I’ve been thinking a lot about history this year and, in the process of looking back over the previous iterations of this annual write-up (2016, 2017 & 2018), it’s apparent to me that this has always been the case. The things I seem to gravitate towards, or at least the things that are on my mind most often, are all rooted in the idea of lost histories, or the void that remains when the past disappears. This year, especially, I’ve been thinking a lot about how it’s becoming far too easy to forget the lessons of our history. I’ve been thinking about George A. Romero’s Day of the Dead, which I saw for the first time in the summer, and how its survivors are forced underground, surrounded by all the records of an irretrievable past, and left to rebuild the society they’ve lost. In this bunker, cut off from everyone and everything, it’s left to them to find a cure to the plague of zombies that amble above their heads and find the best way to move forwards. Should we fight to ensure we hold on to our history, learn from it and build something better from the ashes, or should we take the loss, start afresh somewhere new and bury the past underground with the zombies? I’ve been thinking about Pedro Costa’s Vitalina Varela, and about how a life's worth of time can be lost by holding onto dreams of futures that were never going to pan out. I’ve been thinking about Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman, and how people are defined not by what they do in their lives, but by what they leave behind. I’ve been thinking about Kleber Mendonça Filho and Juliano Dornelles’ Bacurau, and how a dysfunctional community is a better weapon against the horrors of our world than a divided one.
I’ve been thinking about Death Stranding, and how Hideo Kojima has developed a game in which the simple act of traversal is beneficial to other players around the world. To cross a fast-flowing river, for example, a player can lay a retractable ladder from bank to bank and walk across, and then collect it and carry on their journey. However, if the ladder is left behind, it can be encountered in the same place in the games of other players, and can be used to easily cross the same river without that player having to expend their own resources. The game’s numerous delivery missions are arduous and attritional, and it’s difficult to maintain balance on even flat terrain with a backpack stacked high with boxes, let alone to climb vast, snow-covered mountains or deal with the many threats that lurk in these seemingly empty landscapes. To encounter a ladder laid across a river by another player is a welcome sight. In my playthrough, I always left things behind for players who would encounter an area after I did, and I always found use of the things left by other players who had already passed through. Kindness is encouraged and rewarded in Death Stranding, and, more than anything else this year, I’ve been thinking about how rare it is to find this. And how beautiful.
This year has been the hardest of my life. I hope I can take something beautiful with me into the next.
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In alphabetical order:
Bacurau | Kleber Mendonca Filho + Juliano Dornelles
The Irishman | Martin Scorsese
I Was At Home, But… | Angela Schanelec
Martin Eden | Pietro Marcello
Monsoon | Hong Khao
Parasite | Bong Joon-ho
So Long, My Son | Wang Xiaoshuai
The Souvenir | Joanna Hogg
Tamaran Hill | Tadasuke Kotani
To The Ends of the Earth | Kiyoshi Kurosawa
Uncut Gems | Josh & Benny Safdie
Vitalina Varela | Pedro Costa
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Some highlights.
In February, enjoying a gushing conversation about the work of Angela Schanelec with Alex and Hind after a screening of My Sister’s Good Fortune in Berlin within earshot of the director herself who, unbeknownst to me, had been standing less than five feet away from us the whole time. In April, watching Tsai Ming-liang’s The Deserted VR in London with Dan and having my whole perception of cinema changed in 55 minutes. In July, exploring Marseille with Chris and getting caught in the maelstrom of irrepressible city-wide celebrations following Riyad Mahrez's 94th minute winner for Algeria in the semi-final of the African Cup of Nations. In October, experiencing the pure cinephilic thrill of being in the presence of Martin Scorsese as he introduced a screening of The Irishman.
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Ten discoveries from a limited year. I'd like to think the next will reap more rewards.
Day of the Dead | George A. Romero, 1985
Canyon Passage | Jacques Tourneur, 1946
Memories of Murder | Bong Joon-ho, 2003
Gangs of New York | Martin Scorsese, 2002
Street of No Return | Sam Fuller, 1989
My Sister’s Good Fortune | Angela Schanelec, 1995
Kotoko | Shin’ya Tsukamoto, 2011
The Invincibles | Dominik Graf, 1994
Blood and Black Lace | Mario Bava, 1964
The Gorgon | Terence Fisher, 1964
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I’ve seen too much death this year.
In 2020, we’re living.
In 2020, we’re living.