Every time I go to a film festival, I try to make sure to take a moment to appreciate that I'm there: "I'm here at Cannes." "I'm here at Sundance." All these years later, I still can recall a time when I didn't go to film festivals — when that didn't even seem possible — and so I take that moment to reconnect with the giddiness I first felt. It is very easy to be blase — to get dragged down by the minor hassles involved with traveling, like spotty WiFi, lost luggage and jet lag — and forget what a privilege it is. Some prefer to project an air of being above it all, playing the role of the hardened professional who considers going to festivals to be a pain in the ass. That stance doesn't work for me. I remember, so I don't want to ever forget.
That exercise of appreciating things has carried over to other aspects of my life. Being grateful for the friends I have, the job I get to do on a daily basis, the family I have around me, the life I've created, and the amazing woman who married me 17 years ago. You get sidetracked by the annoyances and you risk missing all that.
I have never been good at "being in the moment." Meditating has never really worked for me. Who wants to be in the moment when you've got 10 things coming up demanding your attention? What's happening now is never as exciting as what's around the corner. But Susan has done her best to readjust my thinking. It's taken a while, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of it.
When I think back to 2023, I recall moments of happiness. Going to the Barbie premiere and immediately noting how much more joyful and elated the energy in the theater was then for, say, the many Marvel premieres I've attended. People dressed up. Everybody seemed to be having a ball. Same for the premiere of Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour — the whole crowd just seemed so jazzed to be there. And why not? Maybe it's okay to love things.
I think of going to movies with Susan. I think of hanging out with dear colleagues at film festivals. I think of having long dinners with friends and talking about the big stuff — life, death, what we're doing here on this planet — until late in the evening. I feel myself finding new ways to appreciate what I do and understand who I am. I feel lucky to be getting older, to have learned to let go of certain things, to figure out which things matter and fight like hell for them. I feel like extra space has opened up inside me, allowing me more room to explore myself and the world around me. Life isn't shrinking, it's getting bigger.
I remember seeing Past Lives at its premiere at Sundance and being floored — and feeling the whole audience being floored at the same time, all of us gobsmacked by what we were seeing. (I still remember my critic friend next to me loudly stifling his sobs.) And then I remember seeing The Zone of Interest at its premiere at Cannes and being floored in a completely different way. Those moments are the ones you live for as a film critic — they're so rare, and if you haven't had one in a while, you fear it will never happen again. And then it does, and it fills you up with something you can't describe, and all you want is more of it. Seeing David Byrne's American Utopia and Summer of Soul at last on the big screen. Dying and going to heaven while attending the world premiere of the restored Stop Making Sense in IMAX in Toronto. More, more, more.
Every year is filled with pain, anger, sadness and fear. My wife had gallbladder surgery that had complications that, a month later, she's still wrestling with. Heartaches came our way. There are obstacles that feel like they'll never be surmounted. There are injustices — both in the wider world and in my little ecosystem — that are infuriating. 2023 had more than its share of trials. But I am trying to focus on the moments, if just for a second. They're always there. Don't let them go.
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Let's turn now to my Top 10...
1. The Zone of Interest
2. Past Lives
3. De Humani Corporis Fabrica
4. Showing Up
5. Passages
6. Maestro
7. Oppenheimer
8. The Iron Claw
9. About Dry Grasses
10. Occupied City
This is a pretty formidable list, with All of Us Strangers just missing the cut, but I also want to point you to my Screen International ranking of 2023's best films, which counts any movie that premiered anywhere in the world this year. Several movies on that list won't get an official U.S. release until 2024, which means my Top 10 for next year is already in excellent shape.
As I look back on the movie year, what's clear is that I was premature in declaring Cannes 2023 to be "merely okay." I had missed About Dry Grasses and Occupied City — long films can be schedule-killers during a festival — but when I caught up with them in the fall, I realized how exceptional they were. (A second viewing of Killers of the Flower Moon, which ended up at No. 13 on my list, cemented that film's considerable merits as well.)
