best essay films

50 Movies About Writers That Are Definitely Worth Your Time

From William Shakespeare to Toni Morrison to Joan Didion to J.R.R. Tolkien, it's no secret that folks who professionally put words on paper are endlessly fascinating individuals. Some writers find inspiration for their work from their own troubled lives and wild backgrounds. Others are simply born with imaginations the size of an aircraft carrier. However different they may be, authors, journalists, poets, and essayists all share the special ability of expressing themselves so well that they take up space in the minds of others.

With a gift so unique — and so fundamentally important to the movie industry — it's no wonder Hollywood loves making movies about writers. And it turns out, audiences truly enjoy watching the misadventures of the literarily inclined. However, movies about writers are all faced with the same problem: The actual act of writing is un-cinematic. There's nothing inherently that interesting about watching a person pound out sentences on a laptop or typewriter, even though the person doing the typing might be deeply interesting. Luckily, these great films have found unique and exciting ways of visualizing the writing process and the figures behind it, so read on to find out the best movies about writers (and don't worry, no one is just sitting behind a desk in any of these).

One of the best movies about a writer not surprisingly comes from the brain and fingertips of the meta movie master himself: Charlie Kaufman. Kaufman wrote the 2002 film "Adaptation," which tells a story about a fictional version of himself and his fictional twin brother, Donald. In "Adaptation," insecure and self-loathing screenwriter Charlie Kaufman ( Nicolas Cage ) suffers from writer's block, as he tries to adapt a book that seems impossible to translate to the screen. Meanwhile, his twin brother Donald (also Cage) decides that he wants to be a screenwriter too, and tries his hand at Charlie's life's work.

If a double performance from Cage isn't enough of a selling point, the fact that Kaufman wrote a movie about a screenwriter adapting a book should do the trick. In his hands, the story turns into a commentary on the Hollywood machine, the difference between reality and fiction, a semi-adaptation of Susan Orlean's real-life bestseller "The Orchid Thief," and an update of Sam Shepherd's classic stage comedy "True West."

Plus, it features a stacked supporting cast. Screen queen Meryl Streep delivers big time as author Susan Orlean, Chris Cooper serves as a perfect antagonist, and Brian Cox shows up to steal a few scenes as Robert McKee. Maggie Gyllenhaal and Tilda Swinton also appear in small roles. All of these actors bring a sense of quirky energy and make what could've been an overly heady movie into a fun ride. Viewers be warned though, anyone looking for a one-for-one recreation of "The Orchid Thief" should look elsewhere.

Midnight in Paris

Woody Allen's love letter to Paris in the 1920s is both a sweet high-concept comedy and an evaluation of the virtues of nostalgia. "Midnight in Paris" centers around Gil (Owen Wilson), a Hollywood script doctor, who dreams of writing a meaningful novel. While in Paris with his fiancée Inez (Rachel McAdams) and her parents, Gil discovers a car that takes him back to 1920s Paris at midnight. Gil goes on the trip of a lifetime, where he hangs out with literary and artistic greats like Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Cole Porter, Salvador Dalí, Gertrude Stein, and many, many more.

"Midnight in Paris" plays like an art and literature lover's dream, as these legendary writers and artists get the chance to engage with someone who already knows their reputations and masterworks, which leads to some hilarious jokes. The casting in this film is excellent, as Tom Hiddleston proves to be an inspired choice as a young F. Scott Fitzgerald, while Adrian Brody is hilarious as a rhinoceros-obsessed Dalí. Any fan looking to get lost in a whimsical story featuring some of the most influential names of the 20th century need look no further than "Midnight in Paris."

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

2018's "Can You Ever Forgive Me?" is based on the true story of professional biographer Lee Israel (via Time ). Struggling to write her next book and pay the rent, Israel (Melissa McCarthy) uses her gift for getting into the lives of other people and forges letters from all sorts of famous folks, which she sells for a high price. What ensues is a deep look inside a damaged and lonely person, who's often more comfortable embodying others rather than herself.

McCarthy — who's typically scene-stealing in comedic vehicles like "Bridesmaids" — plays against type here and brings a prickly exterior to almost every scene she's in. In her hands, Israel becomes a lovable hard drinker and sailor-mouthed depressive. But underneath the movie's pain and drama lies a quietly devastating look at an author whose talents went under-appreciated in her time. Nobody turns to fraud for fun and "Can You Ever Forgive Me?" makes a strong case that forgery really is Israel's last resort.

It also makes pains to not overly romanticize its protagonist's gifts. Even though expertly crafting false biographical correspondence is no easy feat, the audience is never explicitly rooting for Israel to get away with it. It's akin to watching a talented friend burn their skills on a fruitless enterprise and here, the viewer grows to admire Israel's work before wishing she put her efforts towards something else.

Ruby Sparks

Zoe Kazan wrote and stars in "Ruby Sparks," a film about a fictional manic pixie dream girl come to life. Author Calvin (Paul Dano) writes about a character named Ruby Sparks, and is startled to see that this person on his page suddenly appears in the form of a living, breathing Ruby Sparks (Kazan). Calvin soon discovers that his writing about Ruby holds sway over Ruby in the real world.

This high-concept plot explores heady themes like how women are objectified in fiction by male creators or what it means for an author to engage with their material once it leaves the page and enters the real world. While the movie is based around this complex metaphor, it never fails to entertain. Dano and Kazan are wonderful in the lead roles and the cast is rounded out by the likes of Antonio Banderas, Annette Benning, and Steve Coogan — who's funny enough to read a phone book.

The film got mostly positive reviews by critics, including Roger Ebert , who wrote that "the movie's intriguing in its fanciful way." Directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris of "Little Miss Sunshine" fame bring Kazan's script to life here, and anyone looking for a meta tale about writing will be sure to enjoy "Ruby Sparks."

Virginia Woolf is an author whose work seems like it would be difficult to adapt for the big screen due to her focus on interiority, or the way that characters think and feel, which is hard to show on-screen. Luckily for Woolf fans, 2003's "The Hours" — based on a book of the same name by Michael Cunningham — heavily vibes on Woolf's " waves " length. 

The movie tells the story of three women in three different time periods, who are all interconnected by Woolf's novel "Mrs. Dalloway." There's Virginia Woolf (Nicole Kidman) trying to write in 1923, Laura Brown (Julianne Moore) trying to live in 1951, and Clarissa Vaughan (Meryl Streep) trying to throw a party in 2001.

Both the film and its source material owes a ton to Woolf's classic works like "A Room of One's Own" and "Mrs. Dalloway." In "The Hours," much like in Woolf's novels, each female protagonist puts on a face for the world (and men) around her, which hides all that she has going on underneath the surface.

All three actresses shine in "The Hours," as do supporting cast members like Richard Harris in a particularly tragic performance. For anyone unfamiliar with Woolf, "The Hours" is a fantastic and emotional ode to a woman who created art at a time that didn't understand her or want her to.

Bright Star

Academy Award-winning writer-director Jane Campion brought her signature light and considered touch to 2009's "Bright Star." The film depicts the romance between poet John Keats (Ben Whishaw) and Fanny Brawne (Abbie Cornish).

Today, Keats is a well-known 19th century Romantic poet. However, in his own time, Keats felt he was a failure. His published work received mostly middling reviews and he died at 25 of tuberculosis. This context brings a tinge of sadness to the film since anybody familiar with the poet is aware of the tragic future outcome of his budding romance with Fanny.

Campion keeps a movie about a romantic rather subdued. Instead of making Keats' and Fanny's relationship into a loud ball of anachronistic erotic behavior, she spends time on the intimate moments the pair share together. The tiny beats of silence they share, the expression on Fanny's face when she receives a letter from Keats, and the moments where the pair read poetry all create a gorgeous portrait of young love. In other words, Campion captures the romance people are capable of when just being around one another is enough. However sad though it may be, this beautiful movie is quietly excellent and not to be missed.

Becoming Jane

Jane Austen received the Hollywood biopic treatment in 2007's "Becoming Jane." While the movie is not a particularly accurate account of Austen's ascendance to the literary hall of fame, it is a fun romp through Austen's past. In the film, Anne Hathaway plays the budding literary superstar, who's marked by equal intelligence and charm. As she makes her way through the world, she encounters suitors of all shapes and sizes, from all manner of backgrounds both privileged and unprivileged alike.

The movie is framed as "the inspiration" for Austen's "Pride and Prejudice." Any fan looking for a granular recreation of Austen's process or life in the Regency Era be warned — "Becoming Jane" is firmly a rom-com with biopic window dressing. Most of its plot revolves around Austen's relationship with Tom Lefroy (James McAvoy). While Lefroy existed in real life, scholars aren't certain he was ever romantically involved with the author (via The Jane Austen Centre ). However, the fiction weaves into the film is more fun than issue.

"Becoming Jane" may not reveal anything particularly noteworthy about Austen or her literary process. However, it does allow Hathaway to put enough charisma on screen to fill her own novel. So, like a fun read, "Becoming Jane," entices audiences and doesn't overstay its welcome.

Some movies about authors are played for grins, while others — like 2005's "Capote" — are played deadly serious. This biopic details the six years that Truman Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman) spends writing his magnum opus, "In Cold Blood," and the heavy toll that this work of investigating and writing about a heinous crime takes on Capote.

This book details the real-life murders of a family in Kansas, as well as the subsequent investigation into the killings, and the trial and executions of the men who committed them. In an interview with The New York Times , Capote discusses his revolutionary approach of writing this true story using the devices of fiction, which is widely credited as creating the non-fiction novel (via Brittanica.com ).

The late, great Philip Seymour Hoffman captures this dark material marvelously. He completely channels the author, and won his only Oscar for the performance. While many authors have led interesting lives, not many have worked on a story that fundamentally altered the course of their life, and "Capote" captures the destructive toll of creation marvelously.

Young Adult

In 2011's "Young Adult," Mavis Gary ( Charlize Theron ) is a former prom queen, who's now a stunted young adult fiction writer with a penchant for bitter put-downs and whiskey. Mavis returns to her hometown and embarks upon a doomed quest to win back her old high school flame, Buddy Slade (Patrick Wilson). That Buddy is happily married with a pregnant wife doesn't deter Mavis one bit, who tries to reconnect with her old flame, all while connecting in surprising ways with Matt (Patton Oswalt), a bullied ex-classmate she barely remembers.

While "Young Adult" could have played like a depressing slice-of-life movie, in the hands of screenwriter Diablo Cody and director Jason Reitman — who team up again after the wildly successful "Juno" — it subverts expectations to become something totally unique, which has as many laughs as dark moments.

Theron shines here, as she goes for broke and swerves between unbridled nastiness and vulnerability on a dime. She's matched only by stand-up comedian Patton Oswalt, who injects a fairly grim film with a much-needed sense of humanity and empathy. In fact, Oswalt's performance is so good that Roger Ebert described it as the "key to the film's success" in his review.

Almost Famous

2000's "Almost Famous" dramatizes the actual and envy-inducing early days of director Cameron Crowe's career in music journalism (via Rolling Stone ). In the movie, a teenager named William Miller (Patrick Fugit) gets hired by Rolling Stone editor Ben Fong-Torres (Terry Chen) to go on tour with a fictional band called Stillwater. Stillwater — with their long hair, sweet riffs, and infighting — acts an amalgamation of the legendary rock bands from the 1970s like Led Zeppelin and the Allman Brothers.

 The movie's secret sauce is its ability to express William's passion for writing. William, like his real-life counterpart Cameron Crowe, loves rock n' roll and Crowe is able to make this enthusiasm vibrate off the screen, so viewers can reach out and grab a fistful of William's lust for life and epic experiences. Plenty of movies deal with the troubled lives of writers and many make hay of the inspirations that lead to their most influential works. However, very few films explicitly show the audience what it feels like to care about something enough to write about it for a living and do so in such a warm, sweet way. If all of that didn't sell it, "Almost Famous" also features the most iconic use of Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" of all time. Seek this movie out wherever it can be found.

Stranger Than Fiction

"Stranger Than Fiction" is a somewhat odd movie. Its director Marc Forster was previously known for sad fare like "Monster's Ball," and it stars Will Ferrell in his first real dramatic role as IRS auditor Harold Crick. Crick lives life like any everyman. He works, he chats with friends, and he pines for romance — until this existence is suddenly interrupted by a disembodied voice narrating his life. Crick goes on a quest to find the source of this narrator, and soon discovers that he's the subject of the next novel by author Karen Eiffel (Emma Thompson), who's known for killing off her protagonists. 

"Stranger Than Fiction" uses its meta concept to explore the relationship between love, art, and creation, and it tackles these heady topics in a palatable and off-beat way thanks to Ferrell's turn as Harold Crick. Given the surreal nature of the story, Ferrell's acting chops fit into the movie's heightened world. In a film that dives into absurdity from its opening moments, Ferrell reveals a unique ability to reverse his usual funny man shtick. Instead of handling routine moments with absurdity, he handles absurd moments subtly. While the movie is about Harold Crick, it also relies on the relationship between Crick and Eiffel, as two people who discover the unexpected ways they influence each other. It speaks to that on a micro level as well as on a macro one, as Eiffel confronts her abilities and power as a writer, which is done perfectly in Thompson's hands.

Barton Fink

The Coen Brothers' "Barton Fink ” is a lot of things. It's a movie about writer's block — famously written during the Coen Brothers' own writer's block (via Cinephilia Beyond ) — it's a showcase of John Turturro's and John Goodman's acting abilities, and it might even be an allegory for the life of the mind . However, the one thing it most definitely is, is a fantastic movie.

The story follows Turturro's Fink — a successful New York playwright concerned with the common man — when he moves to Los Angeles in 1941 to write for a major Hollywood studio. Fink is assigned to write a wrestling picture and he immediately comes down with a case of writer's block. Fink sets out to find inspiration, which inevitably leads to various bizarre only-in-a-Coen-Brothers-movie-moments.

For the unfamiliar, the Coen Brothers are riffing on a real-life frequent 20th-century practice of the literary-minded heading out to Los Angeles in search of big paychecks and fame. According to the A.V. Club , the Coen Brothers loosely based the character of Fink on the playwright-turned-screenwriter Clifford Odets. In fact, it was their discovery that Nobel Prize-winning icon William Faulkner wrote a wrestling movie — 1932's "Flesh" — that initially inspired "Barton Fink" (and the film's character of W.P. Mayhew). Faulkner and the Coen Brothers? This movie is a novel head's dream.

My Salinger Year

Joanna Rakoff's memoir "My Salinger Year ” gets the Hollywood treatment this 2021 adaptation. The movie follows Rakoff (Margaret Qualley), as she begins her writing career by becoming an assistant to literary agent Margaret Westberg. Margaret (Sigourney Weaver) is a stand-in for real life literary agent Phyllis Westberg (via Variety ). Things take an interesting turn for Rakoff, when she begins taking phone calls from one of Westberg's most famous clients: J.D. "Jerry" Salinger.

"My Salinger Year" unfolds like a coming-of-age story shot through with "The Devil Wears Prada" energy. Over the course of her time working for Westberg, Joanna finds romance, renewed self-confidence in her own work, and makes decisions about where she wants her own life to go. While it doesn't have the same caustic wit that made "The Devil Wears Prada" so popular, "My Salinger Year" is most definitely an interesting snapshot into a career path most folks may not know anything about. And for any movie fan with dreams of writing, the idea of getting paid to talk to Salinger is surely catnip. 

Rob Reiner adapted Stephen King's 1987 novel "Misery" into a classic horror movie of the same name in 1990. The film follows famous romance author Paul Sheldon (James Caan), who gets into a terrible car accident. He's saved by Annie Wilkes (Kathy Bates), a super fan who decides to hold her favorite author hostage. "Misery" mimics Kings real life in different ways, both superficially as it's a chilling nightmare about obsessive fans, and on a deeper level, as he's noted that it's an allegory for his cocaine addiction (via Rolling Stone ).

Bates brings so much demented menace to the role that she not only makes the film, but also won an Oscar for her performance, which is extra impressive considering how infrequently horror films get recognized by the Academy. Seriously, in Bates' hand, Annie Wilkes enters the pantheon of great movie villains alongside Heath Ledger's Joker, the shark from "Jaws," and Darth Vader. For fans of the horror genre or movies about writers, run, don't walk to see "Misery." However, viewers be warned — after watching "Misery," you'll never look at a sledgehammer the same way ever again.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with addiction issues, help is available. Visit the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration website or contact SAMHSA's National Helpline at 1-800-662-HELP (4357).

Mary Shelley

Author Mary Shelley is remembered for her 1818 masterpiece "Frankenstein." While the chilling story of Dr. Frankenstein's attempt to play god and create life of his own is known to many, the details of its creator's life are likely not. So, in 2017, indie director Haifaa al-Mansour brought Shelley's miraculous and tragic life to the screen in the biopic "Mary Shelley."

The film follows a teenage Mary (Elle Fanning), who falls in love with famed Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley (Douglas Booth). As she tries to navigate this relationship, Mary finds surprising inspiration for her "Frankenstein" during a night of telling ghost stories, and later struggles to get her book published.

Elle Fanning plays Shelley with the same vivaciousness she brings to her star performance as Catherine the Great on "The Great." Al-Mansour shoots the film like a romantic period piece, which makes this particular biopic unique. In reality, Mary Shelley lived through the Romantic art movement in Europe due to her relationship with Percy Shelley and friendship with Lord Byron, and her life itself is almost an inversion of a classic romance. Like typical romantic heroines, Shelley was a fiercely intelligent young woman of means, but her life did not wrap up in a neat happy ending. While she did fight her way through the period's sexist attitudes to publish arguably the greatest piece of horror fiction ever written, her life was also marked by various tragedies. "Mary Shelley" focuses on an influential moment of this authors life, and so communicates who Shelley was and her artistic achievements. For "Frankenstein" fans everywhere, it's a must see.

The Ghost Writer

In a time-honored Hollywood tradition, "The Ghost Writer" adapts another thriller by "Silence of the Lambs" author Robert Harris. Based on his novel "The Ghost," the movie follows an unnamed ghostwriter (Ewan McGregor), who's hired to complete the autobiography of former British Prime Minister Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan). This being a Harris adaptation, it's not really a spoiler to say it's not long before the ghostwriter's assignment lands the working writer in a hot pile of intrigue.

While the movie's machinations don't move it much beyond standard political thriller fare, its cast most definitely does. McGregor is fantastic in the leading role, as is always and former James Bond Pierce Brosnan as the former PM Adam Lang, since the movie leverages Brosnan's singular charm like a weapon. All the things that made him attractive as 007 make him terrifying as a politician. The rest of the class includes some early work from the always wonderful Jon Bernthal and a superb cameo from Eli Wallach. Yes, Tuco from "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly," shares a scene with Ewan McGregor. It's glorious.

Little Women

Greta Gerwig's 2019 "Little Women" is one of the great literary adaptations to hit the big screen. Besides the fact that it's based on one of the most beloved novels of all time (of the same name), it also features an incredible range of some of the most talented women in Hollywood.

"Little Women" the life and times of the four March sisters as they come of age, make career choices, get married, and grow up in the 19th century. Gerwig wisely decides to let the cast and Louisa May Alcott's wonderful source material do their thing. She also changes the novel's structure by moving between the "present" day (of 1868) and the past in flashbacks. However, originalists should have no fear. The flashbacks just add to the adaptation and ensure that the book's biggest moments all make it to the screen.

While "Little Women" focuses on all of the March sisters, it's Jo's story at heart, and she's played here by Saoirse Ronan. Jo is the writer of the bunch, whose imagination and creativity let her dream of a world beyond what she's told she can have. Ronan embodies Jo's free writer spirit to perfection, and her work is matched by Florence Pugh as bull-headed youngest sister Amy, Emma Watson as pragmatic eldest Meg, and Eliza Scanlen as kind-hearted Beth. The supporting cast includes Laura Dern as the girls' mother and Meryl Streep as their hilarious caustic aunt. Guided by writer-director Gerwig's confident and considerate hand, "Little Women" is a new classic in its own right.

Before Sunset

Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy star 2004's "Before Sunset," the second entry of Richard Linklater's "Before" trilogy. Each film in the trilogy depicts a romantic rendezvous between Hawke's Jesse and Delpy's Celine and each meeting is set exactly nine years apart (via Vanity Fair ). What sets this series apart is that Linklater filmed and released each movie in real-time. The first came out in 1995, the second in 2004, and the third in 2013, which gives the "Before" movies a truly authentic touch, as the characters and actors grow and age in real life.

In "Before Sunset," Jesse has just published a novel that recounts his initial meeting with Celine in "Before Sunrise." Jesse hasn't seen Celine since their meeting in the first movie and hopes the book will draw her out. It does and the pair spend "Before Sunset" rekindling their relationship, as they walk around Paris.

Jesse's novel not only ties in the events of the first film in an impactful way, but also gives the trilogy a literary bent. Linklater's "Before" trilogy can almost be viewed as a living, breathing novel set in three distinct time periods of its central characters' lives. Like the most famous romance stories — think Edith Wharton's "Age of Innocence" or Jane Austen's catalog — the "Before" trilogy is all about the ways that love both changes and holds constant over time.

Swimming Pool

"Isolated writer" movies, wherein an author goes somewhere remote to focus on working until things begin to go bump in the night, is a fantastic sub-genre and 2003's "Swimming Pool" is one of its best entries.

Author Sarah Morton (Charlotte Rampling) goes on a retreat to her publisher's remote French country home to work on her next novel. However, her peace and quiet is quickly upended when the young and enigmatic Julie (Ludivine Sagnier) shows up, claiming to be the publisher's daughter. The two women immediately butt heads, as a war of strong personalities kicks off in earnest. However, instead of turning into a clash of the generations comedy, "Swimming Pool" instead becomes a slow burn thriller.

The movie's tension is so thick, the audience can dish it out with an ice cream scooper. Every exchange between Julie and Sarah results in another layer of mystery to untangle. Every guest Julie brings by the house's pool seems to annoy and arouse Sarah's interest more and more. And every answer Sarah gets from the elusive Julie only leads to more questions. By the film's end audiences will be wringing their hands in paranoia. For fans of movies with equal parts mystery, eroticism, and writing, "Swimming Pool" is for you.

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Terry Gilliam, former Monty Python member and director of oddball wonders like "Brazil" and "Time Bandits," takes audiences on a weekend getaway they won't soon forget in 1998's "Fear in Loathing in Las Vegas." Based on Hunter S. Thompson's book of the same name, the film follows writer Raoul Duke (Johnny Depp) and his attorney Dr. Gonzo (Benicio del Toro) on a trip to Las Vegas. Duke is supposed to be covering an annual motorcycle race, but he winds up taking a laundry list of drugs and tapping into "the savage heart of the American dream." 

As in the book, the movie's Duke is based on countercultural icon Hunter S. Thompson, who wrote the novel out of his own experiences in Las Vegas on two separate writing assignments for Rolling Stone . The book is wonderful in its own gross, hilarious, and acid-dipped way. The movie has some difficulty transferring that plot to the big screen, since the plot is pretty thin to begin with. 

However, Gilliam wisely does what he can to capture the book's energy by letting the writing speak for itself. He lifts Thompson's brilliant prose off the page and puts it on-screen in voice over, and Thompson himself is brilliantly captured by Johnny Depp, who even nails the author's unique staccato speaking style. For any movie fan who's heard the Thompson name but never read any of his work, check out "Fear and Loathing" for scenes that capture the best of his writing. 

Out of Africa

1985's "Out of Africa" is a movie from a bygone era when movie stars headlined films as opposed to franchises. In other words, "Out of Africa's" selling point was the white hot charisma of Robert Redford and Meryl Streep, not its place in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. There's nothing wrong with franchise movies, but it's hard to watch a movie like "Out of Africa" and not fall in love with its leads.

Loosely on Karen von Blixen's 1937 memoir of the same name (written under her pen name of Isak Dinesen), the film follows von Blixen (Streep), as she moves to a British colony in Africa in the early 20th century and begins a doomed romance with Denys Hatton (Redford). These experiences and more shape a story that she later turns into her memoir.

The movie plays like a highlight reel of adventure romance novels. The pair has differences when they first meet, eventually learn to get along, and then learn how to really get along. Without spoiling how any of these things occur, it's no spoiler to say Redford and Streep are absolutely magnetic together on screen. Both are acting legends in their own right and together, the pair gives off enough steam to power the Trans Pacific Railroad. While writing may not always be at the forefront of the film, it definitely foregrounds the type of fun often reserved for the best beach novels.

Shakespeare in Love

For anybody who likes their romantic comedy served with a side of literary history, look no further than "Shakespeare in Love." The movie — starring Joseph Fiennes as The Bard and Gwyneth Paltrow as his love interest Viola — fictionalizes a forbidden romance between Shakespeare and a high-born lady, which inspires his next play: "Romeo and Ethel, the Pirate's Daughter." Or rather, inspires him to make some changes to it.

The movie is fun for a few reasons. The cast is clearly having a ball, Fiennes and Paltrow have fantastic chemistry, and Dame Judi Dench shows up as Queen Elizabeth I. Plus, "Shakespeare in Love" stays true to its namesake's talent by bundling low comedy, high comedy, and tragedy all into the same package. The movie was an enormous box office hit when it was released in 1998. It was a critical hit too, and won seven Oscars, including Best Picture (via IMDB ). Esteemed critic Roger Ebert gave the movie four stars when it first came out and he credited the film with presenting the reason so many people fall in love with theater.

