Let's start counting 2020 out the door
Talking about the best TV shows and books I encountered this year.
Okay, first off, an apology. Not only am I late getting this week’s newsletter out the door, I totally rushed past doing an Advent-related newsletter last week. Sometimes, you think you’re going to have more time than you actually do.
It’s another frustrating thing about this weird year. On the one hand, being at home with our routines interrupted means that, in theory, I should have a lot more time on my hands. I’m not rushing out the door to family gatherings, movie screenings or dinner with friends. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve left the home for something other than picking up my daughter from daycare or getting groceries in the last month; one time was for a family trip to the zoo, the other was to get a haircut. So, that should leave me more time to do this writing, right?
In theory, yes. But many people don’t realize the mental energy writing requires. I work at a university, and December is traditionally a very busy because we’re readying for commencement ceremonies and other end-of-the-year projects. Add to that the fact that I try to do my work during the day with constant interruptions from my son, who needs help with his schoolwork. And there’s the continued stress and anxiety from navigating a pandemic and being in a country in which the president is trying to kick out the very foundations of democracy. I can’t really complain too much, because it could be so much worse. But it does mean that by the time I sit down to write in the evening, my brain is fried and it takes a lot more effort to get those words out.
And then there’s the good problem that, despite the pandemic and the closure of theaters, critics have actually been able to participate in a fairly robust end-of-the-year screener season. Studios have sent out a plethora of movies, and I spent most evenings last week trying to catch up on as much as I could before putting my list together. We’ll talk more about that in a future newsletter, but I just want to say: If you think the pandemic has ruined the movie year, you just don’t know where to look.
So, in true fashion, 2020 has kind of put a kink in my plans. I think I’m going to have to put the brakes on doing the Sunday Advent newsletter and try to stay on track for just the one email a week, which shouldn’t be hard. Next year, I think I have a plan to get ahead of these and keep them coming regularly. Of course, this year proved how nimble we have to be with our plans, but there’s some exciting stuff I’m eager to try out.
And with all that said, let’s start showing 2020 out the door, shall we?
Some critics grumble about putting together end-of-year lists. I get it. It feels obligatory and there’s the very true complaint about the futility of ranking art. But truth be told, I always love compiling my year-end lists. It gives me a chance to look back over the year and express gratitude for the films, books and television shows I’ve enjoyed. And whatever hardships 2020 has seen, it’s given us a deluge of riches when it comes to arts and entertainment.
I’ve put together four lists this year. On Friday, I’ll have my two film-centric lists. One is my traditional list of my ten favorite movies of the year. Despite theaters being closed and most of the traditional releases being pulled, I’ve had a hard time narrowing this list down to ten. It’s been a fascinating year, and there are several films that have moved and entertained me.
I usually put together a runner-up list of the films that just didn’t make my top ten. But this year, I decided to do something different. The pandemic, as I’ve written before, caused me to return to movies as a form of comfort and respite. This year, I finally caught up with several older movies I’d been way behind on. I used my Criterion Channel subscription. I sought out some older films. And so my second list this year will be my ten “new to me” movies that I encountered in 2020. I’m excited for you to get to read that list.
But that’s Friday. Today, we’re going to start with two different lists.
First up, my list of the top 5 TV shows of the year. Normally, I’d try to pull together ten TV shows, but I have actually watched less TV than usual this year. That’s not a knock on quality; I think the overwhelming nature of this year has just meant I haven’t had the energy to delve into weighty shows. You’ll notice the TV list leans heavily on comedies or escapism. That’s what TV has been for me this year; an escape from the heavy days, and I’ve gravitated more toward lighter fare (a quick note: I can’t remember if I viewed Watchmen as it was airing in 2019 or caught up in 2020, so I’m leaving it off the list. But it would have been top of the list had I included it).
The second list includes the top 10 books I read this year. One thing I was able to take advantage of in pandemic times was the ability to take time out in the evenings to read, and somehow I ended up making it through 25 books this year. From those, I’ve singled out my top ten. It was a really interesting year for reading, and each selection includes a link to purchase them on Amazon.
Just one last quick note. There is the traditional Digest this week, with links to my writing and podcasting. But there’s no Chrisicisms, as so much of what I’ve been viewing has either been for review or list-making purposes. But I’ll aim to include some Christmas-related stuff in Friday’s newsletter!
Now, on to the lists!
