2020 in Review – My Top 20 Films

What a shitshow 2020 was. Speaking as someone who, all things considered, had a relatively smooth time with everything, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult the last few months have been for many. The world effectively came to a standstill for a big chunk of the year, with the first lockdown especially feeling like getting to live to live out the world’s most boring apocalypse (and probably more plausible than any movie). The worlds of culture and industry have been affected, and perhaps damaged irreparably.

With many more cinema releases being delayed or skipped to streaming, it’s probably the biggest threat cinemas have ever faced. Not to dismiss streaming services and home releases, but I personally speaking love attending the church of the big screen, and can’t wait until I can do it again. Here’s hoping too many screens – particularly independent cinemas including my beloved locals the Genesis, Rich Mix, and The Castle – won’t be struck too hard.

What can be concluded from this year is that plenty of excellent films were still released, it’s just the case that many took a bit of searching out to find. With cinemas closed, I was happy to pay to watch many of these films at home (although it probably is telling that a large chunk of the films on this list are ones I did get to see a big screen). I also enjoyed using all my extra free time to be even more adventurous in my viewing, resubscribing to Mubi and BFI Player and taking the time to try older or more challenging films I wouldn’t always have had the patience for.

2021 is going to be a stranger year I feel, at least in terms of film. So many productions that would have taken place last year have been delayed or cancelled, and the post-production of many held up. The postponement of major releases like No Time to Die spell bad news for cinemas reliant on mainstream releases. It’ll be interesting to see what the scene will look like with another big chunk of major releases, especially Marvel films, missing. 
But for now, here’s my loose list and thoughts on films I enjoyed and appreciated last year.

20. His House (Remi Weekes; USA/UK)

19. Saint Maud (Rose Glass; UK)

 

 

 

 

 

 

18. True History of The Kelly Gang (Justin Kurzel; UK/Australia)

17. Uncut Gems (Josh & Benny Safdie; USA)

16. Calm With Horses (Nick Rowland; Ireland)

 

 

 

 

 

15. Babyteeth (Shannon Murphy; Australia)

 

 

 

 

 

14. Rocks (Sarah Gavron; UK)

13. Bacurau (Kleber Mendonça Filho, Juliano Dornelles; Brazil/France)

12. Welcome to Chechnya (David France; USA)

11. Mogul Mowgli (Bassam Tariq; UK/USA)

10. Dick Johnson is Dead (Kirsten Johnson; USA)

I’d read the buzz about this convention-warping documentary online, and it is available on Netflix, but I did have to search out for it within the depths of their extensive and exhausting library. It’s definitely worth tracking down. Documentary filmmaker Kirsten Johnson confronts the impending death of her father, the titular Dick Johnson, by staging his death in overblown and glossily shot Act of Killing-style fantasy scenes. We see him falling down stairs, being struck by falling debris and entering heaven.
But in a way I found these scenes a bit of a distraction from the true heart of the film – the universality of knowing our loved ones will die. Dick is diagnosed with dementia, and the almost home movie footage depicts in almost intrusive details the slow fade of a warm, humorous and intelligent man. It’s a slightly unhinged movie, but all the more personal and moving for it. It’ll make you want to cherish every moment you have with anyone you love (and makes me think I should start filming everything I can).

9. Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittman; USA/UK)

A superb slice of 21^st century social neo-realism. 17-year-old Autumn (Sidney Flanigan) unexpectedly finds she’s pregnant. But being underage and in Pennsylvania, her options are limited. So, with her cousin Skylar (Talia Ryder), they take a trip to New York.    
It’s a rare art to make a film which is quite so sparse, but undeniably compelling and rich in its compassionate storytelling. At the centre is a remarkable performance by Flanigan, aided by director Eliza Hittman’s thoughtful and unfussy direction. A portrait of the array of hardships many people face simply because they are women, but one without needing to moralise, lecture or sensationalise.

8. Possessor (Brandon Cronenberg; Canada)

After hearing the first buzz about Possessor, I was excited to see it. Nothing beats horror done right. In an alternate 21^st century, a shadowy organisation uses technology to implant assassins into the minds of other people’s bodies, allowing them use them as puppet killers in contract hits. Andrea Riseborough’s Tasya’s latest job involves her entering the body of Colin (Christopher Abbott) to kill his girlfriend’s father, who happens to be the CEO of the company Colin works for. But Tasya finds herself losing control and there follows a warped and trippy battle of wits and survival. Technologically, this film looks amazing. Questioning the extent mass corporations have control over our lives off-screen (further proof you’ll want to cover your webcams and be careful what you say) and pushing that to the nth degree, Possessor is an ambitious and cynical techno thriller, as well as a brutal and supremely gory horror that can’t help but make you wince in the best way.

7. Collective (Alexander Nanau; Romania/Luxembourg)

On 30^th October 2015, a fire breaks out in the Collectiv nightclub in Bucharest during a gig. 27 died in the incident, but a further 37 died in the following months due to poor conditions in hospitals and lacklustre healthcare. The incident causes mass protests and forces the government to resign. This documentary follows journalists investigating the mass corruption that led to the disaster.
An authentic insight into the world of investigative journalism and an incredible testament to the power this work can have in causing meaningful change. There are moments in this that are genuinely gasp-inducing – the extent of the lapses of care in these hospitals is beyond anything you could believe is possible in the Europe.

6. Les Misérables (Ladj Ly; France)

An urgent and incendiary film. Not an adaptation of the Victor Hugo novel, but one which takes the themes of the abuse of poorer citizens and updates them to the 21^st century. Following a police patrol over a day as they deal with a theft committed by a teenager which spirals out of control and threatens gang violence, Les Misérables is a scathing and ugly portrait of race relations and police conduct in some of Paris’s most deprived banlieues. The brilliance of centring the film after France’s 2018 World Cup win, when French identity was at its most proud and unified, is a masterstroke from first time feature film director Ladj Ly. Tense, sprawling and thrilling, I was really impressed with this – La Haine for 2020.

5. And Then We Danced (Levan Akin; Sweden/Georgia/France)

I was lucky enough to catch this at the London Film Festival in 2019 and felt compelled to see it again this year when it was officially released. We follow Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani), a young dancer desperate to be part of the National Georgian main ensemble of traditional dance. His natural style is frequently criticised as not being rigid or masculine enough, and his place is questioned further when a new dancer Irakli (Bachi Valishvili) arrives.
When I first saw this impressive and wonderfully humane film, I at first felt a little underwhelmed by what felt like a rather conventional story of forbidden love. But seeing it the second time, I was struck more by how it is as much a depiction of a difficult journey of self-acceptance for Merab, desperate to express himself in an Orthodox and often repressive environment. It’s perhaps why I continued finding myself thinking about this film long after I first saw it – I found it deeply moving.

