Well 2017 has been a mixed bag to say the least, both personally and in the wider world. It feels like upheaval, mistrust and discord were at an all time high this year, and hopeful attitudes were often overshadowed by more inflammatory news stories. But when it came to films, there was plenty to enjoy and this countdown is up there with 2015 for me as one of the most exciting list of films in recent years.
There was plenty I missed which I would love to get round to seeing soon. But overall, my pledge to go to the cinema/see a new release once a week was just about met. I’m not surprised to notice that many of the films that appealed most to me personally were warmer, more positive films, but that’s not to say more challenging films haven’t made an impact in my mind over the past few months.
If you’re really so interested in seeing a list of exactly every film I saw in 2017, you can check out my Letterboxd diary. All the films included here were released in the UK in 2017, and doesn’t include festival films without official UK release.
The ones I missed: Logan; Silence; Endless Poetry; T2 Trainspotting; Hidden Figures; A Cure for Wellness; It’s Only the End of the World; Ghost in the Shell; Graduation; Neruda; Clash; Mindhorn; Berlin Syndrome; Song to Song; War for the Planet of the Apes; David Lynch: The Art Life; The Big Sick; Hounds of Love; Patti Cake$; The Limehouse Golem; Wind River; The Villainess; On Body and Soul; Loving Vincent; The Party; Brawl in Cell Block 99; I Am Not a Witch; Thor: Ragnarok; Thelma; Paddington 2; Beach Rats; Happy End
Extra Mentions
Detroit (Kathryn Bigelow; USA)
Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve; USA)
Dunkirk (Christopher Nolan; UK/USA/France/Netherlands)
Jackie (Pablo Larrain; USA/Chile/France)
Toni Erdmann (Maren Ade; Germany/Austria)
20. The Red Turtle (Michaël Dudok de Wit; France/Belgium/Japan)
Studio Ghibli continue their incredible run with this profoundly mysterious and existential film, which without dialogue is able to ponder some of the deepest feelings of what it means to be alive, to full in love, and to distinguish between surviving and living. The tale of a man who washes up alone on a desert island and how his escape attempt is hampered by a giant red turtle, it’s incredibly beautiful to look at as you’d expect with Ghibli. The scope is impressive, attempting to convey an entire life’s story in 80 minutes. It’s the sudden gut punch of emotions that come towards the end that really leaves a lasting impression.
19. The Death of Stalin (Armando Iannucci; UK/France)
There were supremely high expectations for this following the great trailer, and thankfully it didn’t disappoint. My appreciation helped by my ongoing fascination with all things Russian (the centenary of the 1917 Revolutions last year provided ample exhibitions to go and see!), Iannucci’s sharp and consistent script did an excellent job of balancing the absurdist dialogue and setpieces with the more serious historical content. Finding sources of humour from true life stories of the extreme self-serving of the Soviet elites mixing with obsessive devotion to the state, yet without glossing over or making light of the numerous atrocities that occurred. A superbly game cast and lush production design help make this potentially stagey set-up feel genuinely cinematic.
18. Baby Driver (Edgar Wright; USA/UK)
Edgar Wright’s long-gestating passion project, a massive love letter to cinema and classic crime caper movies, is infectious in its unabashed adoration for the medium. The level of thought, love and care that went into so much of this film is staggering, from the perfectly choreographed car chase and action scenes, the interaction of the soundtrack with the performances, and wonderful scenes like the opening ‘Bellbottoms’ number and the coffee-run playing with music video-levels of spectacle. The underdevelopment of Lily James’s Debora was disappointing and the ending couldn’t match the relentless heights of the film in full flow, but few things this year matched the infectious exuberance and sheer levels of entertainment of Baby Driver.
