On Monday, The Ringer unveiled its ranking of the 101 best movie performances of the 21st century. With a wealth of films and actors to choose from—and the fact that we limited ourselves to one performance per actor—there were naturally quite a few great roles left on the table. We asked our staff to celebrate their favorite performances that slipped through the cracks—whether it was an Oscar nominee, a cult favorite, or a performance that’s simply close to their heart.
Amy Adams, American Hustle
When The Ringer’s list of the best performances of the century was unveiled and I saw that Amy Adams had been left off it, I was as outraged as when she said she’d “rip that nasty hair right outta your fuckin’ head” in The Fighter, or when she turned into a dog and started killing little critters in Nightbitch, or when she played permed Bradley Cooper against combovered Christian Bale in American Hustle. When I found out we could vouch for our passed-over favorites, I knew I had to defend the honor of my lady Amy (and I will keep stumping for her until she gets that Oscar). My first instinct was to put Arrival in this spot—probably the best-known, and possibly the best Adams role, and one I really was flabbergasted to see omitted from our larger list. But everyone’s seen Arrival and celebrated Adams in it, other than the Academy and The Ringer, apparently. So as long as we’re defending relatively overlooked work, I thought I’d put forward Adams’s performance in American Hustle. The movie is largely remembered as an overly labored Scorsese pastiche that’s not quite as fun as it thinks it is, and the performances in it have mostly gone down as being brash and boorish, gyring out of control as if competing with the loop-de-loop camerawork for superior velocity. But then there’s Adams, mostly reacting to her louder costars and running a few long cons of her own behind the scenes:
Maybe it’s the contrast between her and her scene partners that makes every flicker of her eyes so remarkable in that scene, or this scene, or this scene. Adams just barely lets us know what’s going on under the surface, and it always seems like it’s in spite of how much her character wants to convey to her fellow scammers. She’s playing someone who’s fearless and capable but who can fall in love with a paunchy Bale and get sucked in by some clothes left behind at the dry cleaner—in other words, Adams’s Sydney is someone with low expectations but a high chance of meeting them, and watching her leap over her circumstances is thrilling. I think that this performance would be less overlooked if it had been in a movie that’s more celebrated—but then, it’s in the context of the dizzying American Hustle that Adams makes you stop, catch your breath, take her in, and wonder what it is she could be thinking. —Helena Hunt
Demi Moore, The Substance
Many months removed from the most recent Academy Awards, it’s still a little hard to sever Moore’s shockingly vulnerable and grotesque tour de force in a film about young women usurping fame and flattery from their aging counterparts from the meta narrative that surrounded her upset loss in the Best Actress category to a 25-year-old up-and-comer.
The parallel is almost too neat. Mikey Madison’s Oscar triumph mirrors, in a perverse way, what Margaret Qualley’s Sue does to Moore’s Elisabeth Sparkle in The Substance, a body horror masterpiece that, among other things, provocatively considers the chokehold vanity has on women who use their beauty to charm, dazzle, and earn a living in an industry that since time immemorial has chewed them up and spit them out.
Moore plays a fictional character. She is also herself, acting without a shield (minus the all-time greatest coat in cinematic history). There’s paranoia and determination in both figures, which is obviously very sad. But the performance doesn’t at all appear cheesy or come close to breaking the fourth wall. Instead, it’s kinda beautiful … in a nauseating way. —Michael Pina
The Best Movie Performances of the Century
Colin Farrell, Miami Vice
If you ask Colin Farrell, the feature film adaptation of Miami Vice was a low point, both as an artistic endeavor and as a wake-up call to check into rehab. But all the idiosyncrasies in Michael Mann’s blockbuster that once alienated viewers—the murky digital photography, the byzantine plot, the expressionistic style—have been hailed by some critics as proof of its greatness. (Hard agree.) By the same token, we shouldn’t overlook what Farrell pulled off in Miami Vice, even if he doesn’t appreciate it. As Sonny Crockett, Farrell is a classic Mann’s man: brooding, meticulous, suave. But what really stands out on repeat viewings is how Farrell captures the profound yearning behind Crockett’s mojito-loving machismo. The turning point is the undercover Crockett striking up an electric romance with Isabella (Gong Li), a cartel money manager. They both know their tryst has an expiration date, but embrace it with abandon, anyway. See: Farrell hitting the dance floor like a man possessed.
