the cow who sang a song into the future

Boomer’s Top 20 Films of 2023

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20. A potent fable about the cost of notoriety and fame, Dream Scenario is a strong showing from Norwegian writer-director Kristoffer Borgli, who also edited the film. The movie charts the sudden memetic popularity of a sad sack professor at a lower tier university who is always on the verge of self-actualizing but never has the wherewithal to stop procrastinating and apply himself; when he begins appearing in people’s dreams, through no action of his own, he becomes an instant internet star, only to see that fame come crashing down when his dream avatar becomes a more frightening figure. Read my review here.

19. A coming-of-age story that incorporates many of the best parts of children’s fantasy that came before it, from The Chronicles of Narnia to The Wonderful Wizard of Oz to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and more, The Boy and the Heron sees these familiar narrative devices through the lens of a childhood haunted by grief and as imagined by the most talented living animation director, Hayao Miyazaki. A movie that can be frustrating to an audience that is unwilling to float along with its dream logic or to those viewers who are uncomfortable with ambiguity, it’s hard to imagine that something this stuffed with the fantastic could be said to leave a lot to the imagination, but it does. Most recommended movie of the year for bird people. Read my review here.

18. Not just for fans of Haruki Murakami’s literature, but perhaps poised to be most appreciated by them, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman was adapted from disparate pieces from Murakami’s canon to create a (mostly) singular narrative by composer Pierre Földes, who also produced, directed, and scored it. The animation style is not as beautiful to the eye as the previous entry on this list, and can take a moment to adjust to, but it has a DIY magic all of its own. Read my review here.

17. Like The Boy and the Heron, Moon Garden draws a great deal of inspiration from the children’s fantasies of yesteryear, but instead of pulling from literature, it takes its direction from the darker kid’s fantasy films of the 1980s, like Return to Oz, The NeverEnding Story, Paperhouse, Labyrinth, and later works that evoke that same feeling like MirrorMask and Pan’s Labyrinth. A throwback to more creatively articulated dark fantasy through the use of older film techniques and (apparent) rejection of computer effects, this is one that I predict will have a lot of staying power in years to come. Listen to the Lagniappe Podcast Crew talk about it here.

16. Is there a way to describe something that’s almost the platonic ideal of an indie darling? Like, something that could accurately be said to be simply a rebundling of cliches but which is also somehow entirely new? That’s what Christmas sleeper hit The Holdovers is—to be honest, there may not be an entirely original idea anywhere in here, but that doesn’t make it any less affecting, emotional, or funny. Alexander Payne masterfully molds together a film that made me ache for every person on screen, a story I’d seen before but nonetheless brand new. Read my review here.

15. I absolutely adored Greta Gerwig’s adaptation of Little Women and wept openly at Lady Bird, but I must admit that I didn’t exactly have high hopes for this corporate synergy vehicle. Even as the date of Barbie’s arrival drew near and the entire internet burst out into endless grassroots marketing via Barbenheimer memes, I still mostly considered it more of a curiosity that was likely to make a dump truck full of cash than a potentially moving addition to Gerwig’s canon. It didn’t move me as much as her previous movies; America Ferrera is very close to my heart and I absolutely love every speech that she gives in this movie, but Jo’s declaration of independence to Laurie in Little Women wasn’t interrupted by a Chevy commercial like one of Gloria’s monologues here, which cheapens things a bit. But I did laugh more than in the others, and that was a lovely experience. It’s been six months and I still giggle when I think about Barbie’s frustration at being called a fascist — “I don’t control the railways or the flow of commerce!” Read my review here.

14. Another knockout bizarro comedy feature from Quentin Dupieux (Rubber), Fumer fait tousser (Smoking Causes Coughing) is a delightfully bloody flick that features a framing device that reminded me a lot of one of my favorite TV comedies, Danger 5, and this movie is similarly deconstructive. When a team of tobacco-based superheroes in the vein of Power Rangers is sent on a retreat by their leader, their telling of stories to one another stitches together vignettes of horror set against peace: an unbothered young man is reduced to a pulp by an industrial machine, a welder’s mask grants its wearer serenity but turns them into a murderer, etc. Delightfully funny and worth the attention. Read Brandon’s review here.