My 5 favorite TV shows of 2020
Better Call Saul (AMC): There’s no question about it anymore: Better Call Saul has eclipsed Breaking Bad. That’s not due to any lack of love for the saga of Walter White. It’s simply that I think Jimmy McGill’s story has the harder needle to thread. Where we alternated between cheering Walt on and then wishing for him to get his comeuppance, Jimmy’s story is tinged with dread and sadness. Bob Odenkirk continues to be fantastic, giving Jimmy, the amoral Breaking Bad lawyer, a wavering moral compass and a sense of resignation. The question isn’t whether Jimmy will break bad; it’s whether he’ll be able to hold onto any sense of soul when he does so. Prequels are tricky breeds, as we tend to know the fates of the main characters. But showrunner Peter Gould’s masterstroke has been in anchoring Better Call Saul’s heart to characters who don’t show up in Walter White’s story. So we get Tony Dalton, full of badass swagger, as dangerous cartel head Lalo. There’s a pall of dread over every scene involving Nacho (Michael Mando), who made a deal with the devil early on and who seems to be heading for tragedy. There are the usual superb performances by Breaking Bad regulars Johnathan Banks and Giancarlo Esposito. But above all, there’s the fantastic work of Rhea Seahorn as Kim Wexler, who began the series appearing to be the innocent caught in Jimmy’s vortex but who, in the season finale, was revealed to possibly have as much potential to break bad as her husband. How Seahorn is not loaded with Emmys is baffling. This is a great show, and I both dread and eagerly anticipate its upcoming final season.
BoJack Horseman (Netflix): I’ve said it over and over: The most complex character drama on television was a comedy about an animated horse. In its final season, BoJack Horseman didn’t give its character the tragic ending we feared, but neither did it give him a tidy redemption. In the end, BoJack’s misdeeds had consequences, and they threatened to shake apart his career and his friendships. Will Arnett continued to provide humor and heartbreak as the titular character, and I continued to be fascinated by how the show balanced a plethora of visual gags, animal puns and showbiz humor alongside its nuanced explorations of addiction, depression, self-hatred and loneliness. As always, this season was funny, sad and contemplative, ending in a rooftop discussion that felt cathartic without being too neat. This was a great show, and I’m thankful for it.
Ted Lasso (Apple TV+): It’s almost the anti-BoJack, and it was possibly the most-needed show of 2020. Jason Sudeikis heads this funny, warm-hearted show about an American football coach who heads to England to coach soccer. What starts as a mildly amusing fish-out-of-water comedy reveals itself to be something different: a story about a man whose superpower is positivity. The show gets laughs out of Ted’s unflagging optimism and fondness for bad puns, but it also celebrates how infectious that outlook is. Slowly but surely, Ted’s positivity rubs off on the rest of the team and the organization. But its biggest trick is how that joy bleeds off onto viewers. It’s corny to say this — which might be in the spirit of the show — but if we were all more like Ted Lasso, the world would be a better place. Long live the Diamond Dogs.
The Mandalorian (Disney+): A year ago, The Rise of Skywalker had me ready to throw in the towel on any investment I had in a galaxy far, far away. J.J. Abrams so thoroughly botched the landing to the sequel trilogy, and showed Disney had very little interest in pushing boundaries or trying new things. But about the same time, the finale of the first season of The Mandalorian had me hopeful that there was still fun to wring out of George Lucas’ world. In season two, The Mandalorian has only gotten better. It’s celebrated the iconography of Star Wars without being bogged down by self-serious mythology. It explored weird nooks and crannies of the universe and paid homage to creature features, westerns and samurai movies. I’m sure eventually the Mouse House will make sure it collides with wherever the movies, books and umpteen spinoffs will go, and I kind of dread that. But for now, it’s a fun journey that revels in being nothing more than Hercules or Xena Warrior Princess with a bigger budget. It’s strange and exciting, and few things have been more fun each week than zipping across the galaxy with Mando and Baby Yoda (sorry, I will never call him Grogu).
Cobra Kai (Netflix): I ignored this when it was originally on YouTube because, let’s face it, it sounds like a viral video taken too far: A sequel to The Karate Kid told from Johnny Lawrence’s point of view? But the first season was one of the most enjoyable things I watched all year, a retelling of the story that shakes up the conceptions of who the heroes and villains are. William Zabka is funny and surprisingly effective as a grown Johnny, and Ralph Macchio somehow manages to make Daniel LaRusso a sincere hero, a lame dad, and a bit of a douchebag in a performance he appears to be enjoying immensely. The teen cast is hit or miss, to be fair. I like everything about the bullied becoming the bullies, but I could do without the soap operatics. The first season is bliss, functioning as both a sequel and loose remake of the first film, and it ends on a great note. The second season’s a bit more scattered, giving too much weight to the teenage stories and not quite getting its arms around the mixture of comedy and drama. But it ends on a crazy-ass finale that sets up a third season (coming this January) that I can’t wait for. There is no lack of interest in this dojo.
