As a cinephile, few things are more sublime than finding back-to-back features that hit some specific thematic sweet spot. Drive-in theaters may not be the popular viewing spot they once were, but with the overwhelming accessibility we now have, one can program their own personal double bill. Today, we’ve run through the gamut of 2016 films to select the finest pairings. Check out list the below, and we’d love to hear your own picks, which can be left in the comments.
10 Cloverfield Lane and Green Room
A claustrophobic’s worst nightmare of a double feature, 10 Cloverfield Lane and Green Room share a similar strand of thematic plotting — a tyrannical force imposing their way on an innocent party — but it’s their directorial approach that truly makes them the ideal twins. Helmed by up-and-coming directors, Dan Trachtenberg and Jeremy Saulnier, respectively, there’s not a wasted shot in either film, both sturdily built to eke out each moment of grisly tension. If one wants to extend this to a triple feature, add in the less-accomplished, but still fairly thrilling Don’t Breathe. – Jordan R.
Dheepan and Fire at Sea
Europe’s immigration crisis was deftly, heartbreakingly captured in a pair of films this year, one in narrative fiction form from Jacques Audiard and another on the ground (or, we should say, sea) from Italy’s Gianfranco Rosi. While the Palme d’Or-winning Dheepan takes an unexpected left turn by its finale, what comes before is an immersive, painful look at the immigration experience. As for Italy’s Oscar entry, Fire at Sea, we can’t imagine a more immediate documentary on the subject will arrive anytime soon. By capturing the incoming immigrants hailing from Africa Lampedusa, Rosi leaves out all embellishments to pare down to the human suffering taking place right next to us. – Jordan R.
Nocturnal Animals and Hell or High Water
If you want 1.5 movies worth of west Texas-set desolation and crime, then this double feature will satisfy every last dusty bone in your body. Despite having similar subject matter and setting, the executions of Nocturnal Animals and Hell or High Water couldn’t be more different. As Tom Ford‘s film favors style and relies on Michael Shannon once more knocking it out of the park, David Mackenzie‘s feature, thanks to Taylor Sheridan‘s sharp screenplay, is a well-oiled machine that we imagine will age like a fine can of… well, anything but Mr. Pibbs. – Jordan R.
13th and I Am Not Your Negro
This year’s election confirmed that America still has a substantial ways to go before there is equality for all, and a pair of documentaries reflected the centuries of racism — both institutional and individual — that pervade the country. Ava DuVernay‘s 13th is a comprehensive exposé of systemic oppression at the hands of our government. Raoul Peck‘s I Am Not Your Negro is a fiery, poetic journey as we’re placed inside the mind of the late James Baldwin, bringing to life his unfinished novel Remember This House. To extend this to a triple feature, seek out Ezra Edelman’s sprawling documentary O.J.: Made in America. – Jordan R.
The Neon Demon and Always Shine
In any profession measured by outward appearance, insecurities abound. If one wishes to see a fairly intelligent, well-acted dissection of this psychological toll, there is Sophia Takal‘s Always Shine, featuring a stand-out performance from Mackenzie Davis. For a hypnotically stylish, albeit brainless jaunt on the topic, we have Nicolas Winding Refn‘s The Neon Demon. Both including a splattering of blood (or more) by the end, the finales of each daring to unravel what’s come before — but if you’re willing to take the plunge, each have their savage delights. – Jordan R.
Manchester by the Sea and One More Time With Feeling
“Grief changes shape, but it never ends,” Keanu Reeves once said. One fiction film, Kenneth Lonergan‘s Manchester by the Sea, and one documentary, Andrew Dominik‘s One More Time With Feeling 3D, this year captured grief with more searing, subtle devastation than most other films have this century thus far. “I can’t beat it,” Casey Affleck‘s Lee Chandler says in the film’s most cogent scene, years after his character’s initial trauma, while, for Nick Cave, with the wounds still fresh from his son’s tragic death, he painfully pushes through the creative process to reveal something raw, imperfect, and profound. – Jordan R.
Kate Plays Christine and Christine
The most obvious double feature of the year may have been difficult for many to immediately experience due to distribution, but Sundance programmed both Kate Plays Christine and Christine this year, each of which explores the on-air suicide of Christine Chubbuck — or, more accurately, the factors surrounding it. The former, directed by Robert Greene, takes a meta approach as Kate Lyn Sheil‘s preparation for a performance we don’t see gets deconstructed in fascinating ways. The latter, directed by Antonio Campos, is a more straightforward character study with a fantastic Rebecca Hall taking the lead. While there was no shortage of commentary on preferring one over the other, having seen these nearly back-to-back, I found them to inform each other in captivating ways. As a recommendation, I’d seek out Greene’s picture first; it enriches Campos’ work when one imagines what preparations Hall went through. – Jordan R.