4. Parasite (Bong Joon-ho; South Korea)

What more is there to say about Parasite that hasn’t already been said? I think it had been so hyped up that it couldn’t meet my expectations fully, but that’s not to dismiss what is a genuinely remarkable and masterfully made film. It’s a pretty wild ride – tense, funny, strange and unpredictable, even ridiculous at points. Bong Joon-ho’s sly and scathing critique of class conflict and rampant inequality in Korea succeeds in transforming this local story into a universal parable that translates well enough even for Academy voters to fully appreciate. An update of the period drama’s upstairs-downstairs dynamics for the modern day.

3. Queen & Slim (Melina Matsoukas; USA)

Queen & Slim is a story of outlaws by circumstance. It’s a vital state of the nation film depicting just one of the many ways America has become increasingly polarised. The central couple, returning from an uneventful first date, are pulled over by a trigger-happy cop and are forced to go on the run following a violent act of self-defence. 
Queen and Slim are not fleeing justice, but fleeing a system where justice is not guaranteed based on who they are. Context is key – everyone involved and everyone who sees the dashcam footage has a view to the incident, and it’s to the film’s great strength that we are presented with a range of these views through the characters the couple meet along the way. What I admired about it though was the film’s confidence in immersing us so intimately with the couple. Whilst it may offer a scathing critique on the state of police relations with the public in the 2010s, at heart it’s a story of how two black Americans have to consider themselves in a place and time when their actions come with implications, often without their intended outcome. 

2. Small Axe (Steve McQueen; UK/USA)

With the pandemic closing cinemas for most of 2020, and the rise of the streaming service already taking many films off the big screens and straight into our homes, it’s telling that perhaps the most vital and fascinating films of the year are an anthology of films made for TV. Steve McQueen’s remarkable and personal films depicting the experience of black British immigrants in the 1960s and 70s in a way update the celebrated The Wednesday Play and Play for Today series of those eras for the 21^st century – telling the ordinary but vital stories of everyday life, unafraid to tackle difficult topics or controversy, which often feel more at home on the small screen as a medium.
The five films cover abuses of law and power, failings in education, and violent racism but retain the richness of humour, character and culture which defines the experiences of many and imbues the films with a hope and optimism for the future, even if so many of the themes covered still feel so sadly relevant. It’s undeniably London-centric, and I personally would have loved if some of the films could have been stretched a little further, just to fill in some characters or explore stories further. But they’re an undeniably thrilling series of films, not least for the undercurrent importance and love for music which runs throughout, and which takes centre stage in standout film Lovers Rock, which surely redefines what musical cinema can be.

1. Portrait of a Lady on Fire (Céline Sciamma; France)

Do you ever watch something and it just feels like a classic to you? Something that just has that timelessness, almost a transcendence, that takes it beyond a time and place to a point where it feels like something for the ages. Yeah this is all probably a bit hyperbolic but watching Portrait of a Lady on Fire inspired those feelings in me of watching a film where you can just feel that every aspect of the film is masterfully and artfully done.
It depicts Marianne (Noémie Merlant), an artist who is commissioned to paint a portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) which will be sent to a nobleman she is due to be married off to. Héloïse has no interest in marriage, and has refused to sit for all previous artist, but we see how Marianne cautiously gains access to Héloïse’s innermost thoughts and experiences.
A still all-too-rare glimpse of the female gaze in major cinema, Portrait is impeccably shot with an expressive eye – the genius of director Céline Sciamma’s novelistic storytelling in her focus on the minor glimpses, shifts and details that convey the story better than any dialogue can. Plus each shot is so beautifully composed and lensed as to be a painting in its own right.
It’s a patient film, casually embracing and subverting familiar tropes of the romantic period drama to make something quietly radical but still compellingly warm and entertaining, building to a heartbreaking yet inspiring and overwhelming finale.

 

2019 in Review – My Top 20 Films

So through a combination of busyness and laziness, it’s finally in February that I get round to publishing my list of my favourite films from last year. Added to that laziness and delay is the sad fact I only got round to writing my little thoughts for half the films, so do please excuse the gaps at the top of the list here.

As always, I’ve loved getting to see a breadth of films from all over the world, many of which emerged unexpectedly and totally caught me by surprise. Also given the fact that I watched many of these on streaming services (Netflix and MUBI) can’t help but reflect the way industry is changing and the way we get to view films is changing with it. It’s not all bad, as these services gave me the chance to watch some obscure foreign films that barely got released even in London.

There are trailers linked to all the films below if you want to check any out!

20. Leto (Kirill Serebrennikov; Russia)

 

 

 

 

 

19. Us (Jordan Peele; USA)

 

 

 

 

 

18. Midsommar (Ari Aster; USA/Sweden/Hungary)

 

 

 

 

 

17. The Favourite (Yorgos Lanthimos; UK/Ireland/USA)

 

 

 

 

 

 

16. Atlantics (Mati Diop; Senegal/France/Belgium)

 

 

 

 

 

15. Burning (Lee Chang-dong; South Korea)

 

 

 

 

 

14. In Fabric (Peter Strickland; UK)

 

 

 

 

 

13. Toy Story 4 (Josh Cooley; USA)

 

 

 

 

 

 

12. Ad Astra (James Gray; USA)

 

 

 

 

 

11. Marriage Story (Noah Baumbach; USA/UK)

 

 

 

 

 

 

10. The Farewell (Lulu Wang; USA)

Whilst I loved getting to see a depiction of ordinary suburban Chinese life and customs which have hardly been seen on cinema screens in the UK before, it’s the way that The Farewell depicts a very specific family crisis yet imbues it with an authenticity and humour that makes it feel universal. It might be a bit hyperbolic to say anyone who has spent time with their extended families will find much to appreciate and relate to here, but it’s true – characters are multi-faceted and contradictory, much tension is unspoken, many situations are awkward. But at heart it’s about a family that loves each other coming together for what could potentially be their last visit to their ageing matriarch. Charming, funny, and just a little emotionally devastating, Lulu Wang has a gift for turning seemingly ordinary dialogue into both realistically ridiculous, and subtly complex.

9. Hustlers (Lorene Scafaria; USA)

So much about this film could have gone wrong. Based upon a New York magazine article about a group of strippers drugging and stealing from the wealthy men who visit their club, it could have fallen into spurious territory or easily have been tastelessly tone deaf. It’s a credit to writer-director Lorene Scafaria that this headline grabbing set-up becomes a hugely entertaining but thoughtful film about female friendship, toxic masculinity, attitudes towards sex work and conflicting attitudes it creates for those who work in it and those who exploit it, and the continuing struggles of being a woman in what is still a staunchly patriarchal America. Excellent performances all round also help avoid turning characters into stereotypes, and the central friendship between Destiny (Constance Wu) and Ramona (Jennifer Lopez) was one of the most compelling character story arcs I saw all year.

