And the Oscar Should Go to...

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It’s not just a direct retaliation to last year’s #OscarsSoWhite controversy; Moonlight is a phenomenal feat of cinematic storytelling from breakout director Barry Jenkins. There’s no movie like it—which treats the intersection between blackness and queerness with such empathy and sensitivity—and no cast that’s so stellar on every level, from veterans to newcomers alike. Moonlight is achingly beautiful, all the way from the cinematography, to the musical cues, to the very human story at the center of it. A win for Moonlight would be more than just a congratulatory honor for a great film; it would set the bar for what films should look like going forward. 

Andrew Garfield has already been nominated for his work in Mel Gibson’s Hacksaw Ridge but we’d argue that he actually deserves an Oscar for his role in Martin Scorsese’s Silence as the Jesuit priest Rodrigues instead. Silence is an incredibly complicated, labored passion project from one of the greatest living auteurs, and Scorsese’s faith in the young Garfield is even less wavering than Rodrigues’ (especially for a director who could choose to work with just about anybody). That faith has paid off because Garfield is tremendous in Silence—not just through the religious turmoil during the greater portion of the 160-minute-long film, but also through the very human temptations and resignations he teeters between. It’s not an easy watch, and it’s not an easy performance either, but Garfield pulls it off.

This is a tough category because it’s been an exceptional year for female performances this year, and everyone nominated can be argued for the winning title (Ruth Negga, Natalie Portman, Emma Stone, Meryl Streep). There’s also been a lot of conversations around Annette Bening and Amy Adams’ snubs (for 20th Century Women and Arrival, respectively)—and it’s true, either of them certainly deserves the Best Actress nod, too. But there’s one that stands out a bit above the rest, one whose recognition from the Academy is overdue. There’s no one quite like the French actress Isabelle Huppert (many call her the French Meryl Streep) and thank god critics and awards shows like the Golden Globes have been recognizing her performance in Elle along the way to the Oscars. Her performance in Paul Verhoeven’s Elle—as a complicated career woman whose unconventional pursuits negate her victimization after a rape—is arguably her career best. It’s a bold role trickily pulled off, and only because Huppert is an incomparable actress. You’d have to see it to believe it.

It’s been an incredible year for Mahershala Ali, and the man could frankly take an award for any of his achievements this past year (from Luke Cage to Hidden Figures). In Moonlight there are only great performances, and Ali’s is certainly a noteworthy one in the supporting category as the father figure in protagonist Chiron’s life who is kind and compassionate but has his own demons to battle. Ali’s screentime may be short but he is such an unforgettable presence; likewise, he is a short presence in Chiron’s life, but he is not a small one. Ali should be commended for finding the human in the flawed, and the flaws in humanity.

Is there anything Viola Davis can’t do? The woman deserves an award for simply holding it down in the otherwise unsalvageable Suicide Squad. Thankfully she’s been given more meat in the Denzel Washington-directed and starring Fences, and boy does she chew on it. In this play adaptation, Davis stars as a mother and wife in 1950s-set Pittsburgh. She—dare we say—is even better than the leading Denzel Washington and that’s saying a lot since Denzel is always great (like, scene-stealing great). But Viola Davis makes it impossible to ignore her in this Golden Globes-winning performance and she sure deserves an Oscar for it, too.

It just makes sense that this year’s Best Director award should go to the filmmaker behind (what we’re arguing is) the Best Picture Winner. Barry Jenkins’ treatment of his sophomore feature, Moonlight, demonstrates an eye for light and atmosphere—with a vibe that mirrors Wong Kar-Wai’s best work—and an innate sense for subtext. His superb cast carries out his vision expertly, and that’s why even in its quieter moments, Moonlight has the ability to be either exquisitely tender or capable of emotionally destroying you. Broken up into three acts, this coming of age film also displays a storytelling rhythm that’s in tune with Jenkins’ musical choices (which he had a big part in).

This year in documentary films has been phenomenal, especially regarding African-American subjects and filmmakers. There was Ava DuVernay’s must-see mass incarceration doc, 13th, and Ezra Edelman’s expansive, seven-plus-hours-long O.J.: Made in America. And then there’s I Am Not Your Negro, a documentary treatment of James Baldwin’s manuscript transformed for the screen by Haitian filmmaker Raoul Peck. The film refuses to give easy answers as it weaves Baldwin’s words about Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, and Medgar Evers with archival footage, but is ever poignant about America’s race and class relations—eerily more relevant than ever now. It’s heartbreaking and maddening, essential and inspiring, and Peck has added a poetic flourish that makes it more than just important: It’s great cinema.  

A huge oversight in the foreign language film category this year has been the lack of Korean films in the race, namely Oldboy director Park Chan-wook’s lush period drama, The Handmaiden. This is a love story, but not a straight one—literally, because it involves two lesbian women entangled in a covert affair, but also figuratively, as it’s broken up into three acts that reveal several twists each turn. The Handmaiden is purely entertaining fare that flexes the strength of one of Korea’s most celebrated directors. This movie doesn’t fall in line with his hyper-violent trademark of films past, but it’s his most visually astonishing.

Whit Stillman’s Oscar snub is a shame because this celebrated director behind the acclaimed trilogy that includes Metropolitan, Last Days of Disco, and Barcelona, is truly a writer’s director. His adaptation of Jane Austen’s little-known novella Lady Susan boasts 19th Century class and sass, delivered perfectly by Kate Beckinsale in her best mean girl role yet. The script is funnier than anything you’d expect from a Jane Austen period piece, and thanks to Stillman’s vast sense of humor, Love & Friendship is both cleverly wry and laugh-out-loud hilarious. 

One of the most original scripts of the year comes from Greek filmmakers Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymis Filippou. The former directed this Colin Farrell-starring dystopian black comedy; the latter is a frequent co-writer of his (they previously co-wrote Dogtooth and Alps and have paired up again for the upcoming The Killing of a Sacred Deer). The script also works because of Farrell’s perfectly dry delivery of the odd phrasings. Lanthimos and Filippou accomplish a necessary otherworldliness in this deranged screenplay about a society that turns people into animals if they don’t find a mate within 45 days. There are too many quotable lines, but it’s better if you just watch for yourself. 

The Love Witch is a lick-your-TV-screen kind of movie. It’s 2016’s most delectable flick thanks to director Anna Biller’s aesthetic homage to sexploitation films of the 1960s and ’70s. Aside from the cleverly reworked feminist angle behind this story of a witchy woman who uses magic to seduce men and kill them, The Love Witch also shows off an incredible vision from a director who is meticulous about every aspect of her film. She not only wrote, directed, and edited the film, but she also built the sets and designed the costumes. The outfits the titular love witch dons are out of this world: lace, black, velvet, you name it. Plus, incredible lingerie, hats, and chokers complete her looks.