Pop Culture Favorites of 2017

You know what? 2017 kicked pop culture ass. For the first time since I started doing this, I had an incredibly hard time narrowing things down to the arbitrary parameters I set for myself six years ago. Beyond what I actually narrowed down are at least twenty more incredible entities that I didn't include, but I have stop somewhere. (Shouts to Brockhampton, Lorde, and the last thirty minutes of mother!) It wasn't easy, but I feel good about where I arrived.

The Pretty Damn Goods of 2017

John Wick 2

Often's the time I wish the United States had something equivalent to the regal tradition of knighthood of the UK. If we did have an establishment of American knighthood, Keanu Reeves should be one of the first humans in line. He has major credits in game-changing action movies over the span of four decades. People slept on Keanu through most of the 2000s, but he never went away. In 2014, he came roaring back into the game with John Wick. It borrowed cliché moments from decades of much lesser movies to create something spectacular. Any character who uttered his name immediately conveyed the gravity and power that John Wick the legend and John Wick the man carried. He is a man not to be trifled with.

In John Wick 2, the stakes set from the beginning of the series are elevated even higher. The fight scenes and shootouts are masterpieces of action choreography, and some are outright hilarious. At over 50 years old, Keanu is out there taking licks and dishing bullets to the dome like no one in movie history. This out-of-nowhere franchise has garnered millions of fans who are relishing in its multitude of beautiful brutality, and that’s what you get with a pro like Keanu. He puts on a show that’s an absolute blast, and one you’ll happily revisit forever.

Wind River

One of the best cinematic talents drawing breath right now is Taylor Sheridan. After Sicario and Hell or High Water, it would seem that the writer of such stellar work would be bound to hit a snag sometime soon. Nay. Sheridan’s streak of rural and existential cinematic nightmares continues with the expertly crafted Wind River, his first foray into the director’s chair.

Jeremy Renner stars as a predator hunter who works for the Fish and Wildlife Service patrolling the mountains and treacherous landscapes of Wyoming. He discovers the body of a battered barefoot young woman who fled and succumbed to sub-zero temperatures deep in the Wind River Indian Reservation, well beyond where most anyone could run. Elizabeth Olsen plays the FBI agent tasked with investigating the murder, and she asks for his help in this vast land that's foreign to her. What follows is a deeply troubling commentary on the state of Native American life and treatment, as well as an affecting drama about what it takes to persevere through multiple manners of tribulation.

In Wind River, Renner gives a performance that can stand alongside any of the stoic, legendary performances in the history of American westerns. Clint Eastwood, Kirk Douglas, Gary Cooper. He’s that good. And Elisabeth Olsen is one of the most emotive and engaging actresses in the game today. Her character is out of her element, but she plays a federal agent like Jodie Foster in The Silence of the Lambs. The haunting original music composed for the movie by Warren Ellis and the legend Nick Cave fits the mood and tone of the movie perfectly. Wind River is a thrilling and moving drama that checks off all the boxes for any fan of mysteries or thrillers.

Ozark

Netflix has a bizarre ability to keep most everyone in the dark about a new show’s existence until roughly two weeks before it premiers. Such was the case with myself and Ozark. A foolproof method to get views is to involve Jason Bateman. He has proven to be well capable of layered acting beyond his decades of comedic experience, as proven by his work in 2015’s underrated and fantastic The Gift.

Ozark is just as riveting as it is ridiculous. It obviously borrows elements from other successful anti-hero-centric shows like Breaking Bad. Chris Ryan and Andy Greenwald of The Ringer’s The Watch podcast made a good point in that regard, which is rather than seeing a Walter White-type character’s journey to becoming a criminal mastermind again, we’re dropped into a story that’s well set into motion. Ozark is the story of a man who has been putting his family at risk by laundering cartel drug money, and what happens when the shit hits fan blades that are spinning at top speed. Supported by fascinating backwoods characters and solid performances, Ozark exceeded all hopes I held out for it, and was thankfully one of Netflix’s biggest surprises of the year.

American Vandal

One thing… Actually, maybe the only thing that drives me to compose these things for the seventh year now, is that with so much to consume in the culture, it’s hard to know what to spend time watching. Last fall, I kept seeing mention of American Vandal being one of Stream TV’s best kept secrets, and for anyone who still hasn’t seen it, this is something I must pay forward.

I’ve never watched Making a Murderer, but I gather that American Vandal is largely a satire based on it and other shows of its ilk. You don’t have to have seen many true crime docs or Dateline episodes to appreciate the vast brilliance of this show. The nutshell premise is that someone in a high school in California vandalized the cars of 27 faculty members by spray-painting enormous red penises on them. The clear suspect, the hilariously moronic class clown played by Jimmy Tatro, is accused and expelled, but he swears his innocence. Two schoolmates set out to uncover the truth behind the mystery of “who drew the dicks.” On paper, it seems juvenile and absurd, but the depth into which the details of all the events leading up to the incident are delved is incredible. For something that actually happened, this investigative detail would be impressive, and the fact that this is all entirely made up is a display of talent beyond any capacity I can understand. It’s so clever and well-acted, and if you ever start it, the desire to find out who drew the dicks will be impossible to ignore.

Brawl in Cell Block 99

In 2015, a fairly unknown writer/director named S. Craig Zahler quietly made one of the best Westerns of the 2000s, Bone Tomahawk. It was also a horror tale, and it starred Kurt Russell, Richard Jenkins, Matthew Fox and Patrick Wilson. It was kind of an anomaly, in that the movie is one of the most brutal things ever committed to film, yet the dialogue is so expertly composed and tight that it seems as if it was a lost Coen brothers script.

In 2017, Zahler made this equally brutal movie starring Vince Vaughn, Brawl in Cell Block 99. In it, he is sent to prison and set with a seemingly impossible task. What follows is just shy of a literal descent into Hell itself. I went into the movie fairly blind, other than knowing who made it, who was in it, and that something probably pops off in cell block 99. Anyone who hasn’t seen it should do the same. For any fan of gritty 70s and 80s crime or horror, like the works of John Carpenter, this movie is an absolute treat. It’s probably the best work Vince Vaughn has ever done. It must be emphasized though, that like Bone Tomahawk, Brawl in Cell Block 99 is not for the squeamish, but those who find the will to see it through to the end will feel like they ran a marathon without having to get up off the couch.

Favorites of 2017

 10. Baby Driver

He’s not necessarily grouped with filmmakers considered to be great modern auteurs, but over the past 15 years, Edgar Wright’s films are singular and immediately recognizable. His films from Shaun of the Dead through Scott Pilgrim to The World's End all have a specific cadence, a music to them. Ironically, his fifth feature, Baby Driver, is edited around a specifically procured soundtrack in a way we’ve never seen in non-musical cinema.

The characters are all perfectly cast. Ansel Elgort, the titular getaway driver artiste Baby, is a charming lead who’s not trying to brood beyond the reach of his capabilities into unattainable Gosling territory. Lily Collins’ bubbly presence and personality could melt the coldest heart, and the two of them have excellent chemistry. Jon Hamm, who has been weirdly underutilized post-Mad Men, does some of the best work of his career as a grade-A asshat. Jamie Foxx, who’s largely been out of the acting game in recent years, returns to play a disturbingly malevolent villain. And Kevin Spacey, well… Eh.

Filmed and set in Atlanta, Baby Driver is an instant heist classic, full of high-intensity action and perfectly balanced with clever humor and dialogue. In a nutshell, it's just a damn good time.

9. Logan

In what may well come to be known as the greatest trailer of all time, it is made quite evident what Logan will be: the swan song of the greatest character and performance in an industry that came into existence along with Hugh Jackman's first iteration of Wolverine. 2000's X-Men was arguably the first piece of a new cinematic genre, one that has since become its own industry, and Jackman's been here through all of it. Hugh Jackman played Logan for 17 years. That's a bizarre notion to wrap one's head around.  And we know we're in for something entirely different this last time around with the first severed arm and the first impaled head.