Some basic knowledge of Shakespeare's works and history will definitely help a viewer pick up on some of the movie's in-jokes. However, Shakespeare essentially wrote for anyone who's ever suffered the trials and tribulations of this mortal coil, and "Shakespeare in Love" has the same broad appeal.

The late great Iris Murdoch remains one the greatest authors of the 20th century. Her writing ran headlong into every oddity that makes humans human, and she never looked away from the quirks of our better and worse angels. 

"Iris" follows Murdoch at different stages of her life, so here, Kate Winslet plays young Iris and Dame Judi Dench plays the elder Iris. For fans keeping score, that's two epic generational talents in the same movie. Iris' husband, writer and professor John Bayley, is portrayed by Hugh Bonneville and Jim Broadbent in his younger and older forms. 

Ultimately, this 2001 biopic about Murdoch's life and eventual battle with Alzheimer's couldn't hope to be as original as its subject , it's certainly worth the watch to learn more about the woman behind some of the best books of the last 100 years, and who saw the world a bit differently from others. Luckily, she shared it in ways that continue to shape writers and readers alike, and "Iris" captures Murdoch's essence and influence as best it can.

Sunset Boulevard

"Sunset Boulevard" is an all-time classic film. Set in 1950s Hollywood, the movie follows Joe Gillis (William Holden), a down-on-his-luck screenwriter, who's out of work and out of credit. Gillis hides from repo-men in what appears to be an abandoned palatial estate on Sunset Boulevard. However, he discovers the residence is actually home to reclusive actress Norma Desmond (Gloria Swanson). Desmond was a big star in the silent era and wants Holden to help her write a comeback movie.

"Sunset Boulevard" is a one-of-a-kind love letter to the Golden Age of Tinseltown. For starters, it was directed and co-written by Billy Wilder, who was arguably one of the best talents of the era (if not all eras) and wrote classics like "Ace in the Hole," "The Apartment," and "Some Like It Hot." The writing of the film is fantastic, as it examines Hollywood and screenwriting itself through a sharp and satirical lens. Its commentary on the film industry runs deep, as it looks at the studio system and in particular, the silent era. 

In some meta casting, the role of Norma Desmond is played by real-life silent starlet Gloria Swanson, whose film career was resurrected thanks to her Oscar-nominated turn in this stunning performance. The movie also features cameos from the likes of Cecille B. DeMille, Buster Keaton, and Erich von Stronheim. "Sunset Boulevard" is a truly iconic movie and shouldn't be missed.

Sylvia Plath gets brought to life in 2003's "Sylvia," which focuses on the life of one of the most influential American writers to ever put pen to paper. Sylvia (Gwyneth Paltrow) is studying at Cambridge, where she explores her writing and finds love in the form of the poet Ted Hughes (Daniel Craig). The two marry, but Sylvia struggles with depression and her writing career, all while taking care of her family.

Paltrow does a lot with a role that could have fallen into clichés by imbuing Plath with a warmth that makes her tragic suicide even more devastating, even though anybody familiar with Plath's story or work knows how it ends. "Sylvia" doesn't connect Plath's death directly to her work, but rather explores the deep sadness that she lived with her whole life, which informed her worldview. Come for more information about Plath herself, stay for Paltrow's performance, and leave with the knowledge that Plath still lives on in her beautiful grasp of language.

If you or anyone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline​ at​ 1-800-273-TALK (8255)​.

If you or someone you know needs help with mental health, please contact the Crisis Text Line by texting HOME to 741741, call the National Alliance on Mental Illness helpline at 1-800-950-NAMI (6264), or visit the National Institute of Mental Health website .

The Lost Weekend

Writer-director Billy Wilder makes the list again with his 1945 adaptation Charles R. Jackson's novel of the same name, "The Lost Weekend." The movie follows the harrowing misadventures of alcoholic writer Don Birham (Ray Milland). Over the course of a single weekend, Birham begs, steals, and hits rock bottom in his search of another drink.

At the time, "The Lost Weekend" was one of the first stories to deal with the dark realities of alcoholism in American theaters (via FilmSite ). Thankfully, in Wilder's capable hands, the movie avoids diving into the exploitation deep end that is common in so many addiction narratives. Instead, Birham's addiction is treated with consideration and nuance and gets shown with warts and all.

Considering so many writers, including the author of "The Lost Weekend" (via The NY Times ), have contended with alcoholism and other addictions, it's refreshing to see a movie where the affliction is not romanticized. The Academy agreed as well. "The Lost Weekend" received Oscar wins for its director, screenplay, lead actor, and won the year's Best Picture award. While "The Lost Weekend," is by no means a light watch, it's certainly worth the weight of its heavy subject.

Miss Potter

For many, "The Tale of Peter Rabbit" is one the greatest children's books ever written and its imagery is recognizable the world over. In 2007, director Chris Noonan brought the story of the woman who created Peter Rabbit to the big screen with "Miss Potter." Beatrix Potter (Renée Zellweger) is an unconventional woman in the early 1900s: She is unmarried, and she dreams of writing a children's book based on her drawings of animals. Everything changes when she meets Norman (Ewan McGregor), a kind man who wants to publish her book, and with his help, Beatrix challenges a world that only sees women in the most limited light.

In the movie, Zellweger plays Beatrix Potter with a blend of quiet confidence and kind words. She is as sweet as Mary Poppins in the title role, but the movie's true creative stroke is the way it portrays Potter engaging with her creations, who spring to life on the page with lovely animated sequences. 

The brief inclusion of animation in a live action film goes a long way. It both reminds audiences of the impact of a story as seemingly simple as "The Tale of Peter Rabbit," and also illustrates just how powerful Potter's imagination really was. She had an incredible gift for storytelling, and "Miss Potter" shows how the sexist attitudes of her time almost prevented this gift from ever reaching the world. In the end, "Miss Potter" shows how belief — in oneself and in others — can be stronger than societal demands, and for anyone looking to get lost in pastoral Victorian England with a beloved author and her characters, "Miss Potter" is the film for you.

Spike Lee's "Malcolm X" tells the story of one of the most literally and figuratively revolutionary writers of all time. The movie follows Malcolm X (Denzel Washington) in a cradle-to-grave narrative, beginning with his childhood in Harlem as Malcolm Little and going into his prison time, in which he's reborn as Malcolm X.

The movie is a lot of things — entertaining, interesting, educational — but it's a showcase for Washington and Lee's indelible talents first and foremost. As the movie progresses deeper into Malcolm X's work and teachings for Black liberation and civil rights, Lee's direction gets more confidently stylized. The same goes for Washington's performance. It's almost as if the two men purposefully paced their originality on-screen to line up with the stages of Malcolm's life. 

While Malcolm X's only published work is his autobiography, his verse lives on through recordings and republished speeches. Unlike the majority of the other existing writers on this list, Malcolm didn't write fiction or craft stories. However, the impact of his work has arguably had the most to say about life in America, which is just one of many reasons why Spike Lee's "Malcom X" is an appointment viewing.

Saving Mr. Banks

"Saving Mr. Banks" recounts Walt Disney's efforts to woo author P.L. Travers to grant Disney the movie rights to her work. The work in question? The practically perfect-in-every-way "Mary Poppins." The movie's conflict revolves around Travers' (Emma Thompson) reluctance to let Walt Disney (Tom Hanks) turn her creation into a candy-coated Disney vehicle. The story is based on the real life production of "Mary Poppins." However, publications like Vulture  pointed out that this film excludes a number of things from the true story and in doing so, warps what happened. This makes sense considering Disney Studios released "Saving Mr. Banks," likely had to ensure the story fit their company's squeaky clean brand.

That said, "Saving Mr. Banks" is still a worthwhile watch for fans of Traver's books, the movie adaptation of "Mary Poppins," or both. It delves into the differences between her book and the movie, and it also explores Traver's childhood as an inspiration for the original. Most interestingly, however, "Saving Mr. Banks" depicts a story about an author losing control over the work they put out into the world. It may have too neat an ending for some folks' taste, but it's still an interesting question for a movie to address nonetheless.

Director Jim Jarmusch's "Paterson" is a love letter to folks who find beauty in things like taking the bus or having a beer at the same bar every night of the week, and is a must-watch for the poetically inclined. Paterson (Adam Driver) lives and drives a city bus in Paterson, New Jersey. Paterson is a kind and quirky man, who's also a wonderful poet. There's not much more to the plot than that: Poetry, routine, and the occasional disruption of that routine. 

While this may not sound like much of a story, Jarmusch is a master at communicating feelings. "Paterson" features lush sound design — like the distinct sound of a spoon hitting a cereal bowl in this scene — and marvelously composed shots that capture the granular details of each object in their frames. In other words, Jarmusch takes a movie about a poet and turns it into his own visual poetry.

"Paterson" is a beautiful movie to behold and its subtly meticulous crafting rewards multiple re-watches. Plus, the poetry in the film was written by established poet Ron Padgett (via PBS NewsHour ). It's an excellent showcase of the American author's work and lends the film a sense of authenticity that not many other movies about fictional artists have.

Set at the end of the 19th century, the 2018 biopic "Colette" charts the rise to prominence of the French female writing phenom Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette (Keira Knightly), as well as her abusive relationship with her husband and publisher Henry Gauthier-Villars a.k.a. "Willy" (Dominic West).

For the unfamiliar, Colette penned a popular series of French novels about a teenager named Claudine, as she comes of age in France. The novels were largely based on Colette's own life and were enormously popular with young women upon release. However, Colette's husband took credit for her work and originally published the Claudine novel with his name on them (via TIME ). It's probably not too much of a spoiler to say that Colette and Willy eventually divorced.

How Colette eventually gets credit for her own novels is the driving conflict of the film — so we won't spoil that information here with more historical facts. Finding out how she did it in "Colette" is definitely worth any fan's time. Critic Nell Minnow writes for Roger Ebert that Knightley "gives one of her best performances as a girl with spirit and talent who becomes a woman with ferocity and a voice." Knightly and West ooze chemistry — even when they're furious with one another — and the whole movie is a sultry affair about an author, who lived the way she wanted and eventually got the credit for writing the way she wanted too. Cheers to you sister.

The Shining

Stanley Kubrick's 1980 classic "The Shining" is not only perhaps the best of the "isolated writer" movie sub genre, but for many, it's one of the best horror movies of all time . Based on the novel of the same name by Stephen King, "The Shining" sees failed writer Jack Torrance (Jack Nicholson) move his family into the remote Overlook Hotel for the winter. Torrance takes a job as the hotel's winter keeper as a means to find peace, quiet, and money, while he attempts to write his novel. This being a King story, things in the Overlook Hotel take a turn for the supernatural fairly quickly. This being a Kubrick movie, the scarier things take a turn for the striking as they appear on screen.

It's hard to stress the impact of "The Shining" enough. The 1970s were marked by grizzly low-budget exploitation horror films like "The Last House on the Left" and the iconic "Texas Chain Saw Massacre," and "The Shining" kicked off the new decade like a behemoth nobody asked for or understood. At the time of its release, the movie was widely critically dismissed and even Stephen King panned it (via IndieWire ). 

However, time has been kind to "The Shining." Today, the fingerprints of "The Shining" are everywhere. Its score, cinematography, and classic lines are endlessly honored, parodied, and copied in everything from contemporary horror movies to episodes of "The Simpsons. " In cultural currency, "The Shining's" credit is more than " fine " — it's a perfect 850.

The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society

"The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" is an early 20th century romantic drama with a dash of modern sensibilities and a great admiration for the power of book clubs. Based on Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows' book of the same name, the WWII-era film follows author Juliet Ashton (Lily James) on her writing assignment to the island of Guernsey. It's 1945 and Juliet travels to a small British Channel isle to investigate its book club, "The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Pie Society," which is rumored to have been founded under Nazi occupation. Once Juliet arrives, she discovers intrigue, book lovers, and the dashing Dawsey Adams (Michiel Huisman). 

While its plot is a tad predictable — Juliet is engaged before she embarks on her journey but that Mr. Adams is so handsome and charming that she may have to call her wedding off — the movie serves as a sweet love letter to literary fans. The story revels in the connection strangers find over their shared passion for great works of art. Anybody who's ever joined a book club or even an online fandom will appreciate "The Guernsey Literary & Potato Peel Society" for what it is: a familiar conversation for friends of the genre. Books don't always need to be big unwieldy challenging works; sometimes they just need to offer comfort to their readers. Luckily, Juliet and the rest of the "Potato Peel Society" offer comfort in spades.

Gary Oldman stars in a wonderful performance as the man who penned "Citizen Kane” in David Fincher's 2020 biopic "Mank." The movie centers around writer Herman Mankiewicz (Oldman) a.k.a. "Mank" and the drama surrounding the creation of arguably the best movie of all time . Most of this drama stems from the screenwriter himself. Mank is too smart for his own good. When he's not being over-served in bars, he's a hair's breath away from insulting whichever benefactor is bankrolling his good time. Whether it's titan of industry William Randolph Hearst (Charles Dance) or "Citizen Kane ” star and director Orson Welles (Tom Burke), nobody is safe from Mank's biting wit.

Director David Fincher also uses the movie to shine a light on an odd period of Hollywood history. The movie mirrors the structure of "Citizen Kane:" It unfolds in a series of moments (some fictionalized according to Vulture ), which Fincher argues likely impacted the final script that Mank handed over to Wells. In doing so, the movie dives into early 20th century American politics and the idea that Hollywood has acted as a political machine since its inception.

It's all very heady stuff. It's also all complicated by the feud between Welles and Mank over who really wrote which part of the screenplay. In fact, movie critic Pauline Kael first raised the issue in her 1971 essay " Raising Kane ." The debate around contribution to the screenplay has since continued, but one thing's for sure: "Mank" is a fantastic film about movies and the people who write them.

A Mouthful of Air

Based on the 2003 novel of the same name by Amy Koppelman — who also wrote and directed the film — "A Mouthful of Air" explores the realities of living with postpartum depression. Julie ( Amanda Seyfried ) is a new mom and children's book author, who attempts suicide. The movie then explores Julie's day-to-day life of trying to balance her depression against her various personal and professional responsibilities. 

Koppelman's various works have all dealt with mental health issues in different forms and her experience in depicting the topic in a thoughtful and multi-dimensional way shines through in "A Mouthful of Air." While the film's critical reception was mixed , critic Nick Schager pointed out that the movie's strongest element "is its refusal to propose a one-to-one explanation" for depression in his review for Variety . 

"A Mouthful of Air" tackles its tough subject with an abundance of empathy. It also features a strong central performance from Seyfried, whose inner feelings and conflicts are at odds with what the outside world sees: a woman who "has it all" and writes books that help readers confront their fears. "A Mouthful of Air" is not easy to get through. However, Koppelman's efforts resist exploitative tropes and create a story about understanding and the potential for healing.

If you or anyone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention LiLifeline by dialing 988 or by calling 1-800-273-TALK (8255)​.

My Brilliant Career

1979's "My Brilliant Career" is about an aspiring author named Sybylla Melvyn (Judy Davis) and highlights the not-so-glamorous part of the life of the aspiring writer in late 19th century Australia. Sybylla lives on a farm, where she dreams of being a writer, although her parents see this as just a flight of fancy. Unable to afford the cost of her care, they ship her off to live with her wealthy grandmother, where Sybylla experiences love, a world outside of what she knows, and the means of making her dreams come true.

What sets "My Brilliant Career" apart from similar stories of young adults confronted by the unrelenting reality of responsibility is its refusal to look away from Sybylla's faults. She's bright and creative, yes, but like everybody, she's flawed. It's a truly fantastic character portrait that's definitely worth a watch. Audiences at the time agreed too. "My Brilliant Career" won 6 Australian Film Institute awards in 1979 including Best Film and Best Actress for Judy Davis' performance.

Wonder Boys

Based on Michael Chabon's 1995 novel of the same name, 2000's "Wonder Boys" follows Professor Grady Tripp ( Michael Douglas ) over the course of a few eventful days. Tripp wrote a successful novel some time ago, but in the present, his wife has left him and he passes his time getting high and teaching creative writing. Tripp is stuck with writer's block, but a weekend with two of his students Hannah (Katie Holmes) and James (Tobey Maguire) helps him find the story that he needs to tell. 

When the movie was released, it was met with great reviews from critics. Roger Ebert gave the movie four stars and felt Michael Douglas gave a career stand-out performance as Tripp. Douglas is usually enough reason to see any movie, but "Wonder Boys" also features fantastic turns from then upcoming stars like Toby Maguire and Katie Holmes. Francis McDormand also brings her singular personality to the movie as Tripp's love interest, and there's even a wonderful part for Rip Torn as an aging and mysterious writer named "Q."

A movie that's made with as much care as "Wonder Boys" shouldn't go unnoticed. Most folks who've spent time in a creative writing class will enjoy the movie's specificity; movie fans who haven't will simply enjoy the ride.

The Kindergarten Teacher

"The Kindergarten Teacher” is a pitch-black look at the pain of feeling like you have something to say but don't have the talent to say it well. The 2018 movie is a remake of a 2014 Israeli film of the same name and centers on Lisa ( Maggie Gyllenhaal ), an aspiring poet-turned-kindergarten teacher. Lisa is not a particularly good poet, but one of her students shows promise as a writer. Following in a long line of misguided anti-heroes, Lisa goes to extreme lengths to attempt to foster her student's talent.

Not surprisingly, Gyllenhaal is fantastic in this role, which Rolling Stone movie critic Peter Travers called a "new career peak" for the actress, who "[compels] us to understand a woman who maybe doesn't understand herself." Viewers be warned: "The Kindergarten Teacher ” is capital "D" Dark. Not since Salieri in "Amadeus" has a character so singularly captured the despair of a person coming to terms with their artistic limitations. It's an unfair fact of life that everybody isn't a genius. However, after "The Kindergarten Teacher,” the audience might feel blessed that at least they're better at coping with that reality than Ms. Lisa.

The bachelor party movie is a time-honored tradition in Hollywood. Most generations have their definitive version and some outings in the sub-genre even include Tom Hanks . Meanwhile, other takes like "Sideways" are helmed by director Alexander Payne, who seems to thrive on stories about human behavior that most audiences wish didn't exist. 

Miles (Paul Giamatti) and Jack (Thomas Hayden Church) are two old college buddies, who set off to California's wine country for Jack's bachelor party. Miles is a broke divorced writer with a finished manuscript that he's afraid to let anyone read and a drinking problem. Jack is a small-time actor, who's marrying for money and looking for a few more illicit affairs before he gets married and his good looks fade away entirely. Neither man is happy and neither man is what you might call a good person. For example, Miles robs his mother to pay for the trip and Jack beds a wine server early on in the trip.

Admittedly, none of this sounds like a good time. However, Payne shines a light on average folks at their worst in a way that can make everybody laugh at just how low human beings can go. "Sideways," like the 2004 novel it was based on, is side-splittingly funny. It also has a ton to say about wine, relationships, and things that inspire people to take big swings, like finally dusting off that old manuscript and letting someone read it.

Julie & Julia

Hungry viewers beware, "Julie & Julia” puts a bevy of famous chef Julia Child's signature dishes on screen and will make anyone who watches come down with a searing case of hunger. Julie Powell (Amy Adams) is an aspiring author, who's feeling a bit directionless. So, Julie decides to make all 524 dishes from Child's cookbook "The Art of French Cooking" in a year and keep a blog of this massive effort. At the same time, the film follows Julia Child (Meryl Streep) in the years before she becomes a world-renowned chef, when she is just an American in Paris, who enrolls in French cooking school. The film cuts back and forth between Julie and Julia, as each woman faces her own seemingly endless well of challenges in pursuit of her goals of self-discovery, and sharing that self with the world.

Based on two true stories, "Julia & Julia" draws from Julia Child's autobiography "My Life in France," as well as Julie Powell's memoir "Julia & Julia: My Year of Cooking Dangerously," which was the book that Powell published thanks to the popularity of her blog (via Variety ). Both Adams and Streep are marvelous actors in their own right, but it shouldn't be a surprise to hear "Julie & Julia" is very much Streep's vehicle. Her performance as Child plays like a loving tribute to a larger-than-life personality, who brought French cuisine to homes across the United States and world. This was the final film of writer-director Nora Ephron, and her assured hand plus the work of Streep and Adams all bring an infectious energy that is almost guaranteed to leave a smile on viewers' faces.

American Splendor

2003's "American Splendor" is all about the intersection of fact and fiction. The movie is based on a long-running comic series of the same name, which itself is based on the life of its author Harvey Pekar. The real-life Pekar narrates the film, while his on-screen counterpart is portrayed by Paul Giamatti.

While all of this may sound overly complex for a movie about a comic book writer, it's very in line with the spirit of "American Splendor." Unlike "Batman" or "X-Men" comics, Pekar is no superhero. In fact, his comics are very honest about what he is: a file clerk with a few ex-wives, who lives in Cleveland. This honesty is part of what makes his work so engaging. It also makes the movie a fairly unabashed look into the life and times of a very unique creator.

From the highs and lows of Pekar's moderate fame to his bout with cancer, "American Splendor" pulls no punches in covering its subject, which works considering its author never pulled any punches about himself either. The movie's style — a hybrid of documentary interviews with the real life Pekar and well-executed dramatic recreations with Giamatti as Pekar — place the film firmly in the indie category. However, its experimental style shouldn't be considered a barrier to entry. Much like its creator, "American Splendor" is shaggy and weird, but it's got a ton of heart.

2011's film adaptation of Kathryn Stockett's 2009 novel "The Help" was not only a smash hit with audiences , but also introduced a wide array of film viewers to the talents of Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer.

"The Help" is set during the early 1960s in the South, and kicks off in earnest when Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan (Emma Stone), a young aspiring writer, returns home from college. Since leaving home, Skeeter has discovered a new way of seeing things, and finds that she's deeply uncomfortable with the way that white families in her hometown treat their Black maids. Skeeter begins interviewing domestic workers Aibileen (Viola Davis) and Minny (Octavia Spencer) in an effort to tell their side of the story. Soon, Skeeter's work causes trouble among the racist white community, particularly once the maids begin to demand better treatment from their employers.

Both the movie and novel have been widely criticized for centering the voices of its white characters. Davis herself told The New York Times  in an interview that she regretted her role in the film because "it wasn't the voices of the maids that were heard." So, in respect to Ms. Davis, appreciate "The Help ” for making her and actress Octavia Spencer household names since they are both seriously fantastic in this movie, but don't come to "The Help" for a detailed or thoughtful exploration on race relations in America.

The Diving Bell & The Butterfly

"The Diving Bell & The Butterfly" is the incredible true story of one writer's ability to dictate his entire memoir through a series of blinks after suffering a stroke. Jean-Dominique Bauby (Mathiew Amalric) is the French editor of the fashion magazine Elle. He's got a high-flying job, a loving family, and everything going for him until he suddenly has a stroke and wakes up to discover he has "locked-in syndrome." Jean-Dominque is almost entirely paralyzed, but his mental capacities remain as they were before, so he decides to write a book about his life.

Based on Bauby's 1997 memoir of the same name, "The Diving Bell & the Butterfly" deals with a subject matter that is often wildly moving and sometimes hopelessly upsetting. However, director Julian Schnabel deftly keeps the movie from falling into utter despair. It goes without saying, but anybody who can dictate an entire book just by blinking one eye to a speech therapist was born with an indomitable human spirit. It's this spirit and unbelievable energy that Schnabel, Amalric, and company bring to the screen. Come for the story's enrapturing hook and stay for a deep dive into a writer's soul.

Moulin Rouge!

Few people make movies like Baz Luhrmann. The director's more is more approach to filmmaking has produced visually striking movies like "The Great Gatsby” and "Romeo + Juliet," which are difficult to compare to much else and his 2001 musical "Moulin Rouge!" is no exception.

"Moulin Rouge!" follows Christian (Ewan McGregor), a young writer who sets off to find artistic fame and fortune with the Bohemian movement in turn of the century Paris. Christian doesn't find those things, but he does find an impassioned love affair at the Moulin Rouge with a theater singer and courtesan named Satine ( Nicole Kidman ). However, their love must be kept secret from the man who can save the Moulin Rouge from bankruptcy, but will only do so if he can have Satine all to himself.

This plot may sound clichéd, but Luhrmann's gift is to take clichés and infuse them with colors, movement, and set design so loud that any unoriginality is immediately drowned out by its fantastic surroundings. Plus, "Moulin Rouge!" is a jukebox musical. So, while there are a few original songs written for the movie, Luhrmann also repurposes anachronistic popular songs for this 1900 setting, like The Police's "Roxanne." The audience sees this world through naïve writer Christian's eyes, as he finally experiences love, a subject that he'd written about but never known for himself. Like the best airport romance novels, "Moulin Rouge!" turns the ridiculous into a great time. 

The End of the Tour

David Foster Wallace's seminal talent dominated the American literary field throughout the '90s. Chances are anybody who hasn't read his work has heard a portion of his famous "This is Water" speech  or perhaps has some ideas about the type of guy who lionizes Wallace, as Deirdre Coyle describes in "Men Explain David Foster Wallace to Me" for  Electric Lit . With all of that reputation preceding him, 2015's "The End of the Tour" is faced with the Herculean task of bringing Wallace from an idea into an intimate, human form.

