If ‘Everything Everywhere’ Doesn’t Win, I’ll Jump to the Verse Where It Does
My almost-annual, sometimes-scandalous Oscars Best Pictures review.
What I love most about film, or any art form, is that each work resonates with its audience differently. Every movie-goer’s background — where they’re from, what languages they speak, who caused their childhood trauma, when they first fell in love, how each moment of pleasure, pain and everything in between changed their approach to life — largely influences the way they receive, and are moved by, a movie. (No, not all heartbreaks feel good in a place like this.) There’s beauty in the variety of opinions people have about artworks, which makes something like the Oscars fun, because you get to see how others feel about the movies you love or hate, and maybe rage about it a little the next day, all in good intentions.
As a film lover and award season enthusiast, I’ve watched all the Best Picture nominees and think it was an incredible year for movies (or at least more exciting than the previous two, which was part of the reason I skipped writing these.) In the good old Hollywood tradition of pitting great movies against one another, this ranking expresses my opinions of each contender for the top award of the night. As mentioned above, film reception is deeply personal and everyone has their own methodology. For me, these are the three questions I ask:
(1) IS IT A WELL-MADE MOVIE?
First comes the basics. From a technical standpoint, is it a masterful work of art? Do the cinematography, production design and editing make me go “ooh” and “aah” in the theater (or in my living room, props to the streaming era)?
(2) IS IT INVENTIVE?
Film is art, and art should push boundaries. It’s important to me that a movie offers something new to the cinematic landscape. However big or small, it should create something of its own, something exciting people haven’t seen before. This is also a philosophy I abide by in my daily job as a creative. Life is vast. Why need we repeat a formula?
(3) WHY NOW?
If a college education of Film Studies taught me something, that is to see film as cultural artifacts. A good movie is entertainment; a great movie is a capsule of the zeitgeist. We’re talking the Oscars here, so when watching works of this caliber, I’m hoping to see movies that are relevant to our time. Do they reflect, discuss and shed new light on the issues we’re facing? Are they needed at this moment in our society? Are they important, rather than just ‘cool’?
With these criteria in mind, here are the ten Oscars Best Picture nominees, ranked from worst to best.
10. TÁR
I’m well aware of how much people love Tár. It’s become quite a cult favorite in my circle. It is only the fourth film in history to win Best Film from the top four film critics societies, and for good reasons. It is well-crafted — every shot is elegant, the editing feels effortless, and Cate Blanchett’s performance was a tour de force (though to be fair, due to her star power, it’s quite pronounced that we’re watching Blanchett act). Lydia Tár’s loneliness seeps through the minimal, almost pristine production design. The places she goes and the spaces she occupies are made to look soulless, as if we’re not sure if she’s the one who breathes life into them on her arrival, or takes life away from them once she’s done her deeds. The film does a magnificent job of portraying her complexity of character.
So, what is the problem?
However well Tár was made, personally (and this is very personal), I find it difficult to support a movie spotlighting abusers. It came as quite a shock to me, in the middle of watching it, that we would spend two and a half hours observing, learning about and somehow sympathizing with a figure who has sexually abused her inferiors, mocked identity politics, taken advantage of her position of power to ruin people’s careers, mistreated her wife, lied about almost everything for personal gain, and somehow still ended up okay. We all love a spicy, multi-layered anti-hero (they’re the problem, it’s them!), but when the entire movie is about the anti-hero, with no moral anchor whatsoever, it becomes a frivolous act of creating something for the sake of cool. Lydia Tár is cool as heck, but do we need a movie about her? (No.) I struggled to make out what the message of it all is. Are we supposed to understand her? Are we expected to humanize her? Are we meant to, in a distant future, forgive her, because everyone is a product of their system? To me, abusers are abusers; granting them the gift of empathy is a luxury our society cannot afford. Many victims of sexual and emotional abuse are still struggling to move on with their lives, so it’s quite questionable that a movie about abusers should ever be made in the first place.
9. ELVIS
Elvis at its best is a liberating visual banquet. The film travels everywhere and is able to pack so much glamour and drama in the span of a motion picture. That’s not an easy feat for a biopic, let alone an ambitious one about such an ambitious figure. No matter how you feel about Austin Butler’s fake/real accent (truly the debate of the century), it’s hard to deny he put on an extraordinary performance, capturing the flair and essence of the King of Rock & Roll. His transformation throughout the movie — from a young, hungry, passionate Elvis to an older Elvis who wastes his life away at the peak of fame — is seamless to the minute.
