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The best new movie of 2022. Or so say I.

What a strange movie world we live in these days.

There was a time in the past when I spent countless hours camped behind a video store counter, taste-testing Reese’s Pieces, while dabbling in life as a self-syndicated movie reviewer.

From Whidbey Island to Yelm and maybe even a bit of Renton, my movie-related ramblings popped up in old-school newspapers for a decade and a half, making me a (very) low-rent Roger Ebert.

One who spent so much time at his local movie theater he could detail every small whorl of the water stain which graced the ceiling in theater #1.

And yet, because Whidbey Island is far from the madding crowd, a lot of the films which made my year-end “best-of” columns were first viewed on video, be it VCR tape or early-day DVD’s.

The surreal “win a free truck and lose your mind” documentary Hands on a Hardbody.

The smoke ’em if you got ’em fun of Reefer Madness: The Movie Musical.

Or overseas fare like Lagaan, a 224-minute(!) Bollywood musical about cricket(!), Japan’s bonkers ‘n blood-soaked Suicide Club, and The Terrorist, a stark tale from India of a pregnant suicide bomber.

In 2022, though, video stores are largely no more, and I have gone the entire year without entering a movie theater, as self-entitled asshats with phones drove me away long before Covid entered stage left.

And yet, thanks to the sometimes wonderful, sometimes super annoying, world of streaming, I’m probably watching as many films as ever.

If not more.

I opened this year on a crazy crusade to look back at 1997’s cinematic output, using the 25th anniversary of those films to justify watching Boogie Nights and L.A. Confidential for the 200th time.

Now, Batman and Robin, with its bat nipples and non-stop Arnold ice puns, was even worse than I remembered.

I am so glad George Clooney found the Coen brothers, while the Dark Knight broke up with Joel Schumacher — a decent director who gave us The Lost Boys, Falling Down, and Tigerland.

I am a huge Jack Nicholson fan (Chinatown 4 Life), but found that, while viewing multiple Oscar winner As Good As It Gets for the first time in 25 years, I kinda, sorta hated every single thing about the film.

But overall, ’97 stands tall.

Even if I’m still ticked L.A. Confidential, with its whip-smart dialogue and densely layered plot, lost the Oscar to Leonardo Di Caprio gettin’ all sleepy in the cold water in hour seven of Titanic.

But come on.

The Sweet Hereafter, Jackie Brown, Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion, Grosse Point Blank, Ulee’s Gold, In the Company of Men, Traveller, Snow White: A Tale of Terror, Eve’s Bayou, The Matchmaker…

Air Force One to Con Air, Breakdown to Mimic, the non-Elton John RocketMan to George of the Jungle, The Spanish Prisoner to The Fifth Element, Smilla’s Sense of Snow to Cats Don’t Dance, ’97 has a deep, deep bench.

And we’re not even talking about the cheesy pleasures of Pierce Brosnan saving the dog but letting grandma boil alive in volcano waste during Dante’s Peak.

Or Jon Voight being swallowed, barfed out whole, then swallowed again, all in loving closeup, during the slimy climax of Anaconda.

Good times.

But don’t take my word for it. Go rewatch a hundred or more of those suckers like I did and thank me later.

When I wasn’t wallowing in ’97 nostalgia, probably the best film I saw in ’22 was The Outfit.

No, not the tailor vs. the mob tale which used that title this year, but the punch-to-the-stomach 1973 neo noir starring Robert Duvall and Joe Don Baker.

Featuring an incredible cast of old pros (Robert Ryan, Timothy Carey, Karen Black, Richard Jaeckel, Elisha Cook, Jane Greer, Marie Windsor) it’s down ‘n dirty in the best way possible.

Tracking a calm, composed, but VERY upset Duvall as he carves a path of revenge through the mafia after his brother gets whacked, I found it on some obscure freebie channel on the fringes of the streaming world.

Which is where most of the gems hang out in 2022 in this strange modern-day movie world.

Or even sorta-gems like Stryker, a 1983 Mad Max wannabe which combines nuclear holocaust, killer dwarves, and barely dressed, heavily armed warriors driving dune buggies.

In other words, a decent Saturday night.