In Logan, he is weathered by the generations of life he has lived and observed. We, the voyeurs, oddly wear some of that with him. The perpetually wry Logan carries little of that wit which used to be his standard. Logan is a tremendously sad and at times traumatic experience, but consistently affecting and riveting. In many ways it's unfortunate that we had to wait until Jackman's last time out to see the hard-R this character deserved. In a world where there's so much content, let alone in the comic book world, Logan shows us all that we won't ever forget what Jackman accomplished: a run that will doubtless ever be matched.

8. Lady Bird

Lady Bird is truly special. There have been tales told of high school students on the verge of leaving home or this, or that or the other for decades. Comedies, dramas, romances, you name the genre and there’s a couple hundred coming-of-age teen tales in every direction. As many of them as there are, they don’t all have heart. Lady Bird, in the words of Coach Jimmy McGinty, has miles and miles of heart.

Greta Gerwig’s script doesn’t have an ounce of fat on it. She got the Irish goddess Saoirse Ronan to play the complicated lead. She got the TV queen Laurie Metcalf to play the tough matriarch. She got Chalamet Tha God (more on him later) to pop up a few times, and Lucas Hedges (Manchester by the Sea) to tear violently at our heartstrings a time or two. Lady Bird doesn’t overshoot to try and set itself apart from the scores of movies of its ilk, but when you hire the best, you get the best. Talent produces classics, and I feel sure in the coming years that Lady Bird will prove itself to be just that.

7. Blade Runner 2049

There’s a lot that's confounding about the cult of Blade Runner. After at least half a dozen watches over the years, the GOAT status so frequently applied to it eludes me. The design, score and mood create a haunting atmosphere for 2019 Los Angeles, but the movie leaves me cold and generally empty every time. (Hot take: most Ridley Scott movies do.) Despite general apathy toward the OG, excitement wormed its way into my bones at the mention of a sequel by French-Canadian maestro Denis Villeneuve (Prisoners, Arrival) starring the god Gosling and Harrison Ford himself. And I’ll be damned if it’s not better than the first one.

Sure, the sequel has the advantage of 35 years of technological advancement in the industry, but so many more ideas regarding artificial intelligence, existentialism, love and life itself are tackled in 2049 than the first time around. Where Blade Runner skirted around the idea of whether or not Deckard was a replicant, 2049 removes any doubt in its first moments. By doing that, Villeneuve and company can tackle meatier subjects and plot points with more focused intensity, as well as showcase some of the most breathtaking set pieces in modern cinematic history. Wallace’s lair, Vegas, the seawall. The production design is unmatched in 2017. Roger Deakins’ cinematography, which by god better get him his unjustly elusive Oscar, is utterly hypnotizing. Acting-wise, it doesn't seem hyperbolic to say that this may be the best acting work of Harrison Ford’s career. In a true supporting role, he flexes acting chops at 75 that we’ve never seen in any of his previous work. It’s reassuring to see that this universally beloved man is not out there strictly cashing checks.

It’s a blessing and a curse that it wasn’t a box office smash, because while we didn’t necessarily know we needed to dive back into the world of Blade Runner, we certainly need to leave this saga at its end with the absolute masterpiece that is 2049.

 6. Big Little Lies

Big Little Lies seems to epitomize much that’s to be despised about American humanity. At the center of everything are upper-class private school parents, judging each other and talking shit behind everyone else's backs. But somewhere between the Californian depiction of the facade of American perfection and fictional satire, brilliance is found.

From the first episode, it seems like it's going to be a knee slapping hilarious lampoon of this abhorrent way of excessive and superficial living, but the first time Alexander Skarsgård bolts up and grabs Nicole Kidman by the arm, it’s clear that things won't be as bright as they started. The universal praise shed upon Big Little Lies is thoroughly justified, though I must say, Nicole Kidman has stolen Reese’s awards spotlight. She’s just brilliant. Jean-Marc Vallée’s (Dallas Buyers Club, Wild) clean but sometimes abrupt directing style fits this tonally oxymoronic endeavor perfectly, and her comfort with his unique and sometimes startlingly abrasive style has resulted in a fascinating partnership.

As ridiculous and hilarious as some moments are, Big Little Lies is ultimately a riveting commentary on the power of misunderstanding, struggles to persevere in abusive relationships, and what happens in the heat of the moment when those things collide. It was a blast to watch along with seemingly everyone in the rest of the country last winter, and it will be as rich an experience to return to in the coming years.

5. Phantom Thread

For the longest time, Paul Thomas Anderson seemed like an enigma. After years of hardly taking part in mainstream interviews, he had a conversation with Marc Maron on his WTF podcast in 2015 that blew my mind. The auteur who made Boogie Nights at 26 years old, who directed Tom Cruise in Magnolia and helped manifest arguably the greatest performance we’ve ever seen in There Will Be Blood, is actually a goofball. The man who made The Master thinks Billy Madison, Happy Gilmore and Big Daddy are comedic masterpieces. The man who brought Daniel Day-Lewis back out of the dark to make Phantom Thread just seems like a regular dude. The ease with which he was so open to talk about his career with Maron went so completely against what I, and certainly other PTA superfans, had built up in my mind. He is nothing like the art he makes.

When the news was coming out that PTA was going to do another movie with DDL about a British guy in the 50s who makes dresses, it seemed like a bizarre use of both their energies. Then, leading into Phantom Thread’s release, DDL made it known that this would be his last movie. That certainly raised universal interest and enthusiasm. Maybe he’ll change his mind one day, but if that ultimately turns out to be true, Phantom Thread is one hell of a last effort for the world’s greatest living actor to go out on.

Phantom Thread is both stoically serious and confoundingly hilarious. Accompanying the movie is Radiohead mastermind Jonny Greenwood’s score, which is bananas. Vicky Krieps does wonders standing toe-to-toe with DDL throughout the entire movie, and was robbed of a well-deserved Oscar nomination. I don’t want to get into specifics of the movie beyond what anyone may or may not already know, because to do that would ruin one of the singular reactions to something I’ve had in my life. Phantom Thread aesthetically hearkens back to romances and dramas of the early 40s and 50s, though in a sense it’s a timeless endeavor. It is of a time that could only really look like that time because someone like Paul Thomas Anderson was here to make it.

 4. Call Me by Your Name

There were a lot of hyped-up movies in 2017. Some of them were massive franchise pieces, many of them awards fodder. Call Me by Your Name is certainly one of the ones at the top of that list. It’s hard to be open in those experiences when hype tends to be unavoidable in the world of the Internet, but at least as far as the content of the movie goes, it’s something that still can be done. Heaped with the praise that it was, and seemingly almost a year before the average moviegoer ever got a chance to see it, Call Me by Your Name is the gem in a given year that seems to meet and exceed my personal expectations.

It’s set in northern Italy in the early 80s, as a family of academics welcomes a graduate assistant in the form of Armie Hammer to do research and stay at their summer home. I wanted to live in the setting of this movie so terribly. Lazing around reading decaying paperbacks and riding bikes through the Italian countryside never looked so alluring. The adult characters are largely insufferable, but the meat of the story lies with their son, played by Timotheé Chalamet (previously referred to as Chalamet Tha God), and Armie Hammer.

I can’t think of another time in my life when I saw someone as young as Chalamet give a performance that you could already put on the Mount Rushmore of romantic movie performances. He taps into some kind of primal, yet adult sense of sexual urge and dramatic emotion that’s seemingly unlike anything someone his age (21 at the time) could have lived. He is given the keys to a role that’s really special, and he just goes full throttle. It’s the best performance I saw in 2017, and my personal favorite. He is going to be something special. Armie Hammer’s no slouch, either. He’s one of those actors whose moment you've been waiting for to really dig into something, and this is it for him.

Call Me by Your Name is not the most comfortable watch out there, and it’s apt to take an emotional toll on you, but it is certainly one of the most rewarding cinematic experiences of last year, or any year.

3. Dunkirk (in 70mm IMAX)

It’s been a personal trend in recent years that I find modern cinematic spectacle quite boring. There’s little nuance when it comes to the extravagance of CGI and visual effects up through 2017. What’s needed is someone with a propensity for analog practicality with modern capabilities. No other filmmaker is capable of producing results in that realm than Christopher Nolan.

