Make It a Double Feature (or Two)
An idea I have been turning over in my mind this year: Everything comes down to taste.
I just read C.S. Lewis’s An Experiment in Criticism hoping one of the great writers and thinkers of the 20th century would inform this piece I spend all year preparing to write. His idée fixe, however, focused less on critical theory and more on the response the art inspires: “Some buy pictures because the walls ‘look so bare without them’; and after the pictures have been in the house for a week they become practically invisible to them. But there are a few who feed on a great picture for years.” Not everyone will choose to feed on a great picture, but only great pictures will earn that privilege, which is why we’re still talking about Citizen Kane, Casablanca, and The Godfather after all these decades.
The beauty (and frustration) of criticism is very few people will agree on the 10 best films of the year, and even those who do won’t agree on why. Any discussion of objectivity in criticism must be limited to technical achievement, and everything else is just consensus, which can change at any time. Will Anora, The Brutalist, A Complete Unknown, Challengers, Emilia Pérez, Hit Man, and Nosferatu stand the test of time? The consensus of this moment suggests so, but anyone who has followed Awards Season knows pop culture’s short memory. While all of those films found objective success in authentic performances, impressive production design, or innovative style, they didn’t inspire me to feed any of them for very long. Even Dune: Part Two’s visions of grandeur—which made my Best of the Year (So Far) in July—fell in my estimation upon rewatch. Whether because of a muddled ideas, weak characterization, or a hollow center unable to support layers of style, none of those films made my list.
But because plenty of thoughtful people have been feeding on those films for weeks and months, there’s no denying the power of taste. In 2024, the films that aligned with mine tended to orbit the same questions. What does justice look like? How do we navigate generational conflict? And can institutions be saved in spite of their flawed systems? (The word I fought not to overuse in this piece was “subversion.” ) I’m drawn to stories with a clear point of view and characters who make strong choices, but I have little interest in preaching or provocation for its own merit. And I agree with Lewis about so-called entertainment value: “Those who seek only vicarious happiness in their reading are unliterary; but those who pretend that it can never be an ingredient in good reading are wrong.” If it ain’t a good story, it better be a good time.
In that spirit, my list for 2024 has taken a new shape, though it’s one I’ve considered using the last few years. Alongside each of my top 10 films, I’m recommending an honorable mention for a double feature. If your taste aligns with one of those titles, there’s a good chance the second title will be align, too. And perhaps you’ll appreciate one more parting thought from Professor Lewis about why we watch films and make these lists every year. Even though we can never agree on our lists, we can all agree on the reason we do it: “Literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the privilege, of individuality…Here as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.”
Taylor Blake’s Top 10 of 2024
10. Nickel Boys
At its highest highs, RaMell Ross’s debut narrative feature is both extraordinary and devastating, and if you name it your best film of the year, I won’t argue. Ross’s documentary background informs a style so unusual for a historical drama it may unsettle general audiences, but it’s not artfulness for its own sake. His memory piece is so well-suited to Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel that a traditional telling feels cheap to imagine now.
Make it a double feature with Thelma:
I’m kicking off these double features with an odd couple pairing, but hear me out. In different genres, Nickel Boys and Thelma each explore characters trapped by broken systems that should protect them, falling through cracks of technicalities and delays instead. Nickel Boys follows that path to the tragic end, and Thelma upends it with June Squibb’s hilarious vigilante justice. Both are first narrative features from writer/directors, giving us a preview into the future of cinema, too.
9. Saturday Night
Sure, as a weekly SNL viewer, I am the target audience for a film about the dawn of Saturday Night Live, but Jason Reitman’s love letter to its launch exceeded my low bar. The large ensemble (including standouts Gabriel LaBelle and Lamorne Morris) is less focused on nailing celebrity impersonations than capturing the spirit of contained chaos the show is known for, including in a stellar opening scene that introduces us to all the moving parts. How do you maintain the integrity of the creative process in a for-profit environment? And how do you complete any project when ego clashes run the world of entertainment? Because Saturday Night doesn’t provide a one-size-fits-all answer, and because it’s so funny (at times, crass, like its namesake), it reveals why the show still has fans (and haters) five decades later.
Make it a double feature with September 5:
In the mood for watching more behind-the-scenes work on a live 1970s television broadcast? September 5 shares only a sliver of overlap with Steven Spielberg’s Munich as it narrows its angle to ABC’s broadcast studio. This claustrophobia forces us to participate in the team’s debates about covering terrorism in real time. John Magaro and Peter Sarsgaard’s conflicted newsmen could have benefited from one more layer, but do we really want to add more to this taut, 95-minute opening of Pandora’s box? This docudrama is an immediate add to the journalism film canon.