In general, I can't think of a year in which I rewatched so many movies — partly because I had to review them during their subsequent U.S. release (or refresh my memory before interviewing one of the people involved in the film), and partly because I wanted to lock down my feelings about them with a follow-up viewing. More often than not, those additional screenings proved incredibly useful, which reminded me of being in film school and spending a week analyzing one movie, really digging into it until you felt you fully understood it. You never fully understand a film, of course — watch it again in 10 years, and you'll be amazed how often it's a brand new experience. But the illusion of wholly grasping a work of art is something a lot of us have spent our whole lives chasing, gladly.
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Career-wise, it was a busy, fulfilling 2023. I have now been writing for Screen International for 18 years, proudly serving as the publication's Senior U.S. Critic and covering Sundance, Cannes and Toronto. Some of my favorite reviews I wrote for Screen include the ones for Past Lives (I wrote the first draft in a delirious haze in the lobby of the Eccles immediately after seeing the film) and Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour (No. 24 on my end-of-the-year list). I don't know if they're the best reviews I wrote, but when I go back and read them, I recall exactly the feeling of what those respective movies did to me. That's one of my main objectives whenever I write, articulating an ineffable sensation in words.
I am astonished that the Grierson & Leitch podcast has now been going strong for eight years. It doesn't seem nearly that long, and yet the Sunday ritual of recording the show now feels like such an ingrained part of my life. Especially gratifying this year was getting to meet a few listeners at festivals, events or just randomly in Los Angeles. (I will say, though, I most get identified in public by fans of the great Breakfast All Day podcast, which I sometimes guest on. Because that one exists in YouTube form, you can actually see me on that show, which I suppose makes it slightly easier to spot me in the wild. Like our listeners, the BAD audience is filled with sweet individuals, and it's always a treat to say hello to any of them I meet.)
It has been especially rewarding writing more for the Los Angeles Times, and my 2023 is filled with happy memories of talking to the likes of Aubrey Plaza and Theo Rossi, Lea Seydoux and Mia Hansen-Love, Brendan Fraser, Cate Blanchett, the team from The Last of Us, Will Sharpe, the Yellowjackets teens, Aubrey Plaza (again!), Lizzy Caplan and Claire Danes, Christian Petzold, Adele Exarchopoulos, Alex Timbers, Rebecca Miller, Godfrey Reggio, Christian Friedel, Dua Lipa, Ridley Scott, Charles Melton and Matthew Libatique. All of those profiles were thrills, especially the Blanchett chat, but my proudest L.A. Times piece was an ambitious look at three nuclear-war films from the early 1980s that grappled with the aftermath of humanity destroying itself. Lynne Littman (Testament), Nicholas Meyer (The Day After) and Mick Jackson (Threads) had plenty to say about their movies, which have never left them, even though they came out so long ago. If you read one piece of mine from 2023, make it this one.
That's a lot of interviews, and I did even more for Cracked, a humor site, which gave me the opportunity to have serious conversations with funny people. Often talking to my subjects for an hour, I tried to figure out what made them tick, what inspired them to pursue comedy, and how they navigate a world in which there's a new sensitivity around determining what's funny and what's simply punching down. Some highlights: David Cross telling me about being on medication; Peter Exline reminiscing about inspiring aspects of The Big Lebowski; Jim Gaffigan tracing the history of his "inside voice;" Pauly Shore telling me, well, everything; James Marsden reflecting on the surprise success of Jury Duty; Bobcat Goldthwait remembering his dear friend Robin Williams; Julia Louis-Dreyfus on not doing the Seinfeld dance for fans; Gina Yashere being very honest about Bob Hearts Abishola co-creator Chuck Lorre; Kristen Schaal on motherhood and comedy; Hari Kondabolu reflecting on that whole Apu business; Maria Bamford mourning her mother; Eugene Mirman on telling jokes about his late wife; Samantha Bee walking through New York while imagining her future; Michaela Watkins discussing what she learned about getting fired from Saturday Night Live; and Eddie Izzard talking about politics (and Darth Vader). The highlight, though, was getting on Zoom with David Zucker, Jim Abrahams and Jerry Zucker to break down the funniest moments from Airplane! Also, attending the Groundlings' one-night-only benefit performance of A Chorus Line allowed me to write a different type of live review — it was a wondrous evening.