Now, I am quick to admit that I’ve developed a notion over the years that Christopher Nolan is kind of overrated. Inception, while a true masterwork, has some eye-rollingly awful dialogue. Interstellar is largely in the same department, though miles from being a masterpiece. And if I get started on The Dark Knight Rises, I won't stop. Even so, Nolan’s films are something to be excitable about, because they are such huge events. He’s one of the last people in the industry we may ever have with the ability and knowledge to shoot something in an overly complicated form, like 70mm IMAX, just to create the best possible experience that could come of his artistic endeavor. Having been fortunate enough to experience Dunkirk in 70mm IMAX, I can confirm that it was one unlike any I’ve had in my life. The width of the frame exceeded the limits of human peripheral vision. Vertically, it seemed as tall as a five-story building. It was completely immersive and an astounding cinematic feat. The clickity-clacks of an actual film projector were also nice to hear again.

Focusing on three, specific realms of the evacuation of the beaches of Dunkirk, you’re right alongside everything and feel like it’s your own life on the line. The characters are largely blank canvases (well, aside from Harry Styles) whose experiences you’re living as they try to survive against incredible odds. When ships list and men fight for last gasps of oxygen, it’s as if you yourself are struggling to draw breath. Hans Zimmer’s batshit musical score never stops and it makes you feel like you’re on the verge of cardiac arrest for 100 minutes. The cinematography is up there alongside any war classic in film history, and there’s a scene at the end that must elicit emotions in Brits akin to what it was like to watch James Bond’s Union Jack parachute open in The Spy Who Loved Me in 1977.  

Dunkirk may be Nolan’s best film yet. It's a nice reminder that while we are relentlessly subjected to the constant onslaught of franchise content, a true pro can swoop in with a spectacle that outclasses them all.

2. Twin Peaks: The Return

I still have no idea what the hell I watched. It feels dumb just trying to formulate semi-coherent thoughts to express how incredible an experience it was to watch Twin Peaks: The Return this summer. Like much of David Lynch’s content, trying to decipher just what the hell is happening in front of you can be an infuriating task at best, but when you let go of the fact that it’s just short of impossible to do, it can be a treat unlike any art in the world. While I'm not an enormous fan of the original series, there was still plenty to admire about Twin Peaks, most of which lies exclusively with Kyle MacLachlan’s equally quirky and hilarious performance as Dale Cooper. This time MacLachlan gets triple duty, and he turned in the absolute best television work of last year.

At the risk of running away with repetitive nonsense, I just want to emphasize that Twin Peaks: The Return was so special because it is such a singular feeling to be lost in David Lynch’s world in 2017. It was a world that evoked every possible emotion one can have while watching a series unfold, from terror or shock, to warmth and bliss. It’s a pleasure to watch an ensemble of actors happily bring that world to life. It’s a world that we may never visit again. If so, The Return will stand as an extraordinary work when we look back on the history of television in the first part of this century. Hyperbolic as I tend to get, of this fact that I have no doubt. David Lynch, an artist who stands alone in modern history, but hasn’t had a prominent work since 2001, has not lost one ounce of his integrity, intensity or bizarre vision. As a matter of fact, like the red wine he so frequently consumes, they have only gotten sharper with age.

1. Shit Town

It's remarkably difficult to convey in words, without being overly cloying or sentimental, just how great a piece of art Shit Town is and the profound effect it had on me. Shit Town is a podcast that begins as a murder mystery instigated by the peculiarities of an individual named John B. McLemore. John B. has lived in Woodstock, Alabama in the same house for his entire life, and he thinks something sinister is happening there. He contacts Brian Reed at This American Life in order to bring someone down to do a story about the corruption John B. senses in the eponymous "Shit Town, Alabama." Once Brian arrives in Woodstock, it becomes clear that John B. is a character with plenty to be studied about himself. There's just something about John and his geographically uncharacteristic intelligence that makes you sense there complicated layers beyond the incident he purports to have happened that's bothering him. As it plays out, Shit Town becomes something completely different and far more interesting, focusing largely on those mysteries that lie deep within John B. himself.

I've rarely been as affected by the account of someone's life than I was listening to that of John B. McLemore. We all have experiences with a shit town, whether it's the one you in which you live, the one from which you hail, or just the idea that epitomizes all that's wrong in the world. In Brian's words, "All the world was a shit town to John, and he bore every disgrace of that world in his heart." You can let your demons overwhelm you, you can fight them or you can learn to live with them. To quote a passage in one of John's favorite works, Brokeback Mountain, "If you can't fix it, you've got to stand it." Unfortunately for so many who would've liked to have known him, John B. McLemore just couldn't stand it.

Pop Culture Favorites of 2016

Welp, glad that's over. No need to dawdle, let's get right to it.

The Pretty Damn Goods of 2016

The Lobster

As the years progress, it seems there’s nothing new or exciting under the sun of a dystopian setting, but Greek writer/director Yorgos Lanthimos assured us last year that such a notion is nonsense with the startlingly original near-masterpiece The Lobster. The Lobster and its cast are so profoundly committed to bizarreness for every single frame. Colin Farrell, a personal top-ten favorite working actor, yet again shows why he perseveres in the film industry by making such a bold choice to play in such an unto-itself movie. The supporting cast, which includes John C. Reilly, Rachel Weisz and Ben Whishaw, add to its unique flavor. While it is most certainly a love-it-or-hate-it movie, regardless of where you fall, once you’ve seen The Lobster, you won’t soon forget it.

"The New KKK" - Episode One of
 United Shades of America

The premise of W. Kamau Bell’s CNN series United Shades of America is noble and concise. As he says, “I’ve made a living finding humor in parts of America I don’t understand. I’m challenging myself to dig deeper. I’m on a mission to reach out and experience all the cultures and beliefs that add color to this crazy country.” It’s certainly not a new idea, but the show sets itself apart from the rest of the doc series multitude by having Kamau speak with members of the Ku Klux Klan. For those unaware, Kamau Bell is black.

His conversations range from shockingly cordial to uncomfortably confrontational. Bell meets every person’s conversation, from a man referring to different races as “beasts of the field” to cracking jokes about lighting a cross, with respect that they surely don’t deserve. He realizes that any argument would be totally unnecessary, as their words are damning enough. He also speaks with other citizens of these towns who decry the actions and beliefs of the Klan.

Culminating in Bell attending the burning of a cross, this first episode of United Shades is an outstanding feat of modern journalism, and it’s carried out by a comedian. The subsequent episodes are all fascinating commentaries on the different “shades” of our country, but this episode is a symbolic achievement unlike any other. His closing line is a quite something to reckon with: “Unlike most of the black people in the history of this country who have been present for a cross burning, I get to leave.”

Season One of Preacher

How many television series, both old and new, do we try each year? With streaming and on-demand services, as well as existing channels, the number of attempts can add up quickly. But when Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg decide to bring a cult classic graphic novel to life, that's a can't-miss scenario. As it turns out, that product, Preacher, was not only a complete blast but one of the standouts of the new TV crop of 2016.

Exceptional experiences like the "Sundowner" episode and the final two episodes of the season are unlike anything else going on in television, let alone like anything that preceded it. Fueled by a eclectic cast of memorable characters and the creative eyes of Rogen, Goldberg and Breaking Bad alum Sam Catlin, Preacher is not only another hit in AMC's excellent slate of drama, it seems poised to continue on its track of exciting and vibrant originality for seasons to come.

O.J.: Made in America

The hype was real. Though it would seem that the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and OJ’s subsequent Trial of the Century is territory that has been tread to oblivion, especially after FX’s The People v. OJ Simpson, Ezra Edelman’s enthralling eight-hour documentary reminds us how much everything that went down still means, and what it shows America about itself. It is endlessly fascinating to see OJ and everything surrounding his post-USC life and trial through the lens of the pre-1994 racial history of Los Angeles. Even knowing the outcome, as we all do, the doc is still thrilling and astounding. Supplied with unforgettable interviewing soundbites and insights, OJ: Made in America stands tall as arguably the best true crime documentary ever made.

 

 

Ryan Gosling

I’m sure most folks would agree there aren’t many (or any) actors the likes of Marlon Brando, Humphrey Bogart or Cary Grant working today. Whatever the reasons may be, more actors in those days commanded audiences’ attentions by just existing on screen. It didn’t really matter what Paul Newman was up to in a particular movie, but taking your eyes off him was hard to do. I believe there is no other actor working today who can carry the mantle of everything we know as a Hollywood legend than Ryan Gosling.