8. The Fall Guy
The Fall Guy boasts most everything I want in big Hollywood productions, which is why it’s the new release I’ve rewatched most this year. It’s also one of my fastest recommendations because it’s a blast as an action-adventure and as a romantic comedy for two of our most charming movie stars, Emily Blunt and Ryan Gosling. The Fast and the Furious has shown us the depreciating returns of trying to up the ante again and again, which makes The Fall Guy’s smaller scale for action all the more refreshing. Instead of being spoon-fed CGI junk food, we get a behind-the-seams look at a stunt team designing and executing the punches, car jumps, and explosions we expect from blockbusters. But he biggest stunt The Fall Guy pulls off is landing so many jokes it justifies the existence of an extended cut on streaming.
Make it a double feature with Twisters:
This double feature demonstrates the best-case scenario for the studio tentpole. Neither have interest in threatening the entire planet, universe, or timeline, instead emphasizing practical effects over CGI. They also testify to Hollywood’s first—and still greatest—effect: the power of movie stars. Long may the summer of Glen Powell reign!
7. The Seed of the Sacred Fig
This Iran-set drama evokes the aphorism, “An unjust law is no law at all.” As a father realizes his demanding career has been pulling him from his wife and two daughters for too long and as the women realize their sympathies may lie outside their religious upbringing, they represent the moral quagmire of a nation. Filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof brings a clear-eyed view on the dangers of theocracy and generational breaks in his home country, but he never reduces anyone to a clear-cut hero or villain. He knows his energy is better spent toward building a suspenseful third act.
Make it a double feature with Juror #2:
What is justice? What responsibility do we have to our family vs. the law? Can we participate in a flawed system too big for us to change? How does prejudice prevent us from treating people fairly? Clint Eastwood’s legal thriller asks the same questions as The Seed of the Sacred Fig.
6. Inside Out 2
Understanding “I am a good person” is not necessarily true is a crushing discovery—it’s also a beautiful maturity. Inside Out 2 is colorful, funny, and it identifies emotions with the same precision as the original. Though identical in their enthusiasm for Riley’s self-actualization, Joy is an unrealistic pangloss and Anxiety is a surfeit of realism, so neither will succeed alone. None of us are as terrible as our Anxiety would lead us to believe, and none of us are as flawless as in Joy’s roseate vision. That’s a welcome subversion to the neat endings we expect from family entertainment.
Make it a double feature with Wicked: Part One:
Two female leads with competing worldviews working together to make the world a better place—am I describing Inside Out or Wicked? In both, big personalities must do more than coexist—they must empathize. Their colorful worlds hide a deeper pain, and their spectacle and humor never undercut their big ideas.
5. A Real Pain
Planes Trains & Automobiles but on a Holocaust tour! If that exclamation point made you cringe, then you’re primed for A Real Pain. Jesse Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin update Steve Martin and John Candy’s road trip dynamic with gravitas as cousins who can’t get on the same page about tour group etiquette. Eisenberg and Culkin are performing inside their wheelhouses, but since they’re best at their brands of high-strung and charismatic characters, they create some of the best performances of the year.
Make it a double feature with The Piano Lesson:
The older I get, the more I think about Exodus 34: “The Lord, the compassionate and gracious God…does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation.” Punishment often looks less like a sentence handed down and more like the logical result of the sins of our fathers and mothers, which this August Wilson adaptation literalizes in a ghostly fashion. Unlike Hamlet, writer/director Malcolm Washington and star John David Washington make the case for #NotAllNepoBabies with a reboant depiction of filial trauma.
4. Civil War
“What kind of American are you?” is the question we’ve been asking each other every day for…at least a decade? This photojournalist road trip explores the impossibility of objectivity and the destructive nature of hostile disagreement—if only it didn’t feel so relevant. Writer/director Alex Garland hypothesizing an alliance between California and Texas tells us he doesn’t care much to discuss the specific issues dividing our country at this moment; he cares more that if we get hung up on our own self-righteousness, we’ll lose everything we claim to fight for. In a film full of photo-realistic performances, the showdown with Jesse Plemons is the best scene of the year.
Make it a double feature with The Apprentice:
Another way of asking, “What kind of American are you?” I feared this young Donald Trump biopic would be a self-righteous diatribe, which would benefit no one. Instead, it feels like watching a prequel à la The Godfather Part II or Attack of the Clones, examining the psyche behind a larger-than-life figure. The miracle: You don’t need any prequels or sequels because Sebastian Stan and Jeremy Strong never turn their brash performances into caricature.
