The Canon

“The news is momentary and ephemeral. But the artistic realm, this is something deeper. It can stay in people’s minds forever.” So said Konstantin Ernst, Vladimir Putin’s unofficial propaganda minister, in a recent profile in the New Yorker.

In that spirit, here are my 30 favorite movies of the last decade—the ones that, for better or worse, have burrowed deepest into my memory and absolutely refuse to leave.

  1. Inside Llewyn Davis

A fable by Joel and Ethan Coen about an early-1960s New York folk singer (Oscar Isaac) who would rather maintain his artistic integrity while being poor, homeless and forgotten than sell out his talents and become rich, comfortable and famous. And then there’s the cat.

  1. The Social Network

The origin story of arguably the most culturally powerful human being on Earth, Mark Zuckerberg (Jessie Eisenberg), written by Aaron Sorkin as not quite a villain but far less than a hero. We didn’t know the half of it.

  1. Before Midnight

The deepest, wisest and most fraught encounter yet with Celine and Jesse (Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke), as their 18-year relationship threatens to disintegrate during an idyllic vacation amidst the ruins of ancient Greece. Director Richard Linklater has not guaranteed a fourth installment in this saga, so the future of Celine and Jesse’s partnership may need to remain between them.

  1. Moonlight

I cannot say whether Barry Jenkins’ meditative triptych accurately reflects the experience of being poor, young, black and gay in Miami in the 21st century. All I can do is note the stunned silence that washed over the sold-out auditorium during the end credits on opening night.

  1. The Master

Paul Thomas Anderson’s thinly-veiled depiction of the Church of Scientology features a volcanic performance by Philip Seymour Hoffman as the charismatic head of a mysterious cult and Joaquin Phoenix as his most troubled and vulnerable mark. Any resemblance to current personality cults is coincidental and more than a little alarming.

  1. Django Unchained

Following “Inglourious Basterds,” in which we got to see the entire Third Reich massacred by a merry band of warrior Jews, it seemed only fair that Quentin Tarantino would use his artistic license to imagine a Nat Turner-like revenge plot against a had-it-coming slaveowner in the antebellum American South. Retaining the services of Christoph Waltz was a nice touch.

  1. The King’s Speech

A thoroughly engrossing and hilarious recreation of the battle between King George VI (Colin Firth) and his fear of public speaking, with reinforcements provided by his wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter) and whimsical Australian speech therapist Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush). Cinematic comfort food at its most sublime.

  1. Hell or High Water

The half-despairing, half-comical journey of two brothers (Chris Pine and Ben Foster) who rob their way across West Texas in the hopes of paying down the mortgage that was issued by the very bank they’re knocking off. With Jeff Bridges as the over-the-hill ranger hot on their trail who, with his partner (Gil Birmingham), finds out the perils of ordering off-menu at a steakhouse that only serves T-bones and iced tea.

  1. The Grand Budapest Hotel

Wes Anderson’s fun house of an adventure film concerning the history of a nonexistent hotel in a nonexistent country, which nonetheless turns the titular inn into one of the most indelible interior spaces in modern cinema, anchored by its prim, proper and priceless owner, Gustav H., essayed with juicy relish by Ralph Fiennes.

  1. Can You Ever Forgive Me?

If you are not immediately tickled by the notion of Melissa McCarthy as a frumpy, alcoholic New York writer who sells forged documents to gullible booksellers in order to pay her rent and feed her cat, there’s not much I can do for you, pal.

  1. Phantom Thread

Paul Thomas Anderson’s other recent portrait of a hypnotic, overbearing mid-century cultural influencer. This time it’s the legendary passive-aggressive (fictional) dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis), who meets his match in a seemingly meek-and-mild waitress (Vicky Krieps), instigating a relationship that only grows weirder by the minute. Beware the yellow mushrooms; they’ll get you every time.

  1. Boyhood

Except for Michael Apted and his “Up” series, no one but Richard Linklater would think—or dare—to spend 12 years following around an adolescent boy just to see him grow up. That the boy is, in fact, a fictional character (played throughout by Ellar Coltrane) doesn’t make the experience of watching it any less curious or profound.

  1. Spotlight

Perhaps the best movie about journalism since “All the President’s Men,” and for the same reasons. It is well worth debating whether the Boston Globe exposé of industrial-scale pedophilia in the Catholic Church was ultimately more significant than the Washington Post exposure of the Watergate caper three decades earlier. It’s one thing to bring down a president; it’s quite another to bring a 2,000-year-old institution oh-so-deservingly to its knees.

