The 2023 /Film Movie Awards: The Best Movies, Performances, Characters, And More

Forget the Academy Awards. The /Film Movie Awards are here to pick the real winners in cinema from 2023.

As we wind down a tremendous year for good movies (even if it was shaky one for the larger film industry in terms of box office and a very necessary strike or two), the editorial and writing teams at /Film decided it was time to hand out our own golden statuettes. Even if they're purely of the metaphorical variety. We brainstormed the categories. We debated the nominees. We cast the final votes in some agonizingly close showdowns ... and a few total blowouts. The result is a list of winners that runs the gamut from major blockbusters everyone saw to tiny independent films that need some cheerleading. Animation made a strong showing outside of the expected categories, a few "disappointments" proudly kicked through the noise to win a few categories, and we even overwhelmingly selected one figure to achieve our first "Movie Person of the Year" award.

So cast away your Oscar ballots. Burn the Golden Globes to the ground. Let's go.  

Considering I previously wrote an article about how they're too good to win an Academy Award, it should come as no surprise that our winner for Best Leading Performance is Lily Gladstone in "Killers of the Flower Moon." Gladstone's performance as Mollie Kyle Burkhart is not restrained, but with a precise stillness and intentionality that went unmatched in 2023. In just a single raised eyebrow, a slight smirk, a timed blink, or an adjusted strand of hair, Gladstone held their own on-screen opposite both of Martin Scorsese's favorite men — Leonardo DiCaprio (Ernest Burkhart) and Robert De Niro (William Hale).

"Killers of the Flower Moon" is only as effective as Gladstone allows it to be, and with their talent, it's sensational. Even when Gladstone is not physically present on screen, Mollie Burkhart's presence hangs in the air. As we learn more and more about Hale and Burkhart's horrific plans, it's impossible as a viewer not to sit and wonder where Mollie is, what she's doing, and how she's going to respond. "She is the heart and soul of this movie, she really is," said DiCaprio in a red-carpet interview with Entertainment Tonight. "She embodied that character, she took on the soul of this woman and embraced herself into the Osage community."

And then there are those scenes, the moments when Gladstone lets the agony of the real Mollie Kyle erupt through her body and voice, where their performance becomes transcendent. To be able to deliver such controlled placidity and sonorous wailing, sometimes in an instant, makes her a true marvel. (BJ Colangelo)

Runners-Up: Cillian Murphy, "Oppenheimer;" Paul Giamatti, "The Holdovers;" Emma Stone, "Poor Things;" Greta Lee, "Past Lives"

Filmmakers are generally expected to improve with age, continually evolving with the times and challenging themselves to step further and further outside of their personal comfort zone. What's unusual, however, is for those with many more movies behind them than remains ahead to release arguably their most incisive effort at the age of 80. That's precisely what Martin Scorsese did with "Killers of the Flower Moon," the crime drama telling the true story of the unimaginably wealthy Osage Nation and the murderous conspiracy to rob them of their oil-rich land, titles, and inheritances in the early 1920s.

Adapted from author David Grann's book of the same name, Scorsese and co-writer Eric Roth basically sealed their Best Screenplay win when they made the inspired choice to focus less on the white perspective of it all — the book emphasizes the investigation into the murders and the origin story of the FBI — and instead foreground the impact such injustices had on the victimized Indigenous population. The script intuitively centers the relationship between Mollie Burkhart (Lily Gladstone) and her white husband Ernest (Leonardo DiCaprio), thus making Ernest and head conspirator William Hale's (Robert De Niro) crimes hit that much harder. And, of course, Scorsese literally getting the final word with his moving cameo in the concluding moments of the film before ceding ground to celebrate the surviving members of the Osage tribe ranks as the most stirring movie ending of the year. At 80 years young, Scorsese's still taking us to school. (Jeremy Mathai)

Runners-Up: "Anatomy of a Fall," "Asteroid City," "May December," "Oppenheimer"

When it comes to a film celebrated for its astonishing visual accomplishments, it's easy to forget the score. But "Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse" not only provided some of the most stunning animation moments yet seen in film, it also featured novel and inventive instrumentation that was every bit as mind-blowingly creative as the visuals.

Daniel Pemberton, who returned from 2018's "Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse," crafts a score that keeps up with the film's dazzling odyssey through multiple worlds and timelines without missing a step. From the drum hits that open the film, to the intense synth throbs that accompany the taut finale, Pemberton never once loses pace with the impressive scope of "Across the Spider-Verse."