In 2016, Ryan Gosling had perhaps his most unique cinematic year. In The Nice Guys, he plays a haphazard and intoxicated private detective and father to hilarious effect, while also stealing every single scene from the mighty Russell Crowe. It’s really the first role he’s had where he’s allowed to cut loose, and the performance teeters many times on the edge of slapstick. Before 2011, no one would’ve expected Gosling to thrive in a role like this, and he succeeds seamlessly. In the critical darling La La Land, both he and Emma Stone breathe life into two characters who, in the hands of numerous other actors, would have been oppressively vanilla. His singing leaves a little something to be desired, but he lays on the charm with effortless ease and to overwhelming effect

Gosling has the capacities of many legends of the past, like the charm and wit of Paul Newman, the broodiness of James Dean, and the mystery and intimidation of Clint Eastwood. He also has the capacity that a few other Golden Age elites had: to be just a little bit goofy. Even if he doesn’t necessarily receive such praise now, in time, Ryan Gosling will one day be recognized as an icon of American culture.

Favorites of 2016

10. Dave Chappelle/A Tribe Called Quest 
Saturday Night Live — Dec. 12, 2016

Though the cold open was a bit problematic, Dave Chappelle’s first time hosting Saturday Night Live will go down as one of the best episodes in the series’ run, not only as a reaction to the results of the election, but as a belatedly fulfilling performance by one of the most cherished performers in the history of American comedy.

Chappelle was unhinged and reserved, hopeful and cynical, brash and timid. His monologue was hilarious and uncensored, culminating in the most powerful and eloquent moment I’ve ever seen on Saturday Night Live. The way he had the attention of every person in Studio 8H during the closing minutes of his monologue applied to everyone who watched around the country. It made us think for a few minutes that Dave Chappelle has the power to change the world. In his words, it made us hopeful. After that, he made us laugh. I can’t remember a time in my life before this episode that I ever shed tears of joy, but I literally cried during the Walking Dead digital short. On November 12^th, Dave Chappelle, a figure who is simultaneously mysterious and beloved, reminded us that he’s still got it.

 

9. Swiss Army Man

There has never been anything like Swiss Army Man in the history of ever.

Nearing the point of suicide on a deserted island, Paul Dano's character, Hank, notices a body that has washed ashore and is flatulating, played by Daniel Radcliffe. From there the two beings escape their island prison and develop a bromance the likes which have never been seen. Though Swiss Army Man wholly bizarre, there is something reassuring in that fact. There are endless consumers of pop culture who want to see more products like this. That two excellent actors like Paul Dano and Daniel Radcliffe so willingly threw themselves into a project like this is even more reassuring. The “farting corpse movie,” as it was dubbed early on, has just as much if not more heart than anything out there, and it has some really fascinating and tender ruminations on friendship and love.

Whether or not the viewer like it, Swiss Army Man is a fantastic piece of art, and it deserves a pillar in creative Valhalla for the masterpiece that it is.

8. Season One of Quarry

One of the main reasons, if not the primary reason, I insist on doing these lists every year is because maybe someone reading will check out something thy hadn't heard of or wasn't quite sure about diving into. More often these days, I rely on harbingers of pop culture, like The Ringer's pop culture podcast The Watch with Chris Ryan and Andy Greenwald. Last fall, they raved about a new Cinemax show called Quarry, based on a popular book series by Max Allan Collins, and rightly so.

Returning home to Memphis from a second tour in 'Nam in 1972, Mac Conway aka Quarry (Logan Marshall-Green) struggles to adapt to a home in which he is unaccepted by the public for murky reasons by which he himself is endlessly tormented. Long story short, he quickly ends up in a criminal underworld whose vastness is unknowable, carrying out hits and running for his life and the life of his wife, played by Jodi Balfour. Marshall-Green certainly has a Tom Hardy thing going on, but his performance is nuanced and intense. What's more, the secondary and tertiary characters can be just as compelling as the main action of the show. Quarry’s coworker, so to speak, played expertly by Damon Harriman, is first introduced half-naked and alone in a motel room singing a Spanish version of Nillsson’s “Without You.” The mysterious and Southern Broker, the unnamed dealer of Quarry's hits, is played by veteran Scottish actor Peter Mullan.

Quarry, unlike many new shows, is not a slow build. The stakes are set very quickly, and to captivating effect. Once you start it, it would be truly shocking if you don't finish.

7. Season Three of Halt and Catch Fire

Heading into its fourth and final season in 2017, Halt and Catch Fire quietly remains one of the most compelling shows on television. In three seasons, all of which are quite different from one another, both in style and tone, Halt's characters play out a fascinating story without an overly dramatic flair while still being full of emotion and elegant complexity.

The four leads are tremendous. Mackenzie Davis, the goddess Mackenzie Davis, has been steadily giving the most underrated performance on television for the last three years. A big to-do was made about the general shift in tone from the first to the second season, but the overall evolution of the show in terms of which characters were the main focus points at the start compared to where we are now is astounding. Some who were riding shotgun to begin with are now chilling in the backseat, so to speak,  and vice versa, but the characters have never been compromised. That's the special thing about Halt: these characters are so rich, and it's through the abilities of Davis, Kerry Bishe, Scoot McNairy and Lee Pace that bring the richness of these characters to bear.

Eventually, as is unfortunately often the case, when the entirety of Halt is readily available on one common platform of consumption or the other, it will be recognized by the amount of people it deserves as the masterful tale that it is. In terms of both quality and prestige, Halt and Catch Fire is a tech-age Mad Men.

6. The Night Of

The commercials for The Night Of could not have been more vague or mysterious, but when it comes to any sort of upcoming series on HBO, be it a mini or a drama, like most people who have the service readily available and recognize, I'll give it a shot. Along that same line, more and more, HBO shows become a shared social and cultural experience as they unfold every week. As it turned out, The Night Of was one of the more gratifying experiences HBO has produced.

The first episode plays like a waking nightmare of a person who doesn’t belong where they are at any moment, and it’s certainly one of the most riveting episodes of any series ever. Some folks disagree on whether or not the show maintained that level of viewer engagement after the first episode, but an indisputable fact is that Naz, played brilliantly by Riz Ahmed, was the most interesting new protagonist on a show in 2016. His journey and evolution over just eight episodes is more enthralling than many character evolutions over seasons of development. The rest of the cast and the characters they inhabit, from John Stone to Naz’s parents to the cat, are as good as or better than any others out there.

A bad ending can ruin a good or great thing. The inverse of that applies as well; a good or great ending can elevate something that would not have otherwise been memorable. The ending of The Night Of is so spot-on that… Well, let's leave it at that, because not only is it worth your time, you'll remember it long after it's over.

5. Season One of Atlanta

Donald Glover used to seem like someone who is acutely aware of how good he is at everything. From the back-in-the-day Derrick Comedy videos, to writing on 30 Rock, to his standup routine, he was clearly talented and hilarious, but there was something about the way he presented himself that seemed off-putting. In the fall of 2013, though, everything changed. When he published a series of Instagram posts of handwritten notes on Marriott stationary, it became very clear that he felt no different than the rest of us who have our own insecurities, doubts and fears. I myself was naïve enough to think that the way someone behaves on the outside is a reflection of who they truly are, when many times, it’s just the opposite. That apparent shift, perhaps maturity, is no more evident than in the first two episodes of his brilliant original show on FX, Atlanta.

There was no moment I witnessed on television last year as 180-degree jarring than what occurs in the holding cell in the second episode. It let viewers know at the outset the realms of the capabilities of Atlanta: gut-clutching hilarity and heart-wrenching depiction of the human experience. Those two things aren’t necessarily mutually exclusive, and they often occur separately throughout Atlanta’s first season, but a scene like that has rarely shifted from one to the next so abruptly.

Watching Atlanta was such a rich experience, because at numerous points, it's obvious what an original revelation it is, though it never sacrifices some of the laughs we’re used to from a conventional American comedy. Having said that, whether it’s black Justin Bieber or the pseudo-Tavis Smiley talk show episode, it is obvious to anyone that “conventional” is not a word that would ever be associated with Atlanta.

