The 2010s brought audiences some amazing and memorable films. It was no easy task going through each year's list of movies and narrowing it down to ten of the best. However, fellow film enthusiast Keith Beshwate and myself did the work for you, so you didn't have to do it yourself! Teamwork! In doing so, we have compiled an accurate and perfect list that flawlessly represents the best of what the last decade has had to offer. So, without any further adieu, we present to you...
(in no particular order)....
THE 10 BEST MOVIES OF THE DECADE
Moonlight (2016)
The bridge of Frank Ocean's "Super Rich Kids" repeats an all-too loaded claim: "Real love/I'm searching for a real love." It appears to be a plea not for the one, but for a one, some sort of real love that's "something rare" to find. This coda echoed in my head during my first viewing of Moonlight, Barry Jenkins' tri-chapter ode to coming-of-age in an age one doesn't belong. It's a breathtakingly ethereal approach to queer identity, toxic masculinity, and black survival, as central figure Chiron remains but an observer in his own world, absorbing its relationships and perennial truths. When Chiron transitions from viewer to actor, he falls in line with cultural and societal expectations; after a decade spent battling his demons, unassailable feelings lead him back to his one true friend and one-time lover. The viewer is left at the end of the film to understand that the true connection is felt, not spoken. Though frequently viewed through the prism of the Academy Awards debacle, Moonlight will outlive that footnote as a testament to growth and voice of a generation searching for, and hopefully finding, "real love".
Whiplash (2014)
Whiplash snuck into theaters with barely a whisper back in 2014. The trailers, if you recall, looked like it was trying to sell an intense drama about... drumming? It wasn't exactly on the average moviegoer's radar. Yet, once it started building buzz, a lack of desire to see it suddenly became an overwhelming need. How could a film about intense drumming really make this big of a cultural dent in the zeitgeist of American cinema? But it all made sense. Whiplash takes the simple story of a young man's desire to appease his drill-instructor of a music teacher by perfecting his musical skills, and uses it to illustrate the payoffs and dangers of artistic ambition, as well as a raw and brutal portrayal of the relationships between master and apprentice... teacher and student. The tension is high and continuously builds, until finally leading to one of the most satisfying conclusions in a film this decade. Backed by a magnetic breakout performance, JK Simmons, after being relegated to bit parts and supporting roles, is finally given his movie to shine. Not only that, he's the reason to watch this film.
Paddington 2 (2017)
"Too pure" is one of those past-decade phrases that should probably die. In all honesty, it should be reserved for only the most adorable pet photos and Paddington 2. As serviceably great a film as Paddington is, its sequel isn't bogged down by the TV-pilot-like setups of background and familiarization. The charm and wholesomeness of Paddington 2 are amped up by a much more interesting and engaging antagonist in Hugh Grant; it's a film that doesn't treat children like they're idiots or adults like they're the parents of idiots. The thoughtful-in-its-own-right plot is surrounded by plenty of engaging visuals and quips, along with the heart-melting emotional beats. It's THE feelgood film of the decade, no pessimists allowed.
Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)
I'm not entirely sure where Mad Max: Fury Road fits in with the OG Mad Max timeline, but suffice it to say Fury Road is the unlikely spinoff/reboot/sequel that was able to circumvent its reboot-ness and wound up as one of the most original and innovative movies of the decade. In an act of madness, director George Miller had the audacity to remake/boot his own franchise and use the post-apocalyptic setting to make way for a shockingly feminist badass feature film. Max may be the titual character, but he's certainly not the protagonist (seriously, he's got like 9 total lines of dialogue in the whole damn movie). No, this film belongs to Charlize Theron. All hail Furiosa as she stomps her boot heel into the teeth of the badland patriarchy (with one fuckin' arm, no less). It's no easy feat to take a franchise that, for decades, has been utterly driven by men, and turn it into a feminist rally cry against a literally male-dominated post-apocalyptic wasteland. What should've been another rinse-and-repeat reboot became an instant classic with actual depth and something culturally relevant to say. And, lest we not forget the fact that the entire movie is literally one long, continuous car chase. From the opening scene you're on the edge of your seat begging for a moment of levity in order to catch your breath that won't come until the roll of the credits. There's also a gimp tied to one of the cars named The Doof Warrior who spits flames from his electric guitar. So...
A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night (2014)
In a decade of genre mashups and blurred thematic lines, no film executes a more perfect landing than A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night. It's a ::takes a breath:: gothic-vampire-Iranian-giallo-spaghetti-western-romance-allegory (paired with an equally genre-non-specific and fucking great soundtrack). Set in "Bad City", writer-director Ana Lily Amirpour takes the viewer on an eerie exploration of how the definition of "bad" is no so black-and-white (see what I did there?) and the difficulty of breaking the pattern of evil (especially regarding the abusive men of the town). Beyond the modern-goth relationship and the modern edge of the Burqa-turned-vampire-cape, the film is most potent in its gorgeous scenery of a town emptied by its self-propelled despair. The film poses an eternal question: is the root of "badness" in the action or the person? It's one you'll have to answer on your own viewing.
Green Room (2016)
Great films resonate on a different level. They ask us to explore things within ourselves we haven't otherwise discovered. Great films make you feel something new. Something real. Something that reaches deep down into you and twists your stomach into knots because while you're watching something on a screen that's completely detached from your own reality - it feels like you're a part of it. That's what happens in Green Room. It takes the simple wrong-place-wrong-time set up and brutally crafts a realistic scenario that, terrifyingly, could easily happen to any of us. In this case it's a punk band who stumbles into the green room of their concert venue at the wrong time, and then subsequently find themselves being terrorized and picked off by a hoard of modern-day neo-Nazi white supremacists (something in 2019 you'd assume wouldn't still be a fucking issue) led shockingly by the great Patrick Stewart in a hauntingly understated performance. These characters, though, are real. Their terror and their fear is felt by the audience because they're not being chased by ghosts or masked killers. These are real villains who exist in our world. Who kill without purpose. And all it takes is a single misstep to put yourself within their sights. It's a brutal film that, on the surface, is a gory grindhouse exploitation film, but underneath it has bones of intelligence and nuance amidst the visceral (and quite literally shocking) violence. Sadly, it's one of Anton Yelchin's final films, but one that does the young man justice and only furthers to showcase what a talented actor he would've continued to be.
