Disclaimer
In 2023, I missed so many crucial movies, I decided to make a list. You can find it here.
In 2023, I was so puzzled by the verdicts of the criticariat, I decided to make a list. You can find it here.
Random notes
2023 belongs to Kristoffer Borgli, hands down.
Rodrigo Sorogoyen and Alex Heller and Carlos Vermut. They all helped me to cope.
One of the best movies I saw in 2023 was originally released in 2017: The Captain by Robert Schwentke. I am talking five stars here.
Best cinematic chairs of the year: A Human Position. And Sick of Myself.
No, The Plains is not a documentary.
And yes, The Future Tense is a documentary.
Leave The World Behind is a good preview of 2024.
Argentina 1985 vs Argentina 2023: ah, the irony...
The state of MUBI in 2023
In a move characteristic of its enigmatic decision-making, Apple has named MUBI as its TV App of the Year. This choice speaks volumes about the direction and priorities of Apple TV, perhaps even more so than it does about MUBI itself.
Truth be told, MUBI, a boutique streaming service known for its curated selection of films, seems to be navigating through a phase of inconsistency and unpredictability.
Let me rephrase that: in 2023, MUBI was more chaotic than ever.
The user interface, a pivotal element of any digital platform, currently suffers from a lack of coherence, characterized by frequent and seemingly arbitrary changes with no clear justification. This issue becomes particularly evident when examining the platform's handling of its 'movie of the day' feature, or rather, the absence thereof. Over the summer of 2023, a noticeable shift occurred in this aspect, potentially attributed to challenges in sourcing new films on a regular basis, ultimately resulting in the abrupt discontinuation of this feature. The sudden alteration transpired without any prior communication or subsequent explanation, consistently with MUBI's modus operandi when it comes to operational and communication strategies.
Since then, MUBI is starting to resemble the Criterion Channel more and more, albeit with a notable deficit in original content. Criterion is known for its rich collection of video interviews and exclusive content, an area where MUBI clearly lags. The interface's randomness further compounds the user experience issues. A glaring example is the inability to remove films from the 'continue watching' playlist, implying a rather inflexible and dysfunctional user engagement strategy ('you'd better watch these films or else'). Furthermore, the 'recommended to you' section of the platform paradoxically suggests films that users have already viewed, raising questions about the efficacy of its recommendation algorithm. Is this section intended to encourage re-watching (and thus should be renamed 'watch again'), or is it a disconnect between the algorithm and the user's viewing history? Nobody knows. On the other hand, you now get video previews in the page thumbnails, making MUBI indistinguishable from your average porn video site. I guess that's something, right? Finally, MUBI's attempt to engage users through an end of the year 'retrospective' feature, clearly modeled after Spotify's Wrapped, was underwhelming to say the least, in fact most users barely noticed it. The feature lacked the dynamism and user-centric approach that makes Spotify's version engaging.
Looking towards 2024, there is an air of uncertainty about the platform's direction, particularly concerning user-generated content. It is likely that MUBI will continue to undermine the role of its user community, possibly removing more content (lists, reviews, comments) to cut costs and avoid the hassle of managing unruly subscribers. Such changes, if not managed well, could impact the platform's already limited appeal to its dedicated user base, or what remains of it. I am holding on for the time being, even though a surprising amount of my arthouse movie watching time is now happening on Tubi rather than MUBI. Not simply because Tubi is "free", but because their catalog is frankly impressive: the juxtaposition of trash and forgotten gems really amusing. "Navigating" the interface feels like a deranged treasure hunt. Tubi is the #workingclass MUBI. Nevertheless, MUBI's hipster bona fide aura is justified by the always excellent Notebook section and Rico Gagliano's podcast series, not to mention its ultra-slick limited edition publication, a cinephile wet dream.
A key question persists: in an era where subscriptions have become fleeting rather than binding —now merely representing a monthly decision, a spur-of-the moment, impulsive gesture with little repercussions, rather than a substantial, ongoing, expensive commitment—how can MUBI thrive in an increasingly intricate and competitive streaming landscape? This question becomes increasingly pertinent in light of the recent policies that have systematically weakened the vigor and involvement of the user base, fundamentally undermining what it means to 'belong to a community of film lovers.
And now, here are some
Highlights
Sick of Myself (Kristoffer Brogli, Norway)
The most realistic portrayal of millennials ever, the sick generation. Sick as in spoonies, sick as in social media sick, sick as in 'primary narcissism'. Borgli, a master of the NEU BODY HORROR genre (his 2021 short Eer is a prelude) captures the essence of the millennial mindset: the fascism of fashion, with its faux inclusivity prerogative; the hippie alternative 'community', with its counter-counter values; the portrayal of the young artist as a fraudster. Sick of Myself is the movie of the ear, pardon, year and K. Borgli is the bastard prodigal son of Ruben Östlund and David Cronenberg. The core message: Millennials are the reason why we can't have nice things.