17. Okja (Bong Joon-ho; South Korea/USA)
Probably the most ubiquitous and downright barmy film made this year; one that has you questioning how it even got made in the first place and made on such a scale and made as assuredly as it was. A film that despite its flaws you end up being very glad for its existence, and I was delighted I got to see it on a big screen where it is best appreciated. It’s a rather remarkable story of a young Korean girl travelling to America in search of her pet super-pig who has been reclaimed by the multinational corporation that bred it. Co-written with Jon Ronson, Bong Joon-ho’s script is frenetic, with many targets in its sight. From the meat industry, multinational corporate culture, down to self-absorption and ethical ‘causes’, it all moves at a pretty breakneck pace and only just about keeps on track, the tone often (and deliberately) veering about wildly. It’s a modern fairytale for adults, at once playful and disturbing. The chase scene through the Korean underground was probably the most exciting scene I’ve seen all year.
16. Manchester by the Sea (Kenneth Lonergan; USA)
Lonergan’s deeply theatrical script is one of the most potent studies of profound grief ever made and showcases his superb eye for finding drama and story that exists behind the everyday mundane lives of unremarkable small town citizens. Excellent performances breathe life into what could be a profoundly bleak story, but despite the showcase of sadness, this is still a story that retains hope in people being able to live full lives in the face of tragedy, and build strong relationships.
15. Moonlight (Barry Jenkins; USA)
I don’t feel I can do this film the level of justice that most critics have offered since it first made waves in 2016. An intimate poetic triptych, as much a personal odyssey of one man coming to terms with himself, as it is a portrait of poverty, addiction and deprivation in Miami. Tarell Alvin McCraney’s script feels deeply personal, and Jenkins’s direction artfully uses delicate camerawork, orchestral music and James Laxton’s lush cinematography to juxtapose the harshness of the surroundings (the school full of bullies, the run-down projects and crack houses) with something more beautiful – in effect, conveying Chiron/Black’s isolation from all around him. Perhaps reflecting the character’s own unease with his sexuality, the film does feel a little dispassionate when it comes to more sensual matters, but as a portrait of a man coming to terms with himself, it can be very special at times.
14. The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected) (Noah Baumbach; USA)
I have to say I was pleasantly surprised by this one. I’m a fan of Noah Baumbach, but this didn’t feel like it was really going to break new ground. And well, it didn’t really, with its story of an upper-middle class New York Jewish artistic family coming to terms with the unspoken tensions between them following their father’s illness. But the writing is sharp enough, and the characters engaging thanks to some career-best performances, especially by Adam Sandler(!), that this proves to be a genuinely witty and winning portrait of grown up children still weighted down by regret, insecurity and downright eccentricity. It’s still finds room for humour, from sharp insights about the New York art scene, to sillier moments of slapstick.
13. Heal the Living (Katell Quillévéré; France/Belgium)
I was lucky enough to catch a screening of this at the 2016 London Film Festival and was bowled over by this humane and special film about the human stories surrounding organ donations and the medics who perform this magical procedure. A second viewing this year retained much of the cinematic pleasures – it’s a beautifully shot, wonderfully performed film, taking an almost documentarian approach to the medical procedures but offering little moments of expressive characterisation that add an emotional soul to the film. In effect, some characters are sketched only with these little expressive details, but I feel this reflects the ceaseless and fleeting nature of the incredible work the medical staff do yet the immense support and care they offer. It also makes me realise that the central character of Heal the Living is the human heart itself, and its journey from death to rebirth and how it brings new life.
12. Mudbound (Dee Rees; USA)
Director and co-writer Dee Rees’ Mudbound is a vast and intimate portrait of the struggles of two American families, one black and one white, living on the same patch of Mississippi farmland in the 1940s. It’s bleak and rooted in tragedy, depicting the generational struggles in pursuit of the American Dream of self-sufficiency, but one in which deep-rooted bigotry, violence and indeed the very land itself crushes these dreams from within. Seemingly breaking the rules of Storytelling 101 by having multiple character voiceovers throughout, these actually grant the story a depth and fluidity which befits the epic scope of this multigenerational story. It has the novelistic feel of a Great American Novel, a little overblown at times, but absorbing, beautiful and moving.