  1. Whiplash

Wesley Morris has correctly observed that no one can end a movie like Damien Chazelle, and while I would recommend the entirety of his absurd and slightly terrifying profile of a band teacher from hell (J.K. Simmons) and the drummer who won’t go gently into that good night (Miles Teller), the exhilarating final 10 minutes of this insane dive into raw artistic ambition are worth the price of admission all by themselves.

  1. Lincoln

The dirty little secret about America’s 16th president is that, in addition to being a moral exemplar for the ages, he was also a brilliant—and often ruthless—political tactician. As portrayed by Daniel Day-Lewis, we are able to see how the former is useless without the latter. If you’re looking for purity in your leaders, you’ll never be anything but disappointed.

  1. Call Me By Your Name

As raw, honest and messy a depiction of young lust as you’ll ever see in a mainstream picture. I’ll never look at a peach the same way again.

  1. Parasite

A meditation about the gulf between the haves and have-nots in South Korea that begins as ironic social commentary and ends as…well, let’s just say the influence of Quentin Tarantino extends well beyond the Hollywood Hills.

  1. Brooklyn

An utterly charming, unpretentious, old-fashioned love story between a sweet Irish girl and a nice Italian boy in New York City in the years shortly after World War II. I’d mention the girl is played by 21-year-old Saoirse Ronan, but you probably figured that out already.

  1. The Florida Project

The trials and tribulations of impoverished, itinerant single motherhood from the point of view of a six-year-old girl and her friends, who have precious little sense of what trouble they’re in. As the motel owner who sees much and understands all, Willem Dafoe serves as the movie’s moral center and guardian angel.

  1. Personal Shopper

Having never seen a minute of the “Twilight” series, I’m as surprised as anyone that Kristen Stewart has, at 29, become one of the boldest and most compelling actresses in contemporary Hollywood. Not just anyone can play an insecure, overworked psychic medium without looking completely ridiculous, but Stewart is considerably more than just anyone.

  1. If Beale Street Could Talk

How does one follow up a work of unsurpassable beauty like “Moonlight” without letting the entire universe down? For Barry Jenkins, the answer could be found in a novel by James Baldwin and the most fruitful cinematic use of the color green since Kim Novak emerged from the fog in “Vertigo” in 1958.

  1. The Hateful Eight

Quentin Tarantino’s most disposable film is also the easiest to enjoy, thanks to the Agatha Christie-like coziness inherent in a large group of homicidal maniacs hauled up in a haberdashery during a blizzard in the middle of nowhere in 1877. Remember: Don’t drink the coffee unless you know who brewed it.

  1. Hugo

Whoever wagered that the most enchanting, heartbreaking and humane children’s movie of the last decade would be directed by Martin Scorsese—yes, that Martin Scorsese—step right up and collect your prize.

  1. Krisha

A Thanksgiving dinner from hell, courtesy of the most volcanic—and underappreciated—performance in ages by one Krisha Fairchild, the aunt of the movie’s own director, Trey Edward Shults, in his feature-length debut.

  1. O.J.: Made in America

While debate still rages about whether a seven-and-a-half-hour documentary that first aired on ESPN can properly be classified as a movie, there is little question that Ezra Edelman’s deep dive into the life and times of O.J. Simpson is among the sharpest and most entertaining examinations of race—and racism—in the United States ever committed to film or television.

  1. Free Solo

The spellbinding story of Alex Honnold, the first person to successfully scale the face of Yosemite’s El Capitan without a rope or harness. They say you never feel more alive than when staring death directly in the eye, and Honnold seems to take this as a personal credo. So far, so good.

  1. A Separation

Domestic drama of a high order, as multiple generations of a family in modern-day Iran come to blows in pursuit of their own happiness, which only causes further misery for all. Funny how often that tends to happen, in art and in life.

  1. Marriage Story

Speaking of contemporary marital squabbles, here are Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver turning in the finest work of their careers to date as a soon-to-be-divorced pair of artists in the most Bergman-esque autopsy of a relationship since, well, Ingmar Bergman.

  1. The Irishman

Speaking of Bergman-esque, who knew a three-and-a-half-hour crime saga about the inner circle of America’s most notorious union boss, Jimmy Hoffa (Al Pacino), would turn so elegiac and existential by its final act? While it’s likely that Martin Scorsese has several more tricks up his sleeve before he calls it a career, if this reunion of Robert De Niro, Joe Pesci and Harvey Keitel proves to be the master’s swan song, it’ll do.