13. A slow burn thriller, Brandon initially pitched The Royal Hotel to me as a more grounded version of Alex Garland’s Men, and in his review, he also mentions Dead Calm, which is a personal favorite of my mother’s that became a favorite of mine. Both are good points of comparison, especially in regard to this film’s sense of omnipresent danger from a dangerous man (or men) in a completely isolated place, but the movie that I couldn’t stop thinking about while watching this one was Queen of Earth, which was my favorite film of 2015. I’ll echo the sentiments he expressed in his review completely, and add that I loved the slow burn of the relationship between the two women here, and loved that so much was left up to implication. 

12. Some time after I initially reviewed it, Brandon texted me to let me know that he had enjoyed There’s Something Wrong with the Children more than expected, citing that it had “tapped into ‘I don’t really like being around kids’ energy in a relatable way,” which was also one of my favorite things about this anxiety-riddled second feature from director Roxanne Benjamin. There’s a little bit of fumbling at the finish line, but it’s not enough to wash away the bitter, unsettling aftertaste of the first three quarters. Read my review here.

11. I love a movie that pushes the boundaries and isn’t afraid to try something novel. As a film with virtually no dialogue, No One Will Save You is a triumphant example of how to make a story that’s 100% show and 0% tell without ever losing any of the tension of the main threat. Kaitlyn Dever is phenomenal here, and every emotion that crosses her face is palpable, one of the best single performances in anything I saw all year. Read my review here.

10. I was surprised by how much I still liked what will likely be the finale of my favorite horror series—and if it isn’t, the series is dead to me at least absent some major reparations for its cast. There might not be another one after Scream VI, but this was a pretty decent way to go out. I didn’t think that this series could continue without Neve Campbell, and the only way that it does manage to work is through the return of the previously presumed dead Kirby, played by Hayden Panettiere. The twists are less twisty here than they were in the immediately previous installment, and the connection to horror tropes are the most tenuous they’ve been since Scream 3, but the newer cast that was introduced in 5cream have gelled into a more interesting group this time around, with Melissa Barrios as the standout for improved performance since last time. It’s the best it could be without Sidney, and Gale Weathers’ inclusion in the plot from the start makes sure that the film hits the ground running. It’s rare for a horror franchise to hit this milestone without having such severe diminishing returns that it becomes a shell of itself, but this one finishes strong. Read my review here.

9. It’s been so, so long since I saw M3gan, but I made a vow to myself that I would not let the fact that I saw it allllll the way back during the first week of the year prevent it from being considered for its rightful place here on this list. To be honest, despite all the intervening time, I don’t think I’ve managed to go more than a week or two without thinking about it, even after its memetic success was completely obliterated by the Barbenheimer blitz. Discourse about both “iPad kids” and artificial “intelligence” has only gotten bigger since January, with the film having presaged that conversation with all of its discussions about screen exposure time and the fact that interaction with a machine is no substitute for real human contact and genuine love. And all wrapped up in a perfect killer doll movie. What more could you ask for, really? Read my review here.

8. It’s kind of hard to talk about Enys Men. More like a cinematic tone poem about loneliness and isolation than a “movie.” I want to say that it does have the semblance of a narrative, but even that isn’t really true, as while there are events, their relation to one another is an exercise in imagination rather than observation, requiring a patching together that will never fully reconcile into a legible text. There’s a woman, an island, and a mineshaft, and there’s too much silence and not quite enough tea. Listen to the Lagniappe Podcast Crew talk about it here, and check out Brandon’s review here.

7. The truth is, we take Wes Anderson for granted. Asteroid City is an instant contender with The Life Aquatic and The Grand Budapest Hotel as the most triumphant example of his imitable style made ever, ever so vast. It’s all encompassing, with more layers of reality upon fiction upon more fiction upon reality than The Matrix, with an utterly gorgeous set design and a cast of actors who are giving what may be career best performances. Just marvelous. Read my review here.

6. Sandra Hüller is captivating in Anatomie d’une chute (Anatomy of a Fall) as a woman who must stand trial for the murder of her husband, all while we in the audience never learn whether his death was an accident, suicide, or murder. That absence of information is a shadowy void in the center of this film, a known unknown whose invisibility means that, just as in life, all we have to go on are people’s imperfect memories, their self-serving rationalizations, and the presumption of honesty. One of the most mature movies for adults of recent years and the one with the most enduring appeal of 2023. Read my review here.