4. Hell or High Water

In any other year, a movie like Hell or High Water would likely pass by as just the quality independent movie that it is. But in 2016, movies that are simply and expertly executed stand out from much of the studio drivel that packs our cinematic multiplexes. Hell or High Water is such a shining exception.


Hell or High Water plays like a timeless American tale of two brothers trying to save what's theirs by any means necessary. It has more re-watchability than any movie I saw in 2016. In my opinion, Jeff Bridges gave the finest cinematic performance of 2016 in Hell or High Water. For the majority of the movie, I found myself thinking that he was just sort of rehashing his Rooster Cogburn character from True Grit, but the banter that he had with his partner, played by Gil Birmingham, was so colorful that it's not very bothersome. It seemed that anyone of a similar age could play the character. Only in the last twenty minutes of the movie did the brilliance of Bridges’ performance become obvious. He is the only actor who could bring all the nuances of that character from the pages of Taylor Sheridan’s magnificent script to fruition.


The wide shots of the landscape are gorgeous. Cinematographer Giles Nuttgens and director David Mackenzie combine to make the desolation of West Texas look like something you'd want to hang on your wall. Coincidentally, Hell or High Water is also a movie that deserves a place on the wall among your permanent collection.

3. Season One of Last Chance U

“They say we just fat-ass, dumb-ass country folk. That’s fucked up, ain’t it?” 

As a Mississippian, maybe I’m biased in my admiration for the feat that was Last Chance U, but I doubt anyone who watched it would feel differently. The technical aspect of the way the documentary is put together is staggering. The cinematography of the game action is peerless in athletic photography. It’s even better quality than the slow-motion NFL footage. If that weren’t enough, the reality of the humans and situations is as enthralling and effortless to invest in as anything out there. The way the story is told and unfolds is completely riveting. Folks from the area surrounding Scooba and EMCC knew full well the infamous incident that transpired at the end of the 2015. It’s all the more astounding that knowing how everything would end didn’t remotely affect the experience of the show.

Like most students or young people under the tutelage of teachers or coaches, you are subservient to the people who are supposed to show you what’s right. They should be the example of the standard human you should aspire to be. Last Chance U has the yin and yang of such humans. Buddy Stephens is one of the worst examples of how to be a human being. Profanity is effective when well-timed and used for emphasis, but Buddy Stephens swears with the frequency of the intake of breath. On the other hand, Brittany Wagner is a phenomenal example of how to be a human being. These real life entities are more riveting in their respective real life jobs than many written and comprised fictional characters. 

Last Chance U is a fantastic documentary series, but more than anything it’s a tragedy. It reminds us that no human is infallible, especially those in charge of others. These young boys are in a place that, by and large, is their last chance to break through their situations. Some of them fail themselves, but it sure seems like more of them are failed.

 

2. Manchester by the Sea

The cinematic hype machine so frequently pumps you only to let you down. Be it early festival buzz or critical ravings, too often we walk into something expecting it to be one thing and leaving feeling like you aren’t on the same page as everyone else (lookin’ at you La La Land). Sometimes, though, that buzz is met. Rarely, that buzz is surpassed. I had that feeling one time this year, and it was seeing Manchester by the Sea. 

It’s understandable that an average person might not want to subject himself or herself to a movie about a janitor taking care of his dead brother’s son for 135 minutes, but it is a rare and fulfilling experience to witness an elegant portrayal of how humans process grief. There is more than that to the story, but to spill it here would be an injustice to the brilliant way Kenneth Lonergan’s screenplay unfolds. The performances are off-the-charts phenomenal, though not in the typical showoff-y way that Oscar performances are prone to be. Casey Affleck’s performance as Lee Chandler is one of the most uniquely reserved I’ve ever seen. For a performance that is as acclaimed as it is, it might be confounding to see how withdrawn it is. His is proof that you don’t have to fall to yell and boo-hoo to be dramatically effective. The wearing of certain emotions can be more powerful than the enacting of them. Michelle Williams does not have much screen time, but what she has is put to some serious use. The scene of the year involves the two of them, and it is utterly unforgettable.

It's not for everyone, but Manchester by the Sea is a testament to the power of cinema and performance, grief and the human experience. It's not the easiest watch, but within it are ample rewards waiting to be found.

1. Season Six of Game of Thrones

(SPOILERS)

 

It just couldn't have been anything else.


Like any other season of Thrones, it had its share of slogs, but unlike the rest, the peaks in season six are too many to count. From the resurrection, to "Hold the door," to "The Winds of Winter," this was unquestionably the series' best season. At season's end, we are poised to perhaps witness the greatest homestretch in modern drama. Has there ever been anything more exhilarating in the history of the medium than the Battle of the Bastards? How amazing is it that Tyrion is going to essentially be the consigliere to the Khaleesi? And how terrible a place to live is King's (Queen's?) Landing going to be under Cersei?

The sixth season of Thrones is the answer to the question many may find themselves asking before diving into any long piece of pop culture: is it worth it? Millions of show-watchers, not to mention all the book-readers, have struggled with that question throughout the consumption of this soul-obliterating show. Fully aware that there are two seasons of stories left to wrap up yet, the answer to the question of “Is Game of Thrones worth it?” to this point is a resounding “You bet your ass.” All of the suffering, while by no means letting up, at least for a little while, has paid off. Finally, after six seasons of talking a big game and teasing its imminent arrival, Winter is here.

Pop Culture Favorites of 2015

"What a time to be alive."

I know. I'm tired of it, too.

It's an overused phrase, but considering the entirety of the year that was 2015, it is most certainly accurate and appropriate. It was a fantastic year for movies, music, television, and artists of all kinds. Conversely, I think we'd all be hard-pressed to recall a more dismal year in the annals of human treatment of one another. It's been a trying year for the world at large, and one in which the reprieve of the great creations of artists has rarely been more important.

On a personal note, this is the fifth year I've been doing these lists. I've very much enjoyed the deliberation and creation of them, as well as the random feedback I receive. It means a great deal. Thanks for reading, whoever you may be, and I hope you continue to check in every now and then. As usual, any significant spoilers included in these entries will have disclaimers.

Let's get to it.

Special Mention: Singular Experiences in 2015

The Gift

"...the bad things, they can be a gift. And that's the way I like to see things."

In terms of sheer cinematic experience, The Gift was unparalleled. On its face, its synopsis, you've most certainly seen some incarnation of The Gift half a dozen times before, maybe more. A couple is stalked by some person from one of their pasts, he or she starts to torment them, yadda yadda yadda. There are so many stalker movie tropes you're geared up for, and they, along with any expectations you may have, are completely subverted. The Gift is the epitome of a slow builder. It's never comfortable, and you know it's escalating toward something, but who knows what it will be. I damn sure didn't.

There is such a fantastic feeling in not having the slightest idea where you're being taken by a movie, and that's exactly what happened the first time I watched The Gift. It played me like a drum and I loved every bit of it. The Gift is one of those you-can-only-see-it-for-the-first-time-once sort of experiences, but Joel Edgerton's directorial debut is one hell of a doozy.

"Mortal Man" by Kendrick Lamar

I remember the morning I woke up to find out that Kendrick dropped To Pimp a Butterfly on Spotify sometime in the night, a full week before its scheduled release. I had that day off from work, so I nestled up on the couch with a fat cup of joe, slapped on my headphones, and listened to the album in its entirety. It is undoubtedly a peerless piece of art from one of the world's greatest living artists, but I haven't had the desire to listen to the album at any given moment with the same desire as good kid, m.A.A.d city. However, I can't think of a more jarring closer in all of recorded music. Over the course of his album's 70-plus minute running time, Kendrick peppers throughout the album added lines to a cryptic phrase that begins with, "I remember you was conflicted, misusin' your influence." It sounds as if he's drawing out a long piece of poetry or something, and by the middle of the album's final track, "Mortal Man," you realize he's talking to Tupac.