But it's arguably the smaller touches that make Pemberton's score so impressive. For Miles' introduction scene, for example, rather than simply provide a Hip Hop accompaniment, the composer used the talents of DJ Blakey to take real-world sounds and scratch them on vinyl, turning car crashes, spray cans, and even goose honking into a part of the score itself. In that way he blends sound design and instrumentation in a way that feel true to the film's multiversal eclecticism. Add to that the fact that Pemberton essentially created eight different scores for each of the movie's eight main universes, and the accomplishment is undeniable. (Joe Roberts)

Runners-Up: "Barbie," "Bottoms," "The Boy and the Heron," "Oppenheimer"

In 1963, philosopher Hannah Arendt published her study of former Nazi Adolph Eichmann entitled "Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil," coining a phrase with her subtitle that best summed up Eichmann's disturbingly dispassionate attitude toward the atrocities he'd helped enact. Later, in 1971, she further elaborated on her observation of the man, writing that "The deeds were monstrous, but the doer [...] was quite ordinary, commonplace, and neither demonic nor monstrous."

That description perfectly sums up the character of William King Hale, as portrayed by Robert De Niro in Martin Scorsese's "Killers of the Flower Moon." Based on the real-life crime boss who operated in Osage County, Oklahoma during the early decades of the 20th century, Hale was (as in the film) instrumental in systematically stealing the oil-rich land from the Osage Nation people, playing out a scheme that included strategic marriages of white men to Osage women as well as outright murder.

De Niro is no stranger to portraying villainy on screen; his prior work with Scorsese alone includes the psychopath Travis Bickle in "Taxi Driver" and the delusional Rupert Pupkin from "The King of Comedy." Yet his portrayal of Hale (helped along, of course, by Scorsese and Eric Roth's screenplay) is disturbingly low-key, the man acting insidiously warm, gregarious, and seemingly oblivious. It's not that Hale doesn't know what he's doing, it's that he seems to have no hint of understanding that it's wrong.

There are numerous instances of villains we love to hate; the disturbing aspect of William Hale is that, out of context, he's genuinely likable. He is every bit the encapsulation of the banality of Evil, and — as the film disturbingly and correctly implies — he's only one of thousands of such men throughout history. (Bill Bria)

Runners-Up: Duncan Wedderburn, "Poor Things;" The Entity, "Skinamarink;" Godzilla, "Godzilla Minus One;" Oliver, "Saltburn"

Kyle Edward Ball's "Skinamarink" is the closest cinema has come to an actual nightmare since maybe David Lynch's "Eraserhead" in 1977. Shot on a budget of only $150,000 Canadian, "Skinamarink" follows two young children, about four and six, who are up in the middle of the night in their suburban home. Curiously, the doors and windows begin vanishing, leaving blank walls behind. They watch old, public-domain cartoons on a TV in their playroom, and it seems to provide the only light in the house. They speak only in whispers. They sneak into their parents' bedroom, and cannot see their faces. There are whispers. "Look under the bed." "Come upstairs." "Put the knife in your eye ..." 

Ball shot "Skinamarink" with an intentional low-fi look and sound, giving the eerie analog hiss of old audio cassettes a life of its own, and hiding unseeable demonic faces in the very texture of the film's grain. There is no story in "Skinamarink," as it were, and no logic. Years seem to pass in that single night. And yet, it may feel terrifyingly familiar to anyone who remembers getting out of bed at night and exploring their own home as if it's a hellish landscape of toys that move on their own, and whispers that cannot be understood. 

"Skinamarink" is one of the scariest films of the year, perhaps even of the decade. It casts a spell with its quiet, with its images, with its horrifying devil-like glimpses of hurt children, missing parents, and other ineffable beings who are ... it's definitely there, right? (Witney Seibold)

Runners-Up: "Evil Dead Rise," "M3GAN," "Talk to Me," "When Evil Lurks" 

It's amazing what a needle-drop cue can accomplish, even if it's just wafting in the background as seemingly little more than atmosphere. But when Leonard Coen's fatalistic ballad "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye" delicately underscores 12-year-old Na Young's announcing her Western name prior to moving with her family from Seoul to Toronto, you figure a song this indelible is there for a purpose.

Everything is purposeful in Celine Song's "Past Lives." It's a precision-crafted heartbreaker about two young people, separated by thousands of miles, who reconnect as young adults and then again in their thirties as they prepare to settle into the rest of their lives. Greta Lee (Nora) and Teo Yoo (Hae Sung) are transfixing as a couple of restless spirits who connected powerfully as children before circumstances beyond their control drove them apart. Hae Sung is a powerfully committed romantic; Nora's abrupt goodbye has haunted him for over 20 years, and he must find some semblance of closure before he lets go. Nora has moved on, but, citing the Korean-Buddhist concept of In-Yun, believes the two share a connection that spans myriad lifetimes. They could be lovers, but not in this existence. Watching Lee and Yoo walk right up to the brink of a kiss brings to mind David Lean's "Brief Encounter." But it's not about heat. It's about a sense of romantic destiny that resides in some other timeline. In this life, Nora and Hae Sung are destined to be apart, and, god, how that aches. (Jeremy Smith)