8. Pain and Glory (Pedro Almodóvar; Spain)

Pedro Almodóvar’s best film since The Skin I Live In from 2011. This may be one of his quieter and more low-key films, but it displays one of the most distinct and authorial filmmakers working today at the height of his creative powers. Grounded by a sensitive central performance by Antonio Banderas, Pain and Glory is an incredibly skilfully told story of film director confronting his later years in life, his creative block and long term illnesses by taking the time to look back over the successes and failures of his past, and the relationships that have defined who he is as a son, an artist, a gay man, a partner. The autobiographical aspects can’t be ignored, but it’s Almodóvar’s genius in blending the features of himself and his previous work that viewers will recognise, with a deeply insightful fictional character study that feels imbued with vitality, humour and sorrow. The best way to describe this film is ‘rich’ – it has a bit of everything really: moving, funny, entertaining, and often profound.

7. The Irishman (Martin Scorsese; USA)

The ultimate Martin Scorsese greatest hits film. The epitome of so much that defined his oeuvre and made his name. That all these aspects of his previous work can come together and make something so epic, so masterfully told and constructed, and so surprisingly funny that it makes the longest film I’ve ever seen at a cinema just breeze by. Minor quibbles with the otherwise pretty astonishing de-ageing technology aside, it’s the strength of the film’s drive and directorial control that you come to forgive and even love its major indulgences. In the end, it finds Scorsese and screenwriter Steven Zaillian in a reflective mood, mirroring the thrills and successes of gangster Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) with the blistering energy of Scorsese’s back catalogue, yet patiently asks what it all comes to in the end and what satisfaction and meaning a life dedicated to crime actually brings. And in the end, it’s always a pleasure to see Joe Pesci onscreen again in a measured and charismatic turn, and Al Pacino getting the biggest laughs chewing every corner of every scene he’s in. I’m so glad I got to see this on the big screen.

6. Monos (Alejandro Landes; Colombia/USA)

I love films like Monos. Films that really push the boundaries of what cinema can be in terms of storytelling and experiences, it’s brimming with innovation and a sharp artistic eye, it feels like cinema in its purest form. Almost like a Yorgos Lanthimos film with its otherworldly outsider’s view of a disturbing yet quirky world, Monos is a Colombian film depicting a band of child soldiers atop a mountain. Infrequently visited by a tiny but muscular overseer and tasked with guarding an American hostage, the teens are otherwise left to fend for themselves, combatting both boredom, raging hormones, tribal allegiances and power play, and the distant threat of warfare and violence. The film makes no attempt to explain the context of the situation – we never know the causes of the war or who is fighting, instead focusing solely on the impact these abuses of power have on those stuck on the lowest rungs of society. It’s blisteringly creative and strikingly shot in locations that have never been filmed before, the film is incredible to look at. Strange and challenging, the film is part Lord of the Flies mixed with the psychedelic madness of war a la Apocalypse Now.

5. Beats (Brian Welsh; UK)

I’m sure it won’t surprise any of you that this film, an ode to raves and dance music, would appeal to me so directly.  Steeped in a nostalgia for a period when I was barely 1 year old, filmed in stylised black and white, and with a killer soundtrack to boot, Beats was one of the most exhilarating films I’d seen in a long time. Scotland, 1994. Two mates from very different backgrounds, Johnno (Christian Ortega) and Spanner (Lorn Macdonald) attempt to discover a fabled illegal rave as foretold on the pirate radio. Featuring the most awe-inspiring and thrilling depiction of club culture I’ve seen on screen, Beats is a thoroughly entertaining love letter to a time and place when youth culture rallied against the world in a new way and a new breed of music found its prime audience. At its heart in a way is a love story between two friends, both aware that adulthood beckons and life as they know it won’t be the same again.

4. Knives Out (Rian Johnson; USA)

The most deliriously enjoyable film I saw all year. And judging by the response in the packed screening I saw it in, one the most crowd-pleasing too. A loving pastiche which knows exactly what sort of film it is and doesn’t take itself seriously in the slightest, Knives Out roots itself within the foundations of the classic Agatha Christie whodunit mystery but takes great pleasure in occasionally upturning the conventions of the genre to pull the rug from under the audience. Silly enough to be surprisingly one of the funnier films I saw this year, and not shirking away from deliberately convoluted plotting, at heart the film realises its wire balancing act between surprising the audience but sticking close enough to the familiar tropes to be overwhelming pleasing to watch.

3. Minding the Gap (Bing Liu; USA)

Nominated for Best Documentary at last year’s Oscars, Minding the Gap at first seems almost a home movie of friends skateboarding. Filmed over several years in the struggling town of Rockford, Illinois, director Bing Liu’s astonishing eye for detail instead turns this into a remarkable portrait of what it means to grow up, when whole lifetimes feel lost because opportunities are scarce, and questions what it means to be a man in a time when notions of masculinity are shifting. Searingly intimate, the very different paths these young men take is presented almost painfully honestly through Liu’s camera: how can life have meaning when it feels like the whole world is against you because of your race, your economic background, your family history. Skateboarding is a release for these guys, but it can only take them so far in life. It’s the background for Minding the Gap as we see them work through hardship and trauma, and offers a film of epic scope and incredible depth, far more so than most fictional dramas can ever hope to depict. I found this very moving.

2. If Beale Street Could Talk (Barry Jenkins; USA)

Following up the era- defining Moonlight would be no easy task. But ambition is one thing writer-director Barry Jenkins certainly doesn’t lack, choosing to adapt James Baldwin’s love story, a portrait of African American communities and families banding together in times of oppression. Lush, sweeping and feeling perhaps even more personal to me as Moonlight did, Beale Street feels … with a vitality which embraces you through the screen. Depicting a young black couple torn apart when Fonny (Stephan James) is falsely accused of rape by a racist cop, the film marries this heartbreaking story of the past with a modern eye, offering a critical but actually optimistic and poetic study of America. At its heart it’s an expressionistic love story, Jenkins again proving himself to be one of the most accomplished visual storytellers working today.

1. For Sama (Waad Al-Kateab, Edward Watts; UK/USA/Syria)

In a year of strong documentaries, For Sama does what factual content can do best – it teaches you about a situation which can be impossible to imagine, offers a deeply personal take on the world which is informative and moving, and it is powerful in a way which could instigate change and discussion. Filmed over several years during the Siege of Aleppo of the Syrian Civil War, our guide is filmmaker and journalist Waad Al-Kateab who documents the ongoing attacks on the city she has called home during her studies. She begins a relationship with a doctor running one of the few hospitals left in the city. After falling pregnant, the couple decide the stay to assist the resistance and help survivors, and she gives birth to Sama, to whom the film is dedicated.