5. A genre-bending mash-up of blaxploitation crime thrillers, social commentary comedies, and body snatching sci-fi pulp, They Cloned Tyrone was the funniest movie of the year. Incorporating that feeling of mind-numbing, endless monotony that was part of the quarantine experience, the film breaks new ground when it comes to conspiracy thrillers, taking its characters on a wild ride and us along with them. John Boyega is a knockout in this one. Read my review here.

4. I still can’t believe that the premiere screening for Beau is Afraid was followed by an outburst from an attendee stating that he “better not hear any fucking clapping.” This movie is undoubtedly bizarre, and I’m not the least bit surprised that it was so divisive, but it’s also hard to believe that there wasn’t something here for everyone to laugh at, at least once. Beau is a man in the midst of an endless waking nightmare in which every one of his paranoid delusions proves to be true, but what lies beneath the surface is even more frightening (and hilarious, and disgusting) than one would initially anticipate. I don’t think that this one will be recalled as fondly in the coming years as Hereditary and Midsommar have been, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t fantastic. Read my review here.

3. It’s been five months since I saw Past Lives, and I still think about it once a week, at least. There was only one other person in the theater with my viewing companion and I when we saw this one, and she was bawling by the end. There’s just something so palpable about the feeling of the life you could have had slipping away from you, the way that the number of doors that are open to you start closing exponentially faster as you get older, and the way that the love that could have been lingers on the tongue and on the heart. Sometimes the doors do close, and there’s nothing you can do but hope to catch the same bus as your soulmate the next time around. Read my review here. 

2. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a movie quite like Ang Pagbabalik ng Kwago (aka Leonor Will Never Die) before. There are easy comparisons to other “character enters a fantasy land” narratives, but none of them have such a thin membrane between the fantasy inside of a character’s mind and the “real” world in which they are comatose. Sometimes, the narrative within the fictional world that Leonor scripts and then enters gets completely stuck until Leonor herself decides to focus on another part of the action. Blending in supposed behind the scenes photographs and footage from the filming of this actual film only further shreds the curtain between reality and fiction, and it’s sublime. Read my review here.

1. I knew from the moment that I saw it that La vaca que cantó una canción hacia el futuro (The Cow Who Sang a Song into the Future) would be my number one film of the year. A haunting, beautiful meditation on that which pollutes—undermines our love for our families, poisons our air and water, leaches toxins into our soil and our relationships. The narrative moves like the river that forms the backbone of the film, dreamy and languid at some points and deep and rushing at others, but never at the wrong pace, solemn when needed and joyful when called for. Read my review here.

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond

The Cow Who Sang a Song into the Future (2023)

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La vaca que cantó una canción hacia el futuro (The Cow Who Sang a Song into the Future) is a beautiful, entrancing film, the first feature from writer-director Francisca Alegria. Although most reviews of the film that I have seen draw attention to the film’s environmental themes and magical-realist atmosphere, I’ve seen very little discussion about the film’s presentation of family. One of the film’s inciting incidents is the dumping of industrial waste from a paper factory into the Cruces River, but what stands out the most to me is the way that the movie focuses on a different kind of toxic waste, and the way that it can pollute the very thing that gives us life. 

Magdalena (Mía Maestro) is a doctor living in a cold urban home, having put as much distance between herself and her rural upbringing as possible. When she receives a call from her brother Bernardo (Marcial Tagle) telling her that their dairy farmer father Enrique (Alfredo Castro) has suffered from a heart attack, she returns home with her two daughters, including teenaged Tomás (Enzo Ferrada), whose gender identity she does not respect. Upon arriving and performing her own medical inspection of her father, she is told that he did not have a standard heart attack, but that it was a sudden stress-induced health issue. Enrique, for his part, tells his children that he passed out after seeing their long-dead mother Cecilia (Leonor Varela) outside of a cell phone store. Magdalena does not believe him, of course, since she was the one who watched her mother commit suicide by tying herself to her motorcycle and driving into the river when she was a mere seven years old, but he’s absolutely correct; we in the audience saw Cecilia climb out of that same river, accompanied by a mournful him that seems to come from the dead fish surrounding her, in the film’s opening moments. But what brought her back, and why?