Based on a true story, the movie is framed around a days-long interview in 1996 between Wallace (Jason Segel) and Rolling Stone contributor David Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg). Lipsky accompanies Wallace on the last leg of his book tour for "Infinite Jest," and gets a surprising insight into the writer's life, at the moment when Wallace's life changes forever. 

In reality, Lipsky wrote about this time with Wallace for Rolling Stone , which Lipsky later turned into his memoir "Although Of Course You End Up Becoming Yourself." The memoir is the basis for "The End of the Tour," which is about two strangers connecting. Both Segel and Eisenberg are fantastic in this movie that's entirely carried by their ongoing riveting conversation. The movie isn't without its faults, as writer and former friend of Wallace Glenn Kenny wrote for The Guardian that "it gets everything wrong" about the writer. While the movie's not perfect, it's an interesting attempt to portray a singular artist on screen.

An Angel at My Table

Internationally renowned New Zealand author Janet Frame takes center stage in Jane Campion's 1991 biopic "An Angel at My Table." The film draws from the author's three autobiographies for its story: "To the Is-Land," "An Angel at My Table," and "The Envoy from Mirror City." Each book takes place in a different stage in the author's life and the movie follows suit with Alexia Keogh, Karen Fergusson, and Kerry Fox playing Frame in her childhood, teenage, and adult years. "An Angel at My Table" begins with Frame's childhood growing up in an impoverished household. In adolescence, she gets institutionalized for a misdiagnosis of schizophrenia, and finally finds fame on the page in adulthood.

With such a bevy of rich material to pull from, it's no surprise this movie is fantastic. It also doesn't hurt that it's directed by Oscar-winning director Jane Campion, whose characteristic empathy for her subjects radiates through "An Angel at My Table." In Roger Ebert's review, he says the movie gives "great attention to human detail." As usual, Mr. Ebert is dead-on. Campion does away with typical biopic clichés by simply focusing on the movie's one-of-a-kind protagonist and tell Frame's life story, which combines horror, perseverance, and brilliance.

In a Lonely Place

Humphrey Bogart does his noir thing in the 1950 classic "In a Lonely Place." Dixon "Dix" Steele (Bogart) tries to clear his name in a murder investigation, but it turns out, he has more problems than just being a murder suspect. He's a screenwriter who hasn't sold anything in a few years, his experience in WWII has left him prone to flights of rage, and he's not sure if his best girl actually wants to go through with their engagement.

Saying anything else ruins what makes film noir so special: the twists and turns. However, it's no spoiler to say that this is a classic of the genre. The movie is based on a novel of the same title by Dorothy B. Hughes. It was directed by studio system stalwart Nicholas Ray. Bogart's love interest and co-star in "In A Lonely Place" is played by Gloria Grahame Hallward, who brings a fantastic sense of "been there, done that" energy on screen that makes the movie that much more interesting. While this may be the oldest film on the list, it's not to be missed. They really, truly don't make 'em like this anymore.

"Spotlight" is named after the investigative team at The Boston Globe, and masterfully follows the newspaper's real 2002 investigation into allegations of child sexual abuse and systemic cover-ups within the Boston Catholic Church. This work won a Pulitzer Prize for The Boston Globe and set off a reckoning within the Catholic Church.

The movie — featuring a cast that includes Michael Keaton, Rachel McAdams, Mark Ruffalo, Stanley Tucci, and Liev Schrieber — is a masterclass in focusing on details. Director Tom McCarthy zeroes on the minutiae of investigative journalism. It captures everything from pouring over personnel files to interviewing victims to waiting for records to be made public to beating down doors to get answers. The actors are all fantastic from top to bottom and everybody gets a moment to shine.

While the movie is not entirely without moments of very loud, very righteous indignation, for the most part, it trades fireworks for the facts of the real investigation. It's a wise choice that highlights the impact that hard-nosed local journalism can still have on the world at large, which is partly what makes it one of the greatest movies about journalists ever. For many, it's the 21st century's "All the President's Men." If all that wasn't enough to convince anybody to check it out, it also won Oscars for Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay in 2016.

Elisabeth Moss gives a powerhouse performance in "Shirley," which adapts Susan Scarf Merrell's 2014 novel of the same. Like the book, the movie tells a fictionalized story about famed horror author Shirley Jackson. For the unfamiliar, Jackson's works include the novel "The Haunting of Hill House" and the short story "The Lottery." Her writing is terrifying and claustrophobic in equal measure. Jackson was a master at saying the quiet part out loud and could turn social anxiety into a reason to hide under the bed.

The movie follows a fictional couple, who move in with Jackson (Elisabeth Moss) and her husband Stanley Edgar Hyman (Michael Stuhlbarg), and are quickly brought into the strange and surprising world of Shirley Jackson. This framing of the story around outsiders who are brought into Jackson's home allows the audience to see various sides of the writer and her precarious approach to life. It also gives Moss the opportunity to put on an absolute show. Moss is never not fantastic but this role of Shirley Jackson gives her the opportunity to be mean, wounded, drunk, empathetic, brilliant, and anxious, all within the same scene. It should be in the conversation for some of her best work. Moss stans and horror fans, do yourselves a favor by putting "Shirley" on the top of your queue.

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Essays on the Essay Film

About the author.

In addition to his long career in film archiving and curating, Jan-Christopher Horak has taught at universities around the world. His recent book, Saul Bass: Anatomy of Film Design (2014) was published by University Press of Kentucky.

"Archival Spaces" Blog - Ithaca College

Sans soleil   (1983)

For decades, I’ve been interested in the essay film, ever since I fell in love with Jean-Luc Godard’s work from the 1960s, like Pierrot le fou (1965), Two or Three Things I Know About Her (1967), but especially since the 1990s, when I wrote about Godard’s colleague Chris Marker, whose Sans soleil (1983) is a masterpiece of the genre.  Recently, I discussed Saul Bass’ Why Man Creates (1968) as an essay film.  But is it a genre?  Straddling documentary and fiction, the subjectivity of the author and the objectivity of the filmed image, vacillating between image and sound, visuality and the word, essay films in many ways defy definition.  Jean-Pierre Gorin, himself a film essayist, writes in Essays on the Essay Film (ed. Nora M. Alter and Timothy Corrigan, Columbia University Press, 2017): “They come in all sizes, shapes, and hues – and they will continue to do so... How can one even attempt to draw its floor plan, sketch its history and catalog the idiosyncratic products that appear in its inventory?” (p. 270).

Such semantic nebulousness already held true for the literary essay, as this anthology documents.  Max Bense notes that essays always imply a level of experimentation, because they are exploring various forms of subjectivity.  Similarly, the essays in this volume experiment with possible definitions of film essays.  Essays on the Essay Film is accordingly divided into four sections:  1. Theoretical essays on the essay as a literary form by Georg Lukács, Robert Musil, Max Bense, Theodor W. Adorno and Aldous Huxley.  2. Previously published essays on the essay film by Hans Richter, Alexandre Astruc and André Bazin.  3. Analytical essays by Phillip Lopate, Paul Arthur, Michael Renov, Timothy Corrigan and Raymond Bellour.  4. Essays by filmmakers of the form, including Gorin, Hito Steyerl, Ross McElwee, Laura Mulvey and Isaac Julien.

Pierrot le fou (1965)

The editors make a wise decision to include writings on the literary essay, since many of its characteristics can be applied to essay films.  Georg Lukács, for example, supposes that the essay is not an act of creating the new, but rather only of reconfiguring previously known information.  Max Bense defines essays as a form of experimental writing that eschews absolute statements in the interest of exploring parameters and possibilities.  Theodor Adorno takes Bense a step further by connecting the essay to anti-Platonic values, such as the ephemeral, the transitory, and the fragmentary.  Given the ambiguity of the image, the push and pull between the filmmaker’s subjectivity and the objectivity of the image, are not such values integral to the cinema experience?

The earliest theoretical statements about the essay film come from experimental filmmaker and artist Hans Richter, who in his 1939 tract, Struggle for the Film: Towards a Socially Responsible Cinema , foresees a new form of documentary that has the ability to visualize thought.  Alexander Astruc, an early member of the French New Wave , theorized the future of cinema in neither documentary nor fiction films, but rather in filmmakers who use the camera as a pen— le camera au stylo— for the expression of authorial subjectivity.  Phillip Lopate, on the other hand, defines five characteristics for the essay film:  1. It has to communicate through language, whether spoken or written.  2. It must be the work of a single author.  3. It must set itself the task of solving a specific problem or problems.  4. It must be a wholly personal point of view.  5. It must be eloquent and interesting.  Like Lopate, the late film critic and essayist Paul Arthur focuses on the film auteur, insisting that the essay film must give evidence a critical, self-reflexive author who is able to communicate through word and image.

Timothy Corrigan contributes a historical analysis of the essay film, from Dziga Vertov to Agnès Varda, agreeing with Lukács’ thesis that the essay film indeed creates no new forms, but remixes and recontextualizes ideas that are already in circulation.  The final part of his essay focuses on a close reading of Varda’s The Gleaners and I (2000).

Again and again the authors of the volume emphasize the essay film’s openness of form and always-tentative contours that defy any absolute definitions.  Thus, the authors of Essays , as well as the even more subjective contributions of the filmmakers, discuss definitions and characteristics of a genre that isn’t one, unable or unwilling to draw definite conclusions.  They are consciously circling around an indefinable object.  The pleasure here is not to be found in the end goal, but rather in the intellectual journey.  Nevertheless, it would have been nice if there had at least been agreement about when the essay film first appeared in film history, whether with Dziga Vertov’s Man with a Movie Camera (1929), Georges Franju’s Le sang des bêtes (1949) or Chris Marker’s Lettre de Sibérie (1958).  A filmography of the essay film would have helped readers visualize the parameters of what films are considered essay films, a common ground for further discussion.  Personally, I would have also liked to have read more about the aesthetics of the essay film, its visual and emotional appeal, not just intellectual pull.  In retrospect, I remember the tactile sensuality of images in many of the films discussed, scenes that evoke emotion.  I also question whether the essay or essay film is mainly a remix, and not in some way an independent creation of aesthetic value.  Despite these slight reservations, this volume is eminently readable and a contribution to understanding a form of cinema that continues to morph and grow.

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Movie Reviews

Tv/streaming, great movies, chaz's journal, contributors, black writers week, reflexive memories: the images of the cine-essay.

While the video essay form, in regards to its practice of exploring the visual themes in cinematic discourse, has seen a recent surge in popularity with viewers (thanks to invaluable online resources like indieWIRE’s Press Play, Fandor’s Keyframe and the academic peer-reviewed journal [in]Transition), its historical role as a significant filmmaking genre has long been prominent among film scholars and cinephiles.

From the start, the essay film—more affectionately referred to as the “cine-essay”—was a fusion of documentary filmmaking and avant-garde filmmaking by way of appropriation art; it also tended to employ fluid, experimental editing schemes. The first cine-essays were shot and edited on physical film. Significant works like Agnès Varda ’s "Salut les Cubains" (1963) and Marc Karlin’s "The Nightcleaners" (1975), which he made in collaboration with the Berwick Street Film Collective, function like normal documentaries: original footage coupled with a voiceover of the filmmaker and an agenda at hand. But if you look closer and begin to study the aesthetics of the work (e.g. the prolific use of still photos in "Cubains," the transparency of the “filmmaking” at hand in "Nightcleaners"), these films transcend the singular genre that is the documentary form; they became about the process of filmmaking and they aspired to speak to both a past and future state of mind. What the cine-essay began to stand for was our understanding of memory and how we process the images we see everyday. And in a modern technological age of over-content-creation, by way of democratized filmmaking tools (i.e. the video you take on your cell phone), the revitalization of the cine-essayists is ever so crucial and instrumental to the continued curation of the moving images that we manifest.

The leading figure of the cine-essay form, the iconic Chris Marker, really put the politico-stamp of vitality into the cine-essay film with his magnum-opus "Grin Without A Cat" (1977). Running at three hours in length, Marker’s "Grin" took the appropriation art form to the next level, culling countless hours of newsreel and documentary footage that he himself did not shoot, into a seamless, haunting global cross-section of war, social upheaval and political revolution. Yet, what’s miraculous about Marker’s work is that his cine-essays never fell victim to a dependency on the persuasive argument—that was something traditional documentaries hung their hats on. Instead, Marker was much more interested in the reflexive nature of the moving image. If we see newsreel footage of a street riot spliced together with footage from a fictional war film, does that lessen our reaction to the horrific reality of the riot? How do we associate the moving image once it is juxtaposed against something that we once thought to be safe or familiar? At the start of Marker’s "Sans Soleil" (1983), the narrator says, “The first image he told me about was of three children on a road in Iceland, in 1965. He said that for him it was the image of happiness and also that he had tried several times to link it to other images, but it never worked. He wrote me: one day I'll have to put it all alone at the beginning of a film with a long piece of black leader; if they don't see happiness in the picture, at least they'll see the black.” It’s essentially the perfect script for deciphering the cine-essay form in general. It demands that we search and create our own new realities, even if we’re forced to stare at a black screen to conjure up a feeling or memory.

Flash forward to 1995: Harun Farocki creates "Arbeiter verlassen die Fabrik," a video essay that foils the Lumière brothers’ "Employees Leaving the Lumière Factory" (1895) with countless other film clips of workers in the workplace throughout the century. It’s a significant work: exactly 100 years later, a cine-essayist is speaking to the ideas of filmmakers from 1895 and then those ideas are repurposed to show a historical evolution of employer-employee relations throughout time. What’s also significant about Farocki’s film is the technological aspect. Note how his title at this point in time is a “video essayist.” The advent of video, along with the streamlined workflow to acquiring digital assets of moving images, gave essayist filmmakers like Farocki the opportunity for creating innovative works with faster turnaround times. Not only was it less cumbersome to edit footage digitally, the ways for the works to be presented were altered; Farocki would later repurpose his own video essay into a 12-monitor video installation for exhibition.

Consider Thom Andersen’s epic 2003 video essay "Los Angeles Plays Itself." In it, Andersen appropriates clips from films set in Los Angeles from over the decades and then criticizes the cinema’s depiction of his beloved city. It’s the most meta of essay films because by the end, Andersen himself has constructed the latest Los Angeles-based film. And although Andersen has more of an obvious thesis at hand than, say something as equally lyrical and dense as Marker’s "Sans Soleil," both films exist in the same train of thought: the exploration of the way we as viewers embrace the moving image and then how we communicate that feeling to each other. Andersen may be frustrated with the way Hollywood conveys his city but he even he has moments of inspired introspection towards those films. The same could be said of Marker’s work; just as Marker can remain a perplexed and often inquisitive spectator of the moving images of poverty and genocide that surround him, he functions as a gracious, patient guide for the viewer, since it is his essay text that the narrator reads from.

Watching an essay film requires you to fire on all cylinders, even if you watch one with an audience. It’s a different kind of collective viewing because the images and ideas spring from an artifact that is real; that artifact can be newsreel footage or a completed, a released motion picture that is up for deeper examination or anything else that exists as a completed work. In that sense, the cine-essay (or video essay), remains the most potent form of cinematic storytelling because it invites you to challenge its ideas and images and then in turn, it challenges your own ideas by daring you to reevaluate your own memory of those same moving images. It aims for a deeper truth and it dares to repurpose the cinema less as escapist entertainment and more as an instrument to confront our own truths and how we create them.

RogerEbert.com VIDEO ESSAY: Reflexive Memories: The Images of the Cine-Essay from Nelson Carvajal on Vimeo .

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The best video essays of 2023

Our annual poll spotlights 181 unique video essays, nominated by 48 international voters, showcasing the breadth and depth of current videographic practice.

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Now in its seventh annual edition, the Sight and Sound poll for the best video essays of the year surveys the online sphere, film festivals and audiovisual research in almost equal measure. Its primary purposes are to mark notable works and keep track of the various schools of thought concerning what video essays can or should be, and how they can communicate to a range of audiences.

The poll was conducted with the assistance of 48 voters from 17 countries, including academics, critics, online creators and festival curators. Together, their 260 nominations include 181 distinct titles. Given the scope and abundance of recent video essays, even an extensive poll can only provide a cross-section of the topics, forms and rhetoric of their contemporary practice – a limitation many voters noted in their submissions. Of the nominated works, 47% were created by male video essayists, 39% by female, with several from non-binary creators and mixed teams. Around two-thirds feature voiceover, with the majority presented in English, although 14 languages feature in the overall poll.

The nominations saw a relatively equal split between essays created for YouTube and those created for academic research, with 50 YouTube and 47 academic videos (or entire series). Publicly available videos’ viewership varies broadly, from 9.5 million views (for MyHouse.wad ) to the low double digits; participants were keen to highlight new and underseen works as well as celebrating the achievements of established creators. Festival films or installation pieces also proved popular, with 53 arthouse shorts, features and documentaries nominated. Also present, although in a smaller proportion, were self-published Vimeo works or collaborative projects unaffiliated with a specific institution. However, within the yearly S&S poll for video essays, there seems to be a slight decline both in independently produced and published Vimeo content, and in video output by cinephile magazines, while the academic sector is slowly but constantly expanding.

The average runtime was 27 minutes, with most around the 15 minute mark – although a few marathon nominations like Will DiGravio’s Against Polish and Adam Curtis’ TraumaZone (three and seven hours respectively) stick out. Three videos were one minute long or shorter.

Leading the nominations, Maryam Tafakory and Johannes Binotto tie for 10 nominations, with Tafakory’s split-screen work chaste/unchaste and Binotto’s Practices of Viewing series coming out on top. A History of the World According to Getty Images by Richard Misek received nine nominations, the most for a single work. Returning essayists of note include Chloé Galibert-Laîné, Barbara Zecchi and Ariel Avissar, while new entrants with multiple nominations include Occitane Lacurie (three noms for Xena’s Body: A Menstrual Auto-Investigation Using an iPhone) and James DeLisio (four nominations for Cinema in Pain: Decoding “Mad God” ).

It is worth noting that some videos appear in consecutive polls: among them, Misek’s History of the World According to Getty Images and Galibert-Laîné’s GeoMarkr are now available online, while in the 2022 poll they were occasionally mentioned, but less widely seen. It is often the case that videos travel in festivals or are viewed in conferences and among peers before being made public. While the current poll has several dozen videos to which we cannot presently direct our readers, we hope that in the near future many will be similarly available with unrestricted access.

Videographic collaborations make up a number of nominations in this years’ list. Once upon a Screen: Vol. 2 , edited by Avissar and Evelyn Kreutzer, returns with two nominations for its second instalment. Moving Poems , also curated by Kreutzer, received five nominations, chiefly for Desiree de Jesus’ a raisin in the sun. And the 169 Seconds series, commissioned by Danish journal 16:9 to celebrate its 20th anniversary, received three nominations, including returning essayists Catherine Grant and Jason Mittell. Independent videographic community The Essay Library also features with one nomination for Lara Callaghan’s contribution to the When Essay Met Library collaboration.

A number of essays were published through new academic journals, including Zeitschrift für Medienwissenschaft with five videos nominated; other new entrants include Teknokultura and Feminist Media Histories. [in]Transition, Tecmerin and NECSUS are by now certified in making the works they publish visible among videographic researchers.

Independent streaming service Nebula has continued to grow its base of creators, many of whom are video essayists. Out of 50 unique YouTube videos, seven were also published on Nebula. Three of these were directly cross-posted, another three were Nebula First (published earlier than YouTube), and one nomination – We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot by Big Joel – was a Nebula Plus video, meaning it includes extra content beyond what is available on YouTube. Lily Alexandre’s Nebula-first essay Everything Is Sludge: Art in the Post-Human Era received three nods, bringing the total number of Nebula nominations up to nine.

Billed as a creator-first streaming service , Nebula aims to give its creators the freedom that they cannot find on YouTube. Many video essayists have joined Nebula after finding their work coming up against YouTube’s advertiser-friendly guidelines, restricting the discussion of mature topics. In February 2023, Maggie Mae Fish launched her series Unrated exploring sexuality in film, and Broey Deschanel followed suit in November with the Taboo on Screen series. There’s an oft-noted divide between ‘Vimeo-style’ essays – with their more academic leaning and longer clip length – and YouTube essays – with their quick cuts and careful stepping around automatic copyright claims . This gap may be quickly closing, although whether a Nebula style will arise remains to be seen.

Although content creators can make money through AdSense and sponsorships on YouTube, many turn to community donations and subscriptions to fund their work. Forty-one of the nominated YouTube works included a link to Patreon, Ko-fi or PayPal in the video description. One nominated video, Brad Troemel’s The Literalists , is available exclusively on Patreon, with only a trailer uploaded to YouTube.

Vimeo essayists have also encountered in greater force the problems that have plagued YouTube essayists for years. Formerly a safe haven for video essays containing copyrighted materials, Vimeo has enacted a slew of copyright claims, viewing restrictions and takedowns on well-known video essays in recent months. This brings to mind Fandor’s 2016/2017 removal of multiple video essays from their channels in response to the threat of copyright claims, ringing alarm bells about the mixed potential of the Internet as an archive for videographic work. The long-running TV Dictionary project is just one example with multiple claims, despite its clear origin in academic research practice.

Nostalgia and memory, pop culture and cinephilia – sometimes mixed together – loom large in this year’s list, due in part to some popular academic series including Indy Vinyl for the Masses (curated by Ian Garwood) and the Screen Stars Dictionary (curated by Tecmerin and Ariel Avissar). Gender as spectacle makes its appearance in several videos, from the mainstream end of the spectrum (max teeth’s The Man/Car Gender Binary in John Carpenter’s Christine ) to critical discussions of star personae, cinema’s archetypal female protagonists as well as filmmaking/media practices (Morgane Frund’s short films, among other titles), to direct references to Laura Mulvey and Judith Butler at the other end.

As with all other areas of discourse this year, AI featured in multiple videos, usually more as a thematic concern than as a videographic tool (although text-to-speech and some generative techniques feature in the list). Futurism more generally, whether dystopian or utopian, was a common theme in the YouTube nominations.

Interrogation of the video essay form itself continues to stimulate discussion within the field, including the drawing to a close of Johannes Binotto’s popular Practices of Viewing series. While this self-reflexivity was first noted in the 2021 poll , it was seen more on YouTube in 2023, with videos ranging from assessing the state of the video essay landscape to dispensing advice about how to be a successful video essayist . Harris Michael Brewis, better known as hbomberguy, released a nearly four-hour exposé of plagiarism on YouTube with a particular focus on video essays. The video passed two million views within 24 hours of its publication.

While there are certainly great videos that remained unmentioned even with such dedicated teamwork on behalf of all voters, the present survey should be a solid starting point (and, in a few years’ time, a reminder) of the state of video essays in 2023. Thank you to everyone who participated.

Full list of voters

Ariel avissar, johannes binotto, philip józef brubaker, nelson carvajal, ben chinapen, isabel custodio, will digravio, flavia dima, chloé galibert-laîné, jacob geller, tomas genevičius, libertad gills, catherine grant, maria hofmann, oswald iten, delphine jeanneret, miklós kiss, jaap kooijman, evelyn kreutzer, occitane lacurie, colleen laird, kevin b. lee, adrian martin, daniel mcilwraith, dayna mcleod, queline meadows, carlos natálio, clare o’g ara, alan o’l eary, michael o’n eill burns, julian ross, josé sarmiento hinojosa, jemma saunders, dan schindel, shannon strucci, scout tafoya, max tohline, irina trocan, ilinca vânău, ricardo vieira lisboa, adam woodward, barbara zecchi, all the votes.

Film theorist, curator, and video essayist , Queen Mary University of London and Národní filmový archiv

A History of the World According to Getty Images by Richard Misek

A timely meditation on how even public domain images ‘we all know’ can become unattainable when they find themselves in the thrall of commercial archives and data banks. A powerful call for paying attention to copyrights after Vimeo started taking video essays down.

Machines in Flames by Andrew Culp and Thomas Dekeyser

Part desktop documentary, part evocative experimental film, this philosophical video essay succeeds in enacting the ‘detective logic of the digital’ like few other works I have seen. By jumping between the indistinct traces of CLODO , a terrorist group that bombed computer companies in 1980s France, it denies the pretension that the desktop interface is there ‘for us’ to make content readily available and uncovers the fundamental lack and self-destructivity of contemporary visual regimes.

Twisties! by Alice Lenay

A fascinating extension of the videographic impulse into a live performance. Lenay uses Zoom software to embody the experience of participating in the 1996 Summer Olympics and shakes our notions of audiovisual archives as well as the politics of individual and collective bodies.

Notes from Eremocene by Viera Čákanyová

Who would have thought that an essay film on blockchain and artificial intelligence could be so intimate and touching? Čákanyová achieves it through a catalogue of experimental techniques that turn photochemical as well as digital images into emblems of an indistinct future in which we yet have to find our place.

Teletext Revival by Karin Spišáková and David Scharf

A whimsically inventive video essay that resurrects the early 2000s’ teletext interface not just for its nostalgic appeal but chiefly for its unique temporality and inclusiveness.

Back to the Ruins by Jáchym Šidlák

A rare piece of videographic criticism that reworks a short Czechoslovak non-fiction film from the 1940s. Images of post-war reconstruction are poetically deconstructed to give voice to overlooked details and actors that shaped the spectacle in the first place.