Putting human faces on footage that’s often easy to detach from when seen as news footage, For Sama is tough and hearbreaking. The camera never turns away as mass casualties are brought in to the hospital, and families torn apart, children made orphans. Less a political comment on the context surrounding the war, and more simply a document of how humans survive under extreme stress in the middle of a warzone, it’s often a gruelling and upsetting watch. Not least seeing the children growing up there, playing in the wreckage of burnt out buses and hardly flinching when rockets strike nearby. But it’s a film built on hope – in trying to understand why they stay behind in a warzone, we see the innate importance that comes from caring for one another and the inherent goodness that can be found in relationships of all kinds, most especially in times of crisis. It’s agonising to think that this ever happened and that thousands lived, and thousands more continue to live through this every day. But films like this are important; important to preserve as records in the hope that tragedies like this might one day be a thing of the past. The film is available to screen for free on the Channel 4 website.

2018 in Review – My Top 20 Films

So here we are again, another year done. I’m late with this blog post yet again. Frankly I did a terrible job keeping up with this blog at all last year (I blame laziness, business and general bad moodiness). But I was still going to the cinema, and it’s been a remarkable year all round – big screen favourites returned, blockbusters reached new levels of scale and excitement, American cinema embraced politics to an even greater degree.

As usual, there were heaps of great looking films I missed and hope to catch up with soon, so consider this list true as of 15th January 2019! Strangely, I’ve found a pattern has developed where every year is either filled with films which I grew to love on a deeply person level (2015, 2017) or films which I generally admired on a critical level (2016, 2018). I’m hoping this trend continues with 2019 being a standout year – there isn’t a great deal here I would consider amongst my recent personal favourites, despite how much I respect and appreciate them. All films featured had UK release dates in 2018.

20. Mission: Impossible – Fallout (Christopher McQuarrie; USA)

Having had pretty much no interest in the Mission Impossible films earlier, going to see 2015’s Rogue Nation had been a very welcome surprise. And thankfully, writer/director Christopher McQuarrie returns, keeping up the same frantic pacing, preposterous plotting and immense stakes as before. The stuntwork, camerawork and editing in this are all insanely sharp, with the film pushing itself to new heights, and each setpiece somehow expanding on the other to make some of the most audacious action scenes of all time. Perhaps the lack of surprise this time meant that personally I still preferred Rogue Nation, but no action film came close to this in terms of sheer ambition and achievement.

19. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (Bob Perischetti, Peter Ramsey, Rodney Rothman; USA)

If any film was a welcome surprise this year, it’s surely this ridiculously titled animation, proving that you can never have too many Spidermen. With the trailer giving the impression of it being an overblown slapstick for kids, it was the overwhelming positive response to it that convinced me to give it a go. And what a treat it was. The rendering of the animation style, mixing 2D and 3D, and blending … is a marvel (geddit…) and frenetic postmodern humour that has become a trademark of producers Lord and Miller prove a welcome antidote to the usual origin story re-treads. It can’t entirely escape the clichés of the standard superhero plotting which means some scenes feel a little dull despite the kineticism of it all. But the film’s real strength is of the understanding of Spider-Man as a fully fleshed character, with each of the different universe versions enhancing the storytelling.

18. A Fantastic Woman (Sebastián Leilo; Chile/Germany/Spain/USA)

The deserving winner of the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, A Fantastic Woman follows Marina (Daniela Vega), a transgender woman in a relationship with an older man (Francisco Reyes) who dies suddenly, leaving Marina alone and treated with suspicion by her boyfriend’s family. It

could have been a bleak and upsetting tragedy, but the film is far more subtle and intelligent than that. It’s a film about the grieving process, and the ways we cope with profound loss. But tied to this is a story of trans rights, of quiet dignity in overcoming ignorance and adversity, and embracing one’s self-worth as the key to longevity and happiness. Moments of magical realism push the film into something far more subjective and fascinating, but it’s Vega’s raw and layered performance that really makes the film stand out. She lays her emotions so bare in this, being at once tough but vulnerable.

17. BlacKkKlansman (Spike Lee; USA)

I’ve been slowly catching up with Spike Lee’s earlier films from the 80s and 90s, and with the reputation he has in some parts these days and with the reception to some of his most recent films, I’ve been surprised how playful, how daring and how radical some of those films are. A lot of those qualities feature in this film – a fascinating thriller which derives much of its power in relating this seemingly unusual true story from the past to the state of race relations and politics in modern America. Tense and funny in equal measure, with many standout scenes edited with cross-cutting to marvellous effect, and a devastating ending that brings everything back to the present. Though heavy handed in its politics, it’s a film which hopes to inspire change.

16. Black Panther (Ryan Coogler; USA)

As someone who has fallen a little behind with the Marvel franchise, I have to say Black Panther was a pleasure to watch. Sure, it ends in the usual CGI splurge at which point I tend to zone out. But having gotten genuinely bored with the more recent Marvel films, which are so overstuffed with characters and overplotting, it was surprisingly enjoyable to a brand new, beautifully designed and realised world in Wakanda. Added to that a story less about world domination and invading aliens, and more a tragic family drama about responsibility, honour, expectations and the sins of the parents. Throw in plenty of charismatic performances and some finely crafted setpieces and you’ve got a fine blockbuster and one of Marvel’s best films.

15. Loveless (Andrey Zvyagintsev; Russia/France/Belgium/Germany)

The latest from serial miserablist Andrey Zvyagintsev is a bleak modern tragedy about neglect and the consequences of a young boy running away from home as his parents go through a bitter divorce. Set amidst the sparsest of wintry Russian backdrops, we follow the efforts of the relatively unengaged police, a dedicated team of volunteer searchers, and the parents themselves as they slowly struggle to articulate how their own self-absorption and selfishness led to this – indeed, about as much as they learn about themselves in this is the depth of their hatred for each other, and the void of empathy within themselves. The strength of the film is how it avoids heavy-handedness, and swerves from obviously linking this story to the wider issues of an uncaring state.

14. 120 Beats Per Minute (Robin Campillo; France)

Drawing from director Robin Campillo’s own experiences, the film is a vast portrait of Paris in the early 1990s and the group ACT UP, a campaign group battling for better recognition and care for those afflicted with HIV/AIDS. A blend of the personal and political, large portions of the film are given to long meetings and debates within the group, as they discuss tactics for getting their message across to the government and its ineffective policies. Amongst this, we get the deeply personal story of Nathan (Arnaud Valois) and his new relationship with HIV-positive Sean (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart) as the illness begins to take hold. Never shying away from the graphic details of the disease, but never letting it overshadow the human story, it’s a humane and life-affirming film about love and support in times of crisis.

13. Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig; USA)

Breathing new life into what one could safely assume is already a well-tread and saturated genre, Greta Gerwig’s wonderful teen drama follows the self-titled “Lady Bird” (Saoirse Ronan) as she navigates the final year of school, having boyfriends, struggling to fulfil her dream of getting into a New York college, and coming to terms with her mother (Laurie Metcalf). What makes this film really stand out is the vitality of the writing and the authenticity of the performances that makes this such an endearing and relatable experience no matter your background. Finding focus in its simplicity and warmth, probably the greatest asset of the film is the central relationships Lady Bird has with her parents, particularly the tempestuous but loving relationship with her mother. Plus it’s just a sweet-natured and appealing film, with a real sense of care given to recreating the 2002 setting through fashion, dialogue, context and music.

12. American Animals (Bart Layton; UK/USA)

I have to say I was won over by the ambition and imagination of this fascinating and thrilling film, which blends documentary interviews with dramatized recreations. While this experiment is not entirely successful formally, I still found it an immensely compelling and gripping film – it’s obvious this film is told by an effective documentarian. Depicting a true story in which a gang of middle class college students attempt to cure their general malaise and lack of ambition by stealing and selling rare books from their university library, the film is a playful study on the native of memory and perspective, visually altering the story as the real life participants’ recollections differ. It’s also a searing critique of the selfishness of these men, and it’s fascinating to see them look back on their exploits of older and (hopefully) wiser men.

11. You Were Never Really Here (Lynne Ramsay; UK/USA/France)

It’s good to have Lynne Ramsay back after so long. One of cinema’s most inventive visual storytellers, her take on the pulpy crime thriller is beguiling and brutal. We follow war veteran Joe (played by a hulking mass of Joaquin Phoenix) who gets paid to break a teenage girl out of a brothel where she is being held. It’s a fantastically sparse film – short of length but also refreshingly light on dialogue. Everything is stripped back, using only visual cues to expose Joe’s paranoia, the viciousness of the violence and the corruption at play in the sidelines. The score gives it an offbeat, almost animalistic frenzy which builds an unusual contract to the stillness of the framing. This stillness means this is a film that keeps you at a critical distance – this isn’t a thriller that revels in the satisfaction of revenge, but exposes the harshness of its reality.

10. Lean On Pete (Andrew Haigh; UK)

On the surface, this seems to be a sparse, workmanlike depiction of poverty and hard times in Middle America. But Lean On Pete is far more poetic and thoughtful than that. We follow fifteen year old Charley (Charlie Plummer), moving to yet another new town with his single parent dad (Travis Fimmel), a well-meaning but irresponsible man who struggles to hold down jobs. At a loose end, Charley gets himself work at a local stable and becomes attached to the titular horse Pete. When Lean On Pete’s future is thrown into doubt by his trainer (Steve Buscemi), Charley attempts to free the horse to safety, embarking on an odyssey across the American desert. Depicting an America rarely shown onscreen, the film is a quiet but unsentimental story, depicting trauma and struggle but never tipping over into mawkishness or outright misery porn. Writer/director Andrew Haigh’s balance of tone is just right – you desperately wish to reach out and help Charley, but we can only watch as this fragile-looking young man grows and survives. Beautifully shot with an almost fairy tale-like sense of the uncanny sublime, and Plummer’s performance is remarkable, conveying so much through his expressions alone.

9. Hereditary (Ari Aster; USA)

One of the most talked about and debated films of 2018, all the more remarkable considering it is a feature debut by director Ari Aster. Depicting the breakdown of a family following the death and possible haunting of the domineering grandmother, Hereditary truly succeeds in building an atmosphere of dread and almost sickening tension, and delights in pulling the rug from under viewers. It’s quite a brutal film, one which seems to relish dwelling on the suffering of its characters. The production design and cinematography crafts a remarkably rich world and the performances are excellent. I preferred it as an extreme family drama, as the sheer weight of ambition and the shift to more generic horror/supernatural focus at points felt clumsy (and provoked some guffaws at the screening I saw it in).

8. Shoplifters (Hirokazu Kore-eda; Japan)

Winner of the Palme d’Or at the 2018 Cannes Film Festival and the latest by director Hirokazu Kore-eda, one of the greatest humanist filmmakers working today. A story of the families that we make, and the lives of those who live on the margins of society, Shoplifters depict a family who get by on odd jobs, petty theft and the pension of an elderly matriarch. One day they take in a little girl who is left alone outside her home, and she becomes a part of the makeshift family. Thoough what could on the one hand be a kidnapping thriller is instead a delicate and empathetic portrait of lost souls, gratefully free from judgement and sentimentality. The sheer charm of the oddballs, and the total immersion in their lives and culture make this relatively plot-free film wonderfully engrossing. No one person is all good or all bad – instead Kore-eda shows the complexity of how one can at once be a good person and break the laws as set by wider society.

7. Sorry to Bother You (Boots Riley; USA)

Another breathtaking film by a debut director. It’s remarkable to think a film like this was released by a major studio – something so radical, surreal, and angry. It depicts an alternate near-future in which poorer people are increasingly having to live in WorryFree centres, where members sign lifetime contracts to get a bed and menial labour in prison-style buildings. Our protagonist Cash (Lakeith Stanfield) gets a call centre job, but after discovering he can use his ‘white voice’, begins a rapid ascent to the highest reaches of the sales world, and to increasingly murky and sinister territory. The sheer ambition of this film is dizzying – at once a searing critique of capitalism and the current state of race relations in the US, but also a call to arms to us the audience that people power can cause change. Sadly still a rare major film to come from an African American perspective, it’s also a wonderfully funny, downright silly comedy that fills the screen with too many jokes to even keep up with on just one viewing, and Michel Gondry-esque quirky visual design.

6. Faces Places (Agnès Varda, JR; France)

One part road trip documentary, another part love letter to cinema, visual arts and, most importantly, to the spirit and people of the small rural towns and villages which rarely are seen or considering in the wider culture. Living legend Agnes Varda team up with photographer JR to travel round rural France with his magical van which prints gigantic photographs of the people they meet on their travels, and together they create wonderful and imaginative displays of these photos around these towns. The film is charming as hell, led primarily between the chemistry of our two guides, an ultimate odd couple of sorts. It’s also a touching tribute to the power of art to bring people together, spark debates, pay tribute to our heroes and celebrate the wonderful everyday. Its unassuming simplicity is a welcome antidote to more generic mainstream films that occupy the multiplexes.

5. The Miseducation of Cameron Post (Desiree Akhavan; USA/UK)

I’m a big fan of writer/director Desiree Akhavan, one of the most distinct voices of modern cinema. But her best work yet is one where she stays behind the camera, to focus on teenager Cameron (Chloe Grace Moretz) who is sent to a conversion therapy camp after she is caught having sex with another girl. The real success of this film is that something so modest, so quiet and subtle can have such power to it. The film is movingly sympathetic, exploring the vulnerability we all can feel when coming to terms with ourselves, particularly if you are made to feel you don’t fit the norm. It deftly handles the damaging effects such therapy can have, and wisely shows that not all the counsellors who peddle these practices are just paper-thin textbook villains, but flawed humans making up for a lack within themselves. The performances are uniformly excellent, particularly Moretz who sensitively handles the depth of emotions Cameron is experiencing often with just the smallest of looks or gestures.

