The tradition of isolation in cinema, either psychological, physical, or both, is rich and also, a rather modern phenomenon (you don’t see a lot of 1930s movies about people contemplating their existence in a tomb). But isolation in the age of pandemics and social distancing has taken on a new resonance and probably created a new kind of trauma that we’ll be considering the effects of for years.
READ MORE: John Hillcoat’s ‘The Road’ Offers An Apocalypse For Every Generation
Isolation cinema takes on new layers, meaning, and dimensions in the COVID-19 age too. For many of us—at least, the fortunate that aren’t sick or haven’t suffered losses, anyhow— self-isolation isn’t that bad in theory. We’re stuck at home with family or friends and working from home—that is if you haven’t lost a gig and if you have, our heart goes out to you. On paper, that’s not too bad, and considering that’s a privilege many just don’t have, it will always be, not so bad. At the same time, people are going screwy, even in limited isolation, feeling depressed, anxious, experiencing despondency, despair, and frustration.
READ MORE: ‘Two Days, One Night’ Beautifully Captures The Plight Of The Underpaid “Essential” Worker
Prisons of the mind can be relative, even if our circumstances ultimately aren’t severe (and thank god for that). Regardless, with isolation and its various effects on the brain—some of which we’ve experienced too—we thought now might be a good time to revisit films of isolation—which sometimes also crosses over into single-setting, one-location-only movies— and see how they stand out in this new era of uncertainty.
“127 Hours”
Question: how many actors would you be willing to spend 93 minutes with if they were to play an outdoorsy-adventurer type who gets trapped by a fallen boulder? We’re not sure how many people would have answered “James Franco,” but that’s who plays real-life canyoneer Aron Ralston in Danny Boyle’s harrowing man-against-nature drama “127 Hours.” Ralston was climbing in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park when a boulder fell and pinned his wrist to the side of the canyon wall, rendering him immobile. As Boyle’s movie tells it, Ralston lost a grip on his sanity, resorted to drinking his own urine for hydration, and eventually amputated his arm to free himself. “127 Hours” is an arresting, stylish look at keeping oneself entertained in a time of life-or-death urgency, and how our minds often wander when we’re sequestered in inhospitable environments. If nothing else, the film will dissuade you from taking that hiking trip you’ve been daydreaming about.
“Ad Astra”
It’s the sense of cosmic remoteness that sticks with you upon multiple viewings. It’s the lingering, poetic notion of one solitary soul traversing a seemingly endless abyss in search of the only form of human connection that has ever mattered to him: approval from his father. Like all of director James Gray’s movies, “Ad Astra” is a character-focused drama disguised as a genre movie. This tender, ruminative sci-fi odyssey was unfairly ignored during last year’s Oscar season, and that’s a shame: it is one of 2019’s finest films, and one whose shelf life, we’re confident, will remain durable in the years to come. It’s also an oddly relatable grown-up blockbuster for our time of self-isolation. As many of us feel like prisoners of our own seclusion and distant from our own family members, the plight faced by Brad Pitt’s weary astronaut Roy McBride is starting to feel way more relevant than it should.
“All Is Lost”
When you’re entrenched in a desperate battle for survival against the elements, there isn’t always time for words. Oftentimes, you simply have to act. Such is the dilemma faced by the nameless hero of J.C. Chandor’s “All Is Lost,” who finds himself scrambling to stay alive at sea after an unfortunate collision with a shipping container. Parts of “All Is Lost” hit too close to home in the time of Coronavirus: who wants to watch a movie about someone with dwindling resources and mounting cabin fever facing setback after setback with the prospect of his own mortality on the line? And yet, somehow, “All Is Lost” is more uplifting than punishing. Chandor has always been attracted to stories about survivors, and there’s an unorthodox but nevertheless commendable integrity in taking one of our most famous stars, Robert Redford, and stripping him down to his the heroic core of his screen persona.
