(Disclaimer: This list only takes into consideration films that had a theatrical release in Philippine cinemas in 2019.)
2019’s best films are hail from all over the world. As American cinema continues to give us entertainment and cathartic emotion on a grand scale, European cinema and Asian cinema also continues to deliver intimate character studies and vital social statements about the world today. Meanwhile, Philippine cinema quietly had one of its best years of the decade, with a handful of stellar coming-of-age narratives, and new spins on old formulas that more closely reflect the lives and dreams of the Filipino audience.
Honorable mentions: certain parts of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (dir. Quentin Tarantino), Ford v Ferrari (dir. James Mangold), A Shaun the Sheep Movie: Farmageddon (dir. Will Becher and Richard Phelan), Us (dir. Jordan Peele), John Denver Trending (dir. Arden Rod Condez), Kalel, 15 (dir. Jun Lana), Edward (dir. Thop Nazareno), Akin ang Korona (dir. Zig Madamba Dulay), Metamorphosis (dir. Jose Enrique Tiglao)
15) Vitalina Varela (dir. Pedro Costa)
Functioning both as an odyssey through the darkness of Lisbon and as therapeutic healing for the film’s lead actress (playing herself, in her own story), Vitalina Varela blurs together cinema and personal experience more than ever before. It might not be entertaining or gratifying in the traditional sense, but the film’s atmosphere is unshakable. Done mostly in silent tableaus set against pitch-black backgrounds and haunting (almost German expressionist) production design, it’s less a trip to another world than it is a trip deeper into the ugliness of grief and unresolved secrets. The film invites us to sit and wait, rather than to go off chasing a narrative. And so we become observers to one woman’s process of acceptance—and one of the most unique uses of cinema in history.
14) Buoyancy (dir. Rodd Rathjen)
The most straightforward film on this list, Buoyancy thrusts us right in the middle of the Cambodian human trafficking crisis with single-minded focus and remarkably sharp filmmaking. All the pretty cinematography and gentle quiet of the surrounding sea is just a smokescreen for the human rights violations piling up on the vessel on which most of the film takes place. It may be “just” a survival movie, but writer/director Rodd Rathjen brings real insight into the experience of trafficking: you might not know that it’s happening to you until it’s too late. Rathjen lulls his characters into thinking that the search for money and opportunity naturally takes us to uncomfortable territory, and then he pulls the rug out, plunging them into a visceral struggle for life and limb.
13) Extreme Job (dir. Lee Byeong-heon)
Extreme Job earns its claim as the best straight comedy of 2019 due to the sheer number of comedic styles it deploys in quick succession. Director Lee Byeong-heon brings killer group chemistry into slapstick routines and high-octane stunts, and tops it all off with some excellent one-liners. To watch the film is to watch a group of comedy filmmakers constantly inventing. Each of the five main actors (Ryu Seung-ryong, Lee Hanee, Lee Dong-hwi, Jin Seon-kyu, and Gong Myung) has their own trademark style, and the resulting explosion when these styles are smashed together in one scene is glorious to behold. Who would’ve guessed that such a dumb premise (cops become fried chicken connoisseurs) could lead to such big laughs and such witty satire?
12) And Then We Danced (dir. Levan Akin)
A refreshingly earnest entry in a festival full of emotionally distressing movies, And Then We Danced places all of its interest in the ways its characters’ bodies move. There is genuine feeling not only in how Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani) draws closer to the new boy in class, but in how he creates and collapses the distance between himself and his family. But even with the film’s youthfulness and the thrill it gets living in the present, this is ultimately a story steeped in history and tradition that denies the characters their true movements. As Merab struggles with a style of dance that begins to grow increasingly distant from his own experience, he begins to understand how his body was really made to express itself.
11) The Lighthouse (dir. Robert Eggers)
Odd and ambiguous till the every end, The Lighthouse cements Robert Eggers as the most talented new horror director from the 2010s. Only he can find a way to make two men going insane on a rock so complicated, so funny, and so violent without actually shedding too much blood. It’s a technical masterpiece, with impeccable sound design and cinematography so convincingly aged and rugged that the film stock itself looks cursed. But The Lighthouse isn’t just a meaningless arthouse flex; as every puzzle piece (sort of) falls into place, the film reveals itself as a peek into the tortured and very guilty mind of a man losing touch with his idea of what a man is supposed to be.