4. Annihilation (Alex Garland; UK/USA)

It’s a real shame that I didn’t get to see this on the big screen – I’ve been making a real effort to Netflix releases in cinemas but this one passed me by. Alex Garland’s remarkable follow-up to Ex Machina is a deep and disturbing return to serious science fiction – burrowing deep into the farthest reaches of concepts most modern sci-fi films wouldn’t even dare touch. It’s a film both visceral and cerebral. A scientific expedition explores a quarantined zone called The Shimmer, where an asteroid crash is causing the landscape to mutate, and where all previous expeditions have vanished without trace. On the one hand it’s an intense, sometimes horrifying thriller, with gorgeous production design and effects making this alien world feel true – like Tarvoksky’s Stalker to the extreme. It’s also a haunting meditation on grief and loss, and our propensity towards self-destruction. I found it a film that infected my consciousness, lingering long after it had ended.

3. Widows (Steve McQueen; UK/USA)

Well this is not something I expected director Steve McQueen to make next: a crime thriller, indeed a remake of a 1980s ITV miniseries which I was not familiar with. But what an almighty cinematic achievement this is – retaining the distant and critical eye of McQueen’s previous work to offer an unwavering study of a time and place, yet imbuing it with the thrills and pleasures of a meaty heist film. The performances are excellent across the board, and the fantastic decision of setting the script in Chicago allows the heist to be given a context and heft most other films wouldn’t even consider – the bias, corruption and nepotism of local politics, racial imbalance and segregation, the chasm between classes. Everybody has something to lose – it’s a film about desperate times for desperate people. The stakes feel real and the peril is all the more genuine for it.

2. Roma (Alfonso Cuarón; Mexico/USA)

The weight of expectation going into Roma following the overwhelming critical praise it has received meant I didn’t think it could possibly be as good as nearly everyone says it is. But, well, it nearly is. Remarkable in many ways, thoughtfully crafted, compelling in such a way to turn the personal and intimate into something far more epic – it’s imbued with a vitality that not many films I’ve seen in a long while possess.

I was lucky enough to get to see this in a cinema (Netflix funded and released the film) and truly get to appreciate the care that went into crafting the shots, and the detail that went into the sound design. I can’t think of a recent drama where the surround sound is given such prominence. Cuaron’s ambition with this film is to truly immerse you in the world of 1970s Mexico City – a neorealist visions of the houses and streets, the sounds of military marching bands and student riots outside. At once a landscape painting of the city, as well as a portrait of an upper-middle class family (drawn from Cuaron’s own childhood) it is undeniably idealised, often to the detriment of the supposed protagonist of the film, their maid Cleo (Yalitza Aparicio). Cleo is seen going about her daily chores with a quiet dignity which to an extent robs her of much interiority – we see little of her wants, hopes, desires. But Aparicio’s nuanced performance endears her as our guide to this very particular context, and it is great to see a native Mexican domestic worker as the main focus of any film. I’m sure a second viewing will clarify my feelings for this film. But this doesn’t take away from what is a poetic study of the beauties of the everyday – the hope, heartbreak and relationships that I found quite moving.

1. Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson; USA)

There are some films that come along every so often where all the choices that went into making it are just right, and where the levels of skill, thought and craft are beyond any expectations that it pushes a film into the realm of the truly sublime. Going into Phantom Thread, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect – probably a Classical throwback chamber piece about an outsider in high society London in the 1950s.

What I got was an unexpectedly sharp and twisted, wickedly funny and downright strange picture, but one which in the end can still be called an achingly romantic drama. We follow Daniel Day Lewis’s estemmed dressmaker Reynolds Woodcock, whose pernickety and precise routine-driven life he shares with his sister Cyril (Lesley Manville), is thrown off balance with the discovery of a new muse and lover, waitress Alma (Vicky Krieps). At its heart this is a film about the obsessive artist and his process, and how he gains inspiration from his new muse. But Alma (one of the most remarkable characters I think I’ve seen in any film all year) expects more from Reynolds, and she is strong-willed enough to fight for it. Drawing from the contorted plotting of gothic literature a la Rebecca, the couple engages in a power struggle of sorts to get what they want. This almost sadistic power play, tied with the couple’s obvious affection for each other, turns the film into something far more compelling, sexier and perhaps even kinkier than the likes of Fifty Shades of Grey has to offer.

Jonny Greenwood’s swoon-worthy score gives the picture a grandiose romanticism (I was disappointed when he lost out on the Oscar to the cloying sentimental score for The Shape of Water), the costumes by Mark Bridges are incredible (as they should be!), and the cinematography gives the film a painterly feel, imbuing it with an almost timeless sense of grace and beauty. And the three central performance are all iconic in my eyes.

2017 in Review – My Top 20 Films

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. 20^th 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.

My favourite songs of 2017 so far

I’ve been thinking back over the last few months and realised that when it comes to new music, it hasn’t been albums which have really stood out to me so much as individual tracks. I’ve mostly heard these whilst having BBC Radio 6Music on whilst at work, so I’d a lot of this list is dictated by their playlists. But I’m grateful that they were able to make me aware of these in the first place, and interested to see how the tracks that stand out most for me seem to show a shift in my tastes towards more electronic-based sounds.

Marika Hackman – Boyfriend

Marika Hackman’s shift from her previous sparse folk album to more guitar-driven indie balladry is bookended with this striking and provocative song which clearly owes a loving debt to late 90s post-grunge rock. Detailing what it’s like to be a woman and have a relationship with another woman which she feels nobody takes seriously, it has a compelling sense of her frustration and packs a surprising new crunched sound, but still retains her clear wit and sense of humour.

Spoon – Can I Sit Next to You?

They may not have the one standout, genre-defining album that someone like The Strokes may have achieved, but Texan garage rockers Spoon have been consistenly great over 9 albums, and have been working together for essentially 24 years now. New album Hot Thoughts hardly breaks new ground, but bar some more unusual tracks towards the end, I’m starting to think of it as one of their better albums and this track is my favourite. Fully embracing funk with the sexy guitar riff and the distinctive grain in Britt Daniel’s voice which I love, it’s an effortlessly cool track but one that’s rooted in a sense of restraint. It’s a song that slowly grows on you, but that gives it more staying power.

Gabriel Garzon-Montano – Crawl

Another one of those tracks that stands out on the first listen. Crawl is rooted in classic soul and funk, but takes a more minimal, focused but still breezy and playful approach. It comes from a finely crafted album, one which prioritises his vocals and some thoughtful instrumentation and harmonies which makes it an inviting listen.

