Ahead of the Academy Awards this Sunday, Pitchfork staffers look back at their favorite musical moments in the past year of film, in the same calendar window of Oscar consideration (roughly January 2017 to January 2018). Some are up for Oscars, the rest really should have been.
Girls Trip
At the heart of Girls Trip’s wild weekend is a spontaneous dance-off between the film’s fearless foursome and a crew of no-good rivals. Coming soon after a tripped-out sequence where the ladies drink absinthe-spiked cocktails and proceed to lose their minds, this club scene hits right as the booze’s worst effects are leveling off into a tipsy euphoria. It is the moment anyone who’s ever gone out dancing with friends dreams about.
Decked out in multicolor wigs, wraparound shades, and breathable outfits, the girls of Girls Trip become instantly in sync once DJ Mannie Fresh drops “She’s a Bitch,” Missy Elliott’s 1999 banger. Their moves are no-fucks-given perfection—casual enough to be fun, serious enough to be fierce. And the song works so well because it is a badass anthem, of course, but also because it harkens back to a time when these middle-aged women were 20 years younger, free from debt and kids and cheating husbands. When Regina Hall’s character lets loose a primal scream in the middle of it all, you feel her pain, and her joy. –Ryan Dombal, Senior Editor
Call Me by Your Name
In the final scene of Call Me By Your Name, Elio kneels by the fireplace and looks into the flickering light. Reeling from a phone call from his former lover Oliver, he lets a slight smile creep onto his lips as tears pool in his eyes. A delicate, ringing piano begins, mirroring the soft snow falling outside. And Sufjan Stevens, no stranger to making songs about immeasurable loss, starts singing: “I have loved you for the last time/Is it a video? Is it a video?” Through Stevens’ words, you can only guess that Elio is playing back each memory of Oliver in his head—that obsessive, internal rewinding and reliving we all do when we lose a loved one. Elio is sobbing by the time the credits roll down the left side of the screen. He says goodbye to Oliver, goodbye to a part of himself. You say goodbye as well. –Michelle Kim, Associate Staff Writer
The Square
Damien Hirst haters, The Square is for you. It’s a biting Swedish satire of the self-serious modern art world, with the sleek aesthetics of a biennale and the politesse death spiral of a British sitcom. (It won Cannes’ Palme d’Or and was directed by Ruben Östlund, who hit fragile masculinity with a literal avalanche in Force Majeure.) As the film follows a playboy Stockholm museum curator, it takes broader swings at the shaky self-justifications we allow ourselves, and how we can externalize and ascribe likewise meaning to art. Predictably, it’s paired with a soft, flinty classical score.
Well, with one exception. As our hero and his coworker embark on a completely half-baked espionage plot, they drive through a tunnel in a sleek sports car. After some hemming over the music, they settle on Justice—and as the sleazy bass of “Genesis” ramps up, so does their testosterone. “We’re out to get justice, aren’t we?” they yell. “We’re coming at them with a hammer! In a Tesla!” They pause, Swedishly. “The Tesla of Justice!” It’s so giddy and absurd—these two characters, cackling at their dumb dance pun en route to a scheme that wouldn’t make a Spy Kids script. It is perfect. Lo, it is art. –Stacey Anderson, Senior Editor
Phantom Thread
“House of Woodcock” recurs several times in Phantom Thread. Memorably, it plays as Reynolds gets ready for his day—shaving, trimming his nose hairs, pulling on fuchsia socks. But the song’s true meaning arrives at the end of the film, as Alma cradles Reynolds’ head in her arms and we flash to a scene of their perfect life together: Her pushing a stroller with their child, him not being an asshole. That’s “House of Woodcock”: a song with a beautiful and intricate crescendo that you want to last forever. –Matthew Strauss, Associate Editor
Nocturama
In the French thriller Nocturama (which hit American cinemas and Netflix last year), a cell of young terrorists spread around Paris, planting bombs and shooting bank executives. At night, they retreat to a windowless department store where they can hide from the government forces tearing the city apart in search of them. But while they’re there, with all the comforts of capitalist dystopia at their disposal, the radicals get lost in their own personal reveries and panic attacks.
Midway through the film, Willow Smith’s “Whip My Hair” blasts on the electronics floor as two of the boys stand transfixed in front of four flat-screen TVs, as news footage of the explosions they set off becomes a sort of nightmarish music video. The film’s entire arc up to that point is contained within the track: youthful nihilism, aggression, and swagger dissolved into the safe familiarity of a well-made commercial product. Finally, these teens who’ve just set their city on fire debate whether making an out-there video like “Whip My Hair” at age 10 is “pushing it”—and we’re reminded of how lost in this mall of a moral universe they really are. –Judy Berman, TV and Film Contributor
A Fantastic Woman
In the Chilean film A Fantastic Woman, Daniela Vega plays Marina, a transgender woman forced to contend with her partner’s family after his unexpected death. Embarrassed by the pair’s relationship, the family treats Marina with contempt as she attempts to pay her respects, constantly insulting her and refusing to allow her to attend the funeral or wake. The British electronic musician Matthew Herbert composed A Fantastic Woman’s score, rounding out with sparse woodwinds, strings, and piano to root Marina (a singer herself) with a sense of dignity. But after one particularly cruel incident, Marina finds refuge in a gay club, where Herbert’s score pivots to the pulsing techno cut “Queen.” She bursts into vibrant choreography with the other clubgoers, everyone suddenly sporting chintzy tinsel jackets and moving in sync. The scene ends with a rapturous leap, Marina’s body held aloft over the crowd, a moment of fantasy and ecstasy gloriously brought to life. –Eric Torres, Web Producer
Lady Bird
My freshman roommate had the same name as a certain jam-friendly singer/songwriter. (Not Dave Matthews.) It turned out, he was one of two people in our dorm with that name. Neither of them was the famous musician, but my roommate did love Dave Matthews Band. We bonded as best we could over playing acoustic guitar, including playing “All Along the Watchtower” Dave-style. Whenever my roommate’s girlfriend was in town, the code word he’d leave on our door, to signal I shouldn’t come in, was... “crash.”
It was surprising to hear this song redeemed in a wonderful film in 2017, soundtracking a moment of awkward teenage love and loss. It wasn’t surprising that it would be pivotal in Lady Bird’s life; this song was ubiquitous in the lives of so many who were in high school in the late 1990s. For better or worse, it was a rite of young-adult existence. Many other people probably have their “Crash Into Me” stories. Well, now we can all forget about them, because this film’s use will be definitive. –Marc Hogan, Senior Staff Writer
God’s Own Country
Reminiscent of Brokeback Mountain, God's Own Country is a rural love story that follows the emotional journey of Johnny, a negligent sheep farmer, as he struggles to rationalize his attraction for Gheorghe, a more skillful farmer who arrives to help out during lambing season. In one of the final scenes, Johnny packs his bags and embarks on a long bus ride to see Gheorghe, with hopes of reconciliation clear on his face. As he stares out the window, a slow instrumental by A Winged Victory for the Sullen kicks in. The ambient duo’s "Minuet for a Cheap Piano" seems to capture what Johnny leaves unsaid: the song is tender and evocative of love, with a violin that crests and dips like the seesaw of “what ifs” running through his head. In addition to the raw cinematography and humbling soundtrack, what struck me most about the film is its theme of hopeful hopelessness, and that feeling of motivation and self clarity that can stem from another during our loneliest hours. –Michael Chan, Social Media Manager