10) Beanpole (dir. Kantemir Balagov)
Watching Beanpole is like reading a work of great literature. Though it moves relatively slowly, every quiet beat enhances the tension and the unspoken tragedy in the air, making it feel as if war will never end. The friendship between Iya (Viktoria Miroshnichenko) and Masha (Vasilisa Perelygina) becomes its own little game of cat and mouse, with each young woman holding the other responsible for something, even as they cling to each other for solace. It’s one of the best character relationships of the past year, emphasizing the unique ways in which women veterans continue to be hounded by all manner of injuries well after they’ve left the battlefield. Miroshnichenko and Perelygina are perfectly cast—the former silent and haunted, the latter chaotic and calculating, both of them locked into a bond of constant betrayal. To witness them perform is to witness them make a mark on cinema forever.
9) Avengers: Endgame (dir. Joe Russo and Anthony Russo)
Though clearly not without its problems, Avengers: Endgame has become the definitive big budget tentpole blockbuster experience, making stadiums out of cinemas, and showing just how big mainstream movie franchises can become. Smartly structured to maximize the payoff from 21 films of set-up (with an incredible, downbeat first act), the movie launches into a sort of greatest hits tour, tapping into our collective sense of childlike wonder with every single scene. 2019 was full of major franchises that fell short of expectations, but the Marvel Cinematic Universe found a way to cleanly tie up several major character arcs while setting the stage for a group of more diverse and equally capable heroes who should be taking the series in new directions (if Disney is smart). It may be a theme park ride, but it’s gorgeously realized, undeniably fun, and propped up by one of the largest and most talented ensembles in the industry.
8) Hello, Love, Goodbye (dir. Cathy Garcia-Molina)
Despite its title and the way it’s been marketed, Hello, Love, Goodbye is not at all the formulaic romantic drama you expect it to be. It takes a mature and thorough look at an endlessly shifting and highly globalized world, where Hong Kong can be a trap one moment and a paradise the next. It’s where a family can be separated by hundreds of miles but still be bound to each other through money and cultural obligation. Navigating all these harsh realities is a never-better Kathryn Bernardo, who pours all her rage and heartbreak into every decision her character isn’t allowed to make. In effect, Joy becomes the quintessential working millennial, caught between an instinct for self-discovery and the drive to restore her family back to the way it used to be. None of the answers are easy, and Hello, Love, Goodbye ascends to the pantheon of modern Filipino dramas.
7) Toy Story 4 (dir. Josh Cooley)
Toy Story 4 has no business being as good as it is. Though nowhere near as transcendental as its predecessors (a high bar that few animated films have ever reached), Woody and Buzz Lightyear’s supposedly final outing continues to mine deeply existential themes out of children’s playthings. If the third Toy Story movie ended with an affirmation of a child’s bond with their toy, this new adventure dares to ask what kind of relationship a toy has with oneself when there are no kids in the picture. As always, an endless amount of philosophical and theological discussion can stem from this set-up. But this time the toys look more real than they’ve ever been, and Tom Hanks’s performance as Woody is more strikingly human than ever before. Hanks conveys the uncertain excitement and the pure dread of discovering that one might not really matter in the way that one thinks they do.
6) Dogs Don’t Wear Pants (J.-P. Valkeapaa)
Unsettling from the first scene to the final euphoric smile, Dogs Don’t Wear Pants tackles grief head-on, without watering down any of the ugly thoughts that come with it. It’s all wrapped up in an unimpeachable technical package, with harsh colors and ASMR-esque sound design meant to bring us to the very edge of discomfort while keeping us hypnotized. However, interestingly enough, it isn’t the film’s violent BDSM scenes that are the most uncomfortable thing, but the desperation that drives Pekka Strang’s character to the next suffocation. The notion that the only thing that can cure pain for some people is more pain may sound cruel, but it’s more real than most movies choose to acknowledge. It’s difficult to watch by design, but if you keep your eyes open, Dogs Don’t Wear Pants will lead you by the hand to a subculture that’s as complex as it is fascinating.
5) A Is for Agustin (dir. Grace Pimentel Simbulan)
A Is for Agustin is as well-made as a documentary could hope to be. Through simple but smart editing choices, the film finds wisdom and deep, deep tragedy in Mang Agusitn’s daily routine. Though many privileged, Manila-centric viewers might refuse to see it at first, director Grace Pimentel Simbulan tells us that the plight of our farmers and indigenous brothers and sisters is impossible to separate from how discriminatory several other industries are. Everything from land development and education does nothing to compensate for the massive disadvantages that people like Mang Agustin have.
