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winter 2023
Best of 2022
So…2022 is over.
I say that because it is important. I waited for 2022 to end before writing my best of the year list. I know it sounds simple, but you’d be shocked how few people have my patience and self control. The start of December rolls around and publications start putting out their best albums and movies and memories of the year.
But the year is still happening.
The great Manhola Dargis, a jewel in the largely stodgy crown of the New York Times, put out her top 10 films list on Dec. 6th. Since then, some wormy fucks on the internet have been giving Dargis a hard time. Their tired argument is that her list should come closer to the most popular films of the year. Surely the best movies were the ones that the most people saw! And if her favorite movies aren’t also the highest grossing, that must be her problem.
For me, the movies that I choose to see in a theater are rarely determined by the quality of the movie. It can’t be. I haven’t seen it yet. Instead, it is determined by the advertising I’ve seen or by actors I like or by what day I really just need to get out of my fucking house. And when I’m depressed and dehydrated and decide on a trip to my local cineplex, I am never thinking, “The New York Times better make note of this.”
Even if that wasn’t true, there is already a list of the most popular movies of the year! Those box office reports aren’t secret. You don’t need the old gray lady to tell you that Top Gun: Maverick did really well this year. And if you were at a dinner party with some weird, weird lady who--for some fucking reason--has decided to watch all the Polish donkey movies she could get her hands on, would you rather hear her personal favorites or ask her to read Box Office Mojo off of your phone?
Look, I didn’t want to get into this fight. I’d rather fuck a toaster than spend time on film Twitter. My point is that people have been criticizing Dargis for being too esoteric while NO ONE HAS HAD THE COURAGE to criticize her for flushing our beautiful Gregorian calendar down the flipping toilet.
December 6th is not the end of the year.
With all of the fact checkers and journalists and recipe testers over there at the New York Times, you think someone would have said something. But no!
December 6th!
Before Christmas.
Before Hanukkah.
Before that weird text from your dad where he’s like, “Love you. Hope you’re having a great day. You know, it’s the 81st anniversary of Pearl Harbor today” and you’re like “Thank you. Love you too…That’s not even a big anniversary. Why did you send me that?” and he says “A story about it came up when I opened Microsoft Edge to check my email. I just thought you might find it interesting.”
And those are all important parts of the year. The first time I said I love you was in December. So was the first time I traveled to visit a partner’s family. And the last time I saw my grandfather. These are important parts of my life. Important memories. And yet it’s like Manhola Dargis doesn’t even care about them at all! That monster!
And so I now present my best 2022 below.
In 2023.
You’re welcome.
Film
Everything, Everywhere, All at Once - Most inclusive title
Memoria - Outstanding on screen nap
The Northman - Muddiest Abs
Nope - Spookiest monkey
After Yang - Sexiest sad dad/robot combo
Music
Best food related songs:
“Spud Infinity” - Big Thief
“Bread Song” - Black Country New Road
“Chicken Teriyaki” - Rosalia
Best non-food related songs:
Irrelevant
Literature
Nonfiction: I’m Glad My Mom Died (Jennette McCurdy) - Genuinely the only time I’ve seen my small local bookstore devote a whole table to one book
Fiction: Heartburn (Nora Ephron) - Technically from 1983, but you can check it out of the library any year you want
Personal Memories
I say that because it is important. I waited for 2022 to end before writing my best of the year list. I know it sounds simple, but you’d be shocked how few people have my patience and self control. The start of December rolls around and publications start putting out their best albums and movies and memories of the year.
But the year is still happening.
The great Manhola Dargis, a jewel in the largely stodgy crown of the New York Times, put out her top 10 films list on Dec. 6th. Since then, some wormy fucks on the internet have been giving Dargis a hard time. Their tired argument is that her list should come closer to the most popular films of the year. Surely the best movies were the ones that the most people saw! And if her favorite movies aren’t also the highest grossing, that must be her problem.
For me, the movies that I choose to see in a theater are rarely determined by the quality of the movie. It can’t be. I haven’t seen it yet. Instead, it is determined by the advertising I’ve seen or by actors I like or by what day I really just need to get out of my fucking house. And when I’m depressed and dehydrated and decide on a trip to my local cineplex, I am never thinking, “The New York Times better make note of this.”
Even if that wasn’t true, there is already a list of the most popular movies of the year! Those box office reports aren’t secret. You don’t need the old gray lady to tell you that Top Gun: Maverick did really well this year. And if you were at a dinner party with some weird, weird lady who--for some fucking reason--has decided to watch all the Polish donkey movies she could get her hands on, would you rather hear her personal favorites or ask her to read Box Office Mojo off of your phone?
Look, I didn’t want to get into this fight. I’d rather fuck a toaster than spend time on film Twitter. My point is that people have been criticizing Dargis for being too esoteric while NO ONE HAS HAD THE COURAGE to criticize her for flushing our beautiful Gregorian calendar down the flipping toilet.
December 6th is not the end of the year.
With all of the fact checkers and journalists and recipe testers over there at the New York Times, you think someone would have said something. But no!
December 6th!
Before Christmas.
Before Hanukkah.
Before that weird text from your dad where he’s like, “Love you. Hope you’re having a great day. You know, it’s the 81st anniversary of Pearl Harbor today” and you’re like “Thank you. Love you too…That’s not even a big anniversary. Why did you send me that?” and he says “A story about it came up when I opened Microsoft Edge to check my email. I just thought you might find it interesting.”
And those are all important parts of the year. The first time I said I love you was in December. So was the first time I traveled to visit a partner’s family. And the last time I saw my grandfather. These are important parts of my life. Important memories. And yet it’s like Manhola Dargis doesn’t even care about them at all! That monster!
And so I now present my best 2022 below.
In 2023.
You’re welcome.
Film
Everything, Everywhere, All at Once - Most inclusive title
Memoria - Outstanding on screen nap
The Northman - Muddiest Abs
Nope - Spookiest monkey
After Yang - Sexiest sad dad/robot combo
Music
Best food related songs:
“Spud Infinity” - Big Thief
“Bread Song” - Black Country New Road
“Chicken Teriyaki” - Rosalia
Best non-food related songs:
Irrelevant
Literature
Nonfiction: I’m Glad My Mom Died (Jennette McCurdy) - Genuinely the only time I’ve seen my small local bookstore devote a whole table to one book
Fiction: Heartburn (Nora Ephron) - Technically from 1983, but you can check it out of the library any year you want
Personal Memories
- I went to watch Tar with my girlfriend. She snuck in some lemon cake and we ate it in the front row with our feet kicked up. Halfway through the movie, I was hit by the clarifying impulse that I really am living the life I want to live.
- I woke up in the morning and had the most wonderful breakfast with my sister and cousin before going on a beautiful hike. It was late April and the sky was just remembering what it meant to be warm. It is always a joy in those late spring weeks to be reintroduced to the sting of the sun. On our drive back, we saw a wild horse jogging along the side of the road. As it got close, it nodded at us and said, “Hey.” And yeah, people have told me that horses can’t talk and that I made it up, but I was there alright! It said “Hey.” Deal with it.
- Sept. 3rd. Very good sex. Very good. Put it in my gratitude journal and everything.
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