Top Ten Films of Sundance 2020

Sundance in 2020 had an unusual vibe to it. It was the second year without longtime Head of Programming Trevor Groth (replaced ably by Kim Yutani), and the final year for longtime Festival Director John Cooper. Big stars still tread through the snow, perhaps even more so than in the past—Angelina Jolie, Taylor Swift, Will Ferrell, even documentary subject Hillary Clinton—but everyone seemed a bit distracted by politics, with impeachment hearings in full swing and the Iowa caucuses looming. Still, Yutani’s second year at the helm of programming turned out to be an excellent one, and we found plenty to love. Here are our Top Ten favorites, beginning with our overall choice for Best Film of Sundance 2020.
Minari
It’s a peculiar film to emerge as the hot pick out of Sundance—in Lee Isaac Chung’s magnificent Minari, a Korean-American couple with two young children moves to rural Arkansas to try their hand at starting a farm. Eventually the kids’ grandmother comes to live with them as well. Oh, and there’s a prayer-yelling local who helps them. That doesn’t exactly scream “hot Sundance pick,” does it? But Chung’s direction, award-worthy performances from Steven Yuen and Will Patton, and the best kid performance in years from young Alan Kim produce a true masterpiece that will reverberate far beyond Park City. Each line, each movement, each shot contains worlds of meaning. Minari is a wonder, a crucial step forward in Chung’s red-hot career, and a richly deserving recipient of this year’s Audience and Grand Jury awards, both of which it did indeed win. Sometimes everybody gets it right. This was clearly the best film of Sundance 2020, and I doubt I’ll see a better film all year. —Michael Dunaway
The rest of the Top Ten, in alphabetical order:
Black Bear
One of those movies it’s better not to know too much about, going in. Director Lawrence Levine is married to fellow director Sophia Takal, who twice has explored the themes of jealousy and the creative impulse, in Green and in Always Shine. Here Levine touches on similar territory, in the story of a young actor/screenwriter (Aubrey Plaza) who goes to the huge lakehouse of a married couple (Christopher Abbott and Sarah Gadon) on a sort of writing residency. Things between the couple aren’t quite as sweet as they seem, and all manner of disruptions and eruptions ensue. And then the movie gets really weird. Levine has a great feel for dialogue and rhythm, and he coaxes a wonderfully nuanced, haunting performance from Plaza. At the very least, you won’t be bored. —Michael Dunaway
Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets
Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets is a sandbox for its performers so thoughtfully crafted it’s no surprise that Sundance programmers felt the film too real to contain to a narrative fiction category. A masterclass in realism, its sincerity towards the marginalized characters it depicts shines through every frame of a story that could easily have read as caricature in less capable hands. —Elle Schneider
Boys State
If anyone is unsure about the future generation of politicians (all of us?) Boys State offers both a hopeful and haunting perspective. Filmmakers Jesse Moss and Amanda McBaine interviewed hundreds of 17-year-old male candidates attending the leadership program Boys State in Texas, before deciding on a diverse handful to follow. During the summer program, the boys create a mock government—including elections, speeches, voting and bill passing. At the end of the program, a governor is elected. The filmmakers couldn’t have predicted how their subjects would perform, and luckily, many of them rise to the top in a wildly surprising fashion. Both bright and eloquent, Ben Feinstein and Renee Otero garner positions of leadership, while quietly commanding Steven Garza and Robert Macdougall, both charming and perplexing, campaign for governor. Each of the boys are strategic in their own ways, and never predictable. You continue to think, these kids are born for this. As the film drives toward the final election, the morality and the manipulation each character demonstrates becomes increasingly convoluted. At the end, it’s impossible not to root for one of the candidates, especially after their heartfelt and profound speeches. It’s no wonder Apple and A24 bought this one for a hefty price. It’ll engage all ages, and if you’re on social media, you’ll want to start tracking each of these boy’s political careers immediately. —Meredith Alloway
The Father
It almost doesn’t seem fair, given a stellar cast including Oscar winners Anthony Hopkins and Olivia Colman, to compare The Father to other Sundance films. And sure, I’d love to see what Lee Isaac Chung could do with those two actors, but then again Chung also had the backing of A24 and Plan B, and I’d love to see what, say, Carlos Estrada could do with that. In the end, you just have to look at the films as films, and The Father is a devastating film. Hopkins, as ever, turns in an extraordinary performance as Antony, whose memory is beginning to fail him, and director Florian Zeller takes us inside his protagonist’s brain—we see the other characters as Antony sees them, even if in reality he is, and we are, confusing them. It’s a conceit that worked to great effect in the celebrated play, which Zeller wrote. (He wrote the screenplay, too, with some help from Christopher Hampton—speaking of enviable assets.) The confusion and frustration of dementia have seldom been so effectively communicated. —Michael Dunaway