Are movies better than they’ve ever been? This isn’t a rhetorical question, nor is it a trolling provocation. Concordant to the annual list-making ritual—the absurd and irresistible exercise of reducing a year’s worth of cinema to a discrete number of worthy titles—is the compulsion to take stock of the industry at large. This is frequently a demonstration of despair: a lament that movies are dying, are childish, aren’t what they used to be. The perpetuity of these vague assessments—that they invariably allude to some unspecified past in the medium’s history, a golden age when Then was indubitably superior to Now—would seem to diminish their accuracy. But critics are creatures of grievance, and there is always some new cataclysmic trend—the decline of originality, the prioritization of commerce over artistry, the lack of visual and narrative audacity—for us to complain about.
2022 was no different, even if the particular breed of doomsaying it invited was a familiar species. Once again, the box office was dispiritingly ruled by franchises, sequels, and spinoffs; of the 12 pictures that grossed $150 million domestically, only one—Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis, whose subject matter isn’t exactly novel—wasn’t rooted in existing intellectual property. (Last August, I bemoaned the financial failures of three largely original movies that simultaneously landed in theaters with a collective thud.) Conversely, many bracing and adventurous films—the barreling excitement of Athena, the silky suspense of KIMI, the dastardly twists of Fresh—virtually ignored theaters altogether, instead requiring a subscription (or at least a friend or family member’s password) to a boutique streaming service. Cinema may not be dead, but in terms of production and distribution, it is undoubtedly changing, and that constant state of flux inspires grave uncertainty about the art form’s future.
And yet, I’m compelled to push back against the narrative that it’s in mortal danger, and my argument is a simple one: There are just too many good movies. The past calendar year treated us to dozens of high-quality motion pictures which dazzled in their energy and variety: poignant romances, rollicking actioners, chilling horror flicks, challenging dramas. Directors found new ways to meld image and sound into sequences of dazzling creativity, while actors continued to burrow into their roles with both emotional authenticity and flamboyant showmanship.
Taste is subjective, of course, and other film critics might reflect on 2022 with less enthusiasm. But for my part, I struggled to cull the ensuing list to 20 selections; could I really not make room for the whimsical charms of Turning Red, the bravura shocks of Barbarian, or the stinging potency of Aftersun? The pain of these omissions implies the existence of a robust and thriving industry, one whose continuing evolution is to be anticipated rather than feared. Perhaps someday we’ll wonder where all the good movies disappeared to, but if that’s your present attitude, my response would be that you simply aren’t looking hard enough.
Here are MovieManifesto’s favorite movies of 2022 (note that Cyrano is ineligible because I included it on my 2021 list, though we did discuss it on the SportsAlcohol.com podcast for the year 2022):
Honorable mention: Aftersun, Barbarian, Bones and All, Dual, The Outfit, Resurrection, Speak No Evil, Triangle of Sadness, Turning Red.
20. The Menu. The class-warfare satire is appealing, with a spicy rebuke of aristocratic entitlement. But the real treat here is the delicious execution, flavored by pitch-perfect performances from Ralph Fiennes and Anya Taylor-Joy. (Full review here; streaming—for now!—on HBO Max.)
19. Anaïs in Love. Less formally audacious than last year’s Worst Person in the World but even more soulfully immersive, this feverish character study of a woman (Anaïs Demoustier) sprinting through her youth pulsates with energy and desire. It also keeps throwing punches, leading up to a quavering seduction on a beach before culminating in one of the most memorable scenes of the year. (Streaming on Hulu.)
18. X. Ti West’s throwback slasher has some nuanced thoughts on the intersection of female exploitation, body commodification, and on-screen sexuality. Mostly, though, it’s noteworthy as a rip-roaring set piece machine, with a handful of sequences—watch out for the alligator! don’t look under the bed!—that highlight West’s ability to both turn you on and freak you out. (Longer review here; streaming on Showtime.)
