PULP RECAP: Top 10 Movies of 2019
By Chuyi Wang, Maddy Ward, Patrick McKenzie, Haydn Hickson, Claire Ollivain, Rhea Thomas
10. The Invisible Life of Euridice Gusmao (Chuyi Wang)
Receiving rapturous applause and the coveted Un Certain Regard prize at this year’s Cannes film festival, The Invisible Life of Eurídice Gusmão is as close to a historical drama masterpiece as we’ve gotten in years, and should be viewed a shining gem in the revitalisation of arthouse Brazillian cinema of the past decade. Despite being a heart-wrenching tale of social tragedy as powerful as any, the film gracefully illuminates the lower-middle class sisters who, by any conventional standards, would be completely unremarkable as subjects. And yet, as we watch these two women glide through their lives, murdering simple aspiration after aspiration under the sickening force of patriarchy, it's hard not to be moved to anger, frustration and despair. Eurídice, one of the film's two protagonists, dreams desperately to become a concert pianist, yet crumbles under the iron thumb of the men 50s Brazilian society has conditioned her to serve. Guida, the sister who Eurídice becomes estranged from at a young age, falls pregnant in her teenage years to a sailor and sinks into the depths of Rio's poverty, unable to form a family of her own from the broken fragments of her past.
Narrative elements aside, the level of visual artistry achieved here is rarely matched across any film I've seen; from the warmly-saturated colours, to the hypnotically patient camerawork, to the bold typography, everything here is soul-gratifying and full of syrupy visual polish. It would be an entirely new tragedy if this film is not remembered or loved by a wider audience, and given its nomination by Brazil for the International category of the Academy Awards, there may just be some hope yet.
9. Always Be My Maybe (Maddy Ward)
Is there anything, anything at all, that so perfectly captures our cultural obsession with Keanu Reeves as this scene in Always Be My Maybe? His fervent whispers to Ali Wong set millions of hearts and loins aflame, yet failed to impress critics who labelled the film “middling” and “unsatisfying”.
Critics be damned. Always Be My Maybe is in many ways a groundbreaking piece of cinema, even if “lumbered with a flat, cheap aesthetic.” The combined comedic talents of Ali Wong and Randall Park have created a film that follows in the footsteps of Crazy Rich Asians, a re-invention of a genre that is historically white and heteronormative.
Beyond representation and Keanu Reeves, Always Be My Maybe is a highly relatable watch, one that touches on grief, loss and growing up. What critics have referred to as “wackyness” is in fact much of the film’s charm: a 21st century Moonstruck with meaningful representation, to boot.
8. Ad Astra (Patrick McKenzie)
A recent IndieWire profile article describes the central conceit of director James Gray’s biggest film to date most incisively: “a personal story that demanded to be a big-screen epic”. Considering other ‘space epics’ of recent years; ‘Insterstellar’, ‘The Martian’, ‘First Man’, and ‘Sunshine’ among them, it’s hard to see why a commercial mainstream studio like Fox – now Disney if we’re speaking technically here – would spend upwards of $80 million on a film essentially just about a son trying to reconnect with his long-lost father. In a world where a big budget often equates to an adaptation, remake, or reboot with Michael Bay level actions and explosions to match, Ad Astra is like a shining beacon of original IP that ushers in a world where we can still believe in sci-fi that’s ambitious enough to incite comparisons with 2001. Gray’s sheer talent for realistic world-building is worthy of the most praise here as he constructs a future that feels comfortably distant yet also not unrealistically out-of-reach. The narrative takes career astronaut Roy McBridge (Brad Pitt) to the Moon, Mars, and eventually into the orbit of Neptune, embracing both the points of an intimate character study featuring lashings of ‘Apocalypse Now’-esque narration and an ambitiously dichotomous existential question: What if there isn’t anything else out there? Gray presents answers that are equal parts suspenseful and fantastical, depicting everything from space pirates, to fast food stores on the moon, animal experiments gone wrong, and all the sublime interplanetary vistas that lie in between.
7. Hustlers (Haydn Hickson)
The thing that impressed me the most with Hustlers was the amount of fun it had. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen a movie that didn’t take itself too seriously - and an even longer time since I’ve seen a female-cast do it. I was particularly impressed by the movie’s manipulation of diegetic and non-diegetic sound to reflect information that was/wasn’t redacted from the article that it was based on. If you know, you know. Particular shout outs must go to the casting agent for making a conscious effort to include a variety of ethnicities in casting - and props must go to J-LO and Cardi B for their phenomenal acting efforts. Triple threats? You betcha!