However, the film never asks us to pity its main subject. In fact, Simbulan goes out of her way to show the man’s capacity for creativity, hard work, and gentleness. He is someone to be looked up to and supported—not from our ivory towers, but on the ground with him. A Is for Agustin might not be the most original or deeply investigative documentary, but few films from 2019 have the largeness of heart that this one has.
4) Knives Out (dir. Rian Johnson)
Perhaps the most satisfying cinema experience of 2019, Knives Out lovingly takes the Agatha Christie whodunit template, shreds it to pieces, and then reassembles those pieces to come up with something timely, clever, and indescribably entertaining. Though the film features a wonderfully balanced ensemble of all-stars (from a ridiculous Daniel Craig to one of the year’s greatest breakouts, Ana de Armas), Rian Johnson remains the mastermind and the star of the show. His direction is sharper than it’s ever been, pivoting from gut-bustingly funny jokes to unbearable suspense at the drop of a hat.
It’s difficult to explain what makes Knives Out so good without spoiling it, which this writer won’t do here. What I will say, whoever, is that the film believes in the innate kindness and good nature of modern society’s more marginalized peoples. It’s a murder mystery that’s full of life and vibrancy—that does not take pleasure in the murder, but basks in the victory of justice being served. It’s an all-around triumphant story from a man who loves telling stories.
3) Portrait of a Lady on Fire (dir. Celine Sciamma)
Never have I seen a director paint a film together like Celine Sciamma. She brings so much weight to every sly glance and every brushstroke in Portrait of a Lady on Fire, transforming what would have been just an emotionally distant courtship into a passionate dance of observing, interpreting, and validating another’s gaze. Lead actresses Noemie Merlant and Adele Haenel open up to each other so realistically, using every expression to reveal even deeper layers to these women’s psyches and their inner, unobtainable desires.
But more than being one of the most exquisite romances of the 2010s, Portrait also serves as one of the decade’s best films about art. Instead of inhabiting the gaze of a film director looking at visual art, Sciamma burrows into the process of a visual artist herself. Through Marianne and Heloise’s conversations about art and about each other, we grow to understand exactly what’s at stake: the end of a relationship, the meaning that one attributes to one’s life, a promise that art will remember when people forget.
2) Parasite (dir. Bong Joon-ho)
The most universally acclaimed film of the year doesn’t just live up to the hype, it destroys expectations and has already become something of a cultural touchstone for our age of global late-stage capitalism. Bong Joon-ho puts on a masterclass of direction, using every single tool at his disposal to make Parasite not just a terrific dark comedy, but an impossibly nerve-wracking thriller and an intelligent and empathetic social statement. Everyone in the cast—from Song Kang-ho, to Cho Yeo-jeong, to Park So-dam—is completely locked in to the film’s shifting tones. It’s one of the most complete films ever made.
Thankfully, Parasite is the furthest thing from empty flash. It also works as one of the best films about class divide ever written. It gives an articulate and sensitive voice to the poor and underprivileged, making them (and their rich counterparts) neither generically good or evil. The film recognizes that the system victimizes everyone in different ways, and makes kindness and honesty commodities that some people just can’t afford. There’s nothing else like it.
1) Cleaners (dir. Glenn Barit)
With over 40,000 frames photocopied and manually colored in with highlighters, Cleaners certainly stands as the most ambitious film of the past year. However, nothing about this coming-of-age stop motion anthology movie is a gimmick. The visual design is intricately done, becoming a representation of our own fuzzy, heightened memories of youth—and the way that director Glenn Barit uses the film’s intentionally choppy frame rate for comedy and stomach-churning dread is ingenious. This is the kind of film that deserves to be shopped around at the biggest international festivals in the world. It’s a wholly unique vision.
But more than anything else, Cleaners succeeds because it believes in its young, foolish characters. It recognizes that we used to be those kids, too, and that we used to have a pure capacity for goodness. The film’s four main segments explore several high schoolers’ experiences of shame—because of who they are, what they’ve done, and what they’re powerless to stop—but ties them together in a massively cathartic burst of color and music that should reduce many to tears. In the end, Cleaners simply asks us to feel everything as deeply as we can. Don’t deny the pain, the joy, the love, the freedom.
Emil Reviews Things 