“Cast Away”
If quarantine has driven you to the point where you’re talking to inanimate objects out of sheer boredom, know you’re not alone: Tom Hanks did it before it was cool in 2000’s “Cast Away.” The stellar survival drama reunites America’s kindest movie star with his “Forest Gump” director Robert Zemeckis, who has become perhaps overly enamored with the outer limits of his own effects-enhanced imagination in recent years but keeps things relatively stripped-down here. “Cast Away” is a poignant, straightforward, highly effective ode to one man’s capacity to survive against unthinkable odds, with Hanks giving an incredible turn as a left-brain systems analyst whose life is upended after he ends up stranded on an island off the coast of Malaysia. That the film contains the greatest performance ever given by a piece of sporting equipment is also no small feat.
“Gravity”
One thing that Alfonso Cuaron and Emmanuel “Chivo” Lubezski seem to inherently understand is the cold, unfeeling vastness of space: it is merely a void that renders all one’s petty human concerns all but irrelevant. The most memorable moments from “Gravity,” the duo’s Oscar-sweeping 2013 collaboration, underline the terrifying magnitude of our outer solar system, and how valiant human struggle can seem in the face of such unthinkable immensity. And who better to personify human decency and struggle than the erstwhile Miss Congeniality herself, Sandra Bullock? “Gravity” surrenders to some lame genre mechanics in its somewhat overcooked second half, but the movie’s disquieting early scenes are an awe-inspiring reminder of how slight our species really is in the grand scheme of things… and how it’s imperative that we continue fighting for our shared humanity, in spite of that fact.
“Into The Wild”
Christopher McCandless was a child of privilege who eventually donated his college savings to a conglomerate of charities and proceeded to adopt the lifestyle of a wandering vagrant, content to roam endless American landscape. McCandless is also the protagonist of Jon Krakauer’s book “Into the Wild,” as well as Sean Penn’s movie adaptation of the same name. Penn’s movie poses a question that was worth pondering upon its release, and seems almost unavoidable now: what compels a person to abandon everything they know and swan dive face-first into uncharted territory? “Into the Wild” doesn’t really answer that question, but it’s a fitfully compelling examination of how isolation can engender a bone-deep kind of existential dislocation. The film also contains one of Emile Hirsch’s genuinely great performances, which is to say nothing of the textured, fascinating supporting turns from the likes of Jena Malone, Vince Vaughn, Kristen Stewart, and Hal Holbrook.
“Life of Pi”
Ang Lee has been living on the frontier of higher frame-rate cinema for a few years now, resulting in uneven experiments like “Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk” and last year’s Will Smith-starring thriller “Gemini Man.” “Life of Pi” is Lee’s buoyant adaptation of Yann Martel’s 2001 adventure novel, and it’s the last major example of Lee really getting it right in terms of entertainment that satisfies both the head and the heart. Lee has always been an intrinsically empathic storyteller, and his love for people and their fundamentally irrepressible nature bleeds through every rapturously stylized frame of this movie. The special effects in “Pi” are gorgeous and transportive, but it’s the story of human resilience in the face of adversity that makes Lee’s film so rewatchable now. If you’re looking to honor the memory of the magnificent, recently deceased Irrfan Khan, here’s your chance.
“The Lighthouse”
“How long have we been on this rock?” It’s a question asked by Willem Dafoe’s salty sea dog to Robert Pattinson’s dark-eyed maritime drifter in Robert Eggers’ “The Lighthouse,” and it’s one that has arguably taken on a whole new meaning in the Coronavirus era. “The Lighthouse” is the story of two lighthouse keepers who want to alternately fuck or kill each other as they descend into a pit of escalating madness. About halfway through the film, a deadly storm threatens their physical safety, keeping them marooned on the island they’ve been patrolling long after they were supposed to leave. “The Lighthouse” understands what people tend to do in situations of extreme duress: drink, bicker, cook, masturbate, and pray they don’t lose their marbles. Those who complained that Eggers’ follow-up to “The Witch” was purposefully alienating or lacked an “in” might want to give it another watch.