Divine Horror by Kryštof Kočtář and Matouš Vaďura

A truly visceral experience that makes us sense how close experimental film, horror, and videographic criticism can be.

• Back to list of voters

Video maker and media scholar at Tel Aviv University

Arbitrary Motion: Accidentally/On Purpose by Farzaneh Yazdandoost

Yazdandoost’s video, exploring the use of the arbitrary motion of fur in Wes Anderson’s Isle of Dogs and other stop-motion films, is an absolute treat, start to finish. It was made under the mentorship of Catherine Grant, as part of a wonderful videographic symposium held in Hanover late last year, where I first got to see it — and was published earlier this year in the ZfM blog Videography, which followed that symposium. Don’t miss it — and also check out her shorter, lovely video, Wes Anderson’s Trains .

The Accented Sound of Camp by Barbara Zecchi

In another video first presented at the Hanover conference and published this year on the ZfM blog, Zecchi offers a 4-part exploration of the use of Italian accents in Hollywood films. Starting from House of Gucci, it examines various screen representations of Italians and Italian Americans and the political and ideological dimensions of the accented voice (following Zecchi’s previous work on the subject). It is insightful, entertaining and highly inventive, experimenting with a diverse range of videographic techniques and forms of voiceover.

Men Shouting: A History in 7 Episodes by Alan O’L eary

One of the explicit inspirations for Zecchi’s video above, O’L eary’s is a tour de force of parametric criticism, or what he calls a form of “cyborg scholarship”. It is a fascinating and highly generative piece, and remains playful throughout; O’L early must have had a lot of fun while making it, like a child playing with Lego. It would be difficult to explain here just what the video does with its subject material (three narrative films made about the 2008 financial crash); luckily, O’L eary has already done that himself, in the accompanying creator’s statement, which you should definitely read prior to watching the video if you want any chance of figuring out what the hell is going on!

Moving Poems: A Raisin in the Sun (1961) by Desirée de Jesús

Evelyn Kreutzer’s Moving Poems collection, which pairs poems with moving images, has generated some remarkable works over the past couple of years. This video by de Jesús is one of the standout pieces. It places the 1961 adaptation of A Raisin in the Sun in dialogue with Langston Hughes’s “Harlem”, from which its title was derived. It is an intelligent and complex piece, employing multiple, dense layerings of image, sound and text, and will benefit from repeat viewings. Check it out, as well as the other pieces in the collection – and consider contributing your own.

Unsteady (for Elisabeth Bronfen) by Johannes Binotto

I will not say much about Binotto’s touching tribute to his former teacher and close friend, Elisabeth Bronfen, who retired from Zurich university this summer. You should simply watch it (all the way to the very end) and smile.

Watching the Rehearsal by Jason Mittell

Why leave scholarship to chance? You’d better watch Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal before watching this one; and while you’re at it, watch some of Professor Mittell’s previous pieces, where he established some of the ideas and approaches he’s developed here in elaborate and unexpected ways; specifically, this and this .

Mast-del مست دل by Maryam Tafakory

This last one is unfortunately not available for viewing online, and has been making the festival round this past year – go and watch it if you get the chance. Is this a video essay? I don’t know. Here is how Tafakory describes it: “A love song that would never pass through the censors, Mast-del is about forbidden bodies and desires inside and outside post-revolution Iranian cinema.” Anyone who’s seen her previous work (and if you haven’t, you’re missing out), would recognise these themes and ideas that she has dealt with before. Here, she approaches them from a radically different aesthetic, masterfully blending clips from existing films, original footage, a scripted narrative and original score, to mesmerising and moving effect.

Media studies scholar, bricoleur, project leader videoessayresearch.org

No representative overview, no proper summaries. But a collection of echoes, reverberations of works I have seen this year and which keep playing in my head.

Moving Poems: Eine Erinnerung [A Memory] by Evelyn Kreutzer

“Sometimes I still picture myself.” Part of Evelyn’s fantastic Moving Poems initiative, yet a whole universe of its own. It pierces me. Everything in it. The artefacts of the video signal that devour the image, the high pitched hiss of the TV , the calm and sober voice that speaks of memories which sound innocuous but frighten you, and then the look on this face I recognise and which I have never seen like that.

With a Camera in Hand, I Was Alive + Introduction by Katie Bird

“I keep thinking about gestures”.

Katie Bird’s haunting video essay and its bittersweet introduction makes us keep thinking, keep wondering, about the weight and value of labour, of film labour, scholarly labour, of what it means to hold, a camera, a child, a body, yourself, and how we can continue by letting go.

Film Thought 5. Kuchar at Kmart by Will DiGravio

“In such places, he finds the people, the ones like my family, and friends, and neighbours from home…”

A videographic haiku, from one loving observer to the other, beautiful, personal, careful, vulnerable. It makes me fall in love with the filmmaker it portrays, with the people the filmmaker met, and with the person who made this video.

“How did you get it? I ask — They don’t know.”

An analysis of, as well as an act of resistance against visual capitalism going rampant. We need to fight a system that is already well ahead in co-opting, privatising, watermarking, and sealing the archives, depriving more and more people of their past, their collective memories. This video essay is an emergency call and a road map.

Thelma & Louise: Rape Culture, Mudflaps, and Vaginal Horizons by Dayna McLeod

“Ain’t it beautiful?” Playful. Painful. So precise. I cannot choose among the works of Dayna but I feel particularly connected to this one because I cannot separate it from all the conversations we had around it. Here is a beautiful artist and thinker driving at high speed to where video essays usually do not dare to go. Please take me with you, I will sit on the backseat.

Super Volume – A Tactile Art by Cormac Donnelly

“Intention re-situates to the hands and fingers.” Abstract and visceral at the same time it is this experimental video essay that made me suddenly and fully understand and feel what “working with sound” could mean, how it feels to grasp what cannot be touched. When you see it, everything vibrates.

mini_essay_5 (Body Parts) by Occitane Lacurie

“Balayez vers le haut pour afficher plus.”

Occitane’s mini-essays (what an understatement!) show iPhone navigation as a method of thoughts taking shape. Scrolling, clicking, touching, feeling through images and associations, a flow of intertexts at the tip of your invisible finger. You better be careful with what you open next. In this one I feel seen by all these bodies, dismembered, scattered, commodified. Looking through the mirror stage and back again. And what about this little screen in my hand? Part of my body or not?

Video essayist/experimental filmmaker

The 169 Seconds Series

I couldn’t pick only one video essay from this stellar series, so I nominate the entire body of work from 2023. I love the length requirement, which results in some creative interpretations of the source material.

It’s a Zabriskie Zabriskie Zabriskie Zabriskie Point by Daniel Kremer

A personal, feature-length essay film about Death Valley and its importance to the history of cinema as well as its longstanding resonance with the filmmaker. Kremer has admirably unearthed many underground and lesser known works that were filmed in this desert and included them here, to my delight. Kremer’s playful juxtapositions between the two main films is humorous and well-edited.

Memories of “It” by Kathleen Loock

Loock entwines her own experience growing up in a reunified Germany with the 1990 TV movie version of Stephen King’s It. A surprising association, but one that is fully realised and supported with her examples. Loock’s observations enrich the popular horror story as well as educate the audience about complications resulting from the collapse of the Berlin Wall.

The Thinking Machine #64: Inkblot by Cristina Álvarez López and Adrian Martin

Two cosmically intertwined tragedies from different films are synchronised beautifully in this succinct video mashup.

Webby Award-nominated video essayist, writer and television producer

Fire Film Supercut by Daniel Pope

The supercut, often an overlooked subgenre of the video essay, is much harder to pull off than it seems. When done right, you almost don’t even notice the splice. This supercut is, pun intended, fire.

New Beverly Cinema — October 2023 by Jeff Smith

Jeff Smith has cut a lot of the New Beverly’s monthly previews and to me, they’re pure video essays, on a pure pop-level. This one for October, a la Halloween, is especially captivating.

An electric and gripping use of animation and multi-screen to really get its thesis across. McLeod understands the exciting heights of the video essay form and has all the cylinders firing here.

YouTube creator /video editor and essayist

Why Tom Cruise’s Run Matters by Scene It

Scene it is a fairly new channel I came across, I found his content very refreshing as a new voice in the more standard “film essay” area.

string theory lied to us and now science communication is hard by acollierastro

This video came out of nowhere and blew everyone’s mind who saw it. An intriguing title, with a clearly stressed out person and also The Binding of Isaac in the thumbnail? What’s going on? Within 1 minute the purpose becomes clear; this woman who has very strong opinions and credentials will break down exactly what happened with the String Theory phenomenon while simultaneously stumbling through a playthrough of the vintage roguelike indie darling Binding of Isaac. A premise so absurd and hilarious (dare I say groundbreaking?) that you instantly want to watch and listen. It’s very informative and HIGHLY entertaining for the joke of the idea alone. I’m glad this took off because it was worth it. This is probably my most firm nomination out of the group.

Attack the Block: A Subversive Masterpiece by Kay and Skittles

Coming from very very early 2023; this one about John Boyega’s first leading role stood out for me; a beautiful look at an indie darling from one of my favourite creators breaking down the politics of crime in poor communities.

YouTuber ( Be Kind Rewind ) and film critic

Art Without the Artist (and Other Horrors from the Machine) by Dan Simpson, Eyebrow Cinema on YouTube

AI became a hotly contested subject in 2023, with studios eager to capitalise on its apparent ease and speed, and artists fighting to establish guardrails for its growth and use. Dan Simpson argues for the integrity of the artist over the dispassionate, surface-level results AI often prompts. It’s a rallying cry for those of us who advocate and appreciate the work of creative human beings.

We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot by Big Joel

Big Joel’s essays always stand out for their fluency in art history. Here, he weaves several works together, connecting material as disparate as Jenny Holzer and Godzilla in a stunning exploration of what words mean, contradictions, and subjectivity.

The Literalists by Brad Troemel

I’ve yet to find a better interpreter of online culture than artist Brad Troemel, whose work satirises some of the internet’s most exasperating modes of expression. In fact, he so effectively mocks these aesthetics that his work often goes viral, with choruses of the terminally online taking it, well, literally (a recent post about the unionisation of the Taylor Swift fandom comes to mind). In addition to these posts, he creates video essays outlining his observations of online behaviour. In The Literalists, he takes a look at “millennial cultural liberalism” and the inclination to scrub content clean of any possible offence, connecting the “Satanic Panic” of the 1980s to the modern, flawed reasoning that it is morally bad to watch films with immoral characters. His essays are available exclusively on his Patreon, but it’s well worth at least a month’s subscription to binge them. You won’t regret it.

The Four horse_ebooks of the Apocalypse by Grace Lee/What’s So Great About That?

Everything happens so much. It’s an iconic tweet, an evergreen feeling, and the subject of Grace Lee’s exploration of the apocalyptic unease of modern life. She charts the decline of the relatively literal disaster film with the rise of a looming, paralysing belief in our pre-determined doom. It’s a fascinating topic, made even more compelling given that Lee is the best editor of video essays on YouTube.  

Host of The Video Essay Podcast; assistant editor, Cineaste; PhD candidate, University of Amsterdam

Each year, it gets more difficult to be a viewer of video essays; it is a beautiful and frustrating thing. More people are making them. They are longer. They screen at festivals, and in varied corners of the internet. Below are a few of the video essays that have resonated with me this year. Rather than try and explain why I picked them, I will instead attempt to describe something in each work. Here’s hoping it might inspire you to give them all a watch.

Joséphine Baker Watches Herself by Terri Francis

[3:43] On the left, Joséphine Baker performs in the famous skirt made out of bananas. On the right, a clip from a 1968 CBC interview with Baker. Below, a translation on screen: “No, it’s about work. You have to work hard.” A video essay that grows richer with each rewatch.

Apostles of Cinema (Tenzi za sinema) by Cece Mlay, Darragh Amelia, Gertrude Malizana, Jesse Gerard Mpango

“I like quality films. And I like difficult films,” says DJ Black. But if it is bad, “I can’t dub it.” [04:51] An incisive documentary about film culture in Tanzania.

watch me sleep: self-surveillance and middle-aging queer performance anxiety by Dayna McLeod

There’s a moment in the second minute I felt throughout my whole body. A revelation.

Void by Kevin Ferguson

The persistence of Robert Duvall’s bald head, especially at [00:13] and [04:46].

Why the Internet Loves Buster Keaton by Don McHoull

I imagine Don’s masterful montages of the internet’s response to Keaton’s artistry, and also that of Fayard and Harold Nicholas, playing on the wall of a gallery.

moving poems: a raisin in the sun (1961) by Desirée de Jesús

Water ripples. Sidney Poitier, playing with his lighter, gestures for a drink. His finger points to the text on screen, “in the sun?” Off-screen dialogue plays. [00:26] A harmonious blend of sound, image, and text.

Miss Me Yet by Chris Bell

Each episode begins with George W. Bush raising his middle finger to the camera, a gesture that becomes more grotesque and poignant the more one watches.

Film critic, programmer ( BIEFF )

A fleeting list — quite heterogeneous, and I must admit I’m not sure whether all of them are “ontologically” video essays, as definitions seem to become increasingly porous — of films that I discovered together with my colleagues at BIEFF during our work for this year’s editions.

Home Invasion by Graeme Arnfied

Simply stunning. Perhaps the best zero-budget film in many years — which affords itself the very rare “luxury” of playfully engaging with the legacy of Harun Farocki. You’ll never look at a doorbell with the same eyes after this film, not ever again.

Dear Gerald by Jasper Rigole

Rarely does the perspective of film archivists — with its particular way of looking at film, and its entire universe of both material and ethical dilemmas — actually transpire in film. Jasper Rigole’s short (aside from spotlighting his delightful IICADOM archives, a true goldmine for home movie enthusiasts) does exactly that, while also bringing into question the spectatorship of archival footage.

GeoMarkr by Chloé Galibert-Laîné and Guillaume Grandjean

Galibert-Laîné, brilliant as usual.

Bliss.jpg by Emily Rose Apter and Elijah Stevens

Some of the world’s most famous (digital — in all senses of the term) landscapes, reexamined, almost à la Richard Prince, or rather, a y2k take on the method of James Benning — brought back into materiality through 16mm film.

The Film You Are About to See by Maxime Martinot

Despite all the hand-wringing in recent years, content warnings are by no means something new to cinema — and the double helix-like structure (going both backwards and forwards throughout the history) of Martinot’s incisive and irreverent short reveals this to the fullest, together with excavating the various mores and taboos that cinema was transgressing at various times in modern history.

Gods of the Supermarket by Alberto Gonzalez Morales

I’m a sucker for any and all films that use ‘Wicked Game’ on their soundtrack. Especially so if they’re found-footage essays on queerness and bodybuilding culture.

Dancing at My Parents’ Wedding by Andreea Chiper

Finally, a pick from the local scene, still very much emergent — a tender exploration of personal videographic artifacts, as seen through the eyes of the child that knows how life is going to work out for those captured on a seemingly innocuous wedding tape.

Filmmaker and senior researcher at the Lucerne School of Art and Design

Having once again decided to nominate for this poll only makers whose work I discovered this year, I realise that the five videos that I want to highlight are works I watched in the presence of their authors. Not only did their films inspire me, but I was moved by all five Q&A sessions, for very different reasons. This may testify to a growing need for personal connection through videographic practices, in the midst of a media landscape that grows more cluttered and anonymous by the day. I also want to salute the engagement of makers who are committed to accompanying their creations in person and helping them reach an audience, even when economic or political circumstances are not favourable. My list is non hierarchical.

Artistes en zone troublés by Stéphane Gérard and Lionel Soukaz

Lionel Soukaz’s video diary Journal annales is not only a milestone in the history of French experimental cinema, it is also an essential piece of LGBTQIA + heritage. There is something extremely moving about the care and tenderness with which Stéphane Gérard approaches this audiovisual document, as he edits a new short portrait of Soukaz’s late lover Hervé Couergou from the thousands of hours of footage Soukaz shot, making this testimony to the history of the «années sida» and the evolution of the gay movement accessible to a new generation of spectators, artists and activists.

Ours / Bear by Morgane Frund

A personal exploration of the complex power dynamics between a male filmer and female filmed subjects, when the camera is suddenly turned towards he whose gaze had hitherto remained unchallenged. Frund’s video essay is uncomfortable in the best sense of the word, and leaves its viewers with more questions than answers, providing a starting point for an essential conversation about gender, class and generational differences, and the ethics of documentary.

Personne n’était sympa / Nobody Was Cool by Hélèna Villovitch and David TV

The film is a moving and hilarious evocation of a walk through the streets of Paris on 1 May 1986, based on the filmmakers’ memories and a wide range of audiovisual archives. Images and sounds are saturated, superimposed, iridescent; facts and fantasies merge in a hallucinatory stream of real and fabricated memories, to which a final twist gives a whole new meaning.

Dreams About Putin by Nastia Korkia and Vlad Fishez

Based on a selection of actual dreams that the filmmakers collected online, this essay explores how the figure of Vladimir Putin has crept into the psyches of Russian citizens since the invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Disturbing, violent, absurd, the dreams are narrated in voice over and accompanied by a visual score created with the 3D graphics program Unreal Engine, interspersed with bizarre and equally absurd archival footage of Putin. A nightmarish response to a nightmarish war, waged both on the frontline and on social media.

Non-alignés: Scènes des archives Labudović / Non-Aligned: Scenes from the Labudovic Reels by Mila Turajlic

A portrait of Tito’s official cameraman Stevan Labudović, this feature-length essay film exhumes previously unseen archival footage from the 1961 Belgrade conference to explore the birth of the Non-Aligned Movement. As educational as it is politically sharp, the film accounts for the difficulties faced by Turajlic in working with unprocessed, barely identified archives, and offers Labudović an opportunity to share his personal and often humorous take on this turning point in the history of world politics.

YouTube-based video essayist writing about the intersection of games, culture, art, and politics

Everything Is Sludge: Art in the Post-Human Era by Lily Alexandre

Alexandre’s dissection of how algorithms are morphing our artistic tastes is insightful and biting. Although viewers may expect a video about AI , more time is spent on how humans are more than willing to start producing AI -esque content by hand in order to serve the tastes of their perceived audience. The real star of this video is the production, however. Alexandre speaks as a kaleidoscopic projection of Subway Surfer, minecraft montages, and other “sludge” is projected onto their face. As interesting as the essay’s script is, the viewer’s eye will inevitably slip to the endless stream of meaningless attention-grabbing clips – just as Alexandre intended, I imagine.

History of Handedness in Video Games by Face Full of Eyes

Equal parts essay and visual compendium, Face Full of Eyes’ video contains a dizzying amount of clips from hundreds of video games, all answering the same seemingly inconsequential question: how do the game’s characters handle guns with their dominant and non-dominant hands? The answer for any particular game isn’t important. The point of the video is instead that no decision is meaningless when creating art. In a created world like a video game, everything is a chance for storytelling— even the choice to depict how a left-handed person might have to reload a right-handed gun.

Four-Byte Burger by Ahoy

The experience of watching Ahoy attempt a perfect replication of a digital illustration from 1985 somehow captures the energy of a 21st-century sculptor attempting to re-carve Michelangelo’s David. While he starts with modern Photoshop tools, the latter half of the video is a deep dive into save file formats and 40-year old display technology; a crucial realisation in the video comes from a monitor’s changing colour tone when turned to portrait orientation. The fact that all this is in service of a delightfully whimsical picture of a burger? Even better.

Film critic, kritikosatlasas.com

This video essay gives additional meaning to the idea that cinema is a warehouse of memory.

The Thinking Machine #73: Revealing Leone by Cristina Álvarez López and Adrian Martin

Video essay exploring Sergio Leone’s technique of “revealing”. But revealing what was hidden in the scene is also the most interesting feature of the video essay. This video “opens the doors” with a wonderful rhythm and music.

Practices of Viewing: Description by Johannes Binotto

A video essay that doesn’t use any film footage, but which is still very interesting to watch and listen to. A video essay about a description technique that can make you see things better than any images.

Some Thoughts Occasioned by Four Desktops by Ariel Avissar

A video essay made as a response and as a dialogue with the other four video essays, each of which uses desktop documentary form in different and unique ways.

Sensuous and Affective by Oswald Iten

Using various techniques, it explores how cinema affects us through audiovisual experiences and how video essays can reveal this.

Rain: A Phenomenal Catalogue by Stephen Broomer (Art &  Trash)

Many important avant-garde films were made in 1929, Joris Ivens’ Rain being one of them. This video essay shows what an amazing and groundbreaking film it is.

Memories of It by Kathleen Loock

Relationship between collective and personal memory, It (1990), VHS , the fall of the Berlin Wall – all of these somehow connect to my personal experience, interest and history, which, as this video shows, is not entirely unique.

Audiovisual essayist and professor of film at the University of Reading

Although it may not have been where I first encountered them, all of my nominations appear in two consecutive issues of [in]Transition. This is a reflection of the quality of work being published by the journal, rather than a lack of imagination on my part.

‘Isn’t That Going to Be Awfully Dull and Drab?’ George Hoyningen-Huene’s Use of Neutrals by Lucy Fife Donaldson

A follow up to the video essay on George Hoyningen-Huene’s work published in Movie last year, this piece again draws on archival research to sharpen our perception of production design choices, this time in relation to the potential of a muted colour palette.

This video was mentioned a couple of times in last year’s poll but has since been published. A brilliant interweaving of gaming, Chris Marker and reflection on the politics of Google Street View.

Mad Men’s ‘Babylon’: Mapping Out a Musical Metaphor by Ariane Hudelet

A compelling tracing of multi-stranded connections in an end-of episode musical montage: expertly and elegantly done.

Eye-Camera-Ninagawa by Colleen Laird

Graphically striking, temporally inventive, technically dazzling, formally compelling, surprising throughout.

I downloaded this film from its dedicated website, before the option to stream became available, and watched it without reading anything about it, thereby experiencing the full impact of its dramatic payoff.

Filmmaker, videoessayist, researcher and critic

It is exciting to finally be able to engage with Joséphine Baker’s media presence through film historian Terri Francis’ research and video essay. I had been waiting to see this video essay for some time so I was very happy to see it published in the journal Feminist Media Histories this year.

“Why this accent?” Barbara Zecchi takes a closer look -or listens more carefully- to the accents employed in House of Gucci (Ridley Scott, 2021) in order to explore (and undo) Hollywood representations of Italians. This video essay builds off her previous work on the subject of the accented video essay, with a once again playful and creative, as well as thought-provoking result.

Roberto Cobo: Screen Stars Dictionary by Catherine Grant

This video essay is part of the Screen Stars Dictionary, published by Tecmerin and edited by Ariel Avissar and Vicente Rodríguez. Although there are so many great ones to choose from, I am highlighting this one because in it Catherine Grant gives us the special opportunity to remember and rediscover the “rare” and wonderful late Mexican actor Roberto Cobo (1930-2002).

chaste/unchaste by Maryam Tafakory

A beautifully crafted and compelling video essay from filmmaker Maryam Tafakory which cuts together images from 32 films, spanning three decades, in order to dissect the binary of chaste/unchaste women in post-revolutionary Iranian cinema.

Practices of Viewing: Ending by Johannes Binotto

The final video essay in Binotto’s series titled Practices of Viewing. These videos are made with so much care and love for the artistry of filmmaking that we will surely come back to them with time, as these gestures of film viewing begin to transform and, in some cases, even disappear.

Nitrate: To the Ghosts of the 75 Lost Philippine Silent Films (1912-1933) by Khavn De La Cruz

Nitrate: To the Ghosts of the 75 Lost Philippine Silent Films (1912-1933) and National Anarchist: Lino Brocka’ are two masterful works made by filmmaker Khavn De La Cruz about Filipino film history through the recycling of archival materials. Both are fascinating films, made in a video-essayistic spirit, that will hopefully circulate widely after their premiere this year at IFFR .

A fresh take on the beloved film Thelma & Louise by video essayist and artist Dayna McLeod in which the final suicidal leap is transformed into a deep dive of the vagina (using an endoscopic camera)! Soon to be published in the special issue, ‘Right to Rage: Subjectivity and Activism’ edited by Barbara Zecchi and Diana Fernández Romero, in Teknokultura: Journal of Digital Culture and Social Movements (forthcoming). Final note: I promise to see everything that Dayna McLeod makes (which also goes for everyone else on this list).

Freelance film scholar and video essayist

In my opinion, it was an excellent year for video essays and so it was especially hard to make a selection for this poll. I used three parameters in the composition of my list: I had to choose works by different essayists from those for whom I voted in 2022; and my selection could only feature personal favourites in the field of videographic criticism, that is, a specific film, television and screen studies subset of the “video essay”. The videos also needed to be already published and freely available online, which ruled out a lot of great works for which I will undoubtedly be voting next year. I’m betting that 2024 will be an even more excellent year for video essays!

Shah Rukh Khan. Screen Stars Dictionary by Ritika Kaushik

This was the video essay I most enjoyed watching in 2023! It was part of a joint venture inaugurated this year in which I was delighted to participate - The Screen Stars Dictionary , launched by the Spanish audiovisual essay journal TECMERIN in conjunction with video-essay entrepreneur extraordinaire Ariel Avissar, whose own contribution to the dictionary (on Tom Cruise ) I also really loved.

