by Jason Adams
Since it's the second to last day of 2019 and we already named our "10 Favorite Horror Actresses of 2019" last week I figured I'd give us a last second bonus and shed some affection on the best fellas of the year. I know, I know, we're all all more inclined towards favoring the actresses... well, so's the genre to be frank. Horror really does favor female stories and experiences, and it was I will admit much easier to come up with last week's list. Besides the magnificent duo that anchors my favorite movie of the year I had to dig a little deeper for this one. But once I began rifling around I managed to uncover some gems...
Willem Dafoe & Robert Pattinson in The Lighthouse
When forced to choose between the two (and no thanks to Awards Season I have had to here and there) I tend to choose Dafoe, but only because his magnificent to-the-moon work is more straightforward... as straightforward as anything is in this topsy-turvy madhouse of a movie, at least. Pattinson's work is trickier -- his accent and behavior is all supposed to be wobbly, as his character's unformed; a liar trying to pour himself into a new shape. But make no mistake these are the two best male performances of 2019 slapping against each other in slippery tandem.
Christopher Abbott in Piercing -- Abbott's quietly become one of our best actors, and this is my favorite performance from him yet. Unrelentingly masochistic and disturbed this movie's, you know, not for everybody. And Abbott and co-star Mia Wasikowska (equally fine) never try to soften these pervert's razor sharp edges. I say we're all the better for it.
Bill Skarsgard in Villains -- Every second Bill Skarsgard's on-screen in this flick is an absolute joy. The movie itself often feels too strained ricocheting between its comic and horror impulses but Bill more than anybody gets the proportions just right and crafts a wholly lovable monster I'd follow into a dark stranger's basement any day.
Winston Duke in Us -- He's overshadowed by everybody else's showier roles, sure, but there's something quietly revolutionary about this big ol' bear of a man being this tender, this scared, this goofy and purposefully second fiddle. He has a lot more to work with in the first half of the film but his Gabe makes it effortless for us to feel why Adelaide's fighting so hard to stay top-side; he's a prize even when he's dragging everybody under.
Jake Gyllenhaal in Velvet Buzzsaw -- I know Jake's over-the-top bug-eyed character work in things like this and Okja tends to be divisive but I'm admittedly an incurable Gyllenhaalic and I love his higher registers. You're certainly never bored watching his Morf Vandewalt sass his way through the New York Art Scene as a trail of carcasses heap artfully around his expensive little booties; it's the performance this movie needed. Maybe two or three of the performances, even!
Scott Poythress in I Trapped the Devil -- An under-seen and under-appreciated mind-fuck from the start of the year -- not to mention an exciting new entry in the sub-genre of Christmas Horror! -- Poythress plays the widowed brother stuck in the family home who's lost his mind while buried in his solitude... or has he? Poythress makes it easy to believe either the good or the bad version of this tale, erasing such distinctions and chipping away at our own assured instincts in the process.
Adam Driver in The Dead Don't Die -- "Ghouls."
Jonas Dassler in The Golden Glove -- By far the most fucked up movie experience I've had watching anything this year -- twas no surprise to see this flick pop up on John Waters' favorite films of the year -- it's nevertheless an astonishingly effective peeling off of the pretty face of entertainment value from the Serial Killer genre. And what more clever way to signal that intent than by hiring a very pretty man, male model ready, to play your lead grotesque? It's a transformation on par with Charlize's Monster work -- my jaw fell off when I saw what Dassler really looks like -- and like that it's not just make-up; it's total commitment, disgust be damned.
Jack Reynor in Midsommar -- Every time I re-watch this movie (and I've seen it at least five times now) I become more and more enamored with Reynor's insidiously dickish work. It's a fearless embodiment of every terrible male instinct -- the sneering entitlement and guilt-tripping and gaslighting all half-assedly painted up under the pink-cheeked guise of trap-door decency and concern. Christian is such absolute garbage and so entirely clueless about that fact that the absurdity of his awfulness being laid bare becomes the year's greatest comic feat -- his manhood is flapping in the breeze and shrinking by the minute.