17. Causeway. Remember Jennifer Lawrence? She remains one of cinema’s finest actors, and here she reminds you, with devastating vulnerability, of the sheer force of her talent. Playing opposite her wounded veteran is Brian Tyree Henry who complements her brittle intensity with his own form of understated grace, suggesting that as one movie star returns, another has arrived. (Streaming on Apple.)
16. God’s Country. Despite appearing in crowd-pleasing entertainments (Westworld, Solo), Thandiwe Newton isn’t a household name. Shame, because she’s a terrific actor who delivers perhaps the finest performance of her career (see also: Flirting) in God’s Country, a bleakly modern Western about a Black woman who surveys the world around her—a lawless land of ineffectual institutions, latent bigotry, and casual predation—and resolves to fight back. (Longer review here; streaming on AMC+.)
15. The Banshees of Inisherin. As a fable, Martin McDonagh’s return to Ireland is often as inscrutable as it is haunting. But as a study of friendship and its failings, it’s both insightful and enchanting, anchored by warm and meticulous performances from Brendan Gleeson, Kerry Condon, and—best of all—Colin Farrell as a devoutly nice guy who refuses to finish last. (Longer review here; streaming on HBO Max.)
14. Watcher. Hitchcock heads to Europe in this thrilling portrait of voyeurism and paranoia. Scream queen Maika Monroe is achingly sympathetic as a woman whose every fear is rationalized and dismissed, while first-time director Chloe Okuno exhibits a Shyamalan-esque command of visual space, using sly framing and fluid camera moves to turn everyday locations into landscapes of dread. (Longer review here; streaming on AMC+.)
13. Pleasure. A narrow character study that doubles as a broad reckoning for an entire industry, Ninja Thyberg’s intimate exploration of contemporary pornography is an unsettling indictment. It’s also too slippery and sophisticated to be reduced to polemics, and its nimble character work leads to a four-word exchange that’s arguably the most shattering dialogue of the year. (Streaming on Showtime—not telling you how to live your life, but selecting the “R rated” version over the original cut would seem to defeat the purpose.)
12. Nope. Jordan Peele’s sprawling neo-Western is difficult to pin down, full of provocative ideas and thorny intimations. Its thematic complexity fits snugly next to its eye-catching images and awesome spectacle; the climax hums with brightly colored verve, while a tense flashback unfolds with such devious patience, it might stop your heart. (Full review here; streaming on Peacock.)
11. Glass Onion. How does Rian Johnson keep doing it? That’s the real mystery of Glass Onion, which (nearly) replicates the old-fashioned sublimity of Knives Out but refracts it into an entirely different type of movie, one whose hairpin twists are subordinate to its sparkling dialogue, its ravishing production design, and its delightful ensemble who, in hoping to evade death, are plainly having the time of their lives. (Full review here; streaming on Netflix.)
10. Babylon. Damien Chazelle doesn’t do things halfway, and the heedless grandeur of his throwback Hollywood epic is its own reward. It also tends to obscure the suppleness of his craft; sure, Babylon is big and bold, but at the same time it’s spiky and funny, with a handful of set pieces that are positively Spielbergian in their mix of precision and flair. (Full review here; streaming on Paramount+.)
9. Broker. Only Hirokazu Kore-eda could turn a potboiler about human trafficking (of babies!) into a deeply humane study of family, survival, and loss. A characteristically riveting Song Kang-ho leads a splendid cast (keep your eye on Lee Ji-eun; you won’t need to try very hard) in a story whose pulpy turns somehow synchronize with its relaxed humor and persistent empathy. (Available to rent.)
8. Tár. Is it a fake biopic? A sports picture? A psychological horror film? An appraisal of “cancel culture”? Todd Field’s first picture in 16 years is all of these things, and more besides. But above all, it’s a vehicle for the great Cate Blanchett, who tears into the title role with a ferocity designed to camouflage her pathetic need and insecurity. Good luck cancelling her. (Full review here; streaming on Peacock.)