Creative Geography, Creative Connections: Candyman by John Gibbs

An ambitious and highly significant work, published in Movie , that is the perfect match of videographic critical form and content. I am simply in awe of John Gibbs’ audiovisual research and composition here. A great and powerful model for future work on the performativity and facticity of film and television locations.

The Responsive Eye, or, The Morning Show May Destroy You by Catherine Fowler

Fowler’s magnificently inventive video essay on the two television series The Morning Show and I May Destroy You compared the relational technique that each takes to sexual abuse using a ‘feminist videographic diptych’ method. Her video formed part of a brilliant special issue on that method that she proposed, produced and guest edited for [in]Transition, the peer-reviewed journal I co-edit, which was full to the brim with similarly urgent and powerful feminist works using multiscreen and other juxtapositional procedures.

This was the most original work of those I loved this year, and one I was fortunate to follow the making of while it was in progress. Academic film and TV studies video essays have taken a very performative and embodied turn in recent years, but Mittell characteristically pushes this even further into the realm of extremely ambitious, very entertaining and deeply insightful pastiche. I can’t wait to see where his videographic approaches to televisual reflexivity will take him, and us, next.

A superbly made, genuinely risk-taking work that asks and answers ongoing urgent questions about the circulation of public domain images and films. We were delighted to publish Misek’s work at [in]Transition, where it headed a huge and very strong issue featuring numerous other works I would have loved to select for my best-of-the-year videos had it been a Top Twenty list, rather than a Top Seven one.

Filling (Feeling) the Archival Void: The Case of Helena Cortesina’s Flor de España by Barbara Zecchi

Zecchi gets my vote for Video Essayist of the Year for her prolific, always brilliant videographic work. This particular video, published in issue 9(4) of the journal Feminist Media Histories, is extraordinary. As the editor of that journal Jennifer Bean wrote of it in her marvellous introductory essay for the issue of FMH , “[Zecchi’s] voice as well as her embodied, emotive presence on the screen are intrinsic features of a project that deploys videographic tools to sustain what she calls a ‘practice-based counterarchive’ capable of reversing the ongoing ‘dispossession’ of women’s contributions to media history.” Terri Francis’s remarkable 2019 video essay Joséphine Baker Watches Herself is also published in the issue’s exploration of the potential of videographic criticism for feminist media historiographies, alongside powerful new work by Celia Sainz.

With a Camera in Hand, I Was Alive by Katie Bird

Katie Bird’s virtuosic exploration of the affordances of desktop filmmaking to access the sensations of using a physical camera (and its highly original and moving audiovisual maker’s statement) made a magisterial contribution to Kevin B. Lee and Ariel Avissar’s audiovisual essay dossier on the desktop documentary, for the Spring 2023 issue of NECSUS : European Journal of Media Studies. The other entries in the dossier were of excellent quality across the board, and I would particularly point to Ritika Kaushik and Brunella Tedesco-Barlocco’s great video essays for the ways in which, like Bird’s, their work points to how screen capture techniques can be harnessed to investigate very important and highly diverse screen studies research questions. 

Film scholar and video essayist ; University of Minnesota

Kiss me softly | crackly | sharply by Lucy Fife Donaldson

The combination of visuals and sound in this intriguing video forces the viewer into attention, listening and watching carefully while examining one’s own expectations and intimate reactions to individual moments.

Nebular Epistemics by Alan O’L eary

Incredibly dense on a theoretical level, performatively innovative, and yet still accessible and hilarious — what an accomplishment to combine these elements into a coherent whole and convincing argument.

Being Dolls (or Not): Spinning Mothers and Daughters in Elena Ferrante’s Adaptations by Barbara Zecchi

A dazzling watching experience that masterfully interweaves critical argument with audiovisual spectacle; a prime example of Zecchi’s superior sense of rhythm that permeates all her work.

Home Is Bleak. Is Home Bleak? by Delal Yatci

With Yatci’s piece too, rhythm is what captures my fascination. An examination of the home in Turkish films by female filmmakers takes shape by meandering between different film scenes, tied together by beautifully selected sound.

The Body • S05E16 • TPN ’s Buffy Guide by Passion of the Nerd

While I’m a fan of Passion of the Nerd’s entire series on Buffy, the episode on “The Body” weaves together such powerful narratives and meditations on grief and, at the same time, on the effect and personal meaning of media objects and their embeddedness not only in a cultural context but in our own private archives of (media) memories.

Once upon a Screen Vol. 2, Part 2

The second part of Once upon a Screen Vol 2 (edited by Ariel Avissar and Evelyn Kreutzer) seems to have a much more sombre atmosphere in comparison to Part 1 and features another inspiring array of videos based on other creators’ written screen memories. To me, Avissar’s The 39 Shots, Oswald Iten’s Recreated Memories, and Johannes Binotto’s Down a Dark Spiral stand out in this collection of amazing works.

Film scholar , video essayist , animator, PhD researcher

Arbitrary Motion: Accidentally / On Purpose by Farzaneh Yazdandoost

Inventive videographic research about stop motion animation is still rare, but Farzaneh Yazdandoost finds striking images and sounds to draw our attention towards the arbitrary motion of animated fur.

A pamphlet, an act of deliverance, and a moving found (and partly licensed) footage film.

Critics’ Choice 9 : (putting) on Aftersun by Inge Coolsaet

When we see the same film, we each see a different film, especially when that film invites us to inhabit it ourselves. Inge Coolsaet’s refreshingly minimalist take on this idea did the same for me.

“Isn’t That Going to Be Awfully Dull and Drab?” George Hoyningen-Huene’s Use of Neutrals by Lucy Fife Donaldson

The wonderfully muted colour schemes of Technicolor movies have always fascinated me. Thanks to the well-researched video essays (the first one came out the year before) by Lucy Fife Donaldson I am now also aware of one of the creators and proponents behind those concepts.

Overflowing with ideas and hilarious moments, this personal multi-part investigation of Italian accents in American mainstream cinema feels a lot shorter than it actually is.

Twisties! A Live Performance by Alice Lenay

The notion of what videographic criticism can do has been constantly challenged for a few years now. Alice Lenay is pushing the boundary further with her fully embodied live video essay performance in which she inserts herself into television footage from the 1996 Olympics, obscuring bodies, revealing camera angles, and the setup’s inherent dissociation.

Lecturer at University of Art and Design HEAD – Genève, co-director Festival Cinéma Jeune Public, curator at Locarno Film Festival and Int. Short Film Festival Winterthur

La Maison by Sophie Ballmer

Sophie recounts the renovation of a house inherited by her partner Tarik in the Vallée de Joux. Attracted by the potential, they began by destroying everything. Then it was time to rebuild. To the weight of the rubble cans was added the weight of their families’ dreams and values. With affection and humour, Sophie deconstructs patriarchy, capitalism and inheritance in an attempt to make room for achievable utopias.

Marungka Tjalatjunu (Dipped in Black) by Derik Lynch, Matthew Thorne

The film follows Yankunytjatjara man Derik Lynch’s road trip back to Country for spiritual healing, as memories from his childhood return. A journey from the oppression of white city life in Adelaide, back home to his remote Anangu Community (Aputula) to perform on sacred Inma ground. Inma is a traditional form of storytelling using the visual, verbal, and physical. It is how Anangu Tjukurpa (story connected to country / dreaming / myth / lore) have been passed down for over 60,000+ years from generation to generation.

Æquo by Eloïse Le Gallo, Julia Borderie

The sound of an alphorn echoes in the mountains while glaciers are dripping. Far away, on an oceanographic boat, researchers probe the invisible seabed. Geological bodies of salt and ice emerge from the digital depths of a software. They melt and disintegrate in the hands of scientists. The filmmakers place encounters at the heart of their approach, anchoring their creative process in a poetic approach.

Pacific Club by Valentin Noujaïm

In 1979, the Pacific Club opened in the basement of La Défense, the business district of Paris. It was the first nightclub for Arabs from the suburbs – a parallel world of dance, sweat, young love, and one-night utopias. Azedine, 17 years old at the time, tells us the forgotten story of this club and of this generation who dreamed of integrating into France but who soon came face to face with racism, the AIDS epidemic, and heroin. The film gives visibility to the forgotten, the invisible and reflects on the power dynamics and dominance system within French society. 

Out of the Blue by Morgane Frund

In 2013, an auteur film causes a scandal due to its sex scenes. The filmmaker is 16 and one of the angry viewers. Ten years later, she is ready to settle the score with this film in the form of a video essay. Her film visits ways to tame the ‘male gaze’ and understand her position in a still man-made/thought world.

Tierra de leche by Milton Guillen and Fiona Guy Hall

On New England dairy farms, daily life orbits around the milking parlour. Here, machinery and cows come together as an exploitation mechanism of migrant workers from Central America, consuming their every waking hour and even infiltrating their dreams. The film denounces a terrible reality told in the most poetic and respectful way. 

Not sure what a video essay is, so my choices might be slightly off-topic.

Mickey Takes Acid by AI Generated Nonsense

It is great, very funny, and not sure a human could find all those weird connections.

TraumaZone by Adam Curtis

I heard many people complaining that Adam Curtis’s essay is simplistic, you cannot express the collapse of the USSR in such a short time etc. Maybe it is so, but it is exactly because of this method that he achieves a kind of poetic truth, if I may say so.

Der Elvis by Joe Moritsugu

It is older, but since I never have heard of it, I consider it new. I heard of this filmmaker because two of his films were freeleech on karagarga. This short essay is ahead of its time and has a punk energy not so easy to find anymore.

Video essayist and Subaru nomad. Co-moderator of the wonderful Essay Library .

The “Pay For It” Scam by Carlos Maza

I’ll start my list off strong by fudging the numbers – this video came out in the last months of 2022, and yet Carlos Maza’s work demands a spot in my recommendations. Maza is an online video veteran, previously creating for Vox. His independent work allows him to flex his style: a blend of professionalism that says “this is worth taking seriously and I’ve put in the work” and casualness that says “we’re still going to make a tough topic go down easy.” He tackles some of the most contentious topics affecting our political landscape – this video covers the manufacturing of the “debt crisis” in the minds of the American public. The heart of each video lies in the wrap-up: Carlos has a knack for leaving viewers off with a perfect mix of “this sucks,” and “but I believe in us” and finally, “fuck yeah.”

Cinema in Pain: Decoding “Mad God” by James DeLisio

“Physical pain does not simply resist language but actively destroys it.”

This thought-provoking video is an approachable look at a notoriously repulsive film (which I do not say lightly, as a squeamish viewer myself!). It proposes one lens of interpretation: what if a film like Mad God is our best chance as an audience to experience an articulation of pain through art? If pain is incommunicable through words, what sights and sounds, what deviations from expectation, can bring us into that headspace? This examination of the non-straightforward means through which cinema may operate has bent my brain, and I must recommend that you experience it for yourself.

The Man/Car Gender Binary in John Carpenter’s Christine by max teeth

“Men are of course men and cars are cars but women are also cars.”

In the vein of Women Are Not Objects, but Objects Are Still Women, Max takes us through the special cinematic relationships between a man and his car, a man and his car who is also a woman, and a man and another man and a car which is somewhere nearby. The point: how have we learned to signify masculinity on screen? And how does John Carpenter’s Christine induce horror by perverting those signifiers? A cherry on top: this video is hilarious.

As a bonus, I’ll also recommend their video on Hereditary for its crisp, creative, and playful visual style.

The Essential Whiteness of One-Hit Wonders by The Nukes

“Hey Josh, you’re white. Who sang Tainted Love? I answered easily and without thought: ‘Soft Cell.’ But a few have offered me a truth that I, in my whiteness, did not know then, but do know now. Soft Cell’s Tainted Love is a cover.”

This is a tale as old as time, and yet even if you think you know this story, this video is a journey worth taking. Josh from The Nukes takes us on a personal musical tour through the many, many hidden (and not so hidden) ways that the music industry has historically catered to white sensibilities. Interesting, frustrating, and relentlessly funny – make sure to read the chapter markers for an extra dose of “this creator is having way too much fun.”

(Another bonus recommendation: Josh’s “ Is it Impossible to Dad ” is a heartfelt, prescient examination of the gap we attempt to bridge in parenthood – and in all relationships, really. Watch both, enjoy!)

I Watched 151 Celebrity House Tours and They’re Full of Lies by Kendra Gaylord

You might’ve noticed that I lean toward thoughtful, exploratory content that pulls you in with a premise, then surprises you with a run of jokes. Well, in that vein, Kendra’s channel has been a fantastic discovery for me this year. Kendra talks about architecture the way I talk about That One Funny Thing My Friend Did That One Time. Her style feels comfy and inclusionary, like you’re both laughing together.

It’s always fun letting someone take you on a journey through their random obsession, and watching all 151 Architectural Digest home tours probably enters “obsession” territory (and yet, one gets the sense that if not for the video, Kendra still would’ve done this anyway). The impression is less “I self-flagellate for content,” and more “let me give you my best takeaways from a task that you will likely never do yourself.” The difference between the two, I realised, is surprisingly important to me!             

The Importance of Spaces in The Last Black Man in San Francisco by KaiAfterKai

This video is a lovely exploration of the importance of personal connection to space, the ability to self-actualise through space, and connection to history through space, which all feel especially prescient to a generation of young adults who have been gatekept from home ownership.

It feels like listening to a guided meditation tape; Kai is, as always, soothing in their delivery, punctuated by perfect music choices and encapsulated within a flawless structure. This is the essay equivalent of sitting back in a field, relaxing, letting ideas wash over you.

Is the “Off-Grid” Lifestyle a Lie?? by Maggie Mae Fish

Also on the topic of spaces, Maggie explores a trend that may seem like a dream to young people growing increasingly unsure that they will ever be able to afford typical homeownership: off-gridding. Specifically, she calls attention to the way that people discover new lifestyles through the Internet, and whether the people selling that lifestyle are leaving out important details (and why they may be incentivised to do so!).

Following up on her 2022 video on the Netflix show Motel Makeover, this video continues Maggie’s deep dives into the ways in which the lens of “content” turns building and designing spaces into a sales pitch, while unearthing the hidden costs that these shows are not incentivised to reveal.

Associate professor in audiovisual arts and cognition at University of Groningen, NL / co-author of Film Studies in Motion: From Audiovisual Essay to Academic Research Video

Trying to have a full grasp on a year’s videographic output is increasingly becoming an impossible effort. This inevitably leads to a highly personal selection (and possibly less overlap among the featured videos – perhaps Kevin B. Lee will figure that out for us), but it’s also great news as it is due to a rapidly expanding videographic scene and community.

From what I’ve seen, this was one of this year’s most eloquent videographic ruminations on the theory and then applied practice of audiovisual t(h)inkering, brilliantly marrying an appeal for the exploratory research method with its explanatory mode of clear presentation.

Mind Autopsy by Johanna Vaude

(One of the) best producer(s) of supercut mashups these days is Johanna Vaude. Fans can watch her treatment of variously similar criminal investigations in Fincher’s oeuvre until we get our 3rd season of Mindhunters.

Sound Before Picture by Cormac Donnelly

I always enjoy it when someone finds an unexplored cinematic niche (in this case the sounds, full with clues and anticipation, leading the movies in before they even begin) and makes the most out of it through engaging audio(!)visual presentation.

Embodied Visual Meaning [in] Motion by Maarten Coëgnarts

Imagine how challenging it would be to argue for the functioning of abstract dynamic patterns as fundamentals for representing a variety of cinematic drama – a challenge Coëgnarts himself is dealing with in his excellent writing. Beyond its inevitable scholarly qualities, this video’s virtue is how simple it makes such (textually) difficult concepts understandable (in videography).

Rain: A Phenomenal Catalogue by Stephen Broomer

Making me want to view the movie they’re studying is one of my (very personal) benchmarks for evaluating the quality of video essays. A 27-minute contemplatively thorough dissection of Joris Ivens’ 12-minute short film Regen [Rain] – that creates an ‘archetypal rainstorm’ out of an 8-month sampling of rainy images – is exactly such a videographic work.

An attentive response, in desktop video form, to the four desktop videos (by Johannes Binotto, Katie Bird, Brunella Tedesco-Barlocco, and Ritika Kaushik – wish I could include all these videos in this best-of selection) that were part of the audiovisual section of the Spring edition of the Necsus journal. It does the work viewers normally do when watching and assessing video essays.

Koker in Fragments by Ardeshir Shirkhani and Arshia Shirkhani

A student project for my videographic criticism class, this little ‘screwmeneutic cinemagraph’ pauses the main action and keeps running the peripheral happenings and sound around it. Such tender intervention is not only a lovely tribute to Kiarostami but in fact a brilliant way of illustrating his characteristic “gentle humanism … that reveals the cosmic majesty and mystery of ordinary life” (The Criterion Collection for Kiarostami’s The Koker Trilogy).

Associate professor Media Studies at the University of Amsterdam

Natalia Oreiro by Jiří Anger and Veronika Hanáková

Part of the innovative Screen Stars Dictionary series published by Tecmerin, “Natalia Oreiro” by Jiří Anger and Veronika Hanáková stands out in both topic and aesthetics. The essay breaks with the US -dominance in the study of (global) stardom by focusing on a Latin American star who becomes famous in Russia, Israel, and Central-European countries, thereby calling attention to a transnational movement that is not often addressed in star studies. The playful aesthetics of early 2000 digital culture highlights the importance of the internet in this transnational movement between “periphery” and “periphery.

Published in Feminist Media Histories, “Joséphine Baker Watches Herself” by Terri Francis shows the added value of videographic criticism to more conventional academic work. By connecting archival footage of early stage performances by Joséphine Baker to televised interviews with the iconic star in which she looks back and comments on her own star image, provides space for the Baker’s agency and voice within the narrative of her stardom in a way that could not be done so effectively (and affectively) in a written essay.

chaste/unchaste by Maryam Tafakory Published in [in]Transition, “chaste/unchaste” by Maryam Tafakory effectively challenges the binary that is spelled out in the title. Starting with a four-way split screen and a graphic that looks like a target finder from a rifle (or like a measuring rod), the audiovisual essay presents images of women from Iranian cinema, thereby highlighting how they are continuously scrutinised and policed, yet also how they challenge the omnipresent gaze. Using mirroring and repetition, combined by an uncanny soundtrack, the essay forces viewers (at least me) to question their preconceived notions and binary thinking. And what a surprise when the credits reveal that the footage comes from 32 films! As Maria Walsh concludes in her peer-review of the essay: “This is brave work.”

Postdoctoral researcher and video essayist , Film University Babelsberg Konrad Wolf

Just like in past years, I want to emphasise that I do not consider this a or my “best of” list but rather a list of video essays from different sub-genres and platforms that I found particularly interesting this year and with which I aim to hint at the breadth of video essay production.

An evocative and very layered meditation on poetry, drama, film and their (cross-)adaptations. A wonderful contribution to the Moving Poems project, which I’m running on Vimeo.

A dense, rich audiovisual analysis of the two Candyman films (1992 and 2021) that delves deeply into the films themselves but at least as much into questions of urban planning, architecture, and racial segregation in Chicago and beyond.

Extra Local: Extras as Actors in Breaking Away by Jacob Smith

A fascinating analysis of a commonly overlooked type of film labour and performance — extras — that starts and returns to a rich microanalysis and in the meantime provides a thorough historical and conceptual discussion of this form of acting. The video also includes one of the best “plot twists” I’ve seen in video essay work so far!

Why Do We Make Comedies about Existential Dread? by Afterthoughts

A highly entertaining and evocative video on contemporary absurdist, dark, “meme-y” comedy that asks questions like “Why are we so weird and sad right now?” and ponders on realisations like “When I’m alone with my thoughts, I’m alone with y’all’s thoughts.”

Another great piece from Binotto’s Practices of Viewing series – one that I referred to as an “anti video essay” when I first saw it.

Hello Dankness by Soda Jerk

An impressive assemblage of excerpts from all kinds of Hollywood films from the past ca. 40 years, sampled into a dark comedic take on the 2016 US elections and the Trump presidency.

How to Make Money from Video Essays: A Guide to Pitching by Will Webb

An unconventional pick since it’s not a video essay itself but a video about how to make (specifically pitch) video essays but one that I find useful to include here (perhaps as a bonus pick) because it provides insights into the ways in which video essayists produce and monetise their work outside the direct infrastructures of academic institutions.

Video essayist, critique and researcher in visual culture

Cycles of Labor: In the Metaverse, We Will Be Housewives by Veronika Hanáková, Martin Tremčinský, Jiří Anger

Using interfaces familiar to anyone who grew up in the 2000s and 2010s, the authors reedit a film that recently won the votes of the Sight and Sound Greatest Films of all Times poll: Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman. I really loved how they manage to produce a feminist and environmental analysis of the film using these layouts, subverting our video-essayistic habits (using cinema as a hermeneutic tool) by calling on videogame grammar to study film.

O fumo do fogo (Smoke of the Fire) by Daryna Mamaisur

Daryna Mamaisur is a Ukrainian artist and a refugee in Portugal. In her essay, she films closeups of her Portuguese handbooks, finding echoes of dispatches her friend sends her from their country – the dots and shapes of the three-colour printing of the old-fashioned books resemble the low-quality videos. I was fascinated by the way Mamaisur films her hands hovering over her desktop covered by childlike images, and how as soon as the editing flips them, the war and its trauma appears.

البحث عن السوري الإرهابي In Search of the Syrian Fanatic by Abou Naddara

The Syrian filmmaker collective Abou Naddara conducted this year a multimedia investigation about an image and a corpse, both hidden underneath layers of French colonial propaganda. The images come from one of the first silent fiction films, The Assassination of General Kléber (Georges Hatot, 1897), depicting the murder of the Napoleonic officer in 1800 by a Syrian student in Egypt. Abou Naddara discovered the remains of the presumed perpetrator, Soleyman El-Halebi, are kept by a French Museum, in its colonial collection and decided to take action: he wrote both a written and a videographic letter to French authorities, asking them to return the body as well as renounce the racist cliché, first printed in visual culture by the 1897 film, of the fanatic Syrian.

Alain Krivine, le trotskisme permanent (Alain Krivine, the Permanent Trotskism) by Usul and Ostpolitik

This video is part of a series created by the French videaste Usul and Ostpolitik, the “Portraits” telling the stories of central figures of French political history in a critical perspective (the series is published for the online channel Blast, continued by Ostpolitik and another youtuber, Modiie; meanwhile, Usul started another series, “Rhinoceros” about the rightisation of media). Together, they also produced “Ouvrez les guillemets” (“Open the Quotes”) (for the online journal Mediapart) about political news. I wanted to cite one of their works for several reasons. One of them is that I find it very interesting how a video essay can engage with social and political criticism through mediatic images – the way Serge Daney, for instance, used to do it in a textual way in Libération. I also wanted to pay a specific homage to Usul, who for the last ten years, is, in my opinion, the most stimulating political video essayist of the French YouTube landscape and draws me to the art of montage and media criticism with his latest series “Mes chers contemporains” (“Dear Contemporaries”).

I Would Like to Rage by Chloé Galibert-Laîné

Finally and above all, I wanted to mention a piece by Chloé Galibert-Laîné, whose work in general is of crucial importance to me, and whose I Would Like to Rage, in particular, touched me enormously. As I had the chance to tell them, their work navigates brilliantly the tricky art of self-memeification to address gendered and intimate political issues, escaping every trap set by the internalised (patriarchal) injunctions of concealing the “I” and its revolts.

Assistant professor of Japanese cinema, The University of British Columbia

Thelma & Louise: Rape Culture, Mudflaps, & Vaginal Horizons by Dayna McLeod

With this righteous and riotous very close look at Ridley Scott’s Thelma & Louise (1991), Dayna McLeod continues to be one of the boldest and bravest new practitioners of the video essay. Constructed in three acts, the piece highlights the interplay between actions and reactions, both in the film and beyond to the discourse surrounding it. The end result, and in particular the resulting ending, is a thought-provoking dive into videographic criticism and film scholarship.

Every time I watch a piece by Maryam Tafakory, I am overwhelmed by contradictory emotions. “chaste/unchaste,” Tafakory’s contribution to the ‘Feminist Videographic Diptych’ special issue of [in]Transition, is no exception. The use of uncanny repetition and graphic matches is both mesmerising and agitating, familiarising and defamiliarising, grounding and destabilising. And as always, I’m stunned by the quantity of films Tafakory uses to create the illusion of effortless coherent cohesion.

A Tactile Art by Cormac Donnelly

It’s worthwhile to access Cormac Donnelly’s “second iteration of the Super Volume project” on his Deformative Sound Lab website to read about the process of making a video that is very much about process and processing. While Donnelly considers the piece a representation of a tactile art, what haunts me about the video is the juxtaposition of the ephemerality in the piece—both of the transparent layering of the participants’ hands as well as the audio track itself—with the technology at the intersection of the two: the artefact of interaction. I find this work unsettling in the very best of ways.

Cycles of Labour: In the Metaverse, We Will Be Housewives by Veronika Hanáková, Martin Tremčinský, and Jiří Anger

With each collaborative work, I find the dynamic duo of Veronica Hanáková and Jiří Anger increasingly enchanting. I can’t help it; I like their style. I was torn between this video and their entry in Ariel Avissar’s new Screen Stars Dictionary project which has some similar formal conceits, but the tongue-in-cheek nature of reframing Jeanne Dielmann’s daily routine as a “The Sim’s”-esque video game was the deciding factor. All too often, scholarly videographic criticism can feel heavy and bleak, particularly with trends in exploring thematised trauma. Here, along with Martin Tremčinský, Hanáková and Anger make a case for serious fun.