As I'm sure is the case for thousands of other fans, listening to that for the first time will always be a singular moment in time I'll be able to recall forever. The ease with which such a conversation was orchestrated with such a long-gone legendary figure is as unsettling and impressive as anything that has ever been done in music. In the homestretch of the album, Kendrick recites a piece that "a good friend had wrote describing my world." The jazz instruments in the background are building to this near-deafening crescendo as he asks Tupac's perspective. But he's gone. He calls out, "Pac...? Pac...? Pac...?" and To Pimp a Butterfly drops out. My eyes were wide and my cheeks were tingling. Goosebumps popped up all over my arms, and I sat there reeling in silence for minutes. For a brief moment, Kendrick Lamar raised Tupac from the dead.

The Pretty Damn Goods of 2015

The opening credits of Season Two of The Leftovers

Much has been discussed about the creative advancements of the second season of The Leftovers compared to the first, so much so that after not having watched a single frame of it, I smashed both of them in a week over the Christmas holiday. Really, the only problem I had with the first season was the unsettling opening credits. They're awful. I watched them one time in full during the first episode and fast-forwarded through them every subsequent episode. Nearly everything about season two turns the series on its head in a completely jarring and refreshing way, and it's no more evident than in the brand new opening credits sequence. It conveys every theme, frustration and fear there is, not only in the series, but life itself. It's a complete 180 of season one's title sequence, and it is profoundly moving. Along with the unmistakable voice of Iris Dement and her bright guitar, there are images of humans interacting with one another pre-Departure. In every picture, there is an absence of a figure, replaced by a beautiful set of clouds or some celestial scene. It's sweet, funny, and haunting. "Let the Mystery Be" addresses all of the existential worries humans have and it reassures that, even though answers to the whys and whats of life will never all be answered, living a life content with the big mystery is a beauty all its own.

Bone Tomahawk

Few cinematic experiences are better than the unsuspecting, unassuming horror flick. Bone Tomahawk is exactly that. It is a simply made study of frontier characters that jumps genres at will and is exceptionally well-crafted. When it slows back down after a thoroughly unsettling opening, we know that the movie will inevitably ramp back up, but it's in the numerous moments of general interaction between the characters that sets Bone Tomahawk apart from any other indie or western. The language used by the characters is so richly written that it sounds like something from the world of the Coen brothers. The cast that delivers these lines and embodys these characters is flawless. Patrick Wilson is guaranteed quality every outing, as is Richard Jenkins. Matthew Fox has never been so good in a film, and Kurt Russell is great, as one might expect.

When Bone Tomahawk does ramp back up, though, it escalates into full-blown horror the likes of which I have never seen. Elements of the horror are reminiscent of The Descent, but the violence is something all its own. There is a murder scene in the latter third of the movie that is more gruesome and barbaric than anything single thing I have ever witnessed. I don't think I've ever paused a movie to go walk around and calm back down until Bone Tomahawk. It's rare to find a film with fresh characters, language and creative horror, and Bone Tomahawk has that illusive combination in spades.

The first season of Better Call Saul

"They called him Slippin' Jimmy, and everybody wanted to be his friend."

Better Call Saul is sort of an anomaly, in that it may not have been as good as you wanted it to be, but it was definitely better than you expected it to be. The fact that this series now exists is a wonderful gift for any Breaking Bad fanatic because it's a thrill to spend time with a couple of characters that you grew to love over the course of the show. The thing about Better Call Saul is that it scratches an itch you never knew was there. You loved Saul's brief moments on the show, but you didn't necessarily ponder how he came to do what he did.

Better Call Saul is unquestionably good. However, it is not without its faults, to be sure.
The Kettlemans? Who cared about any of that?
Mike? You're going to make one of the most interesting characters from Breaking Bad a series regular and then stick him in a parking booth for more than half the season? Weak sauce.
Chuck's illness? Again, who cared?

To be fair, though, when Better Call Saul was good, it was great.
The end of the first episode? Come on. I've never yelled so happily at a TV set.
Mike's "origin" episode? Easily one of the best dramatic television performances of all time.
The confrontation in "Pimento"? As heartbreaking a moment in storytelling as anything in television or film.

Whether or not each episode was enthralling, just about all who watched Better Call Saul wanted to see Jimmy McGill succeed. We all know he'll be a success, just a different kind of success. That journey will surely be more gripping than this first outing, and it will certainly be a blast to watch.

Sicario

On an episode of Marc Maron's WTF podcast, he and writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson discuss shooting in the American Southwest.

"You're from New Mexico," Anderson says. "You know, you get out there and you look like you're making an epic and you look like you know what you're doing if you just have a camera in the right spot because it just looks gigantic."

While Sicario is not an epic in the traditional sense, it captures the vastness of the Southwest and Mexican border towns in a more modern, urban sense. The juxtaposition of where these packed-like-sardine Mexican border areas, like Juarez, are positioned in the vastness of the desert is fascinating.

What sticks out in my mind after watching Sicario twice is how much it feels like Se7en. There are many obvious dissimilarities, to be sure. Se7en takes places in a claustrophobic, rainy, unnamed city, and the world of Sicario is barren wasteland. However, both share the exact same senses of dread and imminent danger. Like Fincher, Denis Villeneuve creates an aesthetic in his films that is singularly noticeable, mostly one that exudes the feeling that not a single positive thing will happen to anyone. The cinematography of Roger Deakins, the haunting score of Johann Johannsson, and the brilliant eye of Denis Villeneuve are proving to be an artistic team that is peerless in modern cinema. Anchored by an intense, yet subtle performance from Benicio Del Toro, Sicario is a thoroughly unforgettable modern thriller.

Brooklyn

I'll be the first to admit that there are a dozen or more movies every fall that I am compelled to see specifically because they're buzzed about come awards season. I'm a sucker for them, and I suppose always will be. All I knew about Brooklyn going into it was Saoirse Ronan played an Irish immigrant in the 1950s and High Fidelity writer Nick Hornby adapted the screenplay. In a short time I left the theater completely blown away by what felt to me like an instant classic.

To call Brooklyn simple seems disparaging, but it's just not showy or extravagant in ways that period pieces can easily be. It tells one heartfelt story. It's elegant and straightforward, yet completely enthralling and entertaining. It also has the most moving scene I experienced all year, which fully encapsulated the theme of the movie. Shortly after Eilis (pronounced AY-lish) arrives in America early in the movie, she is helping serve Christmas dinners to down-and-out Irish workers, “the tunnel-diggers and road-builders,” as Father Flood (Jim Braodbent) calls them. In the middle of the dinner, Father Flood invites one of the workers to stand and sing an Irish folk song. Everyone in the room stops to listen, and it's one of the most poignant moments I've ever experienced. The room becomes full of people who aren't really there. With their gazes absent and eyes brimming, the souls of Eilis and the workers are transported back to their respective lands. That scene, as well as the film itself, are testaments to the power of whatever it is that we call home.

Favorites of 2015

10. The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of 

Robert Durst

Andrew Jarecki is a monster. Now, if you watched The Jinx or just recently became aware of the existence of Robert Durst as I did, you might be thinking that if ever there was a monster, Durst is surely one. Robert Durst is a nut, and, after watching The Jinx, almost certainly a brilliant murderer. When he sits down for his first interview with Jarecki, he immediately recalls the sentiment of Dr. Loomis in Halloween when he recounts to Sheriff Brackett what he saw when he first met Michael Myers. "The blackest eyes... the devil's eyes." However, the fact remains that Andrew Jarecki is a monster.

By the time the last episode of The Jinx comes around, viewers are aware of the most damning piece of evidence to befall any of the bizarre missing persons or murder cases involving Robert Durst. The handwritten font of the anonymous and infamously misspelled "cadaver" note, which referred police to the executed corpse of Susan Berman in "Beverley" Hills on December 23, 2000, is found to be a spot-on match with another handwritten letter discovered among the old belongings of Susan Berman. That letter that was sent by Robert Durst. In the letter, addressed to Susan less than two months before she was killed, Beverly Hills is again misspelled "Beverley." Jarecki knows he has the most pivotal article in existence in regards to Robert Durst's potential involvement in any of his "deaths," so he and his film crew put the letter in a safety deposit box and sit on it until they can schedule another interview in which they confront him cold on the similarities between the letters. This takes months.