6. Once Upon A Time in Hollywood (Patrick McKenzie)
At his best, Quentin Tarantino has always had a special knack for pastiche that feels both familiar and innovative, so of course what he’s described as his ‘personal’ film to date takes cues from the iconography of the late ‘60s, telling a story about the wondrous process of filmmaking itself and the characters that exist across its landscape. Once Upon A Time in Hollywood is comfortably no exception to the Tarantino stylistic canon, taking liberty in its references to the director’s own nostalgic preferences for film, music, and yes, copious amounts of bare feet depiction. More atmospherically similar to earlier films like ‘Pulp Fiction’ or ‘Jackie Brown’, Hollywood is firmly character-driven, embracing the entertainment in the minutiae of the day to day antics of fading TV Western star Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and his world-weary-yet-still-dreamy stuntman/valet Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). The narrative trades katanas for piña coladas, keeping the tone and pacing light whilst ensuring that the 160-minute odyssey stays aptly indulgent. The limited expository development comes by way of Tarantino’s historical revisionism, which cleverly chooses to place its main character’s home next to that of real life actress Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie). SPOILERS: Being the self-professed movie geek he is, Tarantino’s Sharon does not meet a tragic and untimely death at the hands of members of the Manson Family cult. Instead she becomes the film’s thematic centre; a consummate fantasy of a bygone era of golden age idealism. Although Tarantino paints the sociocultural circumstances of 1969 with broad strokes, he clearly does so with a sheer love for the good things, making the experience nothing if not immensely satisfying.
5. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Claire Ollivain)
A tender, iridescent lesbian romance about an artist commissioned to paint the portrait of a young woman on an isolated island, Portrait of a Lady on Fire will have you shivering at its aesthetic beauty and slow unfolding of burning desire. Director of Girlhood, Céline Sciamma, uses the female gaze in this new film with its all-female cast to highlight the unheard perspectives of women in 18th century France who did not have much choice about their lives and who they married, also remarking on how women were seldom recognised as great artists. Sciamma builds up romantic tension in the unspoken intimate, stolen glances between Marianne and Héloïse during the portrait painting and on their walks to the scenic ocean setting that expresses itself like a character. The singing and dancing at the bonfire, the ghostly apparitions of Héloïse in a wedding dress that haunt Marianne, the pair helping a maid have an abortion, and the film’s heart-wrenching final moments create deep emotional impressions. Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a film that leaves viewers aching for more, just as the romance between these women is tragically cut short by forces beyond their control.
4. Us (Rhea Thomas)
The past few years have been a good time for horror with the release of films like Get Out, Hereditary, A Quiet Place and Mandy to name a few. Us is no exception, never falling short on evoking senses of unravelling, uncertainty, and introspection. Experimenting with slasher as well as comedy tropes, contemporary horror auteur Jordan Peele’s second film masterfully combines both genres. Exploring the past trauma of main protagonist, Adelaide, the film follows her family's relatively peaceful holiday in Santa Cruz before they're disrupted by four strangers standing across their front driveway that suspiciously resembling themselves. The film takes ample time establishing fraught family dynamics and relationships among the main family, especially in contrast to the Tylers – another family accompanying them on the trip and a frequent source of humour. Performances across the board bear exceptional consideration for the contrast between a character and their shadow-selves – though specific credits are due to Lupita Nyong’o and Elizabeth Moss (keep an eye out for her on-point lip gloss application). An appreciable sense of unease manifests in the uncomfortably-synchronised movements of ‘the Tethered’, all clad in red jumpsuits with fabric shears in-hand. Us is ultimately a film that perceptively engages with many readings and reasonings: whether the parallels between an "us and them" mentality in terms of moral grey areas, inequity and classism, a "Jekyll and Hyde" dynamic, "our own worst enemy is ourselves" parable, and so on. Peele demonstrates a careful understanding of a higher-budget film without the sacrifice of deliberate choice, thoughtful content and tight execution.