Mr. Jukes – Grant Green (feat. Charles Bradley)

Bombay Bicycle Club frontman Jack Steadman is certainly making the most the band’s hiatus period, pursuing an unexpectedly new and welcome direction under the new moniker Mr Jukes. Producing a heavily collaborative album merging big band funk, electronic beats and indie pop, it’s breezy and playful and fast becoming one of my favourite albums this year. Probably the standout track is this collaboration with Charles Bradley, an infectiously joyous dance number that easily sounds like it could have come from the 1960s.

Joe Goddard – Home

One of the founding members of Hot Chip, Goddard’s first proper solo project is a delightful mish-mash of electronic styles, his own personal homage to all manner of dance music past which he loves. It all flows very nicely, all held together with his thoughtful production and some standout singles, Home chief among them. As well as showing off his musical knowledge by basing the track around a sample by 70s funk group Brainstorm, the track itself is both laid-back chillout mixed with dancefloor banger, that altogether I have come to find genuinely addictive over the last few months.

sir Was – In the Midst

Building on the foundation of a simple compelling bassline, this track by sir Was infuses an atmospheric blend of late night visions – jumbled voices on radios, the simple chattering drumbeat, and his near-RnB infused vocals on top which flow at his own pace. It’s a hypnotic track that quickly earwormed its way into my brain and happily made a home there, providing a bold and distinct counterpoint to a lot of what I’ve listened to this year.

Superorganism – It’s All Good

This is one of those moments when a song pops up on my Spotify and, only half-listening, bits of it start to jump out at me, and it ends with me thinking “What the hell was that?!”. And I listen to it all over again and get quickly hooked. I don’t really know anything about the group, but then frankly no one does right now. Supposedly made up of a teenage girl from Maine and 7 musicians from London, It’s All Good is a bold statement which pretty much lives up to its grand title. Nearly drowning under a collage of sound effects and vocal samples, the track is eccentric and hazy, taking a mellow build up to a seriously bombastic chorus. It’s super strange, and I love it.

Sylvan Esso – Kick Jump Twist

Kick Jump Twist could easily be like any old electro pop banger, but I feel like it’s a lot meatier than that, a lot more going for it. Definitely one of those songs best appreciated with a good pair of headphones, the bulky layers of disjointed blips and beats gives the track this sense of urgency. When I listen to it, I get the image of a teenage dancer from a small town desperately throwing themselves into frantic moves all alone, dreaming of an escape, something much bigger than what they know. Yeah, this track actually feels that evocative to me, and it’s one I’ve easily lost myself in many times over the last few months.

Soulwax – Missing Wires

Another one of those hooked from the first listen tracks, the big return of Soulwax certainly started with a bang. Combining the heaviest of drumlines (the album used three drum kits) with actually quite delicate synth layers, the track gradually reveals itself slowly, with an addictive pounding and unhurried pace which drew me in. The whole album was supposedly recorded live in a single take, which makes the slickness of this track all the more impressive.

Bonobo – Outlier

Okay so this isn’t officially a single, but on my first listen to Bonobo’s new album, this was the track that really stood out to me most. Infusing world music elements with his trademark low-key electronic layering, for me it evokes aural dreamscapes which I’ve happily unpacked layer by layer over many listens. This track ended up being a favourite during crushed commutes and long walks to work over what was a particularly difficult winter for me – a few minutes of lush warm escape. If I were to pick one of the official singles from the album though, I’d happily list Bambro Koyo Ganda among this collection.

Future Islands – Ran

After previous album Singles pushed the band into more mainstream territory, Future Islands don’t stray too far from their now trademark blend of 80s-era synths and precise, New Order-like basslines and drums. But they still retain their raw emotional edge, not least down to Sam Herring’s vocals, which always sound like he’s singing like his life depends on it. Growling with this deep urgency over a broken relationship, it feels almost romantic, but that panicked change of pace at the chorus stops this from being a totally fulfilled song – instead it stays rooted in this sense of feelings left unrequited.

Jane Weaver – Slow Motion

Until I heard some songs on the radio lately, I’d never heard of Jane Weaver. And then I found out that she’s had long career, starting in a Britpop-era band called Kill Laura, and later releasing eight solo albums. I feel like I need to play catch-up. I really enjoyed current album Modern Kosmology, especially this track of hypnotic delicate synths that feels like something from another era, something that might have been far more popular in the early 80s. It feels heartfelt and idiosyncratic and personal.

Slowdive – Star Roving

I’m not familiar with Slowdive’s earlier work from the 90s, when they were pretty much the stalwarts of shoegaze. So this song stood out for me with no prior sense of anticipation and association. It’s a dense rugged track, blending layers of scratchy guitar with breathy vocals that are almost drowned by the instrumentation. It’s not like anything else I’ve heard this year, and has this compelling drive which keeps drawing me back to it.

Pond – Sweep Me off My Feet

The Aussie band who have shared members with, and have been fairly overshadowed by Tame Impala, Pond have never really popped up on my radar much before. This, the first single from their seventh album, feels more like a standalone single, driven by the breezy rhythm, catchy melody and soaring chorus. Considering that this is actually a song about singer Nick Allbrook’s perceived feelings of sexual failure and lack of masculinity, this is a surprisingly bright and upbeat track, with sweeping synths and a neat little glockenspiel to give it that touch of charm.

Little Dragon – Sweet

One of those tracks where, from the first listen, I’m like “YES YES I love it!”. A very welcome return for Little Dragon, a band who I’ve only grown to appreciate more over the years. Somewhat pushing their brand of glitchy synth-pop to an uptempo extreme, this song is essentially a simple ode to the little pleasurable moments in life, and the moment that frenetic opening kicks in, I can’t help but get that little buzz of a sugar rush.

Ryan Adams – To Be Without You

Taken from Prisoner, Adams’s first original album since his rather odd cover album of Taylor Swift’s 1989, this for me was a standout track in what is essentially a break-up album. This song is drenched with a feeling of melancholy, positively aching with a sense of loss, and full of these poetic lyrics of this almost gaping lack in his own body. The thoughtful composition of this song stops it from feeling near unbearable, and it feels to me like one of the most potent songs I’ve ever heard about heartbreak.

Methyl Ethyl – Ubu

Joining the likes of Pond in the ranks of the Australian psychedelic rock band, but one altogether more uncanny and a little strange (I still genuinely think it’s a woman singing, even though I’ve long since been proven wrong). Ubu is by far the most approachable song off their album Everything is Forgotten, but behind the driving bass line is a song that is more disconcerting and almost a little desperate. Offering concern for a friend struggling through a breakdown, the chorus is catchy but the sheer repetition conveys this idea of unending struggle and impatience.