Every month or so, I'm delighted to be asked on Press Play With Madeleine Brand to review that weekend's movies. Getting to share a radio spot with the likes of Christy Lemire, Amy Nicholson, Katie Walsh and Alison Willmore is always a blast. And I was honored to appear on Wilco the Podcast to discuss my book Wilco: Sunken Treasure and then, later, do a deep dive on Wilco's new album Cousin. (It actually consisted of two episodes.)
I had missed getting to moderate Q&As during the pandemic, and in 2023 I was grateful to have more opportunities to talk to actors and directors in front of an audience. The American Cinematheque asked me to speak to Gus Van Sant (Gerry), Michael Haneke (a career conversation) and Bela Tarr (The Turin Horse) as part of their spectacular Bleak Week series this summer. I hung out with Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, who are really funny, to talk Tori and Lokita. Rodrigo Moreno illuminated his great sort-of heist picture The Delinquents, which I deeply dug at Cannes and liked even more upon second viewing. Christian Petzold was hilarious discussing Afire. Ira Sachs provided plenty of insights into Passages. Celine Song, Greta Lee and Teo Yoo blew my mind by discussing how the opening of Melancholia helped inspire their approach to Past Lives. Director Nikolaj Arcel and star Mads Mikkelsen were such an ace comedic duo that I just stood back and let them do their thing during a Q&A for The Promised Land. Writer-director Lila Aviles was delightful dissecting John Cassavetes' influence on Totem. Alma Poysti told great stories about Aki Kaurismaki and working on Fallen Leaves. (It was her first visit to Los Angeles. She was tickled to be here.) Director Matteo Garrone and his stars Seydou Sarr and Moustapha Fall made the audience cry at a Q&A for Io Capitano. I walked away from each of these experiences in a state of euphoria, energized by the conversations. But I had to especially pinch myself after getting to interview Steve James after a screening on Hoop Dreams, one of the foundational movies of my life. And I've been fortunate to be asked to moderate several Q&As with the cast and crew of the year's best film. I have seen The Zone of Interest three times and gotten to speak to Jonathan Glazer, Christian Friedel, Sandra Huller, Mica Levi, Johnnie Burn and others on a couple occasions. The depth of my admiration for that masterpiece deepens with each interaction.
The Gothams invited me to be part of the nominating committee for the Outstanding Lead Performance and Outstanding Supporting Performance categories again in 2023. This is always one of my favorite things to do during the year, and I loved our picks. (I was even happier that Lily Gladstone ended up winning Outstanding Lead Performance for The Unknown Country, No. 17 on my list this year.)
After 14 years, this summer I stepped down as vice president of the Los Angeles Film Critics Association. I served under three great presidents: Brent Simon, Stephen Farber and Claudia Puig. She and I worked together for seven years, with a pandemic thrown in there in the middle to complicate things, and I am very happy she and I left the exec board at the same time. (It's nice to have a buddy to go through the postpartum with.) These jobs are unpaid, sometimes thankless, but I found it incredibly enriching and wouldn't have traded a minute of it. (I worked with a ton of great people — Alonso Duralde, Amy Nicholson, Annlee Ellingson — but Justin Chang, who was secretary my entire time on the board, deserves special mention.) I am very pleased with the new leadership we have — president Robert Abele and vice president Katie Walsh — who are good friends and good people. I have never forgotten what a big deal it was to be voted into LAFCA, and I take the group very seriously. I'm very proud to see it continuing to thrive with this new exec board. (And I was so pleased in January to present our Best Editing prize to Blair McClendon for Aftersun, the best film of 2022. It was a great night, my final banquet as part of the exec board, with many highlights, including having Barry Jenkins on hand to present our Career Achievement award to Claire Denis.)
This year was a lot. Thank you for reading and listening to me in 2023. I hope you have a wonderful 2024. Please vote.