11. Raw (Julia Ducournau; France/Belgium)
Stories of audience members fainting exaggerated the extremity of this film, but it is undeniably a relentless and gruesome horror, and a remarkable debut by director Julia Ducournau. Confidently shot, wildly inventive and deeply uncomfortable, Raw follows vegetarian Justine (Garance Marillier) as she moves to university to study veterinary science and is forced to eat meat during a hazing ritual. This awakens a long-dormant urge within her, with shocking consequences. Frequently breathtaking and fully exploiting the remarkable counterbalance of the medical setting with Justine’s own personal story, the equation of this developing cannibalistic cravings with her burgeoning sexuality works to a point, but it’s really the intense relationship between Justine and her sister that really drives this wonderfully nasty film which frankly had me gripping my skin.
10. It Comes at Night (Trey Edward Shults; USA)
A superb psychological horror film, brilliantly directed by the now 29 year old Shults with an incredible maturity, intelligence and keen sense of location, pacing and atmosphere. Situated within a cabin in the woods following an unknown infection, the real horror comes from the outside and unseen threats from beyond the barricaded walls. With some genuinely chilling nightmare scenes, and an almost New Hollywood 1970s cinema approach to ambiguity, I was so impressed with how immersive this film was. It may sell itself almost as a supernatural survival film, but it’s very much a human horror story.
9. Elle (Paul Verhoeven; France/Germany)
The long awaited return of Paul Verhoeven! And while he seemed to have made a move towards greater arthouse respectability with his shift from violent sci-fi to elegantly-shot upper class Paris, that doesn’t diminish the sheer audaciousness of this controversy-totting, surprisingly funny and seedily entertaining film. When Michele (Isabelle Hupert) is sexually assaulted in her home by a masked intruder, she decides to take matters into her own hands. It’s delightfully sly, offering a defiant stab at the notion that womanhood equals victimhood. That a film could dabble in rape, mass murder, and dare to equate Catholicism with sadomasochism, and get away with it, veering on just the right side of tastelessness, is pretty incredible.
8. Call Me by Your Name (Luca Guadagnino; USA/Italy/Brazil/France)
What more is there to be said about this film that hasn’t already been discussed, debated, and pored over? Not much, and the immense adoration for this film perhaps raised my expectations to unrealistic heights. But there’s no denying the breathtakingly infectious power of this film, the palpable erotic energy and the charisma of the two leads, Elio (Timothée Chalamet) and Oliver (Armie Hammer). In ways, Call Me by Your Name is pure fantasy – the almost ridiculously beautiful Italian villas in peak summer, everyone sunbathing and looking gorgeous, and love is in the air. But James Ivory’s wonderful script unearths those tiny details, those small gestures and turns of phrase, that turns this ode to first love and sensual pleasure into a heady and stirring thrill, and a universal delight. It resonated with me for days afterwards, and I can’t wait to see it again.
7. God’s Own Country (Francis Lee; UK)
Whilst Call Me by Your Name has deservedly dominated much of the critical praise for this year, I feel in a way this film, its British cousin, has been a little bit underserved. Not that it wasn’t well received, but when I consider these two films together, the similarities are palpable and it feels genuinely quite difficult to consider one better than the other when both take such unique approaches to similar stories. In many ways, this film is sexier and perhaps even more achingly romantic, the sheer bleakness of the setting for lead character Johnny (Josh O’Connor) making the sudden spark of attraction towards Romanian farmhand Gheorghe (Alec Secareanu) imbuing the film with an overwhelming rush of warmth and possibility. A very British love story, rooted deeply within the director’s own adoration of the Yorkshire Dales, but it’s the sheer authenticity of the central couple, thanks to two remarkable performances, that really resonates. In which other film could the act of adding some cheese to a plate of spaghetti feel so wonderfully amorous?
6. Get Out (Jordan Peele; USA)
Jordan Peele has achieved something pretty remarkable with his feature debut. Delicately balancing Ira Levin-style domestic horror with a state-of-the-nation address on perceptions of race in middle class liberal America, as well as some deftly handled comedy, this is a superb thriller that intelligently unpacks thrills whilst being simply an entertaining blast that had audience members cheering at the screening I was in. Peele has certainly done his homework – his handling of the thriller elements has a classical feel to it, yet probably no film this year captured the zeitgeist of the mood in America, and its financial success speaks for its massive popularity.