Crochet Is Sick by Alison Peirse

A companion piece to last year’s award-winning and frequent festival feature “Knit One, Stab Two,” here Alison Peirse shifts a feminist lens from the needle to the hook, and from the voice-over to the visualised voice, in this work on the role of crochet in horror. Peirse is developing a distinct videographic style and “Crochet” is a prime example of this aesthetic that takes the video essay (and what we think we know about horror) delightfully and impishly up a notch (or three). Note the original soundtrack created especially for the work.

Currently only available on the festival circuit, Chloé Galibert-Laîné’s most recent work is a deeply personal performance of catharsis years in the making. It is also, thankfully, very funny. The video is an inspiring whirlwind through multiple media objects and platforms, a flurry of failed and forced expressions of rage, that sticks its landing and compels us, once again, to rethink what we know about the potentials of the video essay. Details about forthcoming availability are likely to be found on their website in the future.

Xena’s Body: A Menstrual Auto-Investigation Using an iPhone by Occitane Lacurie

I had the pleasure of seeing this video as a work in progress piece at the ‘In the Works: Makings and Unmakings of the Video Essay’ conference held at the Lucerne School of Art and Design at the beginning of November of this year. Even in an unfinished form, it was still one of my favourite videos I encountered this year, as well as one of the most timely. A desktop video in cell phone portrait mode, and perhaps even edited on one, Lacurie’s remarkable production brings together the personal and the political through the act of “doom scrolling” that involves, among other things, an episode of “Xena: Warrior Princess,” the iPhone menstruation application, text messages, online message boards, demonic imaginations of cell phone home screens, website searches, and an online tarot reading. Forthcoming and not soon enough.

Video essayist , filmmaker , professor

More than ever, the video essays that left their imprint on me were ones which staked a position not only within film and media objects, but in the world at large.

Dreams Have No Titles by Zineb Sedira

When I first saw this at the 2022 Venice Biennale, I didn’t recognise it as videographic, using physically reconstructed movie scenes for what might be called “spatial remix”. Seeing it again this year at the Hamburger Bahnhof, I could appreciate how much care it takes in reconstructing sites of Algerian cinema: not only sets from films set in Algeria, but also spaces where Algerian cinema is screened, preserved and contemplated. The video essay as artistic theme park, in the best sense possible, film history playfully resurrected. (See also: Goddess of Speed , Frederic Moffet)

Pictures of Ghosts by Kleber Mendonça Filho

A deeply personal psychogeographic exploration of film as home, even in the face of a looming societal ruin. Even while keeping within the format of a feature film, it is as expansive as Sedira’s installation, bravely projecting itself into a post-cinematic, post-human finale. (See also: Mast-Del , Maryam Tafakory)

Introduction to “With a Camera in Hand I Was Alive” by Katie Bird

As excellent as — and somehow longer than — the video essay it introduces, it is also a radical new proposition for videographic scholarship. Creator statements are usually written, but instead we have an experimental selfie-video layered with reflections — academic, political, personal — on women’s labour in cinema. (See also: Jill, Uncredited , Anthony Ng)

A scholarly video essay that pursues its research object so thoroughly that it becomes its mirror reflection, art and life entwined in an inextricable dialogue. (See also: Laterally , Maria Hofmann)

An inspired series of interrogations of the Italian accent in Hollywood movies as a contested site of cultural identification. This video asks who cinema really speaks for, and in doing so speaks its own truth back into cinema. (See also: Dressed to Kill Cis Hetero Patriarchy , Nicole Morse)

Feeling Cynical About Barbie by Broey Deschanel

This vlog-style essay brilliantly links two phenomena from the summer — Barbie and the Hollywood strikes — to critique media capitalism’s insidious strategies for possessing and exploiting the cultural imaginary. (See also: A History of the World According to Getty Images by Richard Misek)

Games That Don’t Fake the Space by Jacob Geller

Among the video essays occupied with audiovisual form, I especially admire Geller’s vast research and deft navigation through the surprising spatial environments found in video games. (See also: Sensuous and Affective by Oswald Iten)

Film critic

In this list, I have tried to avoid simply listing my friends, and instead tried to cover a little of the diversity of audiovisual essay venues existing today.

Performance: Divine Horror by Kryštof Kočtář and Matouš Vad’ura

Puts the destruct in deconstruction.

The Mechanics of Fluids by Gala Hernández López

A deep dive into online incel culture.

@Concert: Liveness in the Time of Coronavirus by Landon Palmer

An inspired assemblage of awkward moments in a live-but-not-living world.

Searching for Incognita by Johanna Vaude

Another stunning work by this master of the form: the motif of ‘adventuring’ in film, deftly gathered and revealed.

Why Do Movies Feel So Different Now? by Thomas Flight

An extended, thoughtful reflection on ‘metamodernism’ in recent popular cinema.

The Address from Beyond the Grave by Roz Mortimer

Mortimer illuminatingly relates her own filmmaking work to that of other women, films in which ‘spectrality’ is hauntingly tied to historic, socio-political traumas.

Undercurrents: Meditations on Power by Margot Nash

Nash, among Australia’s greatest artists, would probably prefer this to be known as a film, but it has a special relation to the audiovisual essay: a montage from her previous works, it forms a powerful, urgent poem for our times.

Video essayist, filmmaker

Sleeping Sickness: The Downtrodden in Pedro Costa’s Cinema by Alexander Melyan

A beautifully crafted video. It got me lost in the images of Costa’s films all over again.

Great concept, better execution. A very satisfying watch and listen.

Takes me back to my days in foley classes. Brought a smile to my face watching and the odd grimace.

Queer performance-based media artist

What an incredible video essay! This enthralling and meticulously edited piece uses a binary of chaste vs. unchaste to collapse in on itself as a gendered structure of representation in Iranian cinema. Tafakory uses repetition and juxtaposition to emphasise this undoing and mirrors clips of women in grids of four where they are (now) engaged with each other onscreen. She overlays certain clips, which seep into and onto each other as a form of touching, as if to queer the materiality of these clips as well as the newly formed relationships she has created through her editing.

A masterful and hypnotic piece that is seemingly edited on a smartphone that simultaneously demonstrates the source materials and inspiration for the work, while showing the methods and thinking of its construction. Lacurie takes us on an expansive menstruation journey that is personal and political—navigating apps, memes, video clips, and a tarot card reading through the analysis of a fatal penetrative wound on Xena Warrior Princess’s body. A mesmerising video essay from, In the Works: Makings and Unmakings of the Video Essay, Lucerne School of Art and Design, Switzerland. See Lacurie’s other work: https://vimeo.com/lacurieo

A video essay with an ending you can dance to, I Would Like to Rage is smart, tender, and funny. Galibert-Laîné’s thorough and thoughtful practice is fully on display as they take us through various machinations of online and mediatised rage, its performativity, expression, and ownership, and how they experience or rather, attempt to experience rage authentically. A triumph of intelligent vulnerability expressed through an assemblage of self-reflection, video clips, memes, gifs, and Leslie Knope homages, this endearing delight of a video essay is surely coming to a film festival near you.

An impeccable experimental video essay that exaggerates and emphasises the uncanny through foley and feminist intervention. Fife Donaldson aptly mixes and amplifies the sharp edges of ASMR sound artist Julie Rose Bower’s work by replacing the soundtrack for the knife scene in Kiss Me Deadly. Switchblades pop and fist punches snap and crack onscreen through Fife Donaldson’s use of this unique collection of sound, and her use of visual repetition and slow motion. I am particularly drawn to how she lingers on sound during a slow motion shot of the would-be attacker’s descent to the ground as he slides down a wall after the attempted knife fight.

A gong repeatedly sounds as ‘The End’ title text from a variety of films are shown onscreen in several languages. We hear a tapping—a soft clicking that is perhaps his keyboard, our viewership guided by his hand. The way that Binotto has arranged these endings and silenced their corresponding soundtracks are filled with loss as they each mark an ending to a specific film as well as the end of his incredible Practices of Viewing series . Binotto cites Roland Barthes while seemingly articulating his own work ethic: “writing as absolute brings with it a particular existential movement: the drive to finish the work in order to start again”. I can’t wait to see what comes next.

Using Evelyn Kreutzer’s Moving Poems prompt that asks makers to pair a poem with a media object, moving poems: a raisin in the sun (1961) is a poignant and poetic work that capitalises on affecting performances from the 1961 film adaptation of A Raisin in the Sun. De Jesús engages Langston Hughes’s short poem Harlem in onscreen text while expertly and artfully using opacity, repetition, movement, dialogue, and match cuts to sound in this stunning and layered poetic video essay.

Jeanne Dielman: On / Off by Dan Noall

A sublime supercut of every time the title character of Chantal Akerman’s Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce 1080 Bruxelles turns on and off the lights. Noall jumpcuts us through each of the rooms of this film and the quiet bland domesticity of house and sex work with this simple task. Only fans of this iconic film will recognise the importance of Noall’s final shot where Jeanne turns off the light of the kitchen while firmly grasping her silver scissors and shutting the door behind her with a thud.

Video essayist (as kikikrazed ) and community manager for The Essay Library

Everything is a Remix (Complete Updated 2023 Edition) by Kirby Ferguson

Kirby Ferguson has revisited this project multiple times since it debuted in 2010, remixing his own work to create new iterations. The 2023 edition, described as “the definitive Everything is a Remix experience” by Ferguson, includes a new part about AI art, also released individually in 2023. Unfortunately, the video currently sits at under 100,000 views on YouTube due to unjust copyright claims that contradict fair use and the remix philosophy.

The PS1 Start-up Tells a Story by Dennis Gallagher

Gallagher’s 40-second essay (really only 30 seconds if you forget the credits) is a perfect example of a video essay with zero fluff. He narrates alongside the PlayStation startup sequence, guiding us through it with a sense of awe. The fantastic digital portal metaphor doesn’t overstay its welcome in this bite-sized treat.

Four-Byte Burger by Stuart Brown (Ahoy)

Brown documents his faithful recreation of his favourite piece of Amiga art, Jack Haeger’s Four-Byte Burger. In the process, he reveals how technological constraints can foster creativity. His passion and personal investment in the original artwork is clear throughout this journey.

The Chaos Behind The Wizard of Oz (and why it turned out ok anyway) by Isabel Custodio (Be Kind Rewind)

Custodio explores the production of The Wizard of Oz through each of its four directors, balancing substantial research with personal evaluations of their filmographies. In my own video essay work, Be Kind Rewind is one of my biggest inspirations. Every video amazes me with the sheer knowledge and passion for film on display. This essay is no different as it juggles the interconnected careers of actors, producers, and directors within the studio system at the time.

Some video essays that rely on literature to examine a film can become too text-heavy, but this essay never feels like that. DeLisio’s careful narration and textured sound design allows him to speak with the film instead of over it. This intelligent, well-edited video cements James DeLisio’s status as one of the most exciting emerging video essayists.

Film teacher and researcher at Escola das Artes in Católica University (O Porto); film programmer at IndieLisboa Film Festival; film critic at À pala de Walsh website.

Exotic Words Drifted by Sandro Aguilar

At the edge of the word lies silence, hesitation. On the other side of colour, there are bright colours, gray, black and white. This is a film that sits on the other side of the mirror and takes us through the tense and enigmatic reverse side of classic cinema. In Aguilar’s audiovisual essay, everything floats, expectantly, waiting to happen, inaugurating a new order, like a tense relationship between day and night, between the negative and the positive of a film stock.

Audiovisual essays are tools to unlock the imaginary and highlight possible paths and barriers. Misek’s work invites us to understand the struggles to show and hide images in contemporary digital agoras, where public versus private ownership is at stake in order to disseminate controlled versions of history.

Réseau des sens by Mirjam Leutwiler

For each contact, each touch there is a split “I”, a network of sensation. Mirjam Leutwiler’s short audiovisual essay is not only interpreting Michel Serre’s text “The Five Senses. A Philosophy of Mingled Bodies”, but also telling us how that network about touching and feeling is underway in the cinematic phenomenology.

Kinoapparatum Remade. A Videographic Montage Experiment. by Johannes Binotto, Maurice Dietziker, Linus Bolliger, Arseni Gavrilov, Kilian Frei, Andrina Moos, Cécile Brossard, Sven Friedli, Mirjam Leutwiler, Jana Schlegel, Melina Hofer, Anja Hubmann, Fynn Groeber, Nora Gruetter.

Kinoapparatum Remade is not only an homage to Vertov, Kaufman and Svilova’s seminal film Man with a Movie Camera. And also not only a reflection on Manovich’s ideas on the film regarding new media. It is all of this but it is also a collective collaborative effort in which we can see that recreation it also followed by actualisation, complementation and creative choices based on movement and form. And these particular choices of the “collective with the moving images” tells us that it is not only a question of past versus incoming future when we look at 1929’s masterpiece.

Against Polish or, Notes on Videographic Labor or, You Could Remix Blazing Saddles Today Will Digravio

Digravio’s original audiovisual essay may work against the idea of perfection and neatness as a possible disguised style. But it is also an exposition of the work involved in the audiovisual essay. In this sense, it enters a loop, a mise-en-abîme where a “meta worker” develops a similar “meta mirror” to better highlight the nature of what is involved when reworking the images and sounds of a film. 

Media and cultural studies graduate student at the University of Wisconsin–Madison

The Future Is a Dead Mall — Decentraland and the Metaverse by Dan Olson (Folding Ideas)

Another long-form triumph from the creator of Line Goes Up – The Problem with NTF s and In Search of a Flat Earth .

Searching for Humanity in Fortnite’s Battle Royale by Jonathan McIntosh (Pop Culture Detective)

A fusion between a “Let’s Play” and a conventional YouTube video essay, this moving autoethnography finds optimism and community in one of the most unlikely online gaming spaces.

Alexandre’s cleverly profound work on gender, sexuality, art, and digital culture never disappoints. Everything Is Sludge, which interrogates the rise of split-screen “sludge content” on TikTok, is yet another home run, and takes particular advantage of the traditional YouTube format. 

Associate professor of film and media in digital contexts at Aarhus University, Denmark; visiting researcher in the Centre for World Cinemas and Digital Cultures, University of Leeds, UK ; author of Workshop of Potential Scholarship: Manifesto for a Parametric Videographic Criticism, NECSUS  2021.

There has been so much exciting work to learn from in 2023 that I found it near-impossible to make this selection, even limiting myself (as I have) to ‘scholarly’ video essays. Let me name some makers in addition to the many mentioned below that have impacted my understanding of the practice this year: Ariane Hudelet, Cormac Donnelly, Dayna McLeod, Irina Trocan, Jemma Saunders, John Gibbs, Kevin Ferguson, Liz Greene, Maria Hofmann, Maud Ceuterick, Oswald Iten, Richard Misek, Susan Harewood… My point with this list, which could have been indefinitely extended, is that investigating the possibilities of the video essay is a collective endeavour. Brian Eno has a notion of collective ‘scenius’ (as opposed to individual ‘genius’) which refers to “the intelligence and the intuition of a whole cultural scene”: it’s this boisterous collective intelligence that I think we’re witnessing with the explosion of the video essay. Can it last? I do worry that the period of expansion, exploration and experimentation will exhaust itself, and that a single preferred mode of audiovisual rhetoric will be asserted or be insisted upon by the journals. I’m relieved this hasn’t happened yet, not in 2023 at any rate. And so my selection (which could easily have been several further sets of seven videos) is intended to indicate some of the striking variety, as well as the quality, of the work being done. Memories of It by Kathleen Loock ‘Memories of It’ mixes film, trailer and documentary footage with personal reflection and interview in order to tease out Kathleen Loock’s traumatic memory of watching (and fast-forwarding) the 1990 adaptation of It on VHS as a child. She links this memory with the condition of the Wendekinder, children like her of the former GDR forced to cope with a new world after German reunification. Does Kathleen over-sociologise her act of retrospectatorship by invoking shared generational experience? Is the video an attempt to contain as well as explain the threat of traumatic eruption? I’ll just have to watch ‘it’ again… Everybody’s Gotta Learn Sometime by Drew Morton

Thomas Pynchon’s Vineland is my favourite novel and one joy of my 2023 was encountering Peter Coviello’s Vineland Reread, a book that mixes literary criticism, cultural theory and autobiography to evoke the presence of Vineland in Coviello’s life and teaching. Drew Morton’s account of re-viewing and teaching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind at intervals since that film’s release is a similarly rich and joyful intellectual experience – Drew even shares some hard-earned lessons in love. (I recommend comparing the earlier version of the video linked in the creator statement, to see how an adept maker engages with challenging peer review.)

Desktop Documentary by Johannes Binotto

Johannes Binotto’s literally/ironically titled ‘Desktop Documentary’ is expressly a “call to clutter”. As such, it makes me terribly anxious. But this is a brilliantly conceived and engagingly performed piece of explicatory and programmatic rhetoric that draws on YouTube how-to videos even as it nods to the opening of Cléo de 5 à 7. I am happy to grant Binotto’s fiction that his desk has not been curated because I am persuaded by his account of the desktop as recalcitrant technology. And I am especially seduced by his call for productive accident and a-rational research methods that look back to surrealism.

True Enough by Chloé Galibert-Laîné

True Enough might seem a jeu d’esprit compared to Chloé Galibert-Laîné’s longer video essays. But even as it draws on the functional aesthetic of the karaoke video, this adaptation of a text by Will Webb, made for Ariel Avissar and Evelyn Kreutzer’s Once upon A Screen project, is a work of great refinement. Galibert-Laîné creates a “fictional offscreen space” with beautifully composed filmed footage enlivened by dancing light from an unseen television. The cheerful font and sung accompaniment extend the possibilities of onscreen text and voiceover. As an added bonus (or intrinsic moment), it contains the best Simpsons allusion ever.

This has been a vintage year for multiscreen. Like the videos by Mittell and Arlander discussed below, Colleen Laird’s Eye-Camera-Ninagawa and Adam Cook’s A Cinema of Bodily Sense deploy multiscreen in powerful but contrasting ways. Maryam Tafakory uses it differently again in ‘chaste/unchaste’. The video is a supercut of female faces (plus one big cat and a gas hob) made from thirty-two Iranian films. It stages its imagining of queer desire as a progression from multiscreen to single screen to superimposition. ‘chaste/unchaste’ is a condensed masterclass in how argument can be made in formal terms without the aid of voiceover.

169 Seconds: Trimming Time in Breaking Bad by Jason Mittell

To celebrate its twentieth anniversary, the Danish film journal 16:9 has been publishing 169-second video essays in a series that features makers like Cristina Álvarez López and Adrian Martin, Jaap Kooijman, Catherine Grant, and Barbara Zecchi, with two impressive videos by my Aarhus colleague Mathias Bonde Korsgaard. My favourite is Jason Mittell’s cheeky afterthought to his videographic project on Breaking Bad (it traces Walter White’s story arc through his hairstyles). I like how the application of strict but ludic formal parameters, which Mittell derives from the journal name and video duration, generate a cryptic visual tapestry of the entire series.

Revisiting the Aspen Tree by Annette Arlander

Between 2002 and 2014, artist Annette Arlander recorded weekly visits to locations on Harakka Island near Helsinki in a series of videos. In Revisiting the Aspen Tree, she returns to one such site and embeds those videos in the video document of the more recent visit. Differently from Mittell’s Trimming Time, Arlander uses parameters to dictate a practice that is physical, repetitive and durational. But it reminds me of Will DiGravio’s Rio Bravo project, and like DiGravio’s four-hour Against Polish, it suggests the value of an ‘ambient’ scholarship, in which iterative academic labour is presented in something like real time.

Host and producer at Wisecrack

My selections focus on creators who are pushing the critical boundaries of the video essay format. In particular, these are creators who both utilise critical theory, social theory, and philosophy while also producing videos that are entertaining and accessible. They also make the types of videos that leave you feeling like more questions have been opened than answered. Which, especially on YouTube, is an increasingly rare thing.

Griftonomics: Why Scams Are Everywhere Now by Tom Nicholas

This video might be Nicholas’s magnum opus, and it feels more like a digital documentary than it does a traditional video essay with a runtime of almost two hours. But he earns every minute of the video by not only exploring the growing phenomenon of digital grifters, but by showing how the logic of grifters exists in an ongoing dialectical relationship with the larger economic structures in our world. In this way he arrives at the logical core of the modern digital grifter, and shows how this same logic is at the heart of much of modern culture. He balances this out by also exploring the psychological factors that have made grifter scams and content so popular. Nicholas also deserves credit for working a level of theatricality into this video (and all of his videos) that’s visually engaging without being distracting. In a world of sad ex-grad students making videos about capitalism ruining our world, Nicholas is the relatable and entertaining lad that takes you just as deep without any performative nihilism.

What Red Pill Philosophy Gets Wrong by Then &  Now

2023 was a banner year for content made by reactionary young men utilising various philosophical and political ideas to justify a sense of growing alienation. While it’s easy to dismiss this contingent of creators completely, the harder task is to engage with these trends, openly interrogating their ideological core. And this video does an exemplary job at this task, taking red pill philosophy to task, and in the process, exposing how it offers a shallow simulacrum of actual philosophical responses to complex social problems. The video acknowledges the alienating cultural conditions that produce the “manosphere” while exposing the illogical core at the heart of these ideas. In doing so, Then & Now has created a video that pushes the viewer to not simply dismiss the modern reactionary, but to understand the logic of this movement, and see how this manner of thinking is more common than we might realise. Ultimately, it’s a video that skillfully uses seemingly esoteric and academic ideas to re-frame the contemporary crisis of masculinity while showing us all why we should care.

the parasite class is killing us. by Alice Capelle In this video, Alice Capelle uses the logic of vampire capitalism to show how the modern digital economy increasingly depends on acts of parasitism. She shows how the type of parasitic class relationships exemplified in Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite is replicated in digital spaces, and in particular, among self-styled business gurus using YouTube videos as a way to repeat the logic of class exploitation in the guise of self-help and business advice. Like most of Capelle’s work, this video utilises her ability to synthesise a French brand of critical social theory with an English-language based digital cultural space. This video feels like a sort of ethnography of the contemporary digital parasite, one that both exposes the exploitative core of their content, while hopefully encouraging us to undermine this logic however we can.

Assistant professor, Leiden University, and film programmer

Ross’s recommendations were submitted without comment.

El juicio by Ulises de la Orden Dau:añcut // Moving Along Image by Adam Piron

Silence of Reason by Kumjana Novakova

Mast-del by Maryam Tafakory

Limitation by Elene Asatiani, Soso Dumbadze

An Asian Ghost Story by Bo Wang

Still Film by James N. Kienitz Wilkins

Film critic and curator of The Moving Image from Lima, Perú

This year has been particularly scarce in terms of what I’ve seen or experienced in cinema due to various reasons. But here is a small selection of works I deem worthy to be mentioned, all from the fantastic [in]Transition: Journal of Videographic Film & Moving Image Studies.

A magnificent view on the dual nature of the portrayal of women in Iranian cinema.

Through the spirit of Chris Marker, this playful video essay runs the gamut of exploration via the Geo Guesser application and Marker’s cinema.

“Visual capitalism.”

Audio-Visual PhD student at University of Birmingham

Double Takes: A Series of Short Video Essays by Sarah Atkinson

Elegantly simple in their conception and execution; and cumulatively damning.

Insincere Inclusion? Ignorant Appropriation? A Symphony Orchestra Plays South Indian Film Music by Sureshkumar P. Sekar

I listened and I learned. A truly audio-visual piece.

Why Does Gotham Look like That? by Will Webb

An extensively researched and engaging exploration of this fictional city’s screen history.

A fascinating, haptic, personal inquiry that I couldn’t stop thinking about afterwards.

Indy Vinyl for the Masses: Lollipop by Ariel Avissar (curator) Matt Payne, Mingyue Yuan and Charlotte Scurlock

Pure fun and a wonderfully cohesive melding of song, theme (walking) and chosen keyword (kids). Hats off to Ian Garwood too for conceiving this project!

Freelance critic

I was flabbergasted last year when I somehow missed Mark Brown’s Platformer Toolkit , which I’m noting here because I think it absolutely represents a vital step forward for this art. I hope to see more work in interactive essays in the future.

Plenty of essays are about specific issues. This one manages to also embody its own ethos by acting as a conduit to get good-quality public domain imagery into the actual public.

A great rumination on acceptable expressions of anger, mediated through the desktop form in the same way that our emotions are mediated through technology.

The History of the Minnesota Vikings by Jon Bois et al

I think at this point Jon Bois just has a permanent spot in my ballot each year. He continues to innovate and refine his form. No one is making documentaries like this.

Pictures of Ghosts by Kleber Mendonça Filho et al

A beautiful meditation on memory as channeled through both personal and public archives, and the relationship between cinema spaces and their communities.

Brilliant in its simplicity, a Rorschach test that reveals the underlying absurdity of its own premise, and in turn the entire premise of censorious morality.

Nonbinary scholar-practitioner working at the intersections of artistic research and critical theories of embodiment and identity; reader in media and performance at University of Huddersfield; founding editor of Journal of Embodied Research.

