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Top 20 Movie Moments of Holiday Season 2022

By Sebastian Torrelio

As certain as there is a yearly selection of cheerful, yuletide merriments to go along with the frostbitten, theater-stricken audiences, so too do there seem to now be other forms of reliable content to establish itself every December. Whether it be self-aware horror – goreful parody charmers the likes of “Violent Night” and “The Menu;” gigantic, expectation-defying blockbuster ralliers presented by our James Camerons and Ryan Cooglers; odes to industry personalities seeking heartful attention from a more sentimental crowd with pleas to Whitney Houston’s anthemic legacy or a funeral for Dwayne Johnson’s superhero career. Altogether, theaters felt subjugated to competition from a league beyond the usual genre-fare, studios and distributors picking their respective niches and fighting for them.

The healthy domestic in-fighting still cannot shield us from the awards-season rallying call – prestige documentaries alongside Brendan Fraser under prestige degrees of makeup. The spectacular, the tearful, the memorable can come from any direction. The trouble then comes from blocking out audience’s attention, assuring they witness the product before its timely theatrical window expires, else they hear about such treasures when the guilds and Globes have already come and gone.

Here are the Top 20 Holiday movie moments that closed out 2022 with aplomb, a range of streaming highlights and Oscar-fodder, international charmers and non-fiction showstoppers alike.

Holiday Season 2022 considers films released theatrically in Los Angeles from November 4, 2022 thru January 5, 2023. This list contains light Spoilers where unavoidable in the description only.


Holy Spider

20. Holy Spider: The foot

dir. Ali Abbasi

A simple shot of a bare foot – Saeed Hanaei (Mehdi Bajestani) notices a lone piece of a dead body sticking out from a rolled carpet in his hallway. Needless to say, he had been so hasty to cover up a sex worker’s corpse before distracting his wife with spontaneous lovemaking. Saeed’s neglect finally shows through, bleeding his irrationality into the thriller discourse “Holy Spider” hasn’t been so heavy-handed in depicting and clarifying thus far. It’s an amusing, bizarre, shocking image in a film that has no short time to spare viewers down its seedy underbelly of a spiraling journey through the afflictions of an indignant humanity.


Broker

19. Broker: The ferris wheel

dir. Hirokazu Koreeda

Singer-songwriter IU owns her role as So-young, a misguided new mother, led off the beaten path only to be misguided further by her confusing new company. Early on in the film, every word she utters is spiked with a complex indifference to anyone but her child. But before Koreeda’s plot resolves, she silently transforms into a rooted family member of ostensible passion. Dong-soo holds his gaze against hers, cut by a breath – then a tight grip, a hidden intensity, a tearful sentiment. They’ve reached the ferris wheel’s peak, hand-in-hand together, before they can begin to descend.


Sr.

18. Sr.: “Had you two met before?”

dir. Chris Smith

In a way, it is the most predictable moment of Smith’s Downey-Downey retrospective. Robert, Jr. takes his son to visit their family patriarch’s bedside, onset with Parkinson’s, a figure slowly and selectively disintegrated throughout the documentary in physical health only. On the brink of a conclusive deal with his legacy on Earth, Downey, Sr. still laughs, still muses about the language of art and camera, still lauds his son’s obvious talents, admiring not his work but his demeanor for creations. The target of these words don’t, and didn’t matter, but a Nick Drake cue makes it hard not to wistfully lie on.


Bad Axe

17. Bad Axe: The trucks

dir. David Siev

Among many abhorrent moments the Siev family has to endure, the most unnerving follows the most unpredictable motives. Following days of conflict between the restauranteurs and their more conservative Michigan neighbors, the family’s younger daughter Raquel Siev begins to notice teenagers following her route home at night. It’s the first direct contact the Sievs meet with the unknown that feels meant for them – a community outside of their grasp, a cautionary tale not yet written, an unsteadiness behind their leadership, within a documentary that excels when the unknowable becomes the unbearable.


The Eternal Daughter

16. The Eternal Daughter: Birthday dinner

dir. Joanna Hogg

The root of Hogg’s very refined form of haunted discourse is the suspicion there may not be anything coming from out of the ghostly, bespoke hallways at all. Turning a mirror to one’s own monster is a feat in itself, but the great trick of “The Eternal Daughter” is doing it twice over – even the snarky hotel waiter can’t hold a finger to the weight of Tilda Swinton ‘celebrating’ opposite herself, hurt reflected upon hurt, confusion infinitely spiraling like a mirror seeing backward onto itself.