“Locke”
Tom Hardy is such an effortlessly brilliant actor that he can you can simply plant a camera in front of him and watch him drive from Birmingham to London for 85 minutes, and it will likely be electrifying. Before he was known for helming last year’s “Serenity,” arguably the worst movie of the 2000s not directed by Tommy Wiseau (seriously, if you haven’t watched that movie yet, do it because it is genuinely bonkers), Steven Knight took this invigorating narrative gamble with none other than Hardy in the driver’s seat. While there are times where “Locke” feels more like an exercise than a cinematic narrative, Hardy wholeheartedly commits to the film’s claustrophobic sense of anxiety – a daunting feat, considering “Locke” is essentially a one-man show. Knight’s film understands the importance of dignity in the face of increasingly dire odds, making it a more prophetic viewing experience than anyone could have predicted.
“The Martian”
Ridley Scott’s “The Martian” begins with its most massive set piece: a devastating dust storm that unfolds on the terrestrial surface of Mars, leaving astronaut Mark Watney (Matt Damon, very much in 21st-century Jimmy Stewart mode) stranded on a foreign planet and essentially left for dead. Lucky for us, Watney is one of those “can-do” American pragmatists who can make the best of any bad situation. In his own words, he plans on “science-ing the shit” out of this particular problem, which, in his case, means siphoning water from leftover rocket fuel and harvesting potatoes for sustenance. Scott’s movie is that rare thing: a scrappy human blockbuster devoted to ingenuity and perseverance, as opposed to falsely conceived, “save-the-day” heroics. Like the fearful soldiers of Christopher Nolan’s “Dunkirk,” Mark Watney’s only goal is to stay alive in the aftermath of a terrible event. Quick show of hands: how many out there can relate?
“Moon”
Ever wished you could get two Sam Rockwells for the price of one? If you answered “yes” to that question, “Moon” is the movie for you. Director Duncan Jones, the filmmaker son of David Bowie, has charted an uneven career path these last few years (“Warcraft,” anyone?). “Moon,” however, is a triumph of oppressive tension. It’s a slow-burn art movie about the things that confinement does to the mind, with Rockwell giving two of his greatest performances to date as lonely astronaut Sam Bell, and Bell’s sardonic clone. Rockwell is next-level great here, so much so that it’s mind-boggling to consider that anyone else (Paddy Considine!) was ever considered for the part. Unlike a lot of the movies on this list, “Moon” isn’t dreary or dark: it’s actually quite a rapturous style piece, awash in dazzling retro-vintage design and a winking self-awareness that never lapses into self-satisfied meta-referentiality.
“mother!”
Poor Jennifer Lawrence. She just wants to “build a paradise” with her tortured and impossibly handsome wordsmith husband (Javier Bardem, partial to brooding and massaging precious crystals). The last thing she needs is Michelle Pfeiffer and a suspiciously sozzled Ed Harris disrupting her blissful domestic reverie! While “mother!” occasionally reaches Roman Polanski levels of black comedy claustrophobia in its vision of houseguests who refuse to leave, it’s also a film that genuinely feels born of an apocalyptic mindset. Watching the film, it can seem like director Darren Aronofsky made the film during what felt like his last week on earth, using the script as a dumping ground for all of his assorted indignities, obsessions, and indulgences. It’s a strangely sensible movie for a time that makes absolutely no sense: a lament for human civility and a dying planet that’s also a vicious, prolonged howl into the maw of oblivion.
“Oldboy”
Park Chan-wook is a director unafraid to explore perversity, and there is no shortage of perverse moments in his revenge thriller, “Oldboy.” There’s the infamous hammer sequence, the scene in which the protagonist hungrily devours a life octopus… really, we could go on. And yet, the section of the “Oldboy” that remains most rewatchable in the COVID-19 era is the stretch in the film’s first act where inebriated businessman Oh Dae-su (Choi Min-sik, who is also terrific in Park’s “Sympathy for Lady Vengeance”) is kidnapped and forced into a decrepit hotel room, forced to act as a captive spectator as the outside world continues without his involvement. Sure, not all of us are having our meals delivered through a trap door and, hopefully, we’re not being framed for the murder of our significant other, but the seething hysteria felt by the antihero of Park’s depraved neo-grindhouse masterpiece feels more emotionally accessible in 2020 than anyone could have imagined.