5. 20th Century Women (Mike Mills; USA)
I absolutely adore this film. Inspired by his own mother and the women of his early years, Mike Mills’s deeply personal, stylishly shot and instantly cool film about growing up in California in 1979 and the women who had a big impact on his life is fantastically idealistic, but supremely likeable. Helped by a witty, charming script and some fantastic characterisations by the excellent cast, this stood out as a warm-hearted story of a makeshift family, the complicated dynamics between a mother and a son who she feels is growing up and away from her, and about teenage self-discovery and indeed how discoveries of all kinds (cultural, sexual, personal) can offer new pleasures in life, even in adulthood. That it has a killer soundtrack to boot only ticks extra boxes for me.
4. My Life as a Courgette (Claude Barras; Switzerland/France)
Oh my, it’s hard to properly convey the wonders of this film beyond a teary-eyed squeal of joy. Clocking in at only just over an hour long, but packing more genuine affection, heart and soul than many films can fit in twice that length, Courgette is a children’s film that is unafraid to shy away from difficult subjects (neglect, death of parents) and does so with such a warm and delicate approach. Thanks to Celine Schama’s sensitive script and the playfully quirky animation, this potentially heartbreaking story is given a sense of wonder and hope, with buckets of charm. I dare anyone not to fall in love with it.
3. The Handmaiden (Park Chan-wook; South Korea)
The sheer achievement of this film is pretty staggering when I think about it. Cleverly adapted from Sarah Waters’s novel Fingersmith, transposing the setting from Victorian London to Japanese-occupied Korea, The Handmaiden shows director Park Chan-wook at the height of his powers. From the sumptuous production design, the distinctly fluid camerawork and some fantastically committed performances, everything about this film is top notch. At its heart is a masterful piece of storytelling, drawing from Waters’ evocation of Victorian gothic literature and turning it into a twisting erotic thriller which delights in pulling the rug from under the viewer’s feet, and draws you in with lush period details with a darker edge, and the promise of alluring mystery. I was lucky enough to see the extended two and a half hour Director’s cut, and it’ll be interesting to see the original cut too.
2. The Florida Project (Sean Baker; USA)
Sean Baker’s masterful follow-up to 2015’s Tangerine, itself one of the most exciting films I’ve seen in recent years, is an charming, colourful and heartbreaking humanist portrait of modern homelessness in Florida. Finding lyrical moments through shots of seemingly ordinary things, this is storytelling through showing, not telling, and this is perhaps The Florida Project’s greatest strength, as it switches seamlessly through showing the wondrous excitement of play and exploration from a child’s-eye view, to the bleaker picture for the grown-ups, hidden behind the colourfully tacky knock-off Disney castle facades. That it can be both an intoxicating picture of childhood let loose, and a scathing portrait of deprivation and poverty in one of the most developed nations in the world is remarkable. Sean Baker again proves himself one of the most distinctly talented directors around, making modern-day neo-realist films without losing a sense of heart or humour.
1. Good Time (The Safdie Brothers; USA)
A film unlike any other this year, one which dares you to believe in so much but can get away with proving and solving very little. It’s an intense ride, where conventions of storytelling are thrown out the window and trampled underfoot. Robert Pattinson is deeply impressive as Connie, a low-level thief who gets his dependent younger brother in jail after roping him into a bank robbery. What follows is a protracted, unpredictable and frequently shocking midnight odyssey, one where Connie’s desperate attempts to get money end up causing immense harm to everyone around him.
Reviews have pointed out how Pattinson’s performance is equivalent to the manic frenzy of Al Pacino’s turn in Dog Day Afternoon, and indeed his character is a near-hurricane of a man, twisting the paths of all the people near him into his frantic orbit, leaving a trail of destruction behind him. It’s a remarkable turn of events, often unbelievable but given added credence by the directors’ keen eye for detail and their immersive camerawork, throwing us right into the blistering story. They also submerge us within a fully realised New York, away from the tourist traps, drenched in neon and squalor and inhabited by desperate people barely able to get by. A pulsing electronic score by Oneohtrix Point Never adds a dreamlike heartbeat to the film, helping to make it a bewildering and intoxicating picture, one more experienced rather than simply viewed.
Musings from a Darkened Room 