My biggest question is: is Elvis trying to be a documentary, or a narrative, or both? The style and tone feel confusing at times, with the editing style signifying documentary in some parts, before oscillating to narrative mode, and then returning to facts and numbers recital. With the film’s ambition to tell it all, its structure risks incoherence, and Luhrmann’s choice to tell this story through Colonel Parker’s point of view didn’t help. Tom Hanks’ costumes, accents and overall performance feel over-the-top and serve more as a barrier, rather than a bridge, to Elvis’ story. The choice of using two outdated cinematic devices — extensive voice-over and zoom shots — are questionable. Beyond the scope of this feature, when you look at it, Elvis sort of groomed Priscilla when they first met, and the erasure of this from the movie deserves a larger cultural conversation.
8. THE FABELMANS
The Fabelmans reminds me of The Shape of Water in that it feels like a fairy tale. The way it was shot, colored and edited transforms people into a different world — a beautifully believable one. It screams cinema in every shot (that I was awake to watch — not shade, just an honest-to-God recount of what happened that night). Hats off to Michelle Williams. The nuances in her performance — joy, guilt, pride, hurt, regret, acceptance, resilience, passion— as a mother, wife, lover, and human being are gorgeous. We all know Best Actress will either go to Yeoh or Blanchett, but I’m low-key rooting for Williams as an underdog. Her performance is perfection, and the fact she fought to campaign as a lead, instead of supporting actress, is a badass move. It’s time we stopped seeing mothers and wives as ‘supporting’ roles.
My biggest issue with The Fabelmans is as an artwork, it offers little newness to the culture. It functions perfectly as a time-capsule project for Steven Spielberg, who has more than earned the rights to make a semi-autobiographical movie. The life of a film, though, extends beyond its significance to the filmmaker. As a cultural artifact, The Fabelmans doesn’t foster much conversation, stir up debate, or provoke the zeitgeist. It lies perfect in the comfort zone of cinema. It is a feel-good watch, but not particularly as exciting as other features last year. I stand by the opinion that you should make a movie about anything, except moviemaking.
7. WOMEN TALKING
I’ve made sure multiple times (to myself) that I’m not ranking this movie #7 because of the fiasco that happened at AMC Lincoln Square where I saw it (I desperately needed food and forgot my credit card, but they didn’t take Apple Pay and all that, which caused me to miss the first ten minutes or so — now I sound like a Karen.) Even with a hungry stomach, I tipped my hat to the entire cast of this feature. This is what a phenomenal ensemble looks like — every person brings their unique touch to their role, yet they all complement one another. (Love Jessie Buckley and Rooney Mara’s dynamic — opposite energies, when done right, make fireworks.) The film looks at its tough but timely topic — sexual assault — with a direct stare, no flinching, calling it out for what it is. It presents the information, invites the conversation and travels through each character’s thought process. How it ends becomes secondary; the journey there is the main force. Sarah Polley cleverly plays with the stereotype of the ‘talking woman’ by making a movie about literally women talking, a subversive power move. The film is matter-of-fact, and issues like this should be handled matter-of-factly.
After my friend Niajja and I exited the theater, we looked at each other and exclaimed: “Where is the color?” It’s partly a comment on the sepia tone of the film (it was fine in that one Adele music video, but looking at a monochromatic screen for an hour and a half is asking a lot from the audience), but mostly on the complete lack of diversity in this story. Yes, it’s based on real events and the artist has the rights to remain true to her source material, but seeing a movie without an ounce of diversity in 2023 feels almost as eerie as the issue it depicts. If we’re also discussing Women Talking’s source material, the film brushed over the fact this is a religious CULT, an idea and way of life not so progressive in itself, which lessens my empathy with the characters.
6. ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT
Without a doubt, All Quiet is a technical masterpiece. Its cinematography surprised me from sequence to sequence, leaving me in awe for two hours and a half (via multiple sittings, thanks again to the power of streaming, although I must admit dinner doesn’t pair well with this blood-soaked feature.) James Friend’s mise-en-scène, especially in wide shots (see example below), has a haunting quality — from the framing and the angles, to the intentionality in utilizing either symmetry or asymmetry to push the story forward. The film’s score is a masterclass in duality: its sound is simultaneously ominous and catchy, of-the-present and nostalgic, the latter of which accentuates the movie’s allegorical nature. It’s perspicuous that All Quiet depicts something that has happened before to spotlight something that is happening now. Humans, as smart as we think we are, fail to learn from our mistakes.