Black Notebooks

15. Black Notebooks: Ronit: Feeding lines

dir. Shlomi Elkabetz

A diary of final moments, achievements and accomplishments, Schlomi Elkabetz captures an astounding moment of invigorating candidness from his late sister Ronit on her final acting project, feeding her lines on the set of “Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem.” Ronit commands a vitriolic rage in her quick scene here, one that borrows into the turmoil of her character in “Gett” – but in Schlomi’s loving commemoration piece, plays a more ringing endorsement of what his filmmaking partner was capable of. “Black Notebooks” frequently depicts Ronit at the brink of her life questioning her identity, though for these all-too-powerful minutes, her stardom is incontestable.


Glass Onion

14. Glass Onion: The flashback

dir. Rian Johnson

An example of a more complicated function of this list – not necessarily the most exciting, or even satisfying scene in the film, but the one on which the emotional crux lies. Tying back to the film’s opening scenes, Johnson brings Janelle Monáe back to life as Helen Brand, a desperate southerner with no one to turn but the world’s greatest detective. Johnson consistently makes use of good rug pulls throughout his work, but such an outlandish premise can only ride one tunnel of purpose: to give Monáe, now the empathic catalyst against a manifestation of capitalist evil, her biggest red carpet to date.


Avatar

13. Avatar: The Way of Water: Payakan

dir. James Cameron

Time-bending, world-constructing, budget-decimating splendor – it’s all Cameron knows how to do. His hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of special effects go to great use in the second act of his “Avatar” sequel, but he saves his heaviest punch for one entrance in particular. Lo’ak Sully discovers a savage beast strayed from his pack, a desperado male whale he finds a communication line with. It takes a few scenes before their mutual pain entirely sheds, but their immediate connection shines brighter than the Pandoran sun off the oceanic surface.


EO

12. EO: The horse trailer

dir. Jerzy Skolimowski

The cinematography of “EO” has been rightfully heralded in every possible way, across the global spectrum. Michal Dymek films a world from EO’s eyes, on occasion all too literally, for all the raw elements that make up our disheveled civilization. As EO rides in the back of a carriage, peering to the roaming, muscular horses out in the fields, the film’s natural-welfare perspective glistens like the reflections in the donkey’s pupils, a uncharacterizable self-consciousness supplanted onto Earth’s background screen.


A Couple

11. UN Couple: The monologue

dir. Frederick Wiseman

A cheat of a selection. Wiseman’s first-ever narrative film is, in actuality, a single scene: Sophia Tolstaya (Nathalie Boutefeu) recites excerpts from her writings, embounding a story of lustful love and passionate struggle while the camera follows. Briefly interrupted by nothing more than nature at play, Leo Tolstoy’s marriage is broken down into calm, slow and sincere drama over roughly 60 minutes of runtime. Wiseman is never more delicate than when he is filming the undisturbed – not that Sophia’s words could be taken for anything less than the raw truth.


Pinocchio

10. Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio: “Ciao Papa”

dir. Guillermo del Toro & Mark Gustafson

Not the most immediately intriguing moment in del Toro’s long-coming passion project (see: Pinocchio’s encounter with the snide afterlife guardians), but the genre-bending director has always been closely connected with the heart he wears on his sleeves. When not guiding and glowing with emotional guidance, “Pinocchio” leads this particular Geppetto on a hopeless chase for restitution that searches beyond the boundaries of safety or livelihood. Gregory Mann’s yearning, angelic ballad to his father speaks for itself. They cannot be reunited in this life apparent – but maybe, one wonders, of the next.


Matilda

9. Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical: “Revolting Children”

dir. Matthew Warchus

Long live the TikTok brand of celebratory musical number. Red Beret Girl, as she’s known, played by Meesha Garbett leading the charge – a tightly choreographed scene among a mountain of them, blowing most of the last decade’s worth of cinematic dance sequences out of the water with an army of richly talented uniformed kiddos. The longer the hallway, the longer the take, the more hypnotizing the shuffle step. It’s hard to believe the West End was able to contain such imagination to a stage.