My top 10 books of 2020
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon: I finally got around to reading Chabon’s Pulitzer Prize winner 20 years after its publication. But better late than never, I guess. This is just pure joy of a read. I loved the characters, I loved the setting. I love how Chabon weaves in the history of comic books, pop culture and America, and allows his characters to bump up against real-life figures. The novel manages to tackle religion, sexuality, creativity, friendship and commerce and still be a funny, touching delight on every page. It’s a near-perfect novel, and one I was sad to put down.
Made Men: The Making of ‘Goodfellas’ by Glenn Kenny: Goodfellas is one of the all-time great movies. Glenn Kenny is one of the all-time great film writers. So it stands to reason that the one-time Premiere editor would write a helluva great book about Scorsese’s mob classic. But even I wasn’t prepared for how deeply Kenny burrows with this book. It’s not only a making-of piece, although that’s plenty fascinating. It also includes a Q/A with Scorsese about the film. There’s a lengthy chapter devoted to its famous use of music. The book’s centerpiece is a scene-by-scene breakdown of the film that explores the movie from nearly every possible angle, from its aesthetics to acting to editing. There’s even a chapter devoted to all the books from Henry Hill and his cohorts that came in its wake, which includes Goodfellas-inspired cookbooks. It both manages to exhaustively comment on Goodfellas and still leave you thinking ‘Oh, I need to see this again right now.’
Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation by Kristin Kobes Du Menz: I think I may look back on 2020 as the year I divorced myself from evangelicalism. I was starting to feel like I didn’t belong there well before Donald Trump won the election in 2016, largely on the backs of white evangelicals. I was becoming all too aware that evangelicalism looked less like what I saw of the teachings of Jesus and the attitudes and passions of the early Church. Its fruits seemed to be anger, misogyny, fear, racism, a lust for power and an unhealthy patriotism. Kristin Kobes Du Menz’ book unpacks that thought, looking through America’s history to see how a nation that worshipped power, might and strong men became entwined with a religion afraid of being seen as feminine and resistant to ceding power to anyone who wasn’t white. Beginning with the early days of Billy Graham’s ministry, the book portrays the unholy marriage between American Christianity and conservative politics, and how a desire to have a seat at the table shriveled the souls of prominent Christian leaders. Not only did I recognize the names of several of the subjects in the book, many of them were leaders I once respected and whose teachings I sought to emulate. But Du Menz draws a straight line from them to Donald Trump, fueled not by a love of Christ but by a worship of masculinity, nationalism and whiteness. It’s a hard read, but an essential one.
The Color of Compromise: The Truth About the American Church’s Complicity in Racism by Jemar Tisby: Another hard but crucial read. Tisby unpacks how American’s sad history of racism has been supported and at times bolstered by those claiming the name of Christ. From slave owners twisting scripture to justify themselves to the church’s reluctance to integrate and tendency to look the other way in the civil rights movement, Tisby reminds us that the church still has a lot of repenting to do.
Culture Care: Reconnecting with Beauty for our Common Life by Makoto Fujimura: It wasn’t just a year of reading about the frustrations with Christianity, though. Makoto Fujimura’s book about the role of Christians in shaping the arts and culture was a refreshing read, and I’d consider it essential for any person of faith who also shares an interest in cultural matters. I was particularly moved by his words about artists as ‘border-stalkers,’ people who don’t feel at home in faith culture or in the secular world and who serve as a bridge between the two. I felt seen, as the kids say.
Alright, Alright, Alright: The Oral History of Richard Linklater’s ‘Dazed and Confused’ by Melissa Maerz: Richard Linklater may be my favorite working filmmaker, and Dazed and Confused is one of his very best films. Maerz’ oral history is a riotous telling of the making of his sophomore effort, acknowledged by many as one of the best movies ever made about being a teenager. It’s a warts-and-all look, particularly as it details Linklater making his first studio film and how his refusal to compromise may have had detrimental effects on others’ careers. The cast of then-unknowns included Matthew McConaughey, Ben Affleck, Parker Posey, Renee Zellweger and more, and almost everyone has a story to tell. Imagine what happens when you let a group of 20-somethings loose on Austin, and you have just the beginnings of one of the most wild and entertaining reads of the year.