If The Jinx tries to show us anything, it's that Robert Durst is an unhinged, yet unnervingly calm person who is likely capable of taking a life at any whim, particularly his younger brother Douglas. It is unquestionably clear that Jarecki sat on this evidence until he could confront Durst about it for the sake of his documentary, rather than making the existence of the note known. This move raises some serious moral quandaries. Jarecki knew what he would have if he got Durst in front of a camera reacting to something he surely had forgotten existed. However, if he had just gone straight to the police with the note, who knows what would have happened? He could have been dismissed, or worse yet, the note could have been confiscated and then nothing could have happen. Does he do it for the sake of the piece, or for the sake of justice? What is certain, though, is that after The Jinx ended, Durst was on the run and caught. He certainly could have hurt more people, but thankfully he didn't. Jarecki's decision was a bold one, and though it may be morally divisive, it leads to what is arguably the greatest finale in the history of television.

9. "eps1.5_br4ve-trave1er.asf" - 

Episode Six of Season One of Mr. Robot

(Minor spoilers)

During an appearance on Andy Greenwald's old Grantland podcast, Rami Malek was asked about the genesis of his involvement with Mr. Robot.

"I was sent this script and it was entitled Mr. Robot, and I was like, 'Are we sure about this, gang?'"

He said the comment in jest, but that pretty much sums up how I looked at the show before I ever gave it the time of day. Rami Malek has stuck with me ever since the summer HBO's The Pacific first aired, in which he was the clear standout in that vast ensemble cast. As interesting as the concept of the show itself may have been, any potential success for Mr. Robot hinges entirely on the casting of Eliot, the lead character. Whether in narration or physical form, Eliot occupies nearly every frame of Mr. Robot. He has to be played by someone who will enthrall the viewer, and Rami Malek is that individual. Rami's performance feels immediately iconic. Eliot is the rare and strange combination of a character that is almost so unsettling that you want nothing to do with him, yet you're so intrigued by what secrets he's hiding behind those enormous eyes. And of course there's Christian Slater, who is as great in this as he's been in anything, well, maybe ever. It's nice to see his feet settled as being a crucial part of such an acclaimed project.

The "Brave Traveler" episode is the point in Mr. Robot where the series shifts from intriguing character study to a full-blown thriller with serious stakes. The homestretch of this episode is easily one of the most anxiety-inducing, heart-rending episodes of television in years. Up to this episode, viewers have generally assumed that the pseudo-philosophical drug dealer Fernando Vera is nothing more than a cliche who was in Eliot and Shayla's way, but by the end of "Brave Traveler," what once seemed silly becomes absolutely horrifying. The unbearable buildup to the reveal at the end is unlike anything I’ve experienced in a show, perhaps only since the train heist in Breaking Bad. Just like the end of the "Dead Freight" episode of Breaking Bad, "Brave Traveler" is the moment where things will never be as they were. It takes our expectations, puts them in a sack, and violently shakes them out to be scattered in the wind beyond all comprehension.

I find myself comparing Mr. Robot to Breaking Bad because it really is that good. Like Breaking Bad, it takes the average viewer a little time to decide if this is a world to be fully dived into. Vince Gilligan made sure the world of Breaking Bad had appropriate consequences, the worst of which first appeared in “Dead Freight.” That was in the final season. Sam Esmail made that decision six episodes into his show’s run. Evidently, in his world, no one is safe.

8. "Hardhome" -

Episode Eight of Season Five of Game of Thrones

 (MAJOR SPOILERS)

Any honest fan of Game of Thrones will tell you that season five was far from the series' best material. The acclaim it's received from various awards organizations is surely misplaced.
Jaime in Dorne?
The High Sparrow and the Faith Militant in King's Landing?
Khaleesi and the sociopolitical snooze of Meereen?
No thanks.

But then there's "Hardhome."

"Hardhome" is not only the best episode of television I watched in 2015, but it is the single most gratifying episode in the entirety of Game of Thrones. It gives us absolutely everything we've been wanting to happen, even since the opening minutes of the series.
We finally see Tyrion and Daenerys have a conversation.
We see Cersei continuing to be demeaned and tormented in a disgusting confined cell.
Sansa finally finds out that her brothers are alive.
And, oh yeah, HOLY SHIT BATTLE OF THE UNDEAD!

It was known by the episode's title that we were going to see where the Wildlings lived, but who had any inclination of what would ensue? Jon, along with the aid of Tormund, finally convinces a significant portion of the Wildlings that their generations-long beef pales in comparison to what's coming from farther north of the Wall. As Jon and company are getting ready to leave, and it becomes apparent we're about to witness a wight attack, it is damned terrifying. It also ends up being better than most action sequences in full-length cinema. It's hard to think of a better "Oh shit!" moment than the look on the faces of Jon and the White Walker when Jon wields Longclaw triumphantly against the seemingly invincible weapons of the White Walkers. Of course, the "come at me, bro" raising-of-the-slain moment at the end will forever live in meme infamy, but Jon smashing Beardy into a million pieces is the television moment of the year.

7. The Revenant

(Minor spoilers)

The success of The Revenant, be it financial or acclaimed, hinges on one thing: the casting of Leonardo DiCaprio. The character of Hugh Glass must be played by someone that moviegoers are comfortable seeing nature kick the shit out of for two-and-a-half hours, someone whose body of work is generally out of that particular element. It has to be someone who is admired and adored by the public at large, someone who can hold the collective attention of planet Earth, and Leonardo DiCaprio is absolutely that person. In The Revenant, Leo proves that he is one of the world's most compelling performers, carrying a movie with a virtually silent performance and looking like, well, a grizzled fur trapper, when his career and place in modern culture is based almost entirely on his looks.

The Revenant is by no means perfect. The grizzly roll on Leo is absolutely insane, Tom Hardy's accent is all over the place, and there are post-production dubbing moments that are some of the most poorly veiled I've ever seen. However, any issues it may have do not take away from the fact that The Revenant is one of the most entertaining adventure films in a very long time. Well before the movie came out, the shoot itself was already the stuff of legend well before it ever came out. It definitely shows. It's Jeremiah Johnson turned up to 11. There is definitely no question that Emmanuel Lubezki is the greatest living cinematographer. No one in the industry makes cinematic worlds as immersive as Chivo. And what a career shift for Alejandro González Iñárritu. From making three essentially identical dismal dramas in Amores Perros, 21 Grams and Babel, to the cinematic game changers of Birdman and The Revenant, Iñárritu has transformed himself from a repetitive storyteller into a legendary filmmaker.

Millions of people have admired Leo for the duration of his career, but only we of a certain age "grew up" with him. We've witnessed the interstellar trajectory of his career and have been interested every step of the way. On February 28th, there will be millions tuning into the Oscars, not just because of the controversy that has been created around them this year, but to specifically see the moment when Leonardo DiCaprio is inevitably and finally announced as an Academy Award winner. It will not only be a justified industry acknowledgement, but a cathartic experience for longtime fans, which proves that he is one of the most interesting actors who ever filled a silver screen.

 

6. The Hateful Eight Roadshow

If there is a certainty in this world, it's that Quentin Tarantino is the best friend film ever had.

For three hours in late December, I went back in time. I went to a movie theater and, upon issuing my ticket, received a Playbill-esque program that detailed the cinematic event I was about to see. As all the moviegoers entered the theater and took their seats, a managerial gentleman came to the front to briefly explain The Hateful Eight roadshow. As was the case for a precious few theaters around the country, special film projection equipment was shipped and arranged to show this unique version of the film by people specifically trained to use it. The movie would have no trailers, would begin with an overture, and would be split by a 10-minute intermission. The man left the theater, the lights went down, and a blood red mountain landscape came on the screen with the word "OVERTURE" in big block letters. Then, with Ennio Morricone's haunting score, began one of the most fun moviegoing experiences of my life.

The movie itself was a bit of a different animal. By sheer association with its creator, The Hateful Eight is unfortunately compared to Tarantino' previous works. Viewers are used to the size of his films, in terms of both running time and scope, but this is unquestionably his most claustrophobic work. Now, if you're of the opinion like I am that any Tarantino is good Tarantino, The Hateful Eight is never anything short of entertaining. It is unpredictable, shocking, and unwavering in its brutality. It is also at times tender, as well as thought-provoking and thoroughly satisfying. There was a palpable feeling after its completion that it may take some time to digest The Hateful Eight alongside, but there is no question that Quentin Tarantino makes the most distinguishable art in the world.