  1. Once Upon a Time…In Hollywood

Speaking of swan songs, Quentin Tarantino has vowed to retire from directing after his tenth feature film, which makes this revisionist paean to the Summer of ’69 his penultimate project. Considering how his entire oeuvre has been one long love letter to the history of cinema, the mystery is how it took him nine movies to concentrate explicitly on the cultural and geographical mecca of the movie industry itself.

For good measure, here, in alphabetical order, are 30 runners-up, any of which could find their way into the first tier, possibly before New Years Day 2020.

Amour

Baby Driver

Black Swan

BlacKkKlansman

Blue Jasmine

Bridge of Spies

Calvary

Carol

The Death of Stalin

Dunkirk

The Edge of Seventeen

Elle

Enough Said

Everybody Wants Some!!

Eye in the Sky

Faces Places

The Favourite

56 Up / 63 Up

Get Out

Hail, Caesar!

Her

Lady Bird

Leave No Trace

Life Itself

Moonrise Kingdom

A Most Violent Year

Paterson

Silver Linings Playbook

Twelve Years a Slave

The Wolf of Wall Street

The Heart, the Head and ‘The Master’

I spent a good deal of high school thinking I would devote my life to writing about movies.  In this pursuit, four years of college taught me exactly one thing:  I don’t know the first thing about them.

Higher education, properly understood, exists for two reasons:  First, to impart knowledge; second, to impart wisdom.  In my own case, the knowledge was that I did not comprehend the world of film.  The wisdom was in realizing I didn’t need to.

The allure of movies, I have slowly come to appreciate, is that they cannot (and possibly should not) be completely, fully understood in the usual sense of the word.  They exist in a dimension beyond simple logic, and are driven as much by emotion as by reason.  Our favorite films are the ones that linger in our minds in ways we can’t quite put into words.  As an old Supreme Court justice famously said, we know it when we see it.

I make these points having just seen The Master, the latest project by Paul Thomas Anderson, at whose feet I will partly lay blame for scaring me out of becoming a movie critic.  His pictures, which include one of the very best from the 1990s (Magnolia) and the 2000s (There Will Be Blood), are as much symphonies as films—pure, visceral experiences, like an opera in a language one doesn’t speak—and can be seen and appreciated as such.

The Master very much follows in this tradition, with its relentless and brooding score, its uber-sharp-focused (yet paradoxically dreamy) photography, and especially its macabre lead performances by Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman.  The storyline is not difficult to follow, per se, but the real pleasures in The Master are tangential to its narrative thrust.  One needn’t take it literally, comprehending every detail, to be wholly enraptured.

I told you about movies so I can tell you about politics.

People like to think that electoral politics is a simple matter of appraising “the issues” and choosing the candidate whom we deem “better” for them.  That the dilemma of whom to cast one’s ballot for is reducible to some kind of equation—wholly rational, with no emotional or “gut” considerations necessary.

Ah, were it to be so!

By what rationale, might I ask, did most fans of Barack Obama in 2008 lend their ever-so-enthusiastic support?  Was it from the sheer force of his arguments about the need for affordable health care and withdrawing troops from the Middle East?  Or was it rather from the tenor with which he made such arguments, and the words and phrases he employed?  Was the attraction logical or visceral?

Could the average Romney voter, if pressed, name the specific policies of the Republican ticket that draw him or her to support it over the Democrats’?  Does the proposition of voting for “change” or as a means of “taking the country back” withstand the plain light of day, or does it merely reflect the way people feel?  Do I need to stay for an answer?

Needless to say (but I will say it anyway), not every citizen votes his heart over his head, just as many moviegoers can’t stand anything that approaches the ponderous or the abstract.  Just the facts, thank you very much.

What I wonder, though, is whether viewing politics with an emotional, rather than rational, bent is actually the preferable approach.  David Brooks argues frequently that good decision-making requires a healthy combination of both, and that dismissing emotional considerations entirely is impossible.  Might this be a good thing?

We would do well to consider the limits of pure rationality in the complex world of governance, particularly when our present enemies—in Afghanistan, Iran and elsewhere—find so little use for it themselves, thanks in no small part to the outsized influence of organized religion in that region of the world.

By no means should we abandon reason altogether—that way madness lies.  I am acutely aware that when comedian Lewis Black joked that the best way to defeat psychotic nemeses is to “be more psychotic than they are,” he was being (mostly) ironic.  The whole point of The Master is that following men who make unverifiable claims tends to lead one astray.

The fact remains, however, that most voters do not comprehend the nuances of public affairs any more than I comprehend the nuances of film.  Our faculties of thought can only get us so far before the wisdom of our gut kicks in to take care of the rest.  Such an impulse need not be batted away.  Humans are rational creatures, but that is not all we have to offer.