I am a performance theorist and practitioner who has been working for several years to educate myself in the ways of videographic thought. My selection is eclectic and formally diverse, mostly coming from outside film and media studies.

Peribiophoty by Tom Murray, Karen Pearlman, Stephanie Russo, Hsu-Ming Teo, Rowan Tulloch, Rachel Yuen-Collingridge, Malcolm Choat

This item is from the journal I edit. I chose it from our 2023 video articles because of how it uses a formally simple concept to stage a deep dive into a range of scholarly projects. This is a co-authored video article sharing the research of five academics, who not only speak to the camera about their work but also interact physically with various objects on a sparse kind of set. It is elegantly produced and designed to examine “the personal and intellectual contexts (peri) surrounding academics and their biographies (bio) through audio-visual representation (photy).”

The World like a Jewel in the Hand by Ariella Azoulay

This film is technically from 2022 (I don’t know which month), but since this is my first Sight and Sound poll, I have decided to include it. As far as I can tell, it has primarily been screened in 2023. In the film, scholar Ariella Aïsha Azoulay explores the complex history of colonialism between Algeria and Israel, with an emphasis on the gradual erasure of the important figure of the Arab Jew. Azoulay manages to put this history in the broader context of European colonialism in Africa and to interrogate the ongoing practices of colonial museums, all through the simple action of touching and talking about a wide array of books, photographs, mezuzot, and other objects on her desk. When I first saw this film, I immediately felt that it brings an extraordinary depth and power to the concept of the “desktop documentary.”

Familiar Phantoms by Larissa Sansour and Søren Lind

I have to confess that I have not seen this film, only the trailer. I recently got a chance to see In the Future They Ate from the Finest Porcelain (2016) and In Vitro (2019) by the same creators. One of the challenges in selecting the “best” video essays from a given year is that so much videographic thought still takes place within the economy of fine arts and is therefore not made available online because it would thereby lose its aura. Larissa Sansour is a Palestinian video artist and filmmaker whose work is powerfully situated and discussed in Gil Z. Hochberg’s book, Becoming Palestine. I am including Familiar Phantoms on my list of selections as the 2023 video work I most wish to see.

A Short Film About Stealing (in Norway) by Pouria Kazemi

I have been able to find very little about Pouria Kazemi online and nothing about this film, which I had the chance to watch when it was submitted to a video festival I co-curated. This short animated video essay is a perfectly composed, brilliantly understated autobiographical statement about the necessity of petty theft under late capitalism. Among the more delightful and poignant touches is that the author’s friends, to protect their anonymity, are given as pseudonyms the names of the Norwegian royal family.

Hold On, This Matilda Musical Snapping 💀💀 by @wonder_kidd

Hold On, This Matilda Musical Snapping was a TikTok / Instagram trend in which a scene of dynamic choreography from the movie version of the musical Matilda is overlaid by various alternative musical tracks. While putting forward a 25-second social media remix as one of the best video essays of the year is certainly pushing the limits of the form, all the key elements are there: a creative and incisive juxtaposition of a video track with a distinct audio track is contextualised by the critical commentary of a textual annotation. The version I have chosen to link uses @wonder_kidd’s remix of Beyonce’s ‘Cuff It’, a choice that (as many of the Instagram commenters noted) effectively brings out the black cultural roots of Ellen Kane’s choreography, in sharp relief against the massively predominant whiteness of the British schoolchildren who perform it. In just a few seconds, this remix gives us both a snapping new version of Matilda and a cultural critique of how black dance knowledges circulate in predominantly white cultural fields.

Video essayist at StrucciMovies , actual play host on Oddity Roadshow

Colleen Ballinger and Commentary Culture by Ro Ramdin

Ro Ramdin’s work is incredible. Always sharply written, insightful, very funny, beautifully shot, and deeply thoughtful under the meticulous aesthetic and entertaining editing style. She’s one of those essayists I am more than happy to watch even if I have zero interest in the subject matter. I chose this video of hers in particular because I found her reflection on her place in the commentary channel ecosystem navigating the “algorithmic nightmare” of YouTube (as she puts it) especially compelling.

Does Fresh Garlic Actually Taste Better than Garlic in a Jar? by Ethan Chlebowski

Ethan Chlebowski has made several videos posing the question of whether more expensive versions of the same ingredient are worth it and why, including on balsamic vinegar, olive oil, parmigiano reggiano, vanilla, and, here, garlic. Each video is a deep dive on the cultural history of how the food is used and why, the basics of the culinary science behind it, and Chlebowski doing several taste tests and then giving recommendations at varying price points. While some of his conclusions are down to personal preference, his videos are nevertheless fascinating and done without judgement or pretension. I’d consider them a must-watch for new home cooks or those looking for a great example of engaging educational content that doesn’t condescend.

Wayfinding Flight Rising Dailies & Accessibility by PSJ ulie

I started a Neopets account in elementary school, over twenty years ago. My interest in Neopets or other pet sim sites has long since waned but I’m still fascinated by the work of Pet Simmer Julie, who crafts in-depth videos on virtual pet games. Her depth of knowledge and passion for these games and communities is immediately evident with any of her videos. This video, for example, helped me understand my own problems navigating real-world attractions that had poor wayfinding, and I’ve thought back to it many times after watching.

Filmmaker , author, video essayist, critic

A perfect capper to Johannes’ indispensable series

It’s a Zabriskie, Zabriskie, Zabriskie, Zabriskie Point by Daniel Kremer

Daniel finally makes his epic, a great odyssey about why we get lost in movies.

Against Polish or, Notes on Videographic Labor or, You Could Remix Blazing Saddles Today by Will DiGravio

With the insouciance of late Godard or Leos Carax’s New Order music video, Will disassembles our need to assemble.

Ozu Without Ozu by Green and Red

Deliciously busy exploration of auteurism.

Once upon a Screen: The 39 Shots by Ariel Avissar

A recontextualisation of what’s in plain sight.

Random Acts of Flyness Season 2 by Terence Nance

Terence and co’s vibrant and deeply necessary attack on commerce and media’s hideous parasitic relationship is an inspiration to all creators. One of the best to ever do it.

Independent scholar, video essayist

Practices of Viewing by Johannes Binotto

I remember where I was, shaking my head, beaming, and stifling a gasp, when I realised that Practices of Viewing is our generation’s Ways of Seeing or Histoire(s) du Cinema. A project of this scope, originality, insight and depth of audiovisual thinking may never happen again.

Jill, Uncredited by Anthony Ing

The log line says it’s a subtle, masterful tribute to the nearly-invisible labour of a background actress you’ve never heard of. But really, it’s a ground-up retraining of your whole visual cortex. Squint between the film grains, and you might even find a remake of Rose Hobart that outdoes Cornell.

Non-Euclidean Therapy for AI Trauma [Analog Archives] #SoME3 by neoknowstic

I’ve been meaning to include a mathematics video essay for years, and this one’s a revelation. A horror film starring an AI image generator lost in its own vector space, trying to remember enough matrix algebra to escape from the ‘dream’ of a grotesque face that it can’t stop making.

William Shakespeare’s Course of True Love by Lara Callaghan

Full disclosure: I was a participant in the group project that this essay belongs to, but I had nothing to do with this inspired entry. Unfortunately. I’m so jealous that I never realised that a video essay could parody other genres – in this case, the infomercial – to enclose its insights into an envelope of fleet-footed wit that belies their depth.

Elaine Scarry says pain can’t be expressed in words, but this essay claims that Phil Tippett’s film Mad God offers a counter-argument: maybe using a different system of signification CAN express pain. Magnificently, this essay doesn’t assume that scholars have more authority than artists, and opts instead to orchestrate a coequal conversation between two of them.

Indians from 1967: A Reaction by Ritika Kaushik

A time-capsule doc from 1967 resurfaces recut online and inspires a bevy of reaction videos. Why’d that happen? If we can’t explain why, maybe we can at least reproduce the effect, but with all the tools out in the open. And that’s what this essay does. After a forensics of the recut itself and a cataloguing of the reactions, a little zoom and slow motion unexpectedly imbue me with the same fascination with wonder and impermanence for contemporary online culture.

The AI Revolution Is Rotten to the Core by Jimmy McGee

This is ground zero of visual culture now, and most of us are either too tired to catch up or hoping it’ll just go away. If you don’t know where to turn, turn here. It’s rigorously researched, historically grounded, theoretically canny, sardonically wise, and as quotable as Casablanca. “We need to choose between building a world for money to live in or building a world for people to live in.”

Freelance film critic , film studies lecturer at UNATC  Bucharest

In retrospect, I seem to have compiled a mostly glum list, if not directly referring to contemporary events, at least haunted by them:

Scenes of Extraction by Sanaz Sohrabi

This installation work surveys the history of Iran over several decades, focusing on oil extraction by the foreign company soon to be known as British Petroleum, through a technique called reflection seismography. The challenge, of course, as postcolonial scholarship taught us, is to look beyond the audiovisual self-representation of the company – and the artist accomplishes this extraordinarily well. A voiceover accompanies a collage/montage documenting industrial processes, while the collage in itself operates on the images – which sometimes look like spectral cutouts – workers disconnected from the background, initially black, that slowly takes shape behind them), while at other times these images show their age (for instance, when 1930s maps are juxtaposed with recent CGI ).

Between Revolutions by Vlad Petri

Films about revolutions often – and quite paradoxically – treat the event like a solidly contained point on the historical axis, with a beginning and an end, missing exactly their transformative potential and their collective character. One way to avoid this is to resort to the not-entirely-manipulable archives from the depicted era (and not just in short clips to lend the veneer of truth to fictional reenactments), and Between Revolutions is a pretty convincing demonstration of this strategy. Maria and Zahra are fictional med students from Romania and Iran, trying to figure out life amid social turmoil – but the footage, poems and songs that illustrate their journey existed in the world long before the making of this film, and even when made with obvious artistic or educational intent (not to mention elaborate choreography!), these reworked materials contain some trace or emotional truth of their times.

This Is the End by Vincent Dieutre

By the most expansive definition a “videographic” work, Dieutre’s Los Angeles pandemic film has, I would argue, a family resemblance with Thom Andersen’s survey of polysemic Californian cityscapes. Love, longing and poetry readings (with actors’/directors’ cameos!) interrupt the grim silence of lockdown.

She Asked Me Where I Was From by Aulona Fetahaj

I reviewed this short film for Kortfilm.be.

Incident by Bill Morrison

Bill Morrison is known to be interested in film only when it is analogue and beautifully degraded, and in this respect the CCTV /bodycam-sourced Incident is a long distance from Buried News . The killing of Harith Augustus by the Chicago police was previously examined by Forensic Architecture to persuasively oppose the authorities’ version of the event, but Morrison and Jamie Kalven at the Invisible Institute set out to do something else. The 30-minute film, often showing in split-screen multiple angles and parallel events, only tracks a short span of time, although 1) it seems dispiritingly endless and 2) it already anticipates the community’s reaction to seeing yet another African American killed, while the policemen, in an onlooker’s phrasing, “get their story straight”. Augustus’s lifeless body is present in the frame for a long stretch of the runtime, contrary to the CPD ’s attempt to erase the “accident” from memory, while the eloquent rage of everyone in the community seems tragically rehearsed in similar prior events. The victim’s neighbours don’t get to express solidarity, but the colleagues of the policemen who fired the gun can, and do, help erase criminal guilt.

Makeover Movie by Sue Ding

You’d think this is the second-oldest topic in the feminist book (immediately after suffrage), but makeovers seem here to stay. Just look at what the too-radical teen in Barbie has to go through, or scroll down any social media app on a new account. Luckily, well-informed critiques, spanning many decades of US films, and listing all the problematic tropes implicit in the “makeover” are also competing for our attention. I can only hope that more young spectators see “The Makeover Movie”, where Sue Ding conjures a multiracial telephone slumber party with her girlfriends to understand how these films taught them “not only how to be a woman, but also how to be American”. Teen classics provide most material, but a handful of musicals plus Desplechin’s A Christmas Tale and Vertigo also fit the bill.

Screen Stars Dictionary. Natalia Oreiro by Jiří Anger and Veronika Hanáková

I grew up with Natalia Oreiro in her many disguises on my TV screen only to realise that nobody referred to her in the many pop surveys of Film and Media Studies. Therefore, I owe Veronika and Jiří many thanks and a loud high-five for allowing me to mention her again as a media scholar in my 30s. Autobiography aside, this playful video is a throwback to 2000s TV series, music clips and shows, computer interfaces, and a persuasive argument about how the model-periphery theory of dissemination is a far from rigorous model.

Film programmer and researcher

Where Is Little Trixie? by Carlos Baixauli

A very moving work that packs a lot of wonder and attentive detail in under four minutes, building a bridge between the works of two women filmmakers more than a century apart.

Who Speaks? Possessing Lyotard by Oscar Mealia

It points the way to new possible intersections between philosophy, film research, and video essay formats.

Isn’t That Going to Be Awfully Dull and Drab?’ George Hoyningen-Huene’s Use of Neutrals by Lucy Fife Donaldson

Packs surprise and captivating visuals into a video essay able to pleasurably unpack original academic and archival research.

Film critic ( À pala de Walsh ) and film programmer (Cinemateca Portuguesa, IndieLisboaIFF)

The latest film by James N. Kienitz Wilkins is an intriguing and exhausting audio play voiced by the director, who plays the four main characters in a court inquiry about film memories, film still photographers, Kodak as a pharmaceutical enterprise, the negative aura of Tom Hanks, boom operators, and the elusiveness of Hollywood as a cultural agent. All of this is put together with a seemingly random selection of film stills. As usual, in Kienitz Wilkins’ work, discourse is moving and images are ecstatic.

Le film que vous allez voir by Maxime Martinot

Maxime Martinot’s 11-minute film is an immensely funny compilation of disclaimer cards presented at the beginning of films throughout history. Edited as a frantic accumulation of non-images, we expect the worst and suffer the anticipation of immoral, violent, or graphic images. Without the images themselves, we are left with an essay on morality and sensibility as they evolve through time and shape the way we see the world around us and ourselves.

Où en êtes-vous, Tsai Ming-Liang? by Tsai Ming-Liang

A 20-minute meditation by the greatest living filmmaker on back pain, the pleasure of sitting, the beauty of chairs and how to paint them.

Chambre 999 by Lubna Playoust

A conceptual remake of Wim Wenders’ Chambre 666, made 40 years later. Cinema has changed, and today’s issues concerning viewership, distribution, and production are radically different from those of 1982. An uneven collection of thoughts that includes a wonderful opening act by Wenders himself as a burlesque doomsday prophet.

Onde está o Pessoa? (Where is Pessoa?) by Leonor Areal

From a few minutes of film, shot in 1913, Leonor Areal loops, zooms, pans, and examines every detail (as in Ken Jacobs’ Tom, Tom, the Piper’s Son), looking for the poet Fernando Pessoa, who was a cinephile, designed the logo of a movie company, wrote several film scripts, and was never caught on film. Or was he?

Even if Godard is dead, he lives in Maryam Tafakory. Mast-del is a collage of post-revolution Iranian cinema that produces mesmerising film compositions of gestures, textures, sounds, and words. A thin narrative line runs through public images and intimate feelings, delineating a complex web of recollections where memory and film history merge together.

Filmmaker , video essayist . Commissions include Sight and Sound / BFI , Little White Lies, Curzon and Arrow.

As ever, excited to see constant variety within the video essay world. My picks prioritise new creators and formal inventiveness.

MyHouse. WAD – Inside Doom’s Most Terrifying Mod by Power Pak

A masterpiece of recapping, Power Pak’s video is essentially a narrated journey through an ingenious mod. A good recap doesn’t just communicate plot, but also the point of the essay; this does both. Excellent pacing and vocal delivery communicates the tone of the map, and becomes a jumping off point for an analysis of horror in gaming / the oft-discussed topic of liminal spaces. And, a special shoutout to an almost unedited six-minute segment of black and silence in the middle. Commitment to the bit!

Interrogating one of the strangest releases of last year, this essay takes on the unenviable task of articulating how the film articulates the inarticulable (via Elaine Scarry). DeLisio’s commentary includes text elements that are ingeniously expressed in a similar visual language to the film’s (faded, grainy, blurry). As commenter Max Tohline puts it, “not under the knife of Scarry, but in coequal conversation with Scarry”.

Is It Impossible to Dad? by The Nukes

A trademark The Nukes / Josh Geist essay in its analysis of a throwaway family animation property through a serious academic viewpoint – not (just) for the comedy of applying highbrow to lowbrow, but to recognise that even (and maybe especially?) the forgotten parts of pop culture express truths about humanity. Josh reorders his text via its characters’ viewpoints to tell a story about father-son communication – and, perhaps, the impossibility of communication itself.

Alexandre investigates ‘sludge’ content – those splitscreens of a narrated reddit post and a Subway Surfers video, for instance – through a clever visual device. Talk about ‘embodied practice’: hard for me to imagine a more clear example than Alexandre projecting the edited video text onto their own body for the entirety of this video. An interruption a few minutes in from YouTube’s algorithm –a split-screen beer advert no less– just added to the gag on my viewing. And throughout the to-camera presentation, I found my eye drawn off to the Minecraft parkour constantly, in a clever proving of Alexandre’s argument. Behind the overstimulating presentation, Alexandre’s analysis offers an insightful categorisation of a media type inexplicable on the surface but ever-present in the developing digital landscape.

The breezy recap of the man/car binary in the opening moments of max teeth’s essay is authoritative, funny, and thought-provoking – everything a video essay can be, especially on YouTube. And the speed with which that’s just assumed and dropped as we speed into the main matter is a great example of how to explain succinctly. YouTube’s got too many 1hr+ essays – more like this, please.

Seinpeaks by @seinpeaks

There’s a fine line between a shitpost and a videographic work; ironically, the more academic end of video essays (with their lack of in-video explanation due to abstract support, and leaning towards supercuts and split-screens) are more like this than popular YouTube works. Seinpeaks illustrates the fine line beautifully. It’s a long-running project mashing up Twin Peaks and Seinfeld (with guest appearances from other stalwart shows like Always Sunny and Friends). These two shows aired simultaneously and their shared visual language provides a jumping-off point for a surprising collab that draws out the humour in Twin Peaks and the absurdism in Seinfeld.

Editor-at-large and YouTube channel manager at Little White Lies magazine

How Jane Campion Subverts the Violence of the Male Gaze by Carly Mattox

This was an idea pitched to me around focusing on the image of the woman on the street in cinema, especially at night, and especially in films directed by women. It took a little bit of back and forth to nail the structure and pacing, but the tone and central thesis of the piece was rock solid from the outset. I was delighted with how it turned out, and am really excited to see what Carly comes up with next.

Oppenheimer Is the Perfect Christopher Nolan Protagonist by Lara Callaghan

There was a lot published around Nolan’s atom bomb opus, but I’m not sure anything I’ve seen has managed to tap into his preoccupations as a filmmaker as astutely as this.

Adam Driver Driving by Luís Azevedo

This video stemmed from a silly conversation Luís and I had, but I think the result – aside from being superbly edited – speaks to something more serious about how actors choose to present themselves in certain ways on screen.

Professor and director of the film studies programme, University of Massachusetts Amherst

Very hard to limit myself to these nominations only.

Practices of Viewing series by Johannes Binotto

By all means this is the major project in videographic criticism of the year – or I should say of the last three years, since FFW , the first one (I believe) was produced in 2020. A work of art that redefines the boundaries of what’s possible in the medium. Its richness, originality, and creativity combine to create an experience that truly blows the mind. This videographic project is a testament to the limitless potential of form, its academic rigour, and artistry. It’s a visual and intellectual rollercoaster that will leave you in awe from start to finish.

RAWR by Maud Ceuterick

Beginning as a creative spark in an Aarhus workshop, it expanded at Middlebury College to become a true gem. Drawing from Judith Butler’s groundbreaking work, Ceuterick passionately interprets and deforms scenes of female rage, challenging gender norms. This transformative journey echoes Audre Lorde’s call for a radical change through the expression of rage. It’s a brilliant fusion of scholarship and creativity.

This is Not What I Normally Do: An Insignificant Step in the Downfall of the Humanities by Ariel Avissar

This is THE video essay of the year. A bold departure from convention, this video defies expectations with its remarkable layers of provocation. Meticulously edited and expertly crafted, it pushes the boundaries of videographic criticism, skilfully weaving a captivating tapestry of thought-provoking insights in the field

One of the most captivating sound projects I’ve ever encountered. This video essay ventures into uncharted territory, pairing the audio from the beginning of films with the closing images, creating an extraordinary mosaic of sound and visuals. The result is an auditory and visual tapestry that defies conventional expectations. It’s a seamless blend of the familiar and the unexpected, challenging our perception of film narratives.

169 Seconds: Una mujer reflejada / A Reflected Woman by Catherine Grant

In this brief but profoundly impactful exploration, Catherine Grant manages to distil the essence of the film’s themes, performances, and significance with remarkable precision, a testament to the art of succinct and effective storytelling. It’s a research gem that demonstrates the power of brevity in conveying complex ideas. In just 169 seconds, this video essay is the best piece of research ever “written” on Sebastián Lelio’s film.

This provocative video essay skillfully employs desktop editing on an iPhone to present a feminist perspective on the enduring control of women’s bodies through the dissemination of misinformation about menstruation and the menstruation apps. It is an awe-inspiring blend of resourcefulness, scholarly research, activism, art, exceptional editing skills, and creativity. 

Sensuous and Affective: The Potential of Videography for Studying Audio-Visual Relations by Oswald Iten

A beautifully edited and profoundly insightful exploration of the dynamic interplay between sight and sound.

Emerging voices

The voters had the option to nominate essayists to the ‘Emerging voices’ section as a way to highlight new and exciting talent in the video essay space.

acollierastro (nominated by Ben Chinapen)

[Ben also nominated this creator’s video on string theory in the main poll, and resubmitted his explanation from there to clarify why he was nominating them for Emerging voices.]

This video came out of nowhere and blew everyone’s mind who saw it. An intriguing title, with a clearly stressed-out person and also The Binding of Isaac in the thumbnail? What’s going on? Within one minute the purpose becomes clear; this woman who has very strong opinions and credentials will break down exactly what happened with the String Theory phenomenon while simultaneously stumbling through a playthrough of the vintage roguelike indie darling Binding of Isaac. A premise so absurd and hilarious (dare I say groundbreaking?) that you instantly want to watch and listen. It’s very informative and HIGHLY entertaining for the joke of the idea alone. I’m glad this took off because it was worth it. This is probably my most firm nomination out of the group.

Morgane Frund (nominated by Delphine Jeanneret)

Morgane Frund was born in 1997 in Lausanne, Switzerland. She studied Film Studies, English and German at the University of Lausanne. From 2019 to 2022, she studied Video at Hochschule Luzern, Design and Kunst, graduating with a Bachelor degree. BEAR (2022), her graduation film, screened in numerous festivals and won several prizes. OUT OF THE BLUE (2023) premiered in competition at the Internationale Kurzfilmtage Winterthur. She is active in the fields of documentary film, video essay and performance arts.

Eloïse Le Gallo and Julia Borderie (nominated by Delphine Jeanneret)

Born in 1989, Julia Borderie and Éloïse Le Gallo have been a duo since 2016. They graduated from Le Fresnoy in 2023. In an exploratory mode, they approach water as a substance that influences the territories it flows through and the bodies that live in it. Taking a poetic, documentary approach, they make the experience of otherness a condition of artistic creation. The camera eye acts as a catalyst for encounters, while questioning the human gestures that shape materials and territories.

At the heart of a mesh of viewpoints and disciplines (craft techniques, geology, chemistry, marine biology, etc.) and at the crossroads of sculpture and cinema, they are interested in the origin of the materials that form a landscape. Recently, their research has led them to question more specifically the complementarities between learned form and sensitive form, working with scientists on objects generated by their cutting edge technologies. [Bio from Le Fresnoy]

Rodrigo Campos (nominated by Evelyn Kreutzer)

Campos participated in a mentorship program I co-organised with Anna-Sophie Pilippi, Maike Reinerth, and Kathleen Loock, as part of the Videography conference in Hanover 2022. There he worked with Barbara Zecchi. The resulting video, published in the ZfM Videography blog this year, is a deeply poetic, affective, and analytically profound investigation of Brazilian colonial screen history.

Doing Women’s Global Horror Film History Collaboration (nominated by Colleen Laird)

A collaboration of 30 makers, the Doing Women’s Global Horror Film History project has been in the works since an original call for proposals in February 2022. Although just a few of the participants are experienced (full disclosure: myself included), the grant-funded project was designed by Alison Peirse to train and mentor new talent from around the globe through a series of online videographic workshops over the course of approximately six months. Thereafter, participants would produce their first video essay and would refine their edits through online peer feedback. As one of the collaborators, it has been my great privilege to see the works of so many new creators grow and evolve and I am excited for their collective debut. The collaboration will be published online in the first quarter of 2023 in the journal MAI : Feminism & Visual Culture .

Carlos Baixauli (nominated by Adrian Martin)

Sometimes, audiovisual essays can do a simple thing very well. Baixauli’s ingenious mix of the silent Falling Leaves (1912) by Alice Guy with Céline Sciamma’s Petite Maman (2021) hits that spot.