 

5. Leon Bridges - Coming Home

To the cynic, everything about Leon Bridges is contrived. Looking at the cover of Coming Home , or at any of his live appearances, it might seem that Leon Bridges is a methodically packaged product. He's a Sam Cooke-looking wannabe who's trying to ride the coattails of icons of bygone eras and genres that have seen very little cultural prominence in the last three decades. Even if that were true, and it certainly isn't, what's wrong with that? Answer: not a damn thing. No one else seems to be putting music like this out there on such a level, and it's absolutely wonderful. Leon Bridges is the real deal.

From the opening seconds of the title track to the closing notes of "River," Coming Home is a trip. It's a sonic treat that's such a rarity in popular music. It's brand new, yet it sounds like it could be fifty years old. It induces immediate nostalgia without being nostalgic itself. It feels as though Coming Home has been around long enough that grandparents of the present generation might've danced hand-in-hand in their heyday to "Better Man" and "Lisa Sawyer" while it played in their living rooms on home record players in the 1960s. Coming Home is of a particular time, yet it is timeless. The tight ten song playlist covers just about every emotion there is to convey in rhythm and blues, and it's an album that I will always have at the ready.

4. Kingsman: The Secret Service

(Minor spoilers)

From start to finish, Kingsman is the perfect blend of everything the spy movies of yore wish they could be. Kingsman expertly walks the fine line between honoring spy movies of the past and succumbing to many of their campy tropes. The level of violence in Kingsman is so refreshingly shocking and brutal, but the dapper values of Kingsman itself balances out like a Latife '45 with a Big Mac. We should all be thankful there wasn’t a studio decision to turn Kingsman into a PG-13 outing, because it would have been absolutely terrible. With material and a cast like this, you either go hard or go home, and Kingsman went absolutely balls-to-the-wall.

This is a star-making performance for all time by Taron Egerton. The character of edgy-little-shit-turned-lovable-badass is by no means a new one, but he holds the movie down in every single scene he's in. Samuel L. is an effective antagonist, but that lisp is a mite unsettling. But Colin Firth... Good god... I've seen a lot of cinematic shenanigans in my day, but the church scene, as my grandmother would say, beats anything I ever saw. That scene is unquestionably the most beautifully brutal and relentless display of violence I have ever witnessed in any medium. The fact that Colin Firth was the individual who carried out such acts is, in all interpretations of the world, incredible. Seeing Colin Firth, who is no spring chicken, slide and and skate across a church while murdering scores of bigots as “Freebird” plays full-blast is the most fun anyone could ever have watching something so violent. That’s another thing; here I was thinking that we had long-since passed the point of no return on uses of “Freebird”  in anything. Nothing else would have fit, and God almighty Jesus is it great. As it turns out, Kingsman is too.

3. Season Two of Fargo

It's almost impossible for me to come up with the words, let alone arrange them in sentences, to describe the achievement that is the second season of Fargo. Last year, I was completely blown away that Noah Hawley and company created one season of a show that honored an American film classic by being the most compelling show on television. I'll be damned if they didn't go on and make a better one.

Season two continues with the characteristics of season one, as well as the movie: white-knuckle tension, eye-widening gore and numerous moments of genius subtle hilarity. Straight up, this season is legitimately the most flawlessly cast show I've ever seen. There isn't one false note from any player, lead or supporting. Jesse Plemons continues his amazing post-Friday Night Lights career. Kirsten Dunst has never been better. Patrick Wilson is incredible. Nick Offerman steals every moment of screen time. Jeffrey Donovan makes an amazing turn as the overreaching, dim-witted Midwestern psycho. There are so many standouts in this amazing lineup, but the one that steals the whole thing is Bokeem Woodbine. Every moment that Mike Milligan is on screen, there's something about him that is so indescribably fascinating. I think it's the bolo tie.

The general nationwide aftereffect of Vietnam is present in this season in ways I don’t think we’ve seen portrayed. Of course there have been numerous movies and shows about veterans coming home and the like, but by and large, those projects are only about that. The war has no prominent role in season two of Fargo, but the attitudes of nearly every single individual in the show are shaped by the turmoil the United States was in and the personal tolls it took on those directly in it or by association. In a tertiary way, season two is a commentary on small town USA trying to get back on track or control after too many years of unrest. That generation was exceptional because many of those individuals saw unspeakable evil in Vietnam. It reminds one of war in general; we think by going elsewhere to fight evil that we will win, when in fact, the evil and brutality that we perpetrate on one another is worse. That generation and the present are children of war.

The marvel of season two of Fargo is, even though it's set in 1979, how much it has to say about the present. Watching this season of Fargo and seeing American headlines every day has made for a fascinating look into the history of the American mind. Again, I find myself coming back to No Country for Old Men. Sheriff Ed Tom Bell is having trouble existing and fighting against what he sees as an unstoppable force of evil, not only in his small part of Texas, but the world itself. The idea of what used to be, how good things once were, and how terrible things have become has made a good man throw in the towel. Watching the second season of Fargo, reckoning with what it had to say about us, and existing as an American in 2015, made me come to a realization. It's one that many people already have, and it's that not being able to comprehend the violence of the present will always exist. The Sheriff Bells have always stood back with their hands on their hips and shook their heads, lamenting of a era long gone, one of innocence. Like some characters of the Coens’ universe, we frequently fool ourselves into believing something that never really existed. The evil of today, the evil of “Sioux Falls, 1979,” and evil itself has been around so long as man has drawn breath. We just like to think that, once upon a time, it wasn’t that way

2. Mad Max: Fury Road

Within seconds of the start of Mad Max: Fury Road, it's already the best of the series. Why? Because it quickly establishes the one thing that was missing from all the other Max movies: he's actually crazy! Finally, Mad Max is finally more than just a clever alliterative name of a brooding wasteland warrior. Who knows why it took the fourth outing for George Miller and company to make Max into a grunting, frantic madman, but it’s the personality the iconic character deserves, and the series as a whole is better because of it.

Fury Road is a feat of apocalyptic fancy and creativity. Dust and rust and hell on Earth never looked so gorgeous. The details of everything from the costumes and the vehicles to the sounds and the stunts are so unfathomably precise and subtle. That anyone could conceive of stunts of such groundbreaking magnitude is a feat unto itself, let alone carrying them out to perfection is one for all time. It is truly one of the most impressive feats of production in the history of action cinema.

The real star of Fury Road most certainly isn’t the titular hero — it’s the Road itself. Fury Road is the most breakneck movie I have ever witnessed, and is the all-time example of a reason to still go to the movies.

1. Tame Impala - Currents

I envy Kevin Parker. He is a sonic auteur. He is essentially the sole songwriter, producer and performer for all of Tame Impala's studio work. There is something so romantic about the idea of being barefoot, running from room to room in your home studio in a port city in Australia to play and mix each and every layer of music of which you are the sole composer. It is a feat of talent and ability unlike anything I can comprehend. It's clear from his method that what's most important to Kevin Parker is not just the music, but the album. The finished product that was engineered and molded into exactly what he wanted is all that matters.

If anyone who wasn’t familiar with the band queued up Tame Impala’s InnerSpeaker, Lonerism and Currents to play through chronologically, they’d be hard-pressed to mark the point where InnerSpeaker ends and Lonerism begins. They’re both fantastic albums of experimental production, but sonically, they sound pretty similar. When Currents begins, the feeling of freshness hits immediately, because Currents is absolutely clean.

If I've listened to "Let It Happen" once, I've listened to it 200 times. It's been over eight months since I bought Currents, and it's as fresh as it sounded on that day. It is flawlessly and intriguingly constructed. Three of the albums thirteen songs come in under two minutes, and two songs last over six minutes. No track tarries longer than it needs to, and the lengthy tracks never overindulge. Currents is one of the best albums of my lifetime and it is unquestionably an all-time personal top ten album.

In the same way millions hearken back to the days of Pink Floyd, Tame Impala is a time-defying oxymoron, a bridge of modern nostalgia that immediately sounds new but connects us back to the time of peak psychedelia. It genuinely seems like Currents is music the people Earth will be listening to as long as there are ears to soak in the waves.