As with the rest of Miami Vice, Farrell’s performance won’t be for everyone. But if you can look past the greasy hair, questionable accent, and handlebar mustache that would be the envy of every ’70s porn star, there’s something transcendent. Here’s an actor baring his soul, as wild and spectacular as a tropical storm. —Miles Surrey
Mia Goth, Pearl
If you’ve experienced this movie only through memes and clips, you’re probably dumbfounded as to why we’re highlighting this performance. There’s the little “Oy, mista!” voice and the theater-kid theatrics and the WTF am I looking at? closing credits, and, sure, it can all seem like a little too much. But then you watch the movie, and you see just how much Mia Goth puts into this performance—and how much it takes out of her. Look no further than one scene you may see pop up less frequently than the others: Goth’s eight-minute long-take monologue, which is great enough to justify the existence of the entire X trilogy. (Yes, even MaXXXine.) It’s an argument for allowing more horror performances into the Oscar acting categories, and it’s proof that even though Mia Goth may be Hollywood’s reigning scream queen, she’s capable of so much more than just being loud. —Justin Sayles
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson's War
I'd better level with you: I remember exactly three minutes and 17 seconds of Charlie Wilson's War. I definitely saw it. Didn't stick. I have no idea how much screen time Philip Seymour Hoffman gets. Don't remember his character's name or story. I could look these things up, I guess; I'm not going to. Because in my mind, the 3:17 I do remember exists in a sacred space that lives outside all context, a dimension where the funniest thing you've ever seen is also somehow the most inspiring thing you've ever seen, and where this one particular clip is ready at all times to give you courage when you need it. I have watched this, conservatively, 5,000 times.
"Water goes over a dam and under a bridge, you poncy schoolboy." "I spent the last three years learning Finnish!" Every line reading in Hoffman's all-out verbal assault on John Slattery's entitled bureaucrat is a perfect little atom bomb of frustration, contempt, and fury. It's a solace for anyone struggling to deal with the world's idiocy. You are not alone! If PSH's entire acting career were limited to this one scene, I'm convinced he'd still belong on this list. —Brian Phillips
Jesse Plemons, Game Night
When life gives you Plemons, you usually make either a sweet nerd or a calculated psychopath. In the very funny caper comedy Game Night, Jesse Plemons’s Gary is somewhere in between—an off-putting, socially awkward police officer who just wants to take fewer trips to the mailbox and compete in games of chance and skill. Is that too much to ask? As one of our finest actors, Plemons could have made The Ringer’s list of the century’s best movie performances for a number of roles (his characters in The Power of the Dog and Kinds of Kindness are certainly showier, more prestigious parts), but there’s just something about Gary. I watch the driveway scene regularly—please listen to the way he says “Tostitos Scoops,” or “Allows Sebastian here the opportunity to urinate,” or “How could that be profitable for Frito-Lay?” in a ridiculously unsettling cadence that plays perfectly off Jason Bateman’s famed straight-man demeanor. Maybe it wasn’t enough to make the list, but can we at least get Plemons in another comedy ASAP? —Julianna Ress
Regina King, If Beale Street Could Talk
Regina King can do anything. She can do anything and she can play anyone. She can play Saddam. She can play Jewel. She can play a Russian arms dealer. She can play a volcano. Do you remember Room? With Brie Larson? King could’ve done Jacob Tremblay’s part no problem. She can play former President Dwight D. Eisenhower during his time as Supreme Allied Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force in Europe during World War II. The piece would focus specifically on his time as military governor in Allied Occupied Germany. She can play the “Dude You’re Getting a Dell” Guy. She can play a shoe.
King is all powerful, all seeing, all knowing. There should be a rule. She gets to be in any movie she wants. She doesn’t have to do the movie if she doesn’t want to, but if she wants to do the movie, she should just automatically get to do the movie. She should be paid in gold and boats. She makes everything better because she makes everything realer. Roger Ebert once wrote about Robert Duvall, “He brings a quality to his listening, his reactions, that charges a scene even when he’s not talking.” So it is with King. She can score without the ball. She’s in the moment. If her performance in If Beale Street Could Talk was only the trip to Puerto Rico, it’s still an all-timer. One of the greats, smack dab in the middle of her prime, directed by a master, operating at the mountaintop. —Tyler Parker
Josh Brolin, Inherent Vice
Josh Brolin’s characters often tread the same ground—they’re hard-weathered, everyman types with a dark streak (No Country for Old Men or, more recently, Weapons) or fish-out-of-water authority figures grappling with a changing world. You see the latter in Milk, where he plays a tragic and menacing politician, or in his best performance of this century: as Bigfoot in PTA’s Inherent Vice. He’s a pitch-perfect Pynchonian antagonist come to life—the counter to the counterculture, a worthy straight-man adversary for Joaquin Phoenix’s stoner PI, Doc Sportello. And all that’s great, but what this role comes down to is: Have you ever seen anyone eat weed like this? —Sayles