Runners-Up: "All of Us Strangers," "Passages," "Rye Lane," "Sanctuary"

If "The Killing of a Sacred Deer" and "The Green Knight" didn't teach you a lesson about trusting characters played by Barry Keoghan, then "Saltburn" is here to provide a vivid reminder. The second feature film from "Promising Young Woman" director Emerald Fennell" turns its gaze on the strange, cruel, luxurious world of the English aristocracy, through the eyes of Keoghan's quietly scheming outsider Oliver Quick. After gaining the sympathies of the aptly-named favorite son Felix (Jacob Elordi), Oliver sets about seducing every member of the venerable Catton family — whether it's the literal seduction of Felix's sister Venetia (Alison Oliver), or simply pretending to care about the Huguenots in order to impress Sir James Catton (Richard E. Grant).

Oliver wears a lot of masks in "Saltburn," but it's in the moments when he's left alone that his true, twisted self emerges and the film truly earns its "WTF" title. There's the now-infamous bathtub scene, the even-more-infamous grave scene, the triumphant final shot, but also smaller moments — like breaking the mirror in his room, just to see if anyone says anything about it. They don't. The mirror is simply quietly repaired, as if by magic, underlining the surreal fantasy existence of the super-wealthy, and the immortality of Saltburn itself. (Hannah Shaw-Williams)

Runners-Up: "Beau is Afraid," "Dicks: The Musical," "The Outwaters," "Skinamarink"

"Killers of The Flower Moon" has two endings, and both astonish. In the first and most talked-about, director Martin Scorsese casts himself as part of a hackneyed, sensationalistic group of voice actors performing a true crime radio play. It's a self-reflexive and self-deprecating gesture that brings the legendary filmmaker down from his pedestal, reminding viewers that he may be the man behind influential films like "Raging Bull" and "Goodfellas," but he's still a white man telling a story about atrocities committed against Indigenous peoples decades after the fact. He's also doing so via the commercialized medium of film; is he really any better than the jesters beside him, making murderous sound effects for entertainment value? There's a limit to Scorsese's abilities as a storyteller, and he graciously acknowledges it here.

The filmmaker's final in memoriam for Mollie Kyle is reverent, respectful, and painfully sad, but it's also an acknowledgement of every complex ethical tension stitched into this film. The movie's second ending, too often forgotten, is a reclamation of the narrative by the people it's always been about: a birds-eye-view scene of a modern-day Osage powwow, proof that the film's wolves could not kill the culture and lineage of those they so brutally hunted. This sequence is presented without comment, its simplicity a beautiful and bittersweet contrast to its loaded predecessor. "We're here," it seems to say. "We're still here." (Valerie Ettenhofer)

Runners-Up: "Saltburn," "Barbie," "No One Will Save You," "Oppenheimer"

During a recent interview with Deadline, Martin Scorsese was asked: "You're 80. Do you still have that fire to get right back behind the camera and get the next one going?" The legendary filmmaker replied: "Got to. Got to. Yeah. I wish I could take a break for eight weeks and make a film at the same time [laughs]. The whole world has opened up to me, but it's too late. It's too late." It's a sobering answer because the undeniable reality is right there: one day, Scorsese will be gone. And his loss will be a massive loss for us all; for art, for life, for cinema. For many decades now, Martin Scorsese has lived and breathed cinema. He is a walking encyclopedia of movie knowledge, and he is our greatest living filmmaker. With his latest film, "Killers of the Flower Moon," Scorsese shows that even at the age of 80, he is a force to be reckoned with, crafting a massive, epic, challenging film about the insidiousness of white supremacy in America.

It feels silly to say Martin Freakin' Scorsese, an acclaimed artist, is undervalued. But it genuinely feels like even after all these years, we still do not give the man his due. Hell, people are still upset he dared to criticize Marvel movies. Anytime he's interviewed now, some question about superhero films comes up, and he dutifully gives an answer that's dissected, aggregated, and regurgitated. But no one seems to understand movies (or pictures, as he'd call them) as well as Scorsese, who has the almost divine-like power to burn images into our brains with elegant camerawork. He's also a seemingly delightful little man, prone to an infectious laugh and not above making adorable TikTok videos with his daughter Francesca. He is devoted to all things film, founding not one, not two, but three different film preservation foundations: The Film Foundation, the World Cinema Foundation, and the African Film Heritage Project. And still, all anyone wants to talk about with the man are gosh darn superhero movies. As Scorsese heads into his twilight year, he deserves our adoration, our acclaim, our respect. There will never be another Martin Scorsese. We are blessed to have been able to experience his art. (Chris Evangelista)