What could be troubling with such a ‘perfect’ movie is that its artistic value sometimes overshadows the reality it portrays. Gorgeous visuals run the risk of glamorizing war, and parts of this film fall prey to that. Its beauty is distractive, and not until the last thirty minutes of the film did I feel genuinely connected to its characters. This thirty-minute, post-treaty sequence, almost devoid of epic fight shots in favor of tender moments, are more human than the two hours preceding it. Countless war movies have been done before (and at this point, it’s hard to believe a war movie isn’t made just to win awards); what sets one apart from another is the human story it portrays. The heart of the film matters. We only get a glimpse of that at the end of All Quiet, but maybe its point is in war, even that is a luxury. Expect this feature to sweep all the technical awards (Best Cinematography & Best Sound are a guarantee), but maybe not the top prize.
5. TOP GUN: MAVERICK
Top Gun: Maverick is a prime example that a commercial success could also be Oscar-worthy. We need more movies bridging the gap between critics and the general public (because intellectual superiority isn’t cool. at. all.) Due to its blockbuster nature, historically speaking, the chance of it winning Best Picture is slim, but the movie is incredibly well-done. Its story is convincing. Its pacing is perfect. The technicality behind its stunts is out-of-this-world. It takes a village to make an action movie happen.
My favorite part about Top Gun: Maverick is its message: it is important to challenge ourselves, question the status quo and push our own boundaries. All these pilots are given an ‘impossible’ mission — the only ones who make it believe that they could defy all odds. Victory doesn’t necessarily mean hitting the target, but conquering your own fears. This message is simple but inspirational, timeless and timely.
My only ick lies in the quite cheesy score and Jon Hamm’s acting. (Don’t get me wrong. He was phenomenal in Mad Men, but then he brought that same persona to every role after. Spice it up, brah!) As a feel-good blockbuster, it also repeats a formula that has been done a million times before, running the risk of having a short shelf life in people’s memories.
4. THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN
I’ve never seen a movie quite like this. It feels as fresh as the grass in Inisherin. Happiness blossoms in and pain comes from every kind of relationship — not just romantic ones — so seeing an artwork exploring a troubled friendship in a sea of rom-coms and rom-dramas is a breeze of fresh air. Despite a simple plot, it’s stuck on your mind and refuses to fade away.
Banshees asks a culturally relevant question: to what end must an artist go to leave a mark? Through Brendan Gleeson’s brilliant performance, you could feel Colm’s yearning to build a legacy and the impatience he endures as days fly past. His internal struggle reminds young artists like me to look at ourselves and ask: How do we maximize our limited time on this planet to create? Life is short after all. The finger-cutting bit is peak dark comedy — a quirky, albeit gruesome act. The contrast between its visceral quality and the peacefulness of the Irish island adds an edge to the film, making it irresistibly memorable.
My only wish is to get more from the story. It’s funny that some of last year’s releases run way too long (All Quiet, I’m looking at you!), meanwhile, you want a movie like this to be just a little longer. Two hours passed by like a breeze. Banshees feels more like a mood piece than a complete story. I want to know more about each character. Every one of them is so lovely — the movie depicts a rivalry (sort of), but you can’t help rooting for all parties involved. Love Barry Keoghan’s performance as Dominic — you can feel his naive optimism through all the pain he endures — it’s hard to determine if this is more sad or beautiful. Maybe the point is life embraces both.
3. AVATAR: THE WAY OF WATER
I’m not a huge fan of long movies (Again, why are half the movies out last year three hours long? Nobody has time for it — we have work!), but I didn’t check my phone once during Avatar: The Way of Water, which boasts a three-hour-and-twelve-minute runtime. It never felt long because the story is that engaging and the characters are well-developed. Every one of them has their own voice, wants, needs, strengths, weaknesses and insecurities. You know who they are and you root for them with your whole heart. That is the earnest magic of a James Cameron movie.
Maybe I watched The Way of Water on a very bad day, which is the wicked reason I absolutely loved it. The film critiques the worst part of human nature: greed. Greed drives the exploitation of the environment and wildlife. Greed drives colonialism, the desire to inferiorize people from difference races. Greed drives anthropocentrism — the mindset that we are superior to other species and thus entitling ourselves to power. What if there were beings out there who were smarter, stronger, and most importantly, more empathetic than us? Would we learn from them to better ourselves, or would we destroy them? The contrast between selfishness of the “sky people” (us, duh!) and selflessness of the Na’vi urges us to reflect on the way we live life. The sense of community in the film, shown through the Metkayina clan’s effortless welcoming of Jake Sully into their life and vow to protect his family at all cost, seems almost a strange concept to our capitalist society (why putting ourselves at risk for others?). The film’s critique of human nature has a George Carlin flair to it — it’s nihilistic, with a slight hint of hope underneath it all. The world is f*cked, but we can still change it for the better, maybe. The Way of Water’s anti-colonial, anti-capitalist, pro-environmental theme isn’t new, but it is still as timely as ever.