3. Gladiator II
Each year my list includes one film it seems only I’m convinced is a masterwork, and this isn’t the first time a Ridley Scott feature has filled that spot. Gladiator II cements his status as the battle scene GOAT, and if you’re hung up on the thought of sharks in the Colosseum, I ask you—nay, I dare you: What if you let yourself have a little fun? Though Scott never treats his work as somber, he’s never shy on artistry or great performances. Denzel Washington, who owns—(long pause)—this movie, is the key to subverting the original’s formula, asking us if vengeance will satiate us as Maximus believed it would. If that combination of spectacle and ideas isn’t enough, I ask you—nay, I beg of you: What else do you want from cinema?
Make it a double feature with Rebel Ridge:
In an update to First Blood, Aaron Pierre owns—(long pause)—the screen even when facing down Don Johnson and James Cromwell. His quest for justice against the odds echoes the spirit of Lucius’s attempt to resurrect the “dream of Rome,” though writer/director Jeremy Saulnier’s restraint is what sets this action-thriller apart.
2. The Bikeriders
A history of fragile father-son relationships, emotionally stunted masculinity, and a toxic brotherhood—in many ways, this was very much not made with me in mind. But every frame of this well-trod Hollywood subject matter looks phenomenal because writer/director Jeff Nichols knows how cool guys in leather jackets look while smoking and revving motorcycles. It’s no wonder Jodie Comer’s Kathy wants to be swept up in this boys’ club even though she knows it’s a bit silly. (Imagine the tone The Godfather might have if Diane Keaton were narrating that transfer of power.) Tom Hardy is Tom Hardying harder than he’s ever Hardied before, Austin Butler is cementing his movie star status, and Comer is revealing a comedic side I never would have guessed from her in The Last Duel. Motorcycle cinema (think: Easy Rider) has a reputation for manifesting the frustration of a younger generation with the status quo, but The Bikeriders asks: What if the next generation will mangle our attempts at creating a better world? And what if we’re part of the problem? In short, everything about The Bikeriders disrupts what we expect from this kind of movie.
Make it a double feature with The Dead Don’t Hurt:
Writer/director Viggo Mortensen finds an unusual angle in another familiar subgenre, the Revisionist Western. When the Civil War interrupts his and Vicky Krieps’s romance, he tells us the woman-abandoned-at-home-by-a-greater-cause story instead of the man-at-war-missing-home story, which we’ve seen so many times our minds can fill in the gaps. Krieps gives one of the most underrated performances of the year.
1. Sing Sing
Each year I dub one film the Official Ugly Cry of Taylor Blakes Everywhere, though this is only the second time I’ve also named it my best of the year. I’m not sure yet if Sing Sing will be an all-timer like The Shawshank Redemption and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, but given those are the titles I’m comparing it to, it’s a good sign it may transcend its haphazard theatrical rollout to find an audience for years to come.
On paper, this based-on-real-events prison drama isn’t as “thrilling” as those classics, but it’s no less impactful in how it uses its setting. Watching the theatrical troupe describe their perfect day is to see them reaffirming (perhaps even rediscovering) their humanity in a gray, cell block world that reduces them to numbers and matching jumpsuits. Conversations about prison often boil down to “they deserve it,” but this script cares little about what characters did (or didn’t do) to end up here. Instead, it focuses on the roborant of the arts against dehumanizing forces, even vague, decentralized ones like dilatory justice. Casting former inmates could have been a cheap gimmick, but these performers (especially Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin) never play for melodrama. Director Greg Kwedar knows his greatest super power, though, is Colman Domingo. With the slightest drop of his jaw or the smallest flick of an eyebrow, he conveys the same complexity of ideas in the Hamlet soliloquy he auditions with. His countenance is an instrument, the key to bucking prison stereotypes and subgenre motifs.
Make it a double feature with Daughters:
This documentary follows preparations for a father-daughter dance, both inside and outside the prison the fathers live in. Like Sing Sing, this true story is less interested in litigating the past than restoring relationships, and it finds nuances to each individual in spite of the dehumanizing environment.
More Honorable Mentions
Because we need pictures on our walls as well, these additional eight double features (and one triple feature, all listed in alphabetical order) with thematic and/or genre overlap made for a good time this year.
Action Inspired by True Events: The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare + The Order
Complicated Father-Daughter Relationships: Goodrich + His Three Daughters
Dramas Starring Complex Leading Ladies: Hard Truths + Maria
Feel-Good Rom-Coms: A Family Affair + Fly Me to the Moon
Horror-Inspired Comedy-Thrillers: It’s What’s Inside + Trap
Nostalgic Pop Culture Documentaries: Brats + Music by John Williams
Snarky, Surrealist Social Satires: Lisa Frankenstein + Nightbitch
A Thriller Disguised as a Character Drama + A Character Drama Disguised as a Thriller: Conclave + A Quiet Place: Day One
Vigilante Justice Action: The Beekeeper + Monkey Man + Road House