of the best character writing and character acting of the year, and I pray Emma Stone gets a well-deserved Oscar for her fearless and unprecedented work.
Unfortunately, “Poor Things” is held back by its 2 hour and 20 minute runtime. At about the 2 hour mark it reaches a natural satisfying conclusion and suddenly decides to backtrack into a new subplot before it can actually end. Bella’s arc was already completed and I suspect the seemingly tacked-on ending was only there to leave off the film with an unnecessarily larger climax. The film truly overstays its welcome to the point where the final 20 minutes are a slog to get through, and I wish it stuck the landing better.
4. The Zone of Interest
“The Zone of Interest” is a methodical and minimalist study of evil in its realest form: apathy. The film follows Rudolf Höss and his family as they live in a peaceful home with a gorgeous garden and a charming little pool, hosting delightful parties with friends and family… all while directly bordering the Auschwitz concentration camp. Höss, the commandant of the camp, wakes up, goes to work, returns home, reads his children bedtime stories, and sleeps by his wife. The family could not be more stereotypical, and the fact that they can function in such a simple manner while slavery and mass genocide are right beside them is the true horror. Mastermind writer/director Jonathan Glazer shoots the film exclusively from their peaceful perspective and never shows us the interior of Auschwitz. What he does present is just as, if not more, terrifying: the sounds. In almost every scene is a variety of screams, gunshots, and burnings we hear but never witness. The film’s intentional repugnance is propelled by Mica Levi’s wholly unique (but very sparingly used) score that can only be described as the sound of evil. Levi’s snub for Best Original Score is one of the year’s most egregious.
Glazer’s film is the most frightening and skin-crawling film I’ve seen in a very, very long time. He places the audience right beside the lowest scum of the earth, making us feel implicit in their atrocities and even challenging us to reflect on our own lives. “The Zone of Interest” is a brutal and effective representation of the Holocaust and pure human evil.
3. The Holdovers
We need more movies like this. That phrase has become unbearably overused, but in the case of Alexander Payne’s latest dramedy “The Holdovers,” it is actually applicable. The age of heartwarming character-based films has basically been dead for the past 15 or 20 years, and wasn’t even all that prominent post-1980s. “The Holdovers” is not only aware but proud of its uniqueness, as its visual and auditory style feel straight out of the 1970s with a delightful screenplay straight out of the 1980s. The gruff sound design and grainy images are utterly transportive. The characters are so rich and exciting to spend time with, and Payne’s ability to bring out the emotions really shines here, especially during the simultaneously inspiring and gut-punching ending when star Paul Giamatti puts his massive acting chops on full display. This is a delightful holiday film that I’m positive will stand the test of time to become a Christmas classic.
2. Oppenheimer
Like everyone else who experienced “Oppenheimer,” I was astounded. Astounded by Cillian Murphy’s career-defining performance. Astounded by Hoyte van Hoytema’s hauntingly beautiful cinematography. Astounded by the best direction of Nolan’s career. Astounded by its staying power. Oppenheimer’s greek tragedy as the American Prometheus demands to be told on the big screen and Nolan greatly surpassed my admittedly apprehensive expectations. Throughout the film it is abundantly clear how passionate Nolan feels about the subject matter, but most importantly he never forces a stance on the audience. He portrays Oppenheimer as he really was: a brilliant and sympathetic yet deeply flawed man who became his own worst enemy due to his indecisiveness. He is never portrayed as the hero nor the villain, and each viewer is left to create their own interpretation.
Cillian Murphy truly gave the performance of a lifetime here. The man is in almost every scene and in each one he’s able to make Oppenheimer even more compelling than the last. Through subtle performance and those iconic eyes, we experience so much yet somehow so little of Oppenheimer’s thoughts. The subdued performance complements Nolan’s ambiguous “up-to-the-audience” approach perfectly, and if Murphy doesn’t win Best Actor (and I fear he won’t), that will be yet another massive blemish on the Academy’s record. This is the kind of work that will be studied in decades to come.
1. Past Lives
Celine Song’s quiet and universally relatable feature debut about relationships and the what-could-have-been’s of life left me self-reflecting more than any other film this year. The “Past Lives” screenplay is some of the most thematically rich writing put to screen over the last decade or more. With just three characters and impeccable dialogue, Song creates a beautiful yet tragic love story that’s more about lost opportunities and pondering whether one has made the right decisions than it is about plain romance. “Past Lives” is constructed on a foundation of extreme realism without a speck of forced romantic drama, in which each character is devastatingly palpable and sympathetic. After a while, you forget you’re viewing a film and feel like you’re just people-watching, much like the offscreen couple whose voices we hear at the beginning: “Who do you think they are to each other?”
No film this year was more emotional, devastating, relatable, or impactful than “Past Lives.” I cannot recommend this movie enough. This is one of those very rare films that every viewer can enjoy and take something away from. “Past Lives” exemplifies the best of storytelling and proves why cinema is so significant.
Click here to read my ranking of the 2023 Best Picture nominees!