2. TRIANGLE OF SADNESS
True to its name, everything in Triangle of Sadness is presented in three: the movie has three acts, the ship it’s set on has three class-divided levels, its third act is driven by a relationship-triangle drama, and funnily enough, this Palme d’Or winner is also up for three Academy Awards, but the layers of social decay it explores run deeper than that. On the surface, Triangle of Sadness is a satire about the ultra-rich of the world. Deep down, it is a brilliant exploration of hypocrisy and privilege, no matter if that privilege is tied to your physical (‘able-bodied’ people), financial (oligarchs), social (influencers) or intellectual (the educated Captain) capital. Ruben Östlund chose the visceral route to go there, resulting in a movie that is both gross and hysterically funny. The camera sways with the ship as the waves hit, inviting viewers into the film’s nauseous sensation. Hearing an American Captain talk Marx to a Russian capitalist is the ironic discomfort where comedy thrives. To have a couple who got rich from manufacturing grenades die from the very product they sell and a fertilizer magnate drown in literal human shit, Östlund crafted some of last year’s most unforgettable scenes.
The third act cemented the film’s greatness for me. On an island where wealth and fame are irrelevant, true power comes into play: the human ability to adapt and survive on planet Earth. The reversal of class politics, punishment of crimes, and unveiling of transactional relationships are mad entertaining to watch. It’s like Lord of the Flies, but you can see it happening in 2023, with people you know, follow or worship (couldn’t help but wonder if Elon Musk would be such a big mouth on this island).
My favorite thing about Triangle of Sadness is you could lift every scene and it would function perfectly as a short. Yaya and Carl’s back-and-forth over the dinner bill is a bitter comment on stereotypical gender roles. The long shot of male models showing off different expressions based on specific clothing brands (H&M is for everyone, but Balenciaga only a selected few — funnily enough, the latter is being canceled as we speak) calls out the pretension of the fashion industry. Dolly De Leon steals the show as Abigail in the third act — she breathes life into a crowd of soulless, superficial people. I couldn’t stop thinking about that ending scene, which is left open to interpretation — do you believe people should strive to always be kind, or choose power when they could? Triangle of Sadness is irreverent, fun, and definitely memorable — which is what you want a zeitgeisty work of art to be.
1. EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE
Talk about the ZEITGEIST — nothing has surpassed this work. I’ve professed my love for this film wherever and whenever I can, so it comes as no surprise I’m rooting for it all the way. Everything Everywhere All At Once checks all my boxes for a Best Picture winner and then some. It is incredibly well-made. It is mad inventive. And it is very NOW. It captivates the zeitgeist like no other films on this list. It uses the unassuming façade of a sci-fi movie to open a conversation about hot-button issues of our time: family disintegration, sexuality, feminism, classism, choice paralysis in a capitalist society, immigration, and the flawed promise of the American Dream. America stands for possibilities, but can you have it all? Can you take all the paths you could take? Can you do all the jobs you want? Is it even a fair desire in the first place? Everything Everywhere explores this topic brilliantly through the metaphor of an… everything bagel, an American breakfast classic. Mind-blown. Talk about originality. The film’s use of everyday imageries to talk big issues (that rock scene, anyone?) is pure chef’s kiss. It’s exactly the kind of movie I’ve always wanted to make — A24 has created fairy dust again.
What I admire about Everything Everywhere is in its form, it challenges the Hollywood machine itself. You cannot categorize it into any one genre: It is comedy. It is drama. It is action. It is family. It debunks centuries of genre theory and the desire to keep art in check. It truly is everything all at once, and that’s what a great story should be. You can tell a riveting story in any form, on any medium, by any point-of-view. It represents so much more than the one family in the center of it. Anyone of us who has wondered how our life would have turned out if we had made one different decision will find ourselves in this movie (which, I believe, is universal.) The message at the end of the movie — to fight with love — is the optimism that we as human beings need, after seeing all our our dark sides exposed in Avatar, All Quiet on the Western Front and Triangle of Sadness. In a few years, we will look back and see how Everything Everywhere has opened the door to a whole new kind of motion pictures — one that rejects genres, celebrates TRUE diversity, and experiments with maximalism without finesse at the center of it.
I personally can’t see any movie beating Everything Everywhere in the Best Picture category, but you never know with the Oscars. (Still mad about Green Book beating Roma in 2019.) The one thing I know is Everything Everywhere All At Once has already cemented its place in the hall of great cinema, and it might not even need an Oscar to certify that. If this artistic masterpiece doesn’t win tomorrow, that’s honestly fine.
I’ll just jump to the verse where it does.