“Panic Room”
Few David Fincher movies are as economic and ruthlessly to-the-point as “Panic Room,” the director’s undervalued thriller about a mother and her daughter who lock themselves in a cloistered chamber in their New York brownstone before squaring off against a trio of menacing thieves. This was one of the safest moves Fincher could have made after “Fight Club”: “Panic Room” is a muscular, riveting piece of commercial entertainment that went on to gross nearly $200 million in worldwide box office receipts. What elevates “Panic Room” beyond its somewhat gimmicky premise is the tangible human bond at the core of its story. As many of us grit our teeth through week after week of quarantine-induced delirium, we take solace in the fact that whoever we happen to be isolated with has our back, no matter what. In that regard, Fincher’s steely nail-biter could actually prove to be a weirdly reassuring viewing experience during an otherwise stressful period.
“Safe”
Not to pick favorites, but Todd Haynes’ sinister woman-in-distress drama “Safe” might be the movie on this list that most fits the criteria. Haynes had not yet adapted to the Douglas Sirk retro-melodrama worship that would distinguish later films like “Far from Heaven” and “Carol,” and yet “Safe” remains a rattling chamber piece that’s as brittle and quietly unnerving as anything Haynes has ever directed. Julianne Moore gives a faultless performance as Carol White: a pleasant Southern California housewife who becomes afflicted with an unexplainable physical ailment shortly after the movie begins. Following her illness, Carol’s suburban friends treat her like a pariah, which is its own form of cruel exile. In 2019, Haynes said that “Safe” eventually became more foretelling than even he could have predicted. I wonder how he feels about that statement in 2020.
“The Shining”
Is there a scarier set-up for a horror movie than the notion of being trapped inside with a family that you secretly resent and/or despise? Stanley Kubrick understood that this premise was more terrifying than any supernatural mumbo-jumbo or slasher-movie nonsense. Hence, “The Shining” remains, forty years after its release, one of the most frightening movies of all time. During quarantine, many of us are stuck inside with people we love: good-hearted souls who will take care of us and actively work to protect us from harm. Others are not so lucky. Some are imprisoned with abusers of the physical and emotional variety, while others are stuck inside with people who simply annoy the shit out of them. Jack Nicholson’s tormented scribe Jack Torrance would no doubt categorize his family in the latter camp, the irony being that the tedium of his self-appointed banishment has turned him into an abuser of the foulest sort.
“Shutter Island”
Martin Scorsese knows a thing or two about the mania that comes as a result of isolation, and the great director’s gloriously over-the-top Dennis Lehane adaptation “Shutter Island” perfectly captures the sense of dread-suffused mental collapse that comes with a voluntary quarantine. “Shutter Island” may have, at the time, been perceived as a bust in the wake of “The Departed” (it stands at a modest 63 on Metacritic), but time has been kind to Scorsese’s macabre masterpiece. The film is a showcase for one of Leonardo Dicaprio’s most fearless performances, and it sees Scorsese mixing and matching elements of Sam Fuller’s “Shock Corridor” and various impressionistic flourishes from Powell and Pressburger to deliciously sinister effect. The film’s final line (“Which would be worse – to live as a monster, or to die as a good man?”) remains as haunting today as it was when the film was released over a decade ago.
“Three Colors: Blue”
First of all, if you haven’t seen Krzysztof Kieslowski’s Three Colors Trilogy, watch all of them as soon as you can (they are currently streaming on the Criterion Channel, along with some of the director’s great works). If you’ve seen “Three Colors: Blue,” then you know it’s a milestone of isolation cinema, featuring a Juliette Binoche performance that’s up there with “Certified Copy” and “The Lovers on the Bridge.” “Three Colors: Blue” is about disassociation, and coping with something unimaginable: it’s about how pain often takes on a life of its own, forcing you to withdraw from the world at large. The film also emphasizes just how essential community is, even when we feel like turning away from it. At its core, Kieslowski’s masterpiece is a heartbreaking consideration of grief, both on a micro and macro level. There has never been a better time to submit to its hypnotic spell.