Midnight Special and Loving
It seems somehow fitting for Jeff Nichols that in a year when production dates conspired to see the release of two of his latest feature films, those same films would be, respectively, his most ambitious and most conventional to date. Midnight Special set an urgent and moving family drama at the heart of a derivative, nonetheless audacious piece of science fiction. Loving found another family drama in the real-life, civil rights-era, awards-ready tale of Loving v. Virginia. Ordinary family drama in extraordinary times: the quintessential Nichols theme. Neither was, perhaps, his best work, but the overwhelming sense of a director flexing their creative muscles was something to behold, further confirming the fascinating Arkansan as a singular figure in contemporary cinema. – Rory O.
The Edge of Seventeen and Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party
If it’s agreed that most films depicting the teenage experience rarely come from a writer actually going through said experience at the time, it’s all the more astounding just how perceptive these two features are in conveying the distinct emotions. Both overlooked in their relative terms, The Edge of Seventeen is disarming in the ways it’s able to pack pathos and humor in following the journey of Nadine (Hailee Steinfeld), while the narrower focus of Henry Gamble’s Birthday Party provides a space for Stephen Cone to gently articulate repression and budding sexuality. Growing up is hard to do, and that’s rarely been conveyed so honestly. – Jordan R.
Elle and Tricked
Sexual cat-and-mouse games, the ugly underbelly of bourgeoise European lives, and office intrigue as seen through the eyes of Paul Verhoeven — not just for Elle, it turns out. As far as I can tell, the success of his latest thriller has done nothing to cast light upon Tricked, a medium-length feature that finally opened in the U.S. earlier this year to little fanfare. I did my part then, and I’ll do it again: like the Huppert picture, it showcases his boundless enthusiasm for nasty material — provided, in this case, by a crowdsourced campaign where hundreds of participants suggested story ideas, resulting in a movie where seemingly anything can happen. Numerous differences notwithstanding, the result is sort of Elle in miniature — the vodka shot to its beer chaser — and, seen alongside the packaged behind-the-scenes featurette (not much shorter than the film itself!), an intimate view of Verhoeven’s process. – Nick N.
Silence and Last Days in the Desert
By and large, Christian films are produced to speak directly to their own audience, reinforcing beliefs and tying things up perfectly so as to not step on anyone’s toes. But if a journey with faith is a genuine day-to-day struggle filled with doubt and questions, then two films this year are the most authentically Christian features we’ve seen this century thus far. Martin Scorsese‘s Silence and Rodrigo García‘s Last Days in the Desert both take an introspective look at such a journey — one following a Jesuit priest, another Jesus (and the Devil) himself. Each are equally challenging and find grace in the still, reflective moments; while never definitively attempting to provide their own answers, they also have some of the year’s most memorable, contemplative final shots. – Jordan R.
Blood Father and Hacksaw Ridge
As we’ve been saying since this summer, Mel Gibson is going through a serious resurgence (or is that Resurrection?) in Hollywood this year. Firing from all cylinders, the actor-director starred in the intimate and gritty Blood Father before releasing his sweepingly visceral WWII drama Hacksaw Ridge. In conjunction, the two stand as exemplary pieces of Gibson’s talent in front of and behind the camera, while at the same time serving as thematic ruminations on the raw commitment of a singular, caring man. In Blood Father, ex-con and estranged dad Link — a wonderfully gruff, textured performance from Gibson — is sprung back into action when he reconnects with his on-the-run daughter (Eric Moriarty). Over a roaring, lean 90-minute runtime, the film focuses on Link’s relentless commitment to her, despite their rocky relationship. This care-above-all outlook is expanded in scope and scale in Hacksaw Ridge, where Desmond Doss (a sweet-toothed Andrew Garfield) is sent “into the hellfire of battle without a single weapon to protect himself,” with one unflinching goal in mind: save lives. With intersecting ideologies spread over vastly different cinematic landscapes, Hacksaw Ridge and Blood Father pair wonderfully as a double feature caked in blood, dirt, and Gibson’s beard. – Mike M.
Southside With You and Barry
Barack Obama hasn’t even shut the front door of the White House, yet this year brought two features depicting formative times for POTUS. The first, Southside With You, following the first date between Barack and Michelle, premiered at Sundance to hesitation, but ended up working as charming romantic drama first and foremost. Then this fall we got Barry, recently arriving on Netflix, which shows the President-to-be a few years prior, when he touched down in New York to attend Columbia University. Both films lean a little too hard in foreshadowing what was to come, but with strong performances at the center of each, these would-be misfires have enough personality to be a worthy double feature. – Jordan R.
Paterson and Neruda
While we could have very well done a triple feature with Pablo Larraín‘s three U.S. releases this year — The Club, Jackie, and Neruda — a more fascinating connection is his lattermost release is with Jim Jarmusch‘s latest film, Paterson. The two couldn’t be more stylistically disparate — Larraín’s camera ever-moving as Gael García Bernal‘s Óscar Peluchonneau hunts down Luis Gnecco‘s Pablo Neruda, while Jarmusch patiently follows Adam Driver‘s Paterson in his rigid day-to-day life — but they do both capture poetry’s ability to let our minds drift and simply be taken over by the text. As difficult as that is to convey cinematically, both directors find inventive, intoxicating ways to do so. For more on the connections between these two films — and one of 2017’s best features — we’d recommend picking up the latest issue of Film Comment. – Jordan R.
What was your favorite proposed double feature this year?