But David, you ask, if you’re avoiding theaters and spent a chunk of time watching back catalog stuff, did you just completely ignore the new films of 2022?

Hardly.

While my viewing of new product is hampered a bit by my current aversion to theaters, I still cleared 70+ films carrying 2022 as their release date.

And not a single one of those was illegally downloaded, so there’s that.

My thoughts on the year?

While a lot of possible award winners have yet to unspool in front of my eyeballs, 2022 seems unlikely to match ’97 in terms of depth or wanting to go back and rewatch things down the line.

Which doesn’t mean there aren’t gems, cause there are.

They’re just buried under a pile of pointless remakes (Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Firestarter, Hellraiser), and lackluster sequels/prequels (Halloween Ends, Jurassic World: Dominion, Minions: The Rise of Gru, Lightyear, Confess Fletch, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Thor: Love and Thunder).

Now, Jackass Forever, Scream, Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery and Prey — which put the Predator up against old-school Native American warriors — bucked that trend.

Truth be told, I laughed at Thor’s screaming goats, but films like Uncharted, Ambulance, Morbius, Alice, Spiderhead, and even most of Nope faded from my brain before the end credits finished.

But there were ones which stuck the landing, ones I treasured, ones which make my personal top 20 for the year.

“Are you not entertained?!?!”

Adult Swim Yule Log — A hidden horror film with hillbillies, space aliens, cursed hanging trees, sentient killer logs, and an evil lil’ dude living in an active fireplace. Someone spiked the holiday nog.

After Yang — A young girl’s robot companion slowly dies, while Colin Farrell stares into the abyss searching for answers.

The Banshees of Inisherin — Sometimes hilarious, sometimes horrifying, tale of melancholy Irishmen driving each other crazy, while Colin Farrell stares into the abyss, still searching for answers.

Barbarian — The best argument against Airbnb rentals ever put on film. Twenty minutes in, you’re pretty sure you know where this is going, but you’re wrong. Really, really wrong.

The Batman — In which the Emo Dark Knight descends into the muck and mire, then punches his way back out again. As you do.

Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe — No hugging, no learning, and more laughs than any other film this year. A love letter to old fogies like me who remember when the letters MTV meant something.

Blonde — The feel-bad film of the year, relentless in wallowing in Marilyn Monroe’s pain, made memorable by often-stunning work from Ana de Armas.

Don’t Worry Darling — Ignore the endless bad publicity and enjoy a highly stylized peek into the lives of the rich and paranoid. Part futuristic, part retro, all guilty pleasure.

Dual — Chilly sci-fi film about a woman who has to fight her own clone to the death, after discovering her loved ones like the clone better than they like her.

Emily the Criminal — Aubrey Plaza should get all the Oscars (but likely won’t even be nominated) as a deeply hurting, ultimately amoral woman who survives in a world of sharks by being smarter, and tougher than anyone expects.

Everything Everywhere All at Once — Michelle Yeoh enters the matrix, in a wild mishmash of comedy, pathos, and time-traveling IRS agents.

Facing Nolan — Superb documentary about Nolan Ryan, the toughest man to ever throw a pitch in Major League Baseball.

Gold — Greed is good, as Zac Efron loses his mind trying to hold onto a hunk of gold in a blighted, futuristic hellscape.

No Exit — A group of strangers, snowed in and increasingly desperate, eyeball each other as the twists come fast and furious.

The Northman — If you see only one movie that ends with two naked dudes sword fighting in an active volcano in Iceland, make it this one.

Pearl and X — An unexpected double feature, with the latter a loving homage to late ’70s/early ’80s slashers, and the former a surprise prequel telling the tale of a young woman teetering on the edge of madness.

See How They Run — Light as a feather romp about a murder mystery unfolding backstage during the production of an Agatha Christie whodunnit. Saoirse Ronan is a delight as an overly earnest British cop.

Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 — Some people just want to watch the world burn while listening to Limp Bizkit.

Vengeance — Is it a fish out of water comedy about a big city know-it-all humbled by small town life? Or a tale of ice-cold revenge delivered too late to truly even the scales? It’s both, and all the better for it.

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story — The totally true story of an accordion-playing musical legend which finally answers the question, “What if Madonna became an international cocaine kingpin?”