Living

8. Living: “The Rowan Tree”

dir. Oliver Hermanus

There is no shame in the biggest swings of Hermanus’ Akira Kurosawa remake, itself an adaptation of Tolstoy’s “The Death of Ivan Ilyich,” being replicated from the past. When it works it works – several beats are lifted, along with their emotional stakes, to allow Bill Nighy the chance to anchor what serves better a lifetime achievement reception. The most culturally significant pull in “Living” sees Nighy swashing an old Irish folk song to a bemused, wistful crowd. Context is everything in many of these choices, but to Nighy’s recognition, rarely with so much poignance.


Retrograde

7. Retrograde: Evacuating Kabul airport

dir. Matthew Heineman

“Retrograde” is filled with discordant rhymes and rhythms. At the beginning of Heineman’s unbelievably on-the-ground account, multiple factions are shown leaving a main flyaway base in Afghanistan – whether it be reluctant and regretful Green Beret soldiers or late-coming, torturous footage of the country’s citizens. At the peak of the movie’s third act, after nearly an hour of perilous footage of a nation out of options, comes the most harrowing repetition: children being handed over, papers being thrust into the arms of the helpless, a bottled-up world on the brink of scripted desecration.


Turn Every Page

6. Turn Every Page – The Adventures of Robert Caro and Robert Gottlieb: Ending

dir. Lizzie Gottlieb

You can’t create a more demanding lens than the one these two literary giants peer through every time they even think about each other. Through numerous dimensions of context, the ending becomes all the more impressive: the two Roberts know that so far into their careers, it may only be mortality that separates their distinct identities. “Turn Every Page,” a project of Robert Gottlieb’s daughter, acknowledges the same, disintegrating to the smallest, immediate stakes. A muted reunion, a whimsical jazz score, a legacy inscribed on mounds of paper, and at least one (1) number two (#2) pencil.


Bones and All

5. Bones and All: Jake & Brad

dir. Luca Guadagnino

A dark intensity surrounds Maren (Taylor Russell) and Lee’s (Timothée Chalamet) new company – two unearthly boys donning the costume of feral men, speaking of shared cravings, harsh origins and invisible intentions. Michael Stuhlbarg, no stranger to Guadagnino scene-stealing, carries a presence that makes even this teen-romantic cannibalism tale stop in its tracks – like the obliviously heartstruck leads, a bit too lost on the edge of darkness, not thinking too hard about where to go next. But certainly, away from here.


The Quiet Girl

4. The Quiet Girl: Ending

dir. Colm Bairéad

Bairéad’s gentle tale of growth & understanding within one’s own identity hinges consistently on guidance & expectation. The final shot, nay interaction, that concludes “The Quiet Girl” is one viewers may see coming from miles away. That doesn’t take away from the profound, patient measures these endearing family figures take to get here. As Cáit (Catherine Clinch) runs back to embrace her surrogate father, she utters the quietest plea, befitting of her character, no disconnected from the commanding portrayal Bairéad has directed with thus far. What concludes our story in turn concludes hers. So why does the future feel so devastating?


All the Beauty and the Bloodshed

3. All the Beauty and the Bloodshed: Barbara

dir. Laura Poitras

Under Poitras’ guidance, a broad selection of photographs woven to fit artist and activist Nan Goldin’s story becomes anthological. Stories with their own rise, fall, twists and conclusions are fluently placed among other arcs and histories. They all come into connection with Nan’s life and hard-fought goals, but none more so than the tragedy of her late sister Barbara Holly Goldin, who is documented by medical professionals as having “seen the future” – among other things.


Women Talking

2. Women Talking: Census

dir. Sarah Polley

Perfectly fitting that the most interesting sequence in Polley’s recourse for the rehabilitation of feminine strength & heroism is not only devoid of pessimism or pain, but practically gleeful. A passing truck signals a great disruption for the time-dislocated Mennonite colony – a modern-day US census count is taking place, for all willing participants. August Epp (Ben Whishaw), the only citizen with a touch for the outside world’s culture, peeks out toward the light from within a farmhouse built on conflict and confusion. For August, ever thoughtful and forward-looking, is often both a daydreamer and a believer.