3. Bacurau (Chuyi Wang)
Bacurau is a film that could not have been made in the West, and is the single most entertaining and inspiring piece of anti-imperialist, anti-capitalist media in recent memory. Winner of the Jury Prize at the 2019 Cannes Film Festival, its less-than-subtle parallels to Brazil’s current state of political meltdown under Bolsonaro comes as an incredibly bold statement of resistance, especially when directors Kleber Filho and Julian Dornelles have already been personally targeted by the current regime to return funding for films completed a decade ago. Centering on the small countryside town of Bacurau, whose mobilise against oppressive political forces when its existence becomes threatened by a far-right presidential candidate, the film is in equal parts polemic, family drama and nerve-wracking political thriller. Filho and Dornelles’ depiction of community solidarity is filled with such an intimate warmth that it’s almost painful to reconcile what is obviously a deep love for their country, and a condemnatory disappointment with what it’s become. With all this being said, I cannot stress enough how these short sentences have undersold the visceral rollercoaster of Bacurau and its ridiculously lengthy list of virtues. Anything more than saying it’s beautifully empowering, compellingly relevant, and incredibly bold would be detracting from the surprises this film has in store for you.
There’s a moment halfway through when John Carpenter-esque synth arpeggios boom ominously in a soundtrack previously dominated by only soft guitar strums, and you get this feeling that some serious shit is about to go down. What follows is an hour of possibly the greatest cinema I have ever witnessed in my life.
2. Parasite (Patrick McKenzie)
There are many ways to try and justify Parasite as one of 2019’s best films. Speaking from an aggregated critical standpoint, the fact it sits atop Metacritic’s list 2019’s top films with a score of 95/100 could be one; it’s status as the first Korean film to win the Palme d’Or at Cannes could be another. However, Parasite’s parasitic level of mastery can be argued-for most effectively outside of these parameters and on its own merits as a spellbinding and genre-bending excursion through privilege and class politics. As main character Ki-woo (Choi Woo-shik) states of a ‘wealth rock’ given to him by a friend at the beginning of the film: “That’s so metaphorical” – Okja and Snowpiercer director Bong Joon-Ho’s first Korean-language film since 2009’s Mother wears a sense of irreverent self-awareness on its sleeve from the get-go. Since it’s essential that the viewing experience of this film not be marred by anything resembling spoilers, it’s sufficient to say that the most sane thing that happens in Parasite is that a super-poor family in modern day Seoul scheme and weasel their way into the lives of a super-rich family living in a hyper-futuristic mansion, hence the film’s title. The journey from there on in verges on surrealism to say the least, yet always keeps its subtext grounded firmly in reality. Through the intersection of these two families’ lives and behaviours, director Bong directs the true reflections at the wealth gaps and inequalities that not only plague South Korea but the world. Deftly, this film never feels politicised at the expense of engagement nor entertainment. Even if viewed in a vacuum, Parasite gleefully interpolates conventions of comedy, thriller, and heist films into a product that truly elicits rounds of applause as much as it does gasps of horror.
1. Booksmart (Claire Ollivain)
For the coming-of-age comedy of the year tailor-made for Generation Z, nothing beats Olivia Wilde’s joyous directorial debut Booksmart. Out to redefine the toxic tropes of the teen party movie, Booksmart reflects progressive values while being simultaneously hilarious. At the front of the film are the over-achieving loyal best friends, Molly (Beanie Feldstein) and Amy (Kaitlyn Denver), who are about to finish high school then realise they missed out on the opportunity to have fun while studying to enter the colleges of their dreams. Determined to fit four years of partying in one night, as in teen comedy Superbad, the duo must face one diversion after the next on the way to the ultimate party, including awkward Lyft (Uber) rides and an accidental drug trip at the theatre kids’ murder mystery night. While the amount of feminist imagery in their bedrooms and dialogue borders on comically over-done, Booksmart is a refreshing shift away from American teen comedies trying too hard to seem relevant through superficial references to hashtags and selfies. By placing its well-written, explicitly lesbian main character, Amy, at the centre of the teen romance plot without making her sexuality an obstacle, Booksmart marks a positive turning-point in representation for queer and questioning adolescents. The film even features an ethereal coming-of-age underwater pool scene accompanied by gay musical artist Perfume Genius’ song ‘Slip Away’. The killer soundtrack also includes Lizzo, Death Grips, LCD Soundsystem, and Princess Nokia. Booksmart takes the teen comedy in exciting new directions beyond discriminatory archetypes, rejecting the narrative that intelligent and ambitious young women, labelled ‘nerds’ in yesteryear’s movies, can’t be at the front of wildly hilarious and fun films that will make you feel seen.