*What follows is not really a review of John Wick Chapter 4 but more a collection of thoughts about where the country and culture is on guns at the moment. 

​This past week the boogeyman rampaged through American cinemas for the fourth time, adding to his already gaudy body count. Indeed, nabbing the second best opening weekend of  John Wick Chapter 4 did this weekend to its box office foes what its titular assassin does to his targets: destroy them. Across nearly 3 hours Mr. Wick executes 140 assailants in a variety of creative manners but also in some regrettably familiar ones.

Another year is coming to a close, believe it or not, my fifth year writing one of these lists. More than any of the previous years — when films like Roma and I’m Thinking of Ending Things topped the lists — this has been a year of great change for me. In the first year post-Covid closures I’ve ventured back into theaters more and yet seen fewer movies than anytime in the last few years. As a result this is the first time in some time my list will feel somewhat incomplete. Despite monumental change for me personally, the types of film that spoke to me remained quite consistent. My favorites of 2022 feature a great deal of coming of age stories, a theme that still resonates with me as much at age 28 as it did at age 23 when Lady Bird topped my 2017 list. 

Still, there are quite a few films left to see this year and things can still change a lot. For now, here are my top 10 films of 2022.
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“From each according to their ability, to each according to their need” exclaims the filthy rich Russian cruise patron Dimitry (Zlatko Buric) suddenly finding himself in a situation where his money is worthless. The shit-peddling — he sells manure, you see — oligarch quoting Marx conjures quite the shocking mental image, but his about face was anything but surprising. Only a few minutes prior the gregarious gazillionaire had been summoning the words of Reagan and Thatcher to defend his enormous wealth as a ship full of bourgeois relentlessly puked up thier overpriced dinners. Opulence and absurdity abound, but subtlety is of short supply in Ruben Östlund’s Palme d’Or winning Triangle of Sadness.
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A lovelorn soul, a genie — or in this case Djinn — trapped in a bottle, three wishes. It’s a tale as old as time, or at least far back as the early 16th century when Antoine Galland began regaling eager listeners with the stories of Aladdin and his Magic Lamp. Certainly the cautionary tales of wish fulfillment date back even further. Storytelling has long been a cornerstone of the human existence and George Miller (Babe: Pig in the City) is hoping filmgoing audiences are still hungry for such tales with his new film Three Thousand Years of Longing.

All eyes on me. We live, now more than ever, in an attention economy. If you can’t catch someone’s eye immediately then they’re on to the next. Swiped left, scrolled up, you’re awash in ever expanding sea of content, marooned by whatever the newest outrage or shock is. No longer does the world focus on the work, the craft, it’s all spectacle, all the time. The appetite for attention is voracious and to quell it requires pushing beyond the boundaries of safe and natural. Spectacle for the sake of spectacle can be dangerous, Jordan Peele recognizes that with his third feature, Nope, he just can’t quite push that message through the artifice of his own attention grabbing blockbuster.

Loss is a strange experience. Someone, or something close to you is suddenly gone, their existence extinguished and, yet, they still occupy the minds and stories of everyone who ever knew them. The life of a lost one “can keep unfolding itself to you” as Mr. McCarthy tells a grieving Greg in Me and Earl and the Dying Girl. But what if the lost love one isn’t a person and what if all their memories could be explored, like a diary for those left behind. These ideas set the stage for Kogonada’s After Yang.

“Nuns, why’s it always gotta be nuns” exclaims Nathan Drake (Tom Holland) in a clear riff on the famous Indiana Jones lament. Except Drake is not staring down hundreds of pythons, he’s standing in a quiet Spanish church as a friendly Sister walks by. Hewing far closer to Spider-Man in National Treasure than Raiders of the Lost Ark, no scene in Uncharted better represents the gulf between what it wants to be and what it actually accomplishes. 

The world of film is undergoing a massive change. More women and people of color are getting the opportunities to tell stories than ever before. This progress has been slow, at times frustratingly so, but the direction is a good one. As film diversifies so has The Academy, again, often slower than we would like, but the change is evident. After the debacle that was #OscarsSoWhite in 2015, The Academy began its deliberate effort to diversify membership. Record numbers of women, people of color, young people and non-Americans have joined the ranks of Academy voters and the fruits of that diversification have finally begun to bear. Add to that continued change the advent of the Academy’s new digital screening portal, making it easier than ever for members to see eligible films. Not every voter makes time for every film, but with easier access, more may have done so this year

Ask just about anyone and they’ll tell you that they want to do the right thing. An instinct for altruism is natural but it doesn’t always come from the purest place. Plenty of times good deeds and kind words are as much about self preservation as they are about real impact. As the most insidious voices have grown louder in the the last few years, so too have the performative ones denouncing them. With his directorial debut, When You Finish Saving the World, Jesse Eisenberg has a little fun with performative wokeness.

Nearly nine years have passed since the Coen Brothers wondered, on 700 screens nationwide, what their lives and art would be without each other. For as bleak and apocalyptic as their prognosis was, the simple fact remains, Joel and Ethan Coen are not Llewyn Davis. Of course the master filmmaking duo are individually talented, but if anyone needed the proof, The Tragedy of MacBeth, Joel Coen’s first solo effort is a visually stunning powerhouse.