The Fabelmans

1. The Fabelmans: Prom

dir. Steven Spielberg

Without context, the post-prom breakdown of Sammy Fabelman’s character, relationships, and youthfully innocent connection to his art is Gabriel LaBelle’s most formidable acting showcase, angered and dazed by his own Godlike machinations. Sammy and Logan’s (Sam Rechner) final scene, an obdurate witness making contact with an infallible creator, serves a greater thesis to the fifty years of distance between their real-life squabble – a head full of pictures and dreams can be wrung dry for ideas, even played for laughs, but it cannot be mistaken for disingenuous. Spielberg’s been teaching us this entire time, and he’s been nothing if not in complete control.


Honorable Mentions:

Alice, Darling (dir. Mary Nighy), Corsage (dir. Marie Kreutzer), Drishyam 2 (dir. Abhishek Pathak), Leonor Will Never Die (dir. Martika Ramirez Escobar), Selena Gomez: My Mind & Me (dir. Alek Keshishian)


The writer of Top 20 Holiday Movie Moments is a full-time employee for DreamWorks Animation, a subsidiary of Universal Pictures. The DreamWorks release “Puss in Boots: The Last Wish” was removed from consideration for this article.

Trenque Lauquen – AFI Fest 2022

Trenque Lauquen

If you’re ready to sit down for a few hours to indulge yourself in some cosy, trivial Argentine mysteries, meet the latest film from El Pampero Cine, Trenque Lauquen.

Trenque Lauquen comes from Laura Citarella, one of the members of El Pampero Cine, a group of filmmakers which also includes Mariano Llinas (La Flor, Extraordinary Stories), Agustin Mendilaharzu, and Alejo Moguilansky. Each of the members of the collective usually pop up in the credits of each other films under different roles, making each of the collective’s films feel like a team effort. They each also use the same actors, so if you’ve seen another of their films before, you’re likely to see a familiar face in this one.

Trenque Lauquen, like it’s El Pampero Cine predecessors, isn’t a light commitment. It’s just over 4 hours long, split roughly equally into two sections which are both tied together by Laura’s character. The entire film takes place in Trenque Lauquen, a city on the far west border of Buenos Aires province near La Pampa. It looks like a pretty unremarkable city, with nothing to really distinguish it from anywhere else in Argentina. However the blandness is all part of the film’s construct. As with the majority of films from the El Pampero Cine collective, Trenque Lauquen uses the mundane as a foundation for it’s engrossing mysteries.

Put best by Magu Fernandez Richeri for La Lista:

El Pampero’s films are, at their core, fairly simple. There aren’t any extraordinary premises, but they also work as tiny odysseys. Characters embark on fantastical adventures where the mundane is re-signified as something strange, new, and magical. The strangeness with which Pampero approaches the world is inherently transformational. Any and all minutiae represents a good excuse for them to tell a story as if we as the audience were kids listening in rapt attention, trying to keep us from seeing the world in its drab normality, allowing us to perceive things differently and hatch crazy schemes.

Trenque Lauquen, like La Flor and Extraordinary Stories, feels like indulgent storytelling. It’s as if the filmmakers of El Pampero Cine have been challenging each other to come up with new quirky mysteries to keep audiences interested for longer periods of time. They haven’t seemed to hit their limits yet as each of their last few films have kept audiences interested just to see where the mysteries lead us. Each of their films is like following a maze or river cruise full of pleasant surprises. Plus the pacing and characters are conducive to our immersion in the mystery; they’re both always patient and never rushed. They create the relaxed environment to let the mystery lead us along. Serious things happen in these films, but because of the tone, it never feels real-world serious. This is why these films are indulgent storytelling – they’re there to simply entertain and nothing more, and they do this better than anyone else in the industry.


Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.

Alcarras – AFI Fest 2022

Alcarras

The Sole family have farmed fields in the small municipality of Alcarras in Catalonia for generations. However, the wealthy landowner that owns the property has found more profitable ways to use his land, which doesn’t involve farming or what the Sole family wants. He’s looking to destroy the orchards that provide the Sole family’s livelihood to install more profitable solar panels.

What Alcarras does brilliantly is tell a very specific local story in order to highlight how capitalism is affecting not just the Sole family, but the local community and many other people around the globe. It’s set completely in one small municipality in Spain centered one family, all played by non-actors from similar backgrounds to the family on screen, living on one farm. Through the film’s run-time, we get to intimately know each member of the Sole family to understand their life on the farm as well as how they are each affected by the threatening eviction. We see why they love the freedom and independence of farming their own land as well as how they’re pulled apart by an uncertain future. Whilst a multi-family or multi-country film might fail to generate sympathy for it’s characters because of it’s broad scope, Alcarras, in spending time with one family in one region, gives the audience more time and closeness to sympathize with not just them, but everyone affected by capitalism around the world.

