As the year comes to a close, it’s a time for reflection. And that includes many magical moments inside the cinema that made us laugh, cry and cheer — sometimes all at once. Variety writers took a moment to highlight some of their favorite scenes from the year’s best picture contenders. Obviously, spoilers to follow!
Anora NEON
To call sex worker Ani’s romance with the wealthy Vanya a “whirlwind” is an understatement, but that chaos comes to an end after the two young lovers are flown to Vegas for an annulment. It’s there that Ani realizes that even as a transaction, her relationship is not going to reap her monetary rewards, much less emotional fulfillment — and neither Vanya’s parents nor Vanya himself are capable of recognizing her intelligence, strength or autonomy. (Her would-be captor Igor does and sticks up for her when no one else will.) But it’s Ani who gets the last laugh when after Vanya’s mother calls her a prostitute, she throws the insult back by noting that Vanya hates his mother enough to marry one. It’s a withering, out-the-door response that sums up their complicated family relationship. —Todd Gilchrist
Blitz APPLE ORIGINAL FILMS
In Steve McQueen’s film, 9-year-old George (Elliott Heffernan) is evacuated to the English countryside after London comes under attack. However, George doesn’t want to leave and heads back home. It’s hard not to feel scared for the boy as George finds himself in constant danger — escaping floods, narrowly escaping a blitz bombing of a bridge and encountering baddies who exploit him. But it’s a quiet moment that stands out when he encounters Black solider Ife (Benjamin Clementine), who shows him kindness. Up to this point, George has denied his heritage. But as Ife says good night, George says to the soldier, “I am Black.” It’s a simple, beautiful moment that speaks volumes. —Jenelle Riley, Jazz Tangcay
The Brutalist A24
Immediately prior to receiving his commission to build an ambitious community center, László Tóth (Adrien Brody) participates in a “stimulating” conversation with his future benefactor, industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pearce), where via personal anecdotes, the two men inadvertently lay out their competing but somehow complementary world views. For László, the endurance of his designs in the midst of unimaginable loss is a defiant testament to the perseverance of the human spirit; for Van Buren, a sniveling request from estranged relatives offers him an opportunity to showcase his success and punish those he considers insufficiently impressed by it. Together, they’re opposite sides of the same coin — which is precisely why they ultimately cannot see each other accurately. —T.G.
A Complete Unknown SEARCHLIGHT James Mangold’s film follows Timothée Chalamet as the young Bob Dylan, who comes to New York in 1961 and rises to fame on the folk music scene. While some of the greatest scenes are the quiet ones, the very best is the ending, when Dylan decides to go electric, much to the chagrin of his folk music audience. It’s a scene that defies traditional cliches of a musician winning his audience over. Refusing to back down in the face of anger and even violence, it’s understandable why Dylan became the icon he is today. —J.T.
Conclave FOCUS
Few films this year fail the Bechdel test — that famous if unscientific yardstick of female representation on screen — as blatantly as “Conclave,” which is not, in this case, a failing of the film itself. As an examination of the corrupting effects of institutional misogyny in the Catholic Church, Edward Berger’s papal drama (which could as easily have been titled “Men Talking”) makes a virtue of its oppressive male energy. Which is why it’s such a jolt to the heart of the film when a woman is finally given the floor: “Although we sisters are supposed to be invisible, God has nevertheless given us eyes and ears,” says Isabella Rossellini’s hitherto quietly watchful Sister Agnes, launching an excoriating speech that makes it clear no cardinal sin goes entirely unnoticed. —Guy Lodge
Dune: Part Two WARNER BROS.
What moment in “Dune: Part Two” is more thrilling than the one when Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet) first manages to successfully ride a sandworm? The young man’s humility in exploring the culture of the Fremen had bred ambition, but Paul’s excitement is tempered with nervousness after his thumper attracts one of the planet’s biggest worms to the surface. After a dune collapses beneath him, Paul is dropped right on top of the beast, and the resulting wake of wind and sand threatens to impede him from achieving his goal. But what becomes more mesmerizing than his eventual success is its impact on the Fremen, who view the ride as fulfillment of prophecy as Chani (Zendaya) questions his ultimate role on her world. —T.G.
Emilia Pérez NETFLIX
Zoe Saldaña plays Rita, a lawyer helping drug cartel kingpin Manitas leave the life and transition into Emilia — her true identity. Emilia (Karla Sofía Gascón) eventually becomes a powerful force in helping families of cartel victims find the bodies of their loved ones through a nonprofit, with Rita running it. But it’s at a gala fundraiser in which Rita (and director Jaques Audiard, who co-wrote the film with Thomas Bidegain) delivers a devastating song, tearing away the facade of respectability in Mexican society that underwrites the cartel violence, whether covertly or overtly. It’s an almost surreal, Buñel-esque scene, with the corrupt swells of society sipping champagne as Emilia delivers a speech and Rita raps (the chorus is quite catchy), dancing around the ballroom and on tables, exposing the hypocrisy on display with righteous anger, clad in a gorgeous, blood-red velvet suit. —Carole Horst
Gladiator II PARAMOUNT
Denzel Washington is easily the highlight of “Gladiator II.” The gold earring, the flowing toga and that glint in his eye, it’s Washington at his finest. At first, it’s hard to tell if his Macrinus — a wealthy trader who buys Paul Mescal’s Lucius to be a gladiator — is a good guy or bad guy. As it turns out, Macrinus eyes the highest seat in the senate and wants to be emperor. Except the emperor twins Geta and Caracalla — superbly played by Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger — stand in his way. So, he turns them against one another and callously beheads Emperor Geta before presenting it in front of the senate. It’s a brilliant moment outside of the wild action sequences that include a rhino fight and shark-infested naval battle. —J.T.
