It should be noted that like three days into 2022 I went to see The Matrix Resurrections and loved it, so that should be in here somewhere, probably around position 5 or 6. However, I'd already written half of this, so shrug emoji.
10. Godzilla vs. Kong (dir. Adam Wingard)
Sometimes only a big dumb movie will do and they do not get much bigger or dumber than Big Reptile Punches Big Gorilla. Happily, and unlike the 2014 Godzilla that kicked this series off (haven’t seen King of the Monsters), this is a film that knows it’s a stupid blockbuster and leans right on into its stupidity. It’s also properly gorgeous to look at, with saturated colours and genuinely inventive vistas. And yes, there are several scenes where a big reptile and a big gorilla punch each other. Sorted.
9. Barb & Star Go to Vista Del Mar (dir. Josh Greenbaum)
The prevalence of encouraging improvisation and riffing in American comedies for the last fifteen years or so means that it’s increasingly hard to find a comedy film that actually has properly structured jokes and elaborate visual gags. So it’s weird but heartening that Kristen Wiig, one of the most notable of the riff-heavy gang, has co-written and starred in a proper, elaborate comedy with outlandish sight gags, structured payoffs and musical numbers. The film feels closest in spirit to Mike Myers’ 1990s peak (helped by the fact that Wiig both plays one of the heroes and the Bond-esque villain in the finest Austin Powers style), as two middle-aged best friends go on their first ever holiday to the titular Florida resort and accidentally foil an evil plan. Everyone’s firing on all cylinders, but despite Wiig’s sterling double-duty the MVP is Jamie Dornan, of all people, throwing himself into increasingly ridiculous scenarios until you find him serenading an animatronic seagull. Delightful.
8. Fear Street: Part Three – 1666 (dir. Leigh Janiak)
I have little to no interest in slasher movies, but the high concept of Fear Street intrigued me. Loosely based on a series by the preposterously prolific RL Stine, it launched on Netflix as a back-to-back trilogy, each part set in a different era, with each film released a week apart. (It was originally intended for cinema release, each film launching in successive months, but the pandemic put paid to that.) Curious that a trilogy based on work by the Goosebumps guy could wind up with an 18 certificate, I gave it a go. As it turned out, the films improved as they went on, as evidenced by the fact I watched Part One – 1994, thought “yeah, not bad” and left it for about two months, then watched Part Two – 1978 and promptly watched 1666 the very next day. The trilogy tells the tale of a city cursed by a bizarrely high murder rate, with random citizens embarking on serial killing sprees every so often for no obvious reason, which the locals blame on a witch’s curse. The final part goes back to the city’s founding to tell the true story of the witch, and it’s a satisfying end to the trilogy cleverly played out by having the cast members of the first two films play their various ancestors. Even if, like me, you have no real interest in slashers, this trilogy’s worth a whirl. (Just be aware that yes, these movies absolutely earn their 18 certificates. They’re not for the squeamish.)
7. Black Widow (dir. Cate Shortland)
I’ve said many times before that the thing about the Marvel Cinematic Universe is that it really does feel like an elaborate TV show, so the individual movies rarely stick in the mind. This was doubly proved this year, as Disney+ started their run of MCU TV shows, which I’ve found much more enjoyable and more suited to the source material than the movies, and the fact that the MCU movie I did enjoy the most of this year’s selection was the one that had the least connective tissue to the wider storylines (although in fairness I haven’t seen Eternals). Black Widow feels like the MCU’s take on a Jason Bourne movie, and a very enjoyable one it is too, with an excellent cast. It’s telling that in a film full of excellent performances, the standout is the always wonderful Florence Pugh as smart-alec little sister Yelena – who promptly turned up in the last MCU TV show of the year, Hawkeye, and stole the show there too. Can we just skip the movies altogether and concentrate on the TV shows? No? Just me? Never mind then.
6. Romeo & Juliet (dir. Simon Godwin)
That whole pandemic thing putting the kibosh on theatres has left playhouses with a bit of an issue. While most chose to film their current offerings as they were, this didn’t really work without an audience (I tried to watch the RSC’s production of The Winter’s Tale that was broadcast on BBC4 twice, but just couldn’t get through it). The National Theatre, meanwhile, decided to take their starry version of Romeo & Juliet and properly movie-fy it, and it was great. Using different parts of the building for different scenes and editing the script with ruthless efficiency to a tight 90 minutes (first version of this play ever where the “two hours’ traffic of our stage” line is an exaggeration rather than an underestimate?), it’s a propulsive take that still finds time for some great new ideas – hinting at romance between Mercutio and Bernardo, highlighting the misogyny of the time by giving most of Lord Capulet’s lines to Tamsin Greig’s imperious Lady Capulet. An object lesson in how to make the best of a bad situation.