The hidden message in Alcarras is that the Sole family’s experience is not isolated to Alcarras, nor Spain. The few short scenes showing the community’s labor strikes, which Quimet and his son join, show that the Sole family’s experiences are not isolated. The priority of progress and profit over personal and community happiness is destroying families across the world.


Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.

Before, Now & Then – AFI Fest 2022

Before, Now & Then

In Before, Now & Then, Nana finds security in a second marriage to a wealthy old man, having lost her family to the war in West Java. However, she cannot escape the dreams and trauma of her past, or the expectations of her new family and becomes a ghostly figure until she meets one of her husband’s mistresses. Together they can escape and find their own freedom.

Stylistically, Before, Now & Then feels heavily influenced by Wong Kar-Wai’s In the Mood for Love. Whilst the colors are more muted, the dreamy pacing and slowed down scenes between Nana and her second husband feel just like the slow romantic scenes between the two protagonists in In the Mood for Love. These scenes in both films are designed to convey uncertainty. In In the Mood for Love the uncertainty is romantic – we don’t know if the two characters will keep seeing each other. In Before, Now & Then, the uncertainty is melancholic. Similarly, we don’t know if the two characters will be together for much longer, however given that the two characters have been together for a while, it feels as if their relationship is dying instead of burning brightly.

The uncertainty of Nana’s relationship is symbolic of the state of the country. Just like the current Indonesian regime, she knows what she’s getting from her stable marriage to an older husband. Whilst it has confined her mostly to the house – and the back of the house at that, as she rarely shows her face publicly – she knows that she will be taken care of. However, there is no love in their relationship. The new freedom she gains with her husband’s mistress, in contrast, is exciting. It fills her with hope that things could be different and more free.

Whilst we have the hindsight to know that the political change happening in the background of Before, Now & Then wasn’t a positive one, the film captures the uncertainty of the times well with it’s dreaminess.


Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.

Geographies of Solitude – AFI Fest 2022

Geographies of Solitude

Geographies of Solitude has many impressive shots of Nova Scotia’s Sable Island, a remote island almost 200 miles off the Canadian coast in the Atlantic Ocean. It starts with one of the most memorable shots, a night sky with more stars than you’ve likely ever seen in the sky before. The sheer number of stars makes the shot appear like an impressionistic painting, and the light is so bright, you even get to see a very clear silhouette of a person walking across the horizon. It’s an almost ASMR-type experience watching the opening with its complimentary ambient soundscape. It feels like you could watch the whole film without dialogue as the images and sound lull you into a trance, that it’s a surprise when there’s speech and we’re introduced to Zoe.

Zoe has been living on the island for over 40 years, mostly alone. We follow her as she explores the 12 square mile island every day to log any changes in the environment. She carries a kit with sampling pots and a notepad to capture anything new and log anything different she might see. Some days she might find a dead bird and on others she might encounter a new insect she hasn’t seen before, however, most days are repetitive logging exercises that track very small changes on the island. Despite the beautiful remote location, Zoe’s existence feels very monotonous and lonely.

The filmmaker, Jacquelyn Mills, takes the filmmaking to similarly exhaustive levels. Almost everything is shot using 16mm film, some of which is processed with a variety of experimental methods such as with peat, yarrow, and seaweed. Mills also pushes the soundtrack to the extreme with insect inspired melodies – literally music created to the steps of the local bugs. Both fit the subject of the documentary, as the experimental filmmaking matches Zoe’s own scientific experiments. However, the experimenting feels too exhaustive. There’s so much experimenting, it feels like the point of the experiments in the first place has been forgotten.

There’s a moment near the end of Geographies of Solitude in which Zoe questions the meaning of her own life. Her answer is a little melancholic as she seems to express doubt about her choice to live on the island for 40 years. She wonders if she’s stretched her life too long on the island and spent too much time away from everything else. The film feels a bit similar. The filmmakers have gone to extraordinary levels to make something unique – soaking film in peat and making music from bugs, but like Zoe’s endless logging, what is the point. Despite the beautiful location and beautiful shots, Geographies of Solitude is imbued with a melancholy for the futility of it all.


Head to our AFI Fest 2022 Hub for more reviews from AFI Fest 2022.