As a character study, this is a piece about a woman who has long embodied the worst aspects of her father but learns to represent the best parts of her mother. As with many texts containing magical realism, much is left up to the interpretation, but we first see her being harsh and cold with the people closest to her, first telling Tomás that, as long as she lives in Magdalena’s house, she is her “son.” Her brother’s feelings about her are clear from their first onscreen interaction; although Bernardo lovingly embraces his nieces, when Magdalena moves in to hug him, he waves her off, citing that he has been working and is too filthy to be touched. When they arrive at the farm, Magdalena sends Bernardo off to take care of the dairy “for once” while she attends to their father. In comparison to the lush verdancy of the countryside, her home in the city is sterile, and when nature intrudes (in the form of a spider in her bathroom window), she doesn’t attempt to coax it outside and close the window, but instead runs off for a can of insecticide, which she sprays into the air futilely when she returns to find that the spider is nowhere to be seen. 

All of these are elements that tie Magdalena to Enrique, who is likewise queerphobic, dismissive of his child, and sees the natural world as something that exists only to benefit human beings, diametrically opposed by civilization. Enrique also chides Bernardo for failing to take care of the dairy, even blaming him when their cows die despite their death being the direct result of Enrique’s refusal to listen to his son; his reaction to Bernardo’s insistence that they dig a new well for the cows shows that this is a recurring argument, but it’s that very lack of forethought that leads to the herd drinking from the poisoned river when they are overcome with thirst, essentially damning the dairy farm to close. When the tearful Bernardo brings this to his father’s attention, the older man calls his son a homophobic slur and degrades him. Magdalena has spent her life seeing things through her father’s myopic, cruel vision of the world, and her own family has suffered from his polluting influence as a result. That this traces itself back to her childhood is no surprise. Like her father, she has long seen her mother’s suicide as a sign of weakness due to not wanting to be a mother, as evidenced by all the times in her memory that her mother was absent while still alive. In truth, those absences were the fault of her father, who had Cecilia institutionalized multiple times because he could not control her. Luckily for her, learning this is epiphanic, and even if she is limited in her ability to heal the world, it’s not too late to heal her relationship with Tomás.

If you were wondering if there is an actual singing cow in this movie, then I regret to inform you that there is not … there are several. At the start of the film, what appears to be non-diegetic music plays as the shores of the Cruces give up hundreds of dead fish, with these images soundtracked by a mournful elegy about dying. After there are news reports that the toxic waste in the water has killed not only the fish but also the various water grasses and insects that sustain other animals in the ecosystem, which leave the area in search of other food resources. Finally, the cows drink the waters of the river and themselves succumb to the poison, but before they pass, they join their voices in a chorus, grieving for the calves that were taken from them so that they would continuously produce milk for the farm, and rejoicing that the pain that came from that separation, which they consider to be worse than death, will end soon. This has the potential to be unintentionally funny, especially in the odd occasional moment in which one of the cow “actors” is chewing cud almost in time to the song like something out of Mister Ed, but the sincerity of the moment manages to make it work despite the potential to be undermined. 

That separation between mother and child stands as a metaphor not just for the relationship between Magdalena and the long-dead mother whom she unconsciously resents, but also between Magdalena and her own elder daughter. When we first meet Tomás, she is in her bedroom, showing her beau an online newspaper clipping about Cecilia’s death, asking if the boy sees the resemblance between Tomás and her grandmother. Her self-actualization is blocked not only by her mother’s bigotry but also her disconnection from her roots, and her hunger for a connection drives her to seek out her resurrected grandmother and the two bond. The revived Cecilia is mute throughout the film, but there’s a magic to the way that these two women who share a familial bond but who have never met are able to form a connection without the need for words. A love that transcends speech reappears again at the end, when Tomás and her mother reunite, and even without words, it’s clear that the two of them have gained a better understanding of each other, in unvoiced acceptance. 

This is certainly one of the most moving films I’ve seen this year, as well as one of the most lyrical, beautifully composed, and haunting. It sets its mood and never alters course, hypnotic in its commitment to its themes. It should not be missed. 

-Mark “Boomer” Redmond