Green & Red (Kasra Karbasi and Mohammad Amin Komijani) (nominated by Adrian Martin)

These Iranian cinephiles pursue very original film analyses.

Martín Vilela (nominated by Adrian Martin)

Like Cooper in Twin Peaks: The Return, Chandler from Friends is multiplied and interacts with himself, uncannily. In Argentina, Vilela’s country!

May Santiago (nominated by Dayna McLeod)

A queer Puerto Rican feminist filmmaker, May Santiago’s unique voice and perspective makes her a video essayist to watch out for. She will have new work in Alison Peirse’s Doing Women’s (Global) (Horror) Film History ( DWGHFH ) project which will be featured in a special issue of MAI Feminism & Visual Culture in 2024. I was lucky enough to see May’s practice first hand at Embodying the Video Essay, a videographic workshop in Maine this summer and was blown away by May’s spectacularly intricate and layered work. She crafts soundtracks to complement a unique and riveting visual language, combining archive and horror while using herself as narrator and performing subject in front of the camera. Do keep an eye out for May’s work at film festivals and online: https://www.maillim.com/

Svanik Surve ( SUAVE , SUAVE cinema , svanik SUAVE ) (nominated by Queline Meadows)

Svanik Surve has been making video essays steadily for a few years now, but expanded his output in 2023 when he created two new YouTube channels. This year, his work explored Indian culture, international art cinema, and philosophy. His creative, intelligent, and funny videos deserve a much larger audience.

framemygaze (nominated by Queline Meadows)

In my eyes, there is nobody more immersed in the YouTube media and culture video essay landscape than framemygaze, and I say that as someone who runs a Discord server for video essay creators! I’ve found her in the comment sections of countless videos writing detailed notes that reflect her care and close attention to everything she watches. Framemygaze has only released one video so far, but if her deep understanding of the video essay community is any indication, there will be many more great videos in the future.

Alice Cappelle (nominated by Michael O’N eill Burns)

Alice’s videos offer an intriguing perspective at the borders of Francophile and Anglophile culture. She’s a French creator making videos in English, often about topics and phenomena specific to English language digital spaces and culture. This perspective allows her to use the critical force of a French leftist theorist to tackle seemingly vapid and conceptually empty trends and practices. At other times, she’s able to translate the specificity of the French political moment to a broader audience in a way that’s far more accessible than standard news coverage.

Jackson Maher (nominated by Michael O’N eill Burns)

Jackson is an already accomplished editor who in recent years has put himself in front of the camera to create video essays that lure viewers in with analysis of popular media properties, but uses this as the occasion to expose deeper cultural ideologies buried within pop culture. His series of videos on Copaganda does a masterful job at showing us how the logic of policing has infected so much of our culture, down to popular children’s programme Paw Patrol. But maybe most impressively, Jackson does all this while being relatable and curious, never making the viewer feel judged but instead inviting us to dig deeper alongside him.

Lara Isobel Callaghan (nominated by Will Webb)

Lara is a new face on the video-essay scene, with a number of commissions across Little White Lies and the BFI . Although the commissioned work is excellent, I’m highlighting this video from the Essay Library collab, When Essay Met Library, due to its formal inventiveness and cheeky sense of humour. Using Hindi film Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan as a jumping off point, Lara examines Shakespeare’s influence on the rom-com genre through the lens of a 1980s infomercial. William Shakespeare’s Course of True Love: available now!

Jemma Saunders (nominated by Will Webb)

A doctoral researcher at the University of Birmingham, Jemma’s particular focus on sense of place (and Birmingham especially) comes to the fore in this fascinating essay examining automotive representations of the city. Other works in this vein include Reaching Out Remotely , covering UK soap Doctors’ covid episode, made all the more poignant by its cancellation this year.

Carly Mattox (nominated by Adam Woodward)

I met Carly in late 2022 when I gave a talk to the second year students at NFTS . She reached out to me earlier this year and has since contributed a handful of videos to the LWL ies YouTube channel.

The new issue of Sight and Sound

In this 21st-century cinema special: 25 critics choose an era-defining film from each year of the century, and J. Hoberman asks: what is a 21st-century film? Plus: ten talking points from Cannes – George Miller on Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga – remembering Roger Corman with a never-before-seen interview.

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Defining the Cinematic Essay: The Essay Film by Elizabeth A. Papazian & Caroline Eades, and Essays on the Essay Film by Nora M. Alter & Timothy Corrigan

When it came time for the students to create their own documentaries, one of my policies was for them to “throw objectivity out the window”. To quote John Grierson, documentaries are the “creative treatment of actuality.” Capturing the truth, whatever it may be, is quite nearly impossible if not utterly futile. Often, filmmakers deliberately manipulate their footage in order to achieve educational, informative and persuasive objectives. To illustrate, I screened Robert Flaherty’s 1922 film Nanook of the North and always marveled at the students’ reactions when, after the screening, I informed them that the film’s depiction of traditional Inuit life was entirely a reenactment. While many students were shocked and disappointed when they learned this, others accepted Flaherty’s defence of the film as true to the spirit, if not the letter, of the Inuit’s vanishing way of life. Another example that I screened was a clip from controversial filmmaker Michael Moore’s Bowling for Columbine (2002) which demonstrated how Moore shrewdly used editing to villainise then-NRA president Charlton Heston. Though a majority of the class agreed with Moore’s anti-gun violence agenda, many were infuriated about being “lied to” and “misled” by the editing tactics. Naturally these examples also raise questions about the role of ethics in documentary filmmaking, but even films that are not deliberately manipulative are still “the product of individuals, [and] will always display bias and be in some manner didactic.” (Alter/Corrigan, p. 193.)

To further my point on the elusive nature of objectivity, I screened Alain Resnais’s Nuit et brouillard ( Night and Fog , 1956), Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil (1983) and Ari Folman’s Waltz with Bashir (2008.) Yet at this point I began to wonder if I was still teaching documentary or if I had ventured into some other territory. I was aware that Koyaanisqatsi had also been classified as an experimental film by notable scholars such as David Bordwell. On the other hand, Nuit et brouillard is labeled a documentary film but poses more questions than answers, since it is “unable to adequately document the reality it seeks.” (Alter/Corrigan p. 210.) Resnais’s short film interweaves black and white archival footage with colour film of Auschwitz and other camps. The colour sequences were shot in 1955, when the camps had already been deserted for ten years.   Nuit et brouillard scrutinises the brutality of the Holocaust while contemplating the social, political and ethical responsibilities of the Nazis. Yet it also questions the more abstract role of knowledge and memory, both individual and communal, within the context of such horrific circumstances. The students did not challenge Night and Fog’s classification as a documentary, but they wondered if Waltz with Bashir and especially Sans Soleil had entirely different objectives since they seemed to do more than present factual information. The students also noted that these films seemed to merge with other genres, and wondered if there was a different classification for them aside from poetic, observational, participatory, et al.  Although it is animated, Waltz with Bashir is classified as a documentary since it is based on Folman’s own experiences during the 1982 Lebanon War. Also, as Roger Ebert notes, animation is “the best way to reconstruct memories, fantasies, hallucinations, possibilities, past and present.” 2 However, it is not solely a document of Folman’s experiences or of the war itself. It is also a subjective meditation on the nature of human perception. As Folman attempts to reconstruct past events through the memories of his fellow soldiers, Waltz with Bashir investigates the very nature of truth itself. These films definitely challenged the idea of documentary as a strict genre, but the students noticed that they each had interesting similarities. Aside from educating, informing and persuading, they also used non-fiction sounds and images to visualise abstract concepts and ideas.

Sans Soleil (Marker, 1983)

Sans Soleil has been described as “a meditation on place […] where spatial availability confuses the sense of time and memory.” (Alter/Corrigan, p. 117.) Some of my students felt that Marker’s film, which is composed of images from Japan and elsewhere, was more like a “filmed travelogue”. Others described it as a “film journal” since Marker used images and narration to describe certain experiences, thoughts and memories. Yet my students’ understanding of Sans Soleil was problematised when they discovered that the narration was delivered by “a fictional, nameless woman […] reading aloud from, or else paraphrasing, letters sent to her by a fictional, globe-trotting cameraman.” 3 Upon learning this, several students wondered if Sans Soleil was actually a narrative and not a documentary at all. I briefly explained that, since it was also an attempt to visualise abstract concepts, Sans Soleil was known as an essay film. Yet this only complicated things further!  The students wondered if other films we saw in the class were essayistic as well. Was Koyaanisqatsi an essay on humanity’s impact on the world? Was Jesus Camp (Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady, 2006) an essay on the place of religion in society and politics?  Where was the line between documentary and the essay film? Between essay and narrative? Or was the essay just another type of documentary?  Rather than immerse myself in the difficulties of describing the essay film, I quickly changed the topic to the students’ own projects, and encouraged them to shape their documentaries through related processes of investigation and exploration.

If I had been able to read “Essays on the Essay Film” by Nora M. Alter & Timothy Corrigan and “The Essay Film: Dialogue, Politics, Utopia” by Elizabeth A. Papazian & Caroline Eades before teaching this class, I still may not have been able to provide definitive answers to my students’ questions. But this is not to say that either of these books are vague and inconclusive! Each one is an insightful collection of articles that explores the complexities of the essay film. In her essay “The Essay Film: Problems, Definitions, Textual Commitments” featured in Alter and Corrigan’s “Essays on the Essay Film” Laura Rascaroli wisely notes that “we must resist the temptation to overtheorise the form or, even worse, to crystallise it into a genre…” since the essay film is a “matrix of all generic possibilities.” (Alter/Corrigan, p. 190) Fabienne Costa goes so far as saying that “The ‘cinematographic essay’ is neither a category of films nor a genre. It is more a type of image, which achieves essay quality.” (Alter/Corrigan, p. 190) It is true that filmmakers, critics, and scholars (myself included) have attempted to understand the essay film better by grouping it with genres that bear many similarities, such as documentary and experimental cinema. Yet despite these similarities, the authors suggest that the essay film needs to be differentiated from both documentary and avant-garde practices of filmmaking. Both “Essays on the Essay Film” and “The Essay Film: Dialogue, Politics, Utopia” illustrate that this mutable form should not be understood as a specific genre, but rather recognised for its profoundly reflective and reflexive capabilities. The essay film can even defy established formulas. As stated by filmmaker Jean-Pierre Gorin in his essay “Proposal for a Tussle” the essay film “can navigate from documentary to fiction and back, creating other polarities in the process between which it can operate.” (Alter/Corrigan, p. 270.)

Nora M. Alter and Timothy Corrigan’s “Essays on the Essay Film” consists of writings by distinguished scholars such as Andre Bazin, Theodore Adorno, Hans Richter and Laura Mulvey, but also includes more recent work by Thomas Elsaesser, Laura Rascaroli and others. Although each carefully selected text spans different time periods and cultural backgrounds, Alter and Corrigan weave together a comprehensive, yet pliable description of the cinematic essay.

“Essays on the Essay Film” begins by including articles that investigate the form and function of the written essay. This first chapter, appropriately titled “Foundations” provides a solid groundwork for many of the concepts discussed in the following chapters. Although the written essay is obviously different from the work created by filmmakers such as Chris Marker and Trinh T. Minh-ha, Alter and Corrigan note that these texts “have been influential to both critics and practitioners of the contemporary film essay.” (p. 7) The articles in this chapter range from Georg Lukacs’s 1910 “On the Nature and Form of the Essay” to “Preface to the Collected Essays of Aldous Huxley” which was published in 1960. Over a span of fifty years, the authors illustrate how the very concept of the essay was affected by changing practices of art, history, philosophy, culture, economics, politics, as well as through modernist and postmodernist lenses. However, these articles are still surprisingly relevant for contemporary scholars and practitioners. For example, in an excerpt from The Man Without Qualities , Robert Musil writes that, “A man who wants the truth becomes a scholar; a man who wants to give free play to his subjectivity may become a writer; but what should a man do who wants something in between?” (p. 45.) Naturally, this reminded me of my class’s discussion on Sans Soleil and Waltz with Bashir. It concisely encapsulates the difficulties that arise when the essay film crosses boundaries of fiction and non-fiction. However, in his 1948 essay “On the Essay and its Prose”, Max Bense believes that the essay lies within the realm of experimentation, since “there is a strange border area that develops between poetry and prose, between the aesthetic stage of creation and the ethical stage of persuasion.”  (p. 52.)  Bense also notes that the word “essay” itself means “to attempt” or to “experiment” and believes that the essay firmly belongs in the realm of experimental and avant-garde. This is appropriate enough, given that writers, and more recently filmmakers and video artists have pushed the boundaries of their mediums in order to explore their deepest thoughts and emotions.

Alter and Corrigan follow this chapter with “The Essay Film Through History” which details the evolution of the essay film. Writing in 1940, Hans Richter considers the essay film a new type of documentary and praises its abilities to break beyond the purportedly objective goals of documentaries in an attempt to “visualize thoughts on screen.” (p. 91) Eighteen years later, Andre Bazin celebrates Chris Marker’s thought-provoking voice-over narration as well as his method of “not restricting himself to using documentary images filmed on the spot, but [using] any and all filmic material that might help his case.” (p. 104) Bazin even compares Marker’s style to the work of animator Norman McLaren, supporting the idea of the essay film’s use of unfettered creativity. By the time the reader gets to the third chapter, “Contemporary Positions”, he or she is well aware of the capricious and malleable nature of the essay film. As Corrigan remarks:

As it develops in and out of those documentary and avant-garde traditions, the history of the essay film underlines a central critical point: that the essayistic should not necessarily be seen simply as an alternative to either of these practices (or to narrative cinema); rather it rhymes with and retimes them as counterpoints within and to them. Situated between the categories of realism and formal experimentation and geared to the possibilities of “public expression,” the essay film suggests an appropriation of certain avant-garde and documentary practices in a way different from the early historical practices of both, just as it tends to invert and restructure the relations between the essayistic and narrative to subsume narrative within that public expression. The essayistic play between fact and fiction, between the documentary and the experimental, or between non-narrative and narrative becomes a place where the essay film inhabits other forms and practices. (p. 198)

Alter and Corrigan’s volume implies that the essay can inhabit many forms, styles or genres. More importantly is the idea that it should be recognised for its intentions and capabilities. Whatever form it takes, the essay is an attempt to seek, explore, understand, visualise and question, without necessarily providing clearly defined answers. The essay film also places considerable value on the intellect and opinion of the viewer, since it is an invitation to reflect on the thoughts, experiences, emotions and perceptions that are being conveyed. “Essays on the Essay Film” sensibly concludes with the chapter entitled “Filmmakers on the Essayistic”. Notable filmmakers, such as Lynn Sachs and Ross McElwee provide valuable insight into their own practices. The featured filmmakers, documentarians and video artists in this chapter do not focus specifically on what form their work takes, but what they are trying to achieve. For instance, in her article “On Writing the Film Essay,” Lynn Sachs proclaims that “My job is not to educate but rather to spark a curiosity in my viewer that moves from the inside out.” (p. 287.) Admittedly, Sachs’s statement contradicts the idea that documentary films seek to educate, inform and persuade, which I taught in my own classes. Yet Sachs’s insights, as well as those of the many other filmmakers in “Essays on the Essay Film” demonstrate how the camera is as versatile as the pen when communicating thoughts, emotions and ideas.

Tree of Life (Malick, 2011)

Elizabeth A. Papazian and Caroline Eades have also compiled several surprising, challenging and thoroughly captivating articles that exemplify the many forms that the essay film can take. The Essay Film: Dialogue, Politics, Utopia includes articles by several prominent scholars that explore the essay film’s place throughout history as well as within various cultural settings. Like Alter and Corrigan, they also present a convincing argument that the essay film is distinct from both documentary, avant-garde and narrative filmmaking, since it is “characterized by a loose, fragmentary, playful, even ironic approach […] and raises new questions about the construction of the subject, the relationship of the subject to the world and the aesthetic possibilities of cinema.” (Papazian/Eades, p. 1) Papazian and Eades explore how essayistic tendencies can manifest in narrative, documentary, avant-garde, and even video art through careful analyses of specific films and videos. The book opens with Timothy Corrigan’s “Essayism and Contemporary Film Narrative” which explores how the essayistic can inhabit narrative film, specifically through Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life and Lech Majewski’s The Mill and the Cross , both released in 2011. Corrigan observes that The Tree of Life “continually seems to resist its own narrative logic” (p. 18) by presenting a highly fragmented and non-linear plot.  Instead of placing it into the hybrid realm of experimental-narrative, however, Corrigan argues that:

Rather than locate a linear connection between past, present and future, the narrative flashbacks in The Tree of Life become a search for genesis – or more accurately many geneses – which might be better described as disruptive recollections that never adequately collect and circulate, as fractured and drifting images and moments producing not evolutionary lines, but the spreading reflective branches of essayism. (p. 19-20.)

The Essay Film: Dialogue, Politics, Utopia continues with essays by other acclaimed, yet indefinable filmmakers such as Jean Luc-Godard and Claire Denis. Essays by Rick Warner and Martine Beugnet explore how these filmmakers defy closure and continuity, even while appearing to work within established forms and genres. Ann Eaken Moss explores the essayistic approach that Chantal Akerman imbues within her experimental “home movies.”   News from Home (1977) is a meditation on Akerman’s own sense of dislocation from her home in Belgium while she adapts to life in New York City. In “Inside/Outside: Nicolasito Guillen Landrian’s Subversive Strategy in Coffea Arabiga” Ernesto Livon-Grosman investigates Landrian’s means of furtively including his own political agenda within a government-sanctioned documentary. What was meant to be a propagandistic documentary about the benefits of Cuban coffee plantations becomes an essayistic critique on the power structure of Fidel Castro’s government. (Livon-Grosman.) Papazian and Eades conclude their volume with an afterward by Laura Rascaroli, affirming that “it is with the potentiality of all essay films to question and challenge their own form”. (p. 300) The essay film may be distinct from narrative, documentary and the avant-garde, but it itself has no discernable style or formula. The Essay Film: Dialogue, Politics, Utopia clearly illustrates how the essay film, although bordering on established genres “must create the conditions of its own form.” (pp. 301-302.) Every filmmaker’s unique thoughts, experiences, meditations, questions and perceptions cannot neatly fit into a strict set of generic guidelines. However, this does not make the essay film more difficult to understand, but further implies that it is a unique practice rather than a specific form.

News from Home (Akerman, 1977)

Even with the insight provided by these two volumes, I do not regret introducing the essay film to my documentary students, despite their questions and confusion. As illustrated throughout Essays on the Essay Film and The Essay Film: Dialogue, Politics, Utopia it has typically been an esoteric and transgressive form, and perhaps including it with better known genres such as documentary and experimental films could be an effective way of introducing it to beginning filmmakers and scholars. Then again, perhaps it should be taught as a form separate from documentary, narrative and the avant-garde. I do wish that I was able to speak more about it at length during that particular instance, since the essay film deserves a considerable amount of thought and attention. Whether or not there is a correct pedagogical approach to teaching the essay film, both of these volumes are tremendously illuminating, but also open the door to further discussion about this compelling form of cinema.

• Bill Nichols, Introduction to Documentary , 2nd ed. (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2010). ↩
• Roger Ebert, “Waltz with Bashir”, rogerebert.com , January 21, 2009, https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/waltz-with-bashir-2009 ↩
• Jonathan Rosenbaum, “Personal Effects: The Guarded Intimacy of Sans Soleil”, The Criterion Collection , June 25, 2017, https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/484-personal-effects-the-guarded-intimacy-of-sans-soleil ↩

From screen to page: the perfect essay-writing films

W riting essays on films may be an exciting and complex process. As a writer, you must dive into the film’s complexities, test its storyline, characters, and themes, and give a coherent critique. However, choosing the perfect movie to write about might be challenging.But the https://ewritingservice.com/movie-review-writing-service.html knows what to do! With so many flicks to choose from, it might be difficult to limit your choices. We will examine two significant themes: simple movies to write my essay on and the finest movies to write about. We will give you an extensive selection of films that appeal to many genres, subjects, and styles, making your writing trip easy and fun.

Unlock Your Writing Potential: Explore These Easy Movies to Write an Essay On

Firstly, let’s explore the easy movies to write an essay on. Movies to write an essay on might be hard to find, especially if you don’t know where to begin. With so many movies, choosing one that will inspire you and help you realise your creative potential might be complex. However, with our wide choice of movies to write an essay about, you can choose the ideal film to study and assess.

Selecting a movie that speaks to you and piques your interest is crucial when writing an essay about a film. Good movies for papers are intriguing, thought-provoking, and have an engaging storyline . The film you choose for your assessment essay should also have a clear and unifying subject or message you can analyze in your paper.

If you write a review essay, you should know that it is one of the most common kinds of movie essays. You can examine and assess the different aspects of a film, including the story, the characters, the themes, and the cinematography. Choose interesting movies to write about with a captivating plot that maintains your attention.

Here are some movies to get you started if you’re seeking excellent examples of good movies to write an essay on:

1. The Lion King (Rob Minkoff/ Roger Allers, 1994):

This well-known Disney classic is the best option for individuals writing a descriptive essay. The movie has nice animation, good music, and interesting characters to analyze.

2. Forrest Gump (Robert Zemeckis, 1994):

This touching movie is an excellent option for individuals who want to write a narrative essay

3. Mean Girls (Mark Waters, 2004)

This well-known adolescent comedy is ideal for comparing and contrasting essays. You can analyse the film’s social hierarchy and themes of female empowerment.

It’s crucial to remember the different essay types that one can write when composing an essay about a film. A descriptive essay, for example, focuses on the sensory elements of the movie, while a narrative essay tells a story about the film. A persuasive essay aims to convince the reader of a particular point of view, whereas comparing two movies or more analyzes their similarities and differences.

Don’t worry if the task of writing an essay about a movie overwhelms you. You may always get professional assistance from a reliable website with academic experts. CustomWritings is an academic essay writing service with outstanding and professional examples to guide you through writing papers. Check sample papers and students’ reviews to make the right choice!

Academic Excellence Made Easy

It’s time to discover the best movies to write an essay on. If you want to write an essay about movie review, it’s important to watch the movie multiple times, take notes, and analyze the different elements. A review gives a chance to express a distinct viewpoint and study the many aspects of a film. But with the abundance of choices, choosing a movie to analyze for an essay might be difficult. Here is a list of the best films to write an essay about to get you started.

1. The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972):

One of the best movies ever made and provides many different perspectives for analysis. Its intricate themes, such as family, loyalty, and power, offer plenty of room for a thoughtful essay.

2. The Shawshank Redemption (Frank Darabont, 1994):

A heartwarming story of friendship, hope, and resilience. This movie greatly enhances discussions on atonement, justice, and the human spirit.

3. Citizen Kane (Orson Welles, 1941):

A compelling character study of the mysterious Charles Foster Kane. For a critical analysis essay, it is the ideal pick.

4. Pulp Fiction (Quentin Tarantino, 1994):

The breakthrough movie Pulp Fiction transformed the narrative industry. Students can analyze its intricate storyline, pop-culture references, and multi-dimensional characters.

5. Parasite (Bong Joon-ho, 2019):

This film, which has received awards for its sophisticated representation of social concerns, offers a biting critique of class, capitalism, and injustice. A film essay can cover themes like class struggle, societal criticism through satire, and the effects of globalisation on cultural identity. Parasite is also pictured at the top of this article.

6. Black Panther (Ryan Coogler, 2018):

This film offers political commentary on race, power, and identity and is an exciting action adventure. A film essay can explore Afrofuturism, the portrayal of Black identity in movies, and the film’s cultural significance.

7. The Social Dilemma (Jeff Orlowski, 2020):

This film thoroughly investigates the algorithms and technology that drive social media platforms and their consequences on democracy, privacy, and mental health. A film essay can explore the psychology of social media addiction, the ethics of data gathering and misuse, and its impact on public opinion.

8. Joker (Todd Phillips, 2019):

This film offers a dark and twisted reflection on mental illness, violence, and how society perceives marginalized individuals. Film analysis can portray mental illness, correlate power with violence, and impact antiheroes in popular culture.

9. Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig, 2017):

The movie delves into issues like puberty, family, and identity and offers a complex view of the ups and downs of growing up. A film essay can cover mother-daughter relationships and female strength in coming-of-age stories.

Why These Movies?

The films on the above list offer fantastic chances for students to create analysis essays and research articles. These flicks explore language and communication, identity politics, and social media addiction. They provide thoughtful commentary on the complexity of our world. Choosing the right movies to write an evaluation essay on can help develop critical thinking and analytical abilities. Also, it helps to understand better the social, cultural, and political factors that impact our lives.

Some movies listed can also serve as sources for argumentative essays. These movies offer subjects like capitalism, class, racism, and others. They may inspire illuminating debates and conversations in the classroom . Students may develop and defend their ideas on complicated social issues while learning to respect and engage with opposing viewpoints by choosing a movie with a timely and thought-provoking topic.

Remember, writing a movie evaluation essay demands critical thinking, research, and analysis. You must watch the movie often, take notes, and consult secondary sources. To structure the essay or research paper, use evidence from the flick to substantiate arguments and claims.

We hope we helped you with a selection of movies to write a paper on. So go ahead, choose a film from our list, and start writing! We wish you the best of luck in your academic pursuits.

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