Ana de Armas, Knives Out
Most of the greats will tell you that it’s more challenging to be comedic on-screen than it is to be dramatic—and often it seems more of an uphill battle for an actor to convincingly perform sincerity than it is to chew up all the scenery in big, Al-Pacino-in-Heat bites. No one proves that more than Ana de Armas, who delicately tiptoed into Knives Out to not only anchor the emotional heart of the film, but also walk away with the entire thing in a cast full of some of Hollywood’s biggest names—which, not for nothing, is kind of the meta-morality tale of the movie. I didn’t realize I’d rarely seen a performance with the kind of embodied warmth and kindness you generally only find in your real-life favorite nurses, teachers, and relatives until I encountered Marta in Knives Out—and simultaneously met Ana de Armas. And though de Armas has rarely been unleashed to her full powers in this way again, the prowess is still there—it’s not just anyone who can go toe-to-toe with Daniel Craig doing Foghorn Leghorn cosplay and Chris Evans in that fisherman sweater and live to steal the show. —Jodi Walker
Fred Melamed, A Serious Man
Take me to bed, Fred Melamed. Melamed’s Sy Ableman doesn’t show up until the 25-minute mark and dies halfway through the movie. Don’t care. Big Fred is untouchable here. He opens his mouth and music comes out. Whether he’s discussing the benefits of the Jolly Roger or waxing on about Bordeaux, anytime Melamed’s talking, you want him to continue. Plus, he knows his way around a camp collar. Sy Ableman is a titan of style and leisure, Melamed dressed to step out every moment he’s on the screen. He goes all powder blue at one point. A sky unto himself. Shirt, pants, driving cap, the sexiest robin’s egg you ever did see. The biggest, too. Can’t fault Judith for the wandering eye. Melamed gives one helluva hug, seems emotionally available, and is clearly hung like a hippo. The guy could play hockey with that thing. I think Michael Stuhlbarg’s actually rocking with something pretty substantial himself, but when you go toe to toe with Hot Godzilla, you’re going to lose. —Parker
The Entire Cast of Almost Famous
You know how every so often there’s a cocky young athlete who expects to be picked, like, top three in the draft … but then hours go by on the big night, their name goes uncalled, and the camera keeps panning to them sulking on a folding chair, overlooked and alone? Well, after the experience I just had—eagerly ctrl+F’ing to see which character(s) from Almost Famous made The Ringer’s Best Movie Performances list and how high—let’s just say I now know exactly how those dudes feel.
For the record, the top 30 ballot I submitted for this project listed Philip Seymour Hoffman as Lester Bangs in the top slot. (To this day, I’m only able to hear the words “Iggy Pop!” in his voice.) I also put down a three-way Almost Famous tie between Frances McDormand, Kate Hudson, and Billy Crudup at no. 9—though in hindsight, I now regret not putting the full weight of my vote behind the one and only Elaine Miller. (I can hear her now on the other end of the phone, scolding me for throwing away my influence like so much confetti.) Pathetically, my official entry also included a postscript titled “OMISSIONS ABOUT WHICH I AM BEREFT,” in which I shouted out “the guy who plays Ben Fong-Torres” as well as Jason Lee. You know, just in case The Ringer’s selection committee was looking to zag.
But man, it didn’t even occur to me that the actual zag, the real omission about which I am bereft, would be a total Almost Famous shutout. Maybe it’s recency bias, or maybe there’s just so much great work in that film that it diluted any one person’s votes. But I urge my colleagues to reconsider. It’s not too late for you to become a person of substance, Ringer. —Katie Baker
Steven Yeun, Burning
Steven Yeun rose to fame for his role as Glenn Rhee on The Walking Dead, a former pizza delivery boy who becomes a full-fledged action hero during the zombie apocalypse. Glenn was one of the hit TV series’ most beloved characters, imparting Yeun with a “nice-guy” on-screen persona in the process. And director Lee Chang-dong weaponizes the audience’s familiarity with the actor in Burning, as Yeun transforms into a chilling, ambiguous villain.
Lee’s 2018 psychological thriller centers on Jong-su (Yoo Ah-in), an aspiring novelist who runs into his childhood classmate Hae-mi (Jeon Jong-seo) and quickly begins to fall in love with her. When Hae-mi returns from a long trip outside of the country, she brings back a charming new friend, Ben (Yeun), who turns their fledgling romance into an unexpected love triangle. As Jong-su later describes him, Ben is like a modern “Great Gatsby”: rich, young, and mysterious. He projects a calm confidence and has a peculiar way of looking at the world that’s eerie and alluring at the same time, captivating Hae-mi and bewildering Jong-su. Yeun is stunningly convincing as he assumes the role of the disturbed Ben, who has a hobby of burning abandoned greenhouses across Korea. But he also plays the part with just enough subtlety and restraint to cast doubt on what kind of person Ben is, and—after Hae-mi goes missing—what he’s truly capable of.
Yeun didn’t garner the same type of awards recognition for Burning that he would a few years later for his performance in Minari, which made him the first Asian American to ever be nominated for Best Actor at the Academy Awards. But Burning is a remarkable, underrated film that served as the perfect vehicle to showcase Yeun’s range as an actor, opening up all sorts of exciting roles for him in the years after. —Daniel Chin