Rimini (Uldrich Seidl, Austria)
The pathetic tackiness of Rimini, the super sad seaside Italian town perpetually stuck in a non existent glorious past, shines in Seidl's outstanding tale of a singing gigolo donning sealskin overcoats, Richie Bravo. I yearned for the entire film to consist of static camera shots, for even the slightest motion detracts from Bravo's captivating charm, profound allure, and form-fitting spandex. Observing the rotund man strolling along a mist-laden beach with a bag in hand, I felt alive for the very first time in many months. The dream of la dolce vita is alive and catatonic. It's either Rimini or R.M.N., pardon, Romania.
Rimini is so great that last Summer I wrote a full essay. You can find it here.
The Plains (David Easteal, Australia)
The most realistic depiction of driving in the history of cinema, with its inanity, boredom, eventfulness in full display, for three hours. The antithesis of a car ad, The Plains is also the most intimate commute ever filmed. By the time the road movie reaches it destination - it's all about the journey, you know - you have developed the strongest parasocial bond with Andrew. You care for him, his mother Mutti, his wife Cherri, his long gone sister who suffered from anorexia. And you feel like you were standing there, next to him, that day in East Berlin in the early 1980s, when the old Grandma caught his eye.
How to Blow Up a Pipeline (Daniel Goldhaber, United States)
A powerful manifesto, loosely based on Andreas Malm's eponymous book, which will likely inspire a new generation of environmentalists to take action against the inertia and corruption of political and corporate institutions. Unlike A Woman's War - which used irony to encourage bottom up organization and individual agency against élites's prerogatives - Goldhaber's How to Blow relies on thriller's conventions to deliver the message, that is, "ecoterrorists" are the only heroes in a world in which the dominant narratives are crafted by villains. How to Blow Up A Pipeline is one of the most important films of the year.
Goldhaber's movie has became even more urgent after the debacle of COP28.
Infinity Pool (Brandon Cronenberg, Canada)
Drawing on the likes of The White Lotus, Speak no Evil, Hostel, A Serbian Film, and Ballard's Super Cannes, with a pinch of Michael Franco's Sundown for good measure, Infinity Pool presents a degenerate and unnerving cinematic experience. While it may lack the refinement of 2020's standout Possessor, the film's unapologetic perversity is equally intense. What sets it apart, however, is its moral ambiguity, a rarity in a genre that too often leans on didacticism. As the story devolves, one thing becomes clear: Brandon is not merely David's son, but rather his clone, double, replica.
Return to Seoul (Davy Chou, France)
RTS is the anti-The Farewell. The latter explores the cultural divide between Chinese and American cultures, as seen through the eyes of a young American woman of Chinese descent grappling with her grandmother's terminal illness. The message is one of acceptance and reconciliation, as the protagonist comes to terms with her own identity + the cultural differences that shape her family. 100% Hollywood. Chou rejects these themes altogether and presents a much more complex, nuanced idea of culture, family values, & identity. In short, RTS is a "European" film filtered through Cambodian lens.
Unrest (Cyril Schäublin, Switzerland)
In his sophomore effort, Schäublin showcases a distinctively quirky aesthetic, featuring non-professional actors and pointedly numerical dialogues, creating a whimsical and surprisingly restful mood that stands in stark contrast to the volatile political era depicted on screen (Think Eugene Green, but smart). First and foremost, Unrest is a meditation on new media - e.g., photography and the telegraph (imagine dictating a subversive message before thirty people standing in line at the local post office) - and time, with multiple narratives coexisting - but "factory time" rules them all. Media studies.
Rotting in the Sun (Sebastian Silva, United States/Mexico)
Silva's hipster horror is a culture defining, wendepunkt, monster butt-plug inflection point. Alongside its twin, Kristoffer Borgli's masterpiece Sick of Myself, Rotting in the Sun is what 2023 will be remembered for: the tragedy of millennials, as "shared" by millennials, via social media. Both movies provide a witty, incisive and penetrating (no pun intended) critique of class, privilege and the neoliberal "progressive" subject in the Insta-age. Silva showing off Cioran at the beach is like Olivia (Sydney Sweeney) performative "reading" of Paglia and Fanon by the pool in The White Lotus.
Copenhagen Does Not Exist (Martin Skovbjerg, Denmark)
Copenhagen (Cowgirl) Does Not Exist. Is she a figment of your imagination? Did the encounter really happen? Skovbjerg's terrific meditation on memory, life, and death. This is the anti-The Worst Person in the World, a boring movie for normies. Skovbjerg took a chamber drama mediated by a camera and a Bang & Olufsen screen, creating a compelling video installation masquerading as a thriller.