Nickel Boys AMAZON
Much of Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor’s shattering performance in “Nickel Boys” plays in a register of wearily protective stoicism. As Hattie, a tragedy-burdened woman raising her grandson alone in 1960s Jim Crow Florida, she’s the pillar on whom others come to rely. But in the most wrenching scene of RaMell Ross’ radical adaptation of Colson Whitehead’s novel, she’s finally flooded with feeling and need, with no one to lean on. Denied a visit to her grandson at the abusive reform school where he’s been unjustly imprisoned, she gives the hug she had for him to another inmate, channeling a loved one’s body through that of a stranger. It’s the most seismic surge of emotion in a film that never veers toward the sentimental — an uncontrolled explosion of love in a world of hate. —G.L.
A Real Pain SEARCHLIGHT
Jesse Eisenberg’s road trip pic explores familial bonds as well as generational pain and personal demons, laced with humor and standout performances by Kieran Culkin, Eisenberg and superb supporting cast. Culkin’s Benji is a charming, charismatic, bright man who’s also lost and has been unable to fulfill any expectations he or his family had for him. Eisenberg’s David is loving, professionally successful, but uptight. The cousins take a group trip through Poland, discovering their Polish-Jewish roots with the goal to visit their Holocaust survivor grandmother’s house. At a group dinner, Benji begins acting up and acting out, eventually storming away — only to be heard playing the piano in the next room, and beautifully. David is left to make excuses, which spins into a story in which he describes the Benji he knew growing up — the young man poised for greatness only to be sideswiped by mental pain — and is overcome with emotion as well. It’s a breathtaking mix of anger, sorrow and poignancy. —C.H.
September 5 PARAMOUNT
The tension of “September 5” lies not just in the unfolding events of the Israeli hostage situation at the 1972 Olympic Games, but in constantly examining — and re-examining — the appropriate way for ABC Sports to cover it. At a crucial moment when German authorities are moving into position to try and wrest control from the Palestinian guerillas, ABC opts to film the locations where those troops are setting up vantage points. As the news team lampoons the local authorities for their dubious competence, they only slowly realize that they’re compromising their efforts by broadcasting them onto TVs accessible by the Palestinians, leading to a tense confrontation that underscores how even the most dutiful news reporting can still cause harm. —T.G.
Sing Sing A24
Greg Kwedar’s incredible true story focuses on the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program in Sing Sing cor-ectional facility, where inmates create theater. For most of the film, John “Divine G” Whitfield (Colman Domingo) is a pillar of the community — there for everyone, with encouragement or a wise word. When he learns his parole has been denied yet again, he has an outburst and quits the program. Later, he is approached in the prison yard by the Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin (playing a version of himself), a man he has mentored and advocated for. The usually loquacious Divine G is quiet as Divine Eye points out his flaw — “as many brothers as you helped, you won’t extend your hand.” Divine G simply says: “I fucked up.” He then learns that the troupe took a vote and unanimously wants him back. It comes with a humorous cost — Divine G has to admit that Divine Eye was an amazing Hamlet. —J.R.
The Substance MUBI
For Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) — the 50-year-old at the center of “The Substance” struggling with career obsolescence, anxieties about her appearance and her youthful, narcissistic splinter self (Margaret Qualley) — her bathroom isn’t a sanctuary. It’s a place of violent self-scrutiny. All of Elisabeth’s unspoken fears about unattainable beauty standards morph into abject frustration as she prepares for her date with a dorky former classmate. Makeup, initially applied judiciously, becomes a heavily layered shellac, an attempt to gain confidence through cosmetics. Rather than flaunt her red dress’ low neckline, she adds a scarf to cover her décolletage. Feminine insecurities are delicate things to capture with as much introspective complexity as Moore and filmmaker Coralie Fargeat do during this tragic sequence. It culminates with Elisabeth unable to leave her apartment, paralyzed by self-loathing. The raw honesty is a walloping gut punch for the character — and for every woman in the audience who can relate. —Courtney Howard
Wicked UNIVERSAL
Of “Wicked’s” many incredible moments, perhaps the finest scene takes place in the Ozdust Ballroom. How many times have you walked into a room, feeling awkward and that people are staring? We all feel for Cynthia Erivo’s Elphaba when she walks down the stairs with that new, hideous hat from Glinda, believing it was a gift of friendship and not one of ridicule. What truly hits is when Elphaba take that hat off and, rather than leave, holds space and starts a silent dance with everyone watching. When Glinda joins her and they lock eyes and touch hands, it marks the beginning of their friendship, but also a moment of acceptance for Elphaba. We all cried with her when Erivo’s tears fall, and we all rejoiced when her fellow students at Shiz U. join in the dance. —J.T.
English (US) ·