A Year at the Movies: One Man’s Filmgoing Odyssey by Kevin Murphy: This book, from MST3K writer Kevin Murphy, was originally recommended to me early in the year by my podcast co-host Perry, after I stated that one of my resolutions was to see films in a variety of different theaters throughout the course of the year. I bought it as inspiration. Written in 2002, before streaming experiences existed and when theaters were still the primary way of experiencing a movie in its full glory, Murphy endeavored to see a movie in a theater every day. The book is funny, thoughtful and an ode to the joy and magic of sitting in the dark to share a story of others. Murphy sees a movie in run-down theaters with sticky floors, inside an igloo, at Route 66 drive-ins, and in small shacks in Australia. When theaters shut down and my only cinematic experience this year became Sonic the Hedgehog, the book took on a different meaning, allowing me to remember how great a gift we have in the movies and how much we take it for granted. One day, theaters will reopen and we’ll go back. This movie held me over until then.
Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water and Loving the Bible Again by Rachel Held Evans: When Rachel Held Evans died in 2019, American Christianity lost one of its most provocative, powerful and cleverest voices. Her final book is a beautiful look at the Bible that approaches it not as a doctrinal handbook or series of arguing points but as a collection of stories, poems and letters written at particular times to particular groups that still hold power millennia later. I read this book in a year when I was also reading through the Bible over the course of 12 months, and Evans’ voice rekindled a love for Genesis, recontextualized Scriptures’ often perplexing and problematic war stories, and helped provide important perspective on the Bible’s writings about women and slaves. Evans enters into her frustration and sometimes anger with the Bible, but it’s all tempered with an undeniable love for these ancient words. I don’t agree with everything Evans has written, but the older I get, I realize there’s more we have in common than I’d originally thought.
Hoping for Happiness by Barnabas Piper: Yes, I realize the irony of putting Piper’s name right under Rachel Held Evans’ (his father and her did not see eye-to-eye, and the podcast Piper co-hosts, The Happy Rant, used to end its show with a playful poke at her). But the younger Piper has become one of the most thoughtful and encouraging writers in the Reformed spaces, and he’s one of the remaining few evangelical writers with a clear head on his shoulders. Here, Piper’s writing on happiness at times feels like a next generation approach to his father’s Christian Hedonism, but it’s all very practical and clear. Barnabas Piper lays out a clear, biblical approach to happiness, something more Christians should embody and that way too many feel guilty about (his term “evangeliguilt” is right on). I was convicted by his writing about the “weak hooks” we hang out happiness on, as we look for family, jobs, vacations and health to give us something that only God can satisfy. An encouraging and hopeful read, in a year when many of us needed that.
Hamlet’s Blackberry: A Practical Philosophy for Building a Good Life in the Digital Age by William Powers: Before COVID tethered us more tightly to our devices, I had been trying to make a crucial change in how I use my phone and social media. And there were several books I considered putting here; Digital Minimalism by Cal Newport is another good read. But it was Powers’ 2010 book that I found most practical. Powers doesn’t argue for people to become Luddites or chuck their devices into the trash (something that the age of lockdowns has probably made impossible). Rather, he proposes that the challenges posed by new media are ones we’ve faced all of our lives, and he suggests that there are answers that have been available to us throughout the centuries. From ancient Greece to the days of Shakespeare to an interlude on Walden Pond, Powers suggests practical, rational ways for us to unplug, clear our heads, shut these devices off when possible and use them for good when we can. It’s an engaging, smart read, and a great way to guide you in 2021, should you find yourself too tethered.
That’s the lists! Come back Friday for my top 10 movies of the year!
The Digest
Where you can find me online this week
Sound of Metal review: Darius Marder’s Sound of Metal is one of the year’s best films, an emotional and innovative story of a drummer dealing with hearing loss. Riz Ahmed, Olivia Cooke and Paul Raci deliver award-worthy performances, and Marder makes a movie that isn’t so much about overcoming an obstacle but about accepting change. There are many ways this movie could have gone wrong and turned into a manipulative “Important” movie, but Marder navigates around them to make something more thoughtful and profound than I expected. Review on BHM Pop Culture.
News of the World review: Paul Greengrass transitions from his visceral, of-the-moment actioners to a more classically filmed, emotional western in this reunion with Tom Hanks. Hanks is solid as always, and there’s heart to the story of a grizzled soldier’s burgeoning friendship with a young orphan. There’s nothing great here, but it’s a solid, entertaining and sometimes touching entry into the genre. Review on BHM Pop Culture.
Picks and Pans podcast: In light of last week’s momentous news that Warner Brothers would release its entire 2021 slate in theaters and on HBO Max, my friend and fellow Detroit film critic Nate Adams invited me on his podcast as part of a panel that included him and our fellow Detroit Film Critics Society members MontiLee Stormer and Michelle Kisner. The result was a very fun and (hopefully) informative look at our changing media landscape. I hope you enjoy it!