5. A Quiet Place Part II (dir. John Krasinski)
A classic example of sequelitis, this would be an absolute classic if it weren’t for the existence of its superior predecessor. A Quiet Place was a masterclass, a drum-taut horror of exquisite simplicity – don’t make a sound, or aliens will appear and eat you. Part II is, basically, more of the same but with the sequel’s requirement to raise the stakes somewhat. This results in a slightly flabbier screenplay that, notably, has one character act stupidly for no reason whatsoever beyond “we need something to happen here for the climax”. It’s a shame, as otherwise this is just as gripping as the first movie, and makes the excellent choice to essentially promote the brilliant Millicent Simmonds to lead actor. If this was the first Quiet Place, it’d be one of the greats. As it is, it has to settle for second place.
4. Lupin III: The First (dir. Takashi Yamazaki)
This is stretching it a bit as it’s a 2019 movie, but it only came out on DVD in Britain in 2021 and as far as I can tell it never had a proper British cinema release, so I have decided it counts. Also, it’s brilliant and I want to talk about its being brilliant.
The Lupin III franchise is slightly knotty even by the standards of Japanese long-running franchises, which often require lengthy Wikipedia articles to explain. In the early 1900s, Maurice LeBlanc wrote a series of stories about legendary thief Arsène Lupin. In the 1960s, Monkey Punch (possibly not his real name) started up a very much unauthorised manga about Lupin’s grandson. The Lupin III manga has launched a number of separate anime adaptations, most famously the 1977-80 series that, via spin-off film The Castle of Cagliostro, gave a certain Hayao Miyazaki his first full-length movie as director. This confusingly-titled film is simply the latest adaptation, one that requires no real previous knowledge of any of the many previous iterations to enjoy (I’ve only seen the excellent Cagliostro).
Basically, it’s your classic globetrotting adventure in the finest Indiana Jones mould, with Lupin and his mates on the hunt for an archaeologist’s diary. What’s notable is that this is the first Lupin to be made in CG, which is a medium that frequently doesn’t do anime style any favours. Thankfully, Yamazaki – who previously helmed the sterling Dragon Quest movie Your Story, which also did a great job of translating anime artwork to 3D – knows what he’s about, and the film looks gorgeous. Blending the high detail of CG with the fluidity of hand-drawn animation, it’s invariably a joy to look at. With its setting, too, it feels like this is the film that Spielberg’s take on Tintin wanted to be.
3. In the Heights (dir. Jon M. Chu)
One of two big crowdpleaser musicals set in New York City (haven’t seen Spielberg’s West Side Story yet) – amusingly, they were filmed around the same time in some of the same areas – this adaptation of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s first stage production is unashamedly big and colourful. Threading through several stories around a heatwave that leads to a blackout, the plotting isn’t particularly inventive but it’s heartfelt, and director Chu makes the most of his opportunity to do more than a theatre stage can offer – animated flicks on a good-natured ribbing contest, a huge synchronised swimming sequence straight out of an Esther Williams film, a bravura bit where duetting lovers start dancing sideways up a building. The sort of film that will get you doing a little boogie in your seat while watching whether you’re aware or not.
2. Last Night in Soho (dir. Edgar Wright)
Wright’s homage to giallo cinema was always going to be of interest, but he’s produced possibly his deepest movie here. As a shy, sheltered fashion student obsessed with the 1960s moves from Cornwall to the big smoke for university, gets overwhelmed but finds grounding in dreams where she plays out the life of an aspiring starlet in, yes, the 1960s, then starts to wonder what happened to her, the film’s themes of misogyny and the dark side of nostalgia prove grist for plenty of thesis mills. Relative newbie Thomasin Mackensie (best known for Jojo Rabbit) is great in the lead, and she’s surrounded by some absolutely top-class talent both in front of the lens (Anya Taylor-Joy! Terence Stamp! Matt Smith! Diana Rigg, at her Diana Riggest in her last ever role!) and behind (Krysty Wilson-Cairns providing sterling screenplay support, Chung Chung-hoon, Park Chan-wook’s cinematographer of choice, getting those lurid colours just like Papa Argento used to make).
1. Violet Evergarden: The Movie (dir. Taichi Ishidate)
When I see a movie in the cinema, it’s quite usual for me to look at my watch at least once or twice. Not necessarily because I’m bored, but I like to have a rough idea of how much time is left. With Violet Evergarden, which is a chunky old movie at roughly two and a half hours, I kept looking because I wanted there to be more movie to come. It was my most purely pleasurable cinema trip of the year.
Violet Evergarden started as a book series before getting adapted for an anime series by Netflix. Following the series, a special extra slightly-longer episode and a made-for-TV-movie, this big proper movie provides an ending to the story. (You could just watch this film and follow everything, but frankly the TV show’s great and you should watch the whole lot.) An unashamedly weepie romantic drama that follows a former child soldier in the aftermath of a shattering civil war (the series is set in a sort of alt-Europe and the civil war is a clear analogue for World War One), it’s an enthralling tale that examines trauma with grace and gentleness and, if you’ve watched the whole series, provides an excellent wrap-up for Violet’s tale. The fact that it’s quite preposterously gorgeous (made by the mighty Kyoto Animation – it was what was under production during that horrific arson attack a couple of years ago) doesn’t hurt either. Two and a half hours, and I could have sat happily in the cinema for twice that.
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