Chile '76 (Manuela Martelli, Chile/Argentina)
In the gripping portrayal of Chile's neoliberal experiment, endorsed by the Chicago School, the seeds of bloodshed, murders, and assassinations were sown. This thriller genre ingeniously resurrects the chilling inception of Pinochet's dictatorship, employing mood over a traditional narrative. The sound design, notably, wields its power, shrouding commonplace scenes and minutiae in an eerie cloak of foreboding and malevolence. Martelli's direction masterfully illustrates a nation's descent into the depths of hell. Between Argentina 1985 and Chile '76, all it's missing now is Brazil 1964.
Beau is Afraid (Ari Aster, United States)
In retrospect, Beau is Afraid can be thought as a mindfuck remake of The Truman Show, written by Sigmund Freud, and directed by Charlie Kaufman. The opening scenes provide the most penetrating critique of life and death in an American city I've seen this year - echoes of San Francisco's Tenderloin, well before the "doom loop" became a meme. Other parts are just plain silly, e.g., the interminable forest commune play could have been shortened. Nevertheless, who am I to propose alterations to someone's else nightmare? Delving into Aster's psyche for a while proved to be strangely comforting.
A Human Position (Anders Emblem, Norway)
Compare & contrast. Visible & invisible characters, known drama, alluded traumas. Sorrow & pain, different scales. Privilege & vulnerability, without virtue signalling, finger-pointing, behavior shaming. A Human Position is the opposite of the social media noise we call "conversations". The deliberate slow pace - characters literally watch pain(t) dry - & repeated frames, let viewers develop a unique perspective. The chair as a symbol of stability & reinvention: some can fix it, mend it, restore it. Design-y? Sure. But with none of Wes Anderson's annoying, indulgent antics.
Night of the 12th (Dominik Moll, France/Belgium)
A better, more compelling, convincing, realistic version of True Detective by one of France's most talented filmmakers, starring a younger version of a James Spader-lookalike who deconstructs the procedural in the process set in Les Revenants town (not true). Very little action, but several memorable conversations about the nature of mankind. It's all very meta, but not in a postmodern, arrogant, blasé manner. Night of the 12th provides very few answers, but plenty of questions. And if you listen closely, you can hear an echo of Top of the Lake. Key message: it's the patriarchy, stupid!
The Beasts (Rodrigo Sorogoyen, Spain)
The thread connecting Madre (2017/2019) to As bestas is the characterization of the strong female leads who exhibit love that turns into obsession and unremitting dedication, be it for an absent husband or a missing child. Although both Carla Simon's Alcarràs and As Bestas navigate comparable emotional and narrative terrains, Sorogoyen's film clearly excels, especially in his nuanced critique of renewable energy solutions such as wind turbines (solar panels in the former), which far from being depicted as panacea in the context of climate change, are extensions of capitalist exploitation & greenwashing.
Oppenheimer (Christopher Nolan, United States)
Much - perhaps too much - has been written about the analogies between the invention of the atomic bomb and AI. However, this film's main concern is the profound disconnect between the realms of scientific innovation and political maneuvering. Nolan makes abundantly clear that Oppenheimer had no clue that one day the Orange Man (the modern day "lowly shoe salesman" turned dictator) would have had full access to the nuclear codes. By the end, it becomes abundantly clear that America's worst enemy is its own body politic, a context in which ethical concerns, unlike science, are non-existing. Doomsday's clock is striking twelve. Tic toc tic toc.
How to Have Sex (Molly Manning Walker, United Kingdom)
The cinematic landscape is riddled with genres that challenge our faith in humanity: films about the holocaust, stories about appalling environmental crimes, abject animal cruelty, torture porn, and above all, the “teenage Britons on holiday in Spain/Greece” flick, a real endurance test. These movies, typically replete with debauchery, grotesque excess, and hordes of normies, test the viewer's resistance in unique ways. How to Have Sex stands out, offering a provocative, insightful exploration of post-colonial nostalgia of Brexited England as it implodes politically, culturally, and socially.
Trenque Laquen (Laura Citarella, Argentina)
Trenque Laquen tells a captivating tale of a woman's journey, oscillating between losing her way, or, rather, discovering an entirely new path as she delves into field research. In contrast to Citarella's earlier works, this film strikes a more straightforward, linear narrative, slightly dialing back on the inventiveness but still delivering a visually stunning experience. The initial storyline, a normie narrative – a mundane love story/a banal love affair – is replaced by sci-fi and ecological fantasy themes in its second act. Equally charming and frustrating, Trenque Laquen is another Argentinian milestone.
UPDATED LISTS
Greatest Horror Films 2020-2030
Machinima. From video game to video art
LINK
2023_My favorite cinematic experiences
2023_My favorite movies I didn't get to watch
2023_The movies loved by the criticariat that left me cold like a popsicle
2022_My favorite cinematic experiences
2021_My favorite cinematic experiences
2020_My favorite cinematic experiences
2019_My favorite cinematic experiences
2018_My favorite cinematic experiences
2017_My favorite cinematic experiences