“Unsane”
“Unsane” hinges its plot on a very 21st-century development: it’s a horror movie about gaslighting, as well as a cautionary tale about what can happen when we don’t believe women. It’s also one of director Steven Soderbergh’s more audience-friendly outings from this last era of his career, and the story is anchored by a bracing, playful turn from the great Claire Foy. “Unsane” is a movie about the terror of not being able to trust your own mind: a feeling that I’m sure many of us can relate to all too well, given these past few weeks. However, “Unsane,” in addition to being a fun, self-aware stalker thriller, is also a stealth critique of the broken American health care system. Given how COVID-19 has laid bare the injustices of this aforementioned infrastructure, it feels safe to say that Soderbergh’s critically misinterpreted iPhone movie has aged better than anyone could have predicted.
“Wild”
As we all collectively eke out day after trying day in self-isolation, the promise of the great outdoors has never seemed so tantalizing. Who among us wouldn’t want to drop everything and go on an outdoor adventure, if they were told it was a safe and permissible thing to do? Jean-Marc Vallee’s “Wild” tells the story of a troubled woman asserting her autonomy by traversing the entirety of the roughly 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail. In other words, “Wild” is a story about someone who only feels alive when they are pushing themselves to the physical limit of what they can tolerate. Even as we remain sheltered in place, this aforementioned sensation is one that I venture far too many people are experiencing. Either way, “Wild” is an underrated drama that contains one of Reese Witherspoon’s most committed performances. If nothing else, we hope it inspires you to take a well-deserved vacation when all this is over.
“Wild Strawberries”
Upon first glance, Ingmar Bergman’s wistful and surreal drama “Wild Strawberries” might be an outlier on this list. On paper, it is the story of an obstinate academic, played by writer/director/occasional actor Victor Sjöström, who travels to Lund from Stockholm in order to accept an honorary accolade. Of course, every one of Swedish master’s films deserves as deep a reading as possible, and “Wild Strawberries” is one of his richest works. Bergman’s 1957 psychodrama is about the pleasures of escaping into your own mind while something ominous (in this case, death) looms just outside of your periphery. Quarantine has given all of us ample time to reflect on our lives: both how we got to this point, and how we will make the best of things when this curtain of darkness is finally lifted. In that regard, “Wild Strawberries” is an unforgettable meditation on how fundamentally lonely we all are, and how each of us is an island unto ourselves.
Honorable Mention:
A few movies we wanted to include on this list but didn’t have time for, including Robert Bresson‘s prison drama, “A Man Escaped,” a major classic about psychological imprisonment that we’ve considered many times before, both in retrospective’s of Bresson’s work and prison drama features.
Also, James Cameron’s terrific undersea picture “The Abyss,” which depicts the otherworldly claustrophobia of a deep-sea dive/rescue mission. “The Book of Eli,” an overlooked end-of-days thriller directed by the Hughes Brothers that probably plays better in 2020 than it did in 2010. “Cube,” a freaky landmark of quarantine horror. Sam Raimi’s original “The Evil Dead,” in which not even going off the grid and deep into the woods can save you from the undead (as for the remake, it’s passable and fun, but no substitute for the real thing). Either one of Michael Haneke’s “Funny Games” movies, although we’re partial to the original. “The Grey,” the only Liam Neeson revenge movie that transcends its genre and becomes something more. “The Hateful Eight,” in which sheltering in place has bloody, unforeseen consequences. “Room,” which shows us how beautiful the outside world looks after long periods of being deprived of its joys. The slow-burning sci-fi item “Sunshine,” where, in space, no one can hear you say “solitary confinement.” John Carpenter’s ghoulish “The Thing,” arguably the greatest horror movie ever made about social isolation. And, of course, “The Truman Show,” about a world that’s ever so slightly out of sync, with one ordinary person seeking to stake their place in it.
As always, stay diligent, stay safe, stay healthy… and, for now, stay at home.