7. Happening. The political valences of Audrey Diwan’s febrile period piece—about a brilliant young woman (Anamaria Vartolomei) desperately seeking an illegal abortion in 1960s France—are undeniable and disturbing. They are also secondary to the movie itself, a hypnotic character study of intelligence and resolve—one whose perspicacity is enhanced by sequences that are agonizing in their realism. (Longer review here; streaming on Hulu and AMC+.)
6. Decision to Leave. Park Chan-wook’s labyrinthine detective yarn hearkens back to the noirs of yesteryear, brimming with hard-boiled characters and classical romanticism. Yet it is also a deliriously modern production, evincing a breathtaking visual imagination that gives this knotty tale—the story of a resolute man, a beautiful woman, and the flickering flames between them—its decidedly new kick and kink. (Full review here; streaming on Mubi.)
5. Avatar: The Way of Water. The high frame rate may be a bust, but everything else in James Cameron’s soaring sequel feels like the discovery of a new cinematic frontier. The familiar story locates new gradations of rebellion and conflict, while the fluidly captured images glow with a luster that ripples with untold possibility. To call this movie derivative is to watch it with your eyes closed. (Full review here; still playing in theaters, where it continues to be seen by millions of people despite its alleged lack of “cultural impact.”)
4. Everything Everywhere All at Once. The simple story of a laundromat owner who turns into a kung fu messiah who turns into a line cook who turns into a sign spinner who turns into a woman with hot-dog fingers who… sorry, where was I again? But the relentless invention underlying Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert’s ceaselessly morphing whatsit shouldn’t shroud the exquisite quality of its craftsmanship; its action sequences are choreographed with majestic gusto, while it speeds across genres with deceptive steadiness. And its mostly Asian ensemble works together perfectly: Michelle Yeoh is its vibrant body, Stephanie Hsu its quixotic mind, and Ke Huy Quan its indomitable soul. (Full review here; streaming on Showtime.)
3. The Fabelmans. How did Steven Spielberg come to be? That question is both the very foundation of The Fabelmans and entirely beside the point, seeing as how effortlessly the film glides as a (self) portrait of familial harmony and marital discontent. The man was always going to make movies, and here he explores his own origins with the same rigor and humanity he brings to otherworldly tales of aliens and dinosaurs. In the end, it’s all the same thing; we crowd into auditoriums and stare upward in wonder as Spielberg, with painstaking craft and boundless compassion, turns images into magic. (Full review here; available to rent.)
2. The Northman. Purely in terms of its raw badassery—its blood-drenched action, its mythological imagery, its naked warriors dueling at the gates of Hell—Robert Eggers’ Viking epic is a towering triumph. Yet The Northman’s sheer extravagance shouldn’t mask its churning elegance; to the contrary, it is the beauty of Eggers’ technique that heightens the picture’s wild majesty. Alexander Skarsgård and his abs supply the requisite sinewy muscle, but the movie’s heart belongs to Anya Taylor-Joy; she makes good on both sides of her director’s balancing act, delivering ferocity and delicacy. The film’s story of Shakespearean revenge is practically engineered to make you cheer; its true conquest lies in how it makes you cry. (Full review here; streaming on Amazon Prime.)
1. Emily the Criminal. The title says it all. Or maybe it doesn’t say anything. As a gig worker flattened by a mountain of student debt, ex-con Emily (Aubrey Plaza) is honest and sympathetic, even as she’s also conniving and scary. Is her journey to the lawless underworld the only plausible route offered by an unforgiving bureaucracy, or was she destined to walk this dark path from birth? John Patton Ford’s all-too-timely thriller explores this and other questions with methodical care and swelling tension, combining the intimacy of the Dardenne Brothers with the intensity of Michael Mann. Whether Emily can find redemption is absorbing and also irrelevant. As soon as this breathless, captivating movie starts, it’s clear there’s no escape—not for her, and certainly not for you. (Full review here; streaming on Netflix.)
(To access MovieManifesto’s ranked list of all 138 new movies we saw in 2022, click here.)
Jeremy Beck is the editor-in-chief of MovieManifesto. He watches more movies and television than he probably should.