Spiderman: Into The Spider-Verse (2018)
Spiderman: Into the Spider-Verse is, ostensibly, a niche take on a mega-franchise looking to add a few more bills to its coffers; instead, it delivers a captivating adventure for families and cinephiles alike. The film (which I hesitate to call animated, as that cheapens its impressiveness) is arguably the most visually stunning cinema of the decade. The scenery and transitions alone make the film worth a trip to the theater, but add to that a surprisingly intricate plot and heart-aching family dynamics and there is no question - it is ocular ecstasy. The notion of a multiverse, of alternate dimensions fill with alternate yous, is an appealing one, particularly when Miles is joined by a veritable gaggle of Spiderpersons™ uniting to right the present by correcting the mistakes of the past. While technically a part of the Marvel Universe, the movie is a take wholly and uniquely its own, free from the constraints of the expectations we have for Peter Parker. Spider-Verse is a reminder of what creativity can do to revive a seemingly never-ending slog of reboots, revamps, and reimaginings.
Inception (2010)
Christopher Nolan has, thankfully, by 2020, become a household name. Obviously, this is mostly chalked up to his superb Batman trilogy. But what he doesn't get enough credit for are his wholly original films that work equally to entertain as well as challenge the viewer. Inception is the movie in Nolan's 2010-2019 filmography that stands out most to me, but it could just as easily be replaced with Interstellar or Dunkirk on this list and the rationale would still be the same. Nolan is a visionary director who takes great pride in crafting innovative, intelligent and entertaining films. He's firmly cemented into the Hollywood ether his own recognizable style, but even more than that, he's able to craft entire worlds from scratch - whether they're dream-worlds like in Inception or other planetary worlds like Interstellar. Inception doesn't just try to entertain by showcasing Nolan's skills of creating practical visual effects, but it also takes the time to subvert genre and give us something more cerebral. The mere concept of Inception had no right to be as good as it is, and honestly the sheer complexity of its story could've put the film into the category of "ambitious failure". Instead, it became a cultural phenomenon that audiences went back to see several times, if only to be able to contribute their own speculations and interpretations at the watercooler like it was a damn Star Wars movie. Inception is filmmaking at its best, but it's also enhanced by a cast that directors only dream of compiling together for a single movie (that also isn't produced by Marvel). Inception is one of the best of the decade because Christopher Nolan is the director of the decade.
Get Out (2017)
When I caught the 10:15 AM Friday showing of Get Out its opening weekend in 2017, I was the only one in the theater. For horror films, I like it this way; a private screening enhances what I know will be at the very least a thrilling time. I had no idea then I would go on to watch this film again (and many more agains), passionately argue its merit, include it as a text in my class, and write about it now. I just watched it again, and still, still, I'm finding new-to-me moments of racial commentary and plot perfection. I firmly believe that no film in the last decade uses its runtime more effectively than Get Out. It's expertly shot, well-acted, unpretentious, but most impressively, nearly every line and action is layered. Like the finest literature, Jordan Peele delivers a film that so thoughtfully addresses the problematic dichotomy of the conservative wolf and the liberal fox (X 1964) in the 21st century; modern-day enslavement steeped in simmering-beneath-the-surface racism disguised as casual ally-ship. At one point, our protagonist, Chris, is asked if he believes the African-American experience is better or worse in the modern-day, while staring at the sea of white faces before him, punctuated with a flippant "that's a tough one!" from the (white) patriarch of the home. That the question is asked with naive earnestness alerts both Chris and the audience to the reality of Peele's thesis: subconscious "othering" is as damaging as overt racism and exists more widespread than anyone (specifically "woke" whites) is willing to believe. Get Out is an intense thriller, a damning social commentary, an expertly timed comedy, and an excellent example of the harmony filmmakers should bring to story and theme.
Hereditary (2018)
Holy shit. It's what I said while walking out of the theater and it's what I've said after each subsequent viewing (what kind of demented monster has seen this movie more than once?!). There are other horror movies on this list, but they're able to function as other genres as well as horror. Hereditary is a straight up horror movie. Not just that. It's a fucking masterclass in horror filmmaking (ironically directed by a first-timer). What begins as the classic scary movie set-up manifests itself into a brilliant psychological horror film containing some of the most shocking and grisly moments (you know exactly which parts I'm talking about) ever put on film. Director Ari Aster deepens our fear not just with his unbearable tension and terrifying thrills, but by pairing them with dark aspects of real life - like a family experiencing crippling grief. This, along with a haunting and hypnotizing soundtrack, is the recipe for a perfect horror movie that has haunted me ever since I saw it (anyone else get PTSD when they hear someone do that tongue click noise?). Toni Collette deserves as much of the praise because all of this doesn't work without her chilling performance. She brings an ethos to the character that Aster uses to showcase true pain in his commentary on mental illness and the burdens passed down to us by our parents. His filmmaking instincts and Collette's powerhouse performance have given us not just one of the best movies of the 2010s, but one of the best movies of all time.
HONORABLE MENTIONS: Chef, Parasite, Birdman, Under the Skin, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri, First Reformed
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