Whitney – You’ve Got a Woman

I finally got round to listening to Chicago indie rockers Whitney this year, including their debut album from 2016 which is fantastic. This single is a cover of a song by Lion, a Dutch band from the mid 70s (I definitely had to look that up). It suits them perfectly, including singer/drummer Julian Ehrlich’s lush falsetto, and they give it this retro summery twist which makes the song feel actually more fresh in this era of looking back and appreciating throwbacks to the past. Delighting in its sheer simplicity, this is a genuinely lovely track.

2016 in Review – 15 Films

So 2016 will forever be infamous as the year the world as we knew it ended. But beside that, as always it was had a noteworthy plethora of fine artistic riches in all fields, including the reason I’m here: in the cinema. Personally, I have to admit I didn’t truly connect beyond a purely aesthetic and thematic appreciation with that many films this year, especially when compared with 2015 which had a huge range of just downright wonderful films which really really spoke to me in all sorts of ways.

In effect, there was a lot this year which I appreciated more at arm’s length, and very little which I doubt had any lasting impact on me, which was a little strange. That’s not to say genuinely breathtaking, impressive pieces of work like Son of Saul, Tale of Tales or Green Room (which didn’t even make it on this list) were any less worthy than any of the films on this list, or on any previous best of list I’ve done, it’s just even most of this list ended up being films which didn’t truly resonate with me. It feels like I missed a hell of a lot of big films too, so maybe call this a work in progress, and I can update it when I’ve seen more. Either way, there was still a lot to really appreciate this year, including films on topics completely beyond my awareness and understanding. The lack of big films for women this year was a disappointment, but the variety of films from different countries still getting opportunities for release is heartening.

Ones I missed: American Honey; Sing Street; Creed; The Jungle Book; Hunt for the Wilderpeople; Kubo and the Two Strings; Zootopia/Zootropolis/Whateverthehellitwascalledhere; Swiss Army Man; Captain Fantastic; Hell or High Water; The Danish Girl; The Hateful Eight; Spotlight; Youth; A Bigger Splash; Triple 9; Hail, Caesar!; Goodnight Mommy; Victoria; Dheepan; Midnight Special; Eye in the Sky; Arabian Nights; Mustang; Notes on Blindness; The BFG; Jason Bourne; Finding Dory; Things to Come; War on Everyone; Doctor Strange; Train to Busan; The Edge of Seventeen; Chi-Raq; Sully; The Birth of a Nation

Extra Mentions: Everybody Wants Some!!; The Nice Guys; Paterson; Tale of Tales; Green Room; Son of Saul; Anomalisa

Extra Special Mention:

Heal the Living (Katell Quillévéré, France/Belgium)

I can’t officially include this on the list as it hasn’t had a UK release yet (and I’m not sure when it will, if ever) but I was lucky enough to catch a screening of it at the London Film Festival. A wonderfully humane look at the emotional fraught issue of organ transplants and donations, Katell Quillévéré’s deeply compassionate and wonderfully shot and acted film weaves together various small stories, presenting the beautiful little moments of the everyday, and truly earning emotional engagement without twisting your arm for it.

15. Julieta (Pedro Almodóvar, Spain)

One of Pedro Almodovar’s more understated efforts, perhaps almost seeming to the point of being a little restrained by his usual standards, but this works to its benefit in presenting the gradual unravelling of the mother-daughter relationship which has slowly disintegrated over time. Originally titled Silencio, it’s a quiet intimate film about the way so much drama and strife in life comes to being from what isn’t said, what is restrained and held back. The film itself seems unassuming, but the bursts of Almodovar’s usual brash style and colour, and the fine performances, offer hints to the richer elements which run through the film, open for us to discover for ourselves.

14. Embrace of the Serpent (Ciro Guerra, Colombia/Venezuela/Argentina)

I don’t think I saw anything more idiosyncratic or original this year. Shot in the starkest black and white, Ciro Guerra’s existential adventure up the Amazon follows two scientists who both travel with the same tribal shaman, 30 years apart, in search of a mysterious plant with supposed healing properties. Thematically, a searing study of the impact of colonialism and a startling counterpart to the typical narrative of the noble white adventurer, and textually, a fascinatingly crafted and edited story of a lost lives and cultures in the remotest of locations. The starkest black and white photography and nods to Apocalypse Now make this an enticing draw for film lovers, and it offers something quite rare in cinema: something genuinely unique.

13. The Neon Demon (Nicolas Winding Refn, France/Denmark/USA)

Call this a guilty pleasure if you will, but I have to say I really enjoyed Nicolas Winding Refn’s latest. By taking a gleefully outlandish, almost camp, look at the LA fashion industry, mixed with some giallo-style horror, Refn has found a perfect scenario for the often-stilted dialogue and metallic performances, and a fine frame for his beautiful obsession with extreme colour and bold forms. The Neon Demon is quite content to pulse at its own rhythm and it’s one you either go along with, or you don’t. I found it far more engaging than his previous, Only God Forgives, if only for the fact neither the film, nor I, felt we had to take it all too seriously.

12. Moana (Ron Clements/John Musker, USA)

I missed out on a proper chance to see some of the big animations of the year, namely Finding Dory, Zootropolis and Kubo and the Two Strings, but I did get to see this absolutely sumptuous musical. Depicting the adventure of the daughter of a Polynesian chief desperate to escape her island and explore the world beyond the seas, the film finds Disney walking the thin tightrope between pushing their story and characters into more diverse, self-aware territory, whilst not straying too far from the tried-and-tested chosen one formula. Moana herself is a bold, headstrong and engaging protagonist, and whilst the story itself doesn’t exactly break any new ground, the lush songs and eye-achingly beautiful animation more than make up for this.

11. Your Name (Makoto Shinkai, Japan)

The dizzying success of Makoto Shinkai’s anime could in some ways at this point almost overshadow the qualities of the film itself. But your name holds up remarkably well, depicting the story of a teen boy in Tokyo and a girl living in a rural town who begin to wake up in each other’s bodies at random times. The opening scenes of teen body-swapping comedy are disarmingly charming, and show Shinkai has a real eye for authentic detail. The sudden shift to epic time travelling fantasy in the second half is a little jarring, but it gives the film real emotional resonance and a genuine sense of peril which leads you down all sort of unexpected routes. It perhaps doesn’t have the sheer mastery of the complex material as say a Satoshi Kon film has, but Your Name is undeniably a bold calling card for the director.

10. Nocturnal Animals (Tom Ford, USA)

Tom Ford’s sophomore effort certainly provoked its fair share of debate. Not only questions of style over substance (something unavoidable in a film from a renowned fashion designer and stylist) but disagreements regarding the depiction of misogynist violence and female autonomy. I feel I have to disagree with a lot of the criticisms of this film: it seemed to me that the style of Amy Adam’s side of the film served to emphasise the hollowness of her life, and proved a nice counterpoint to the story-within-the-story Texas setting. The surprisingly distressing and intense scenes of violence are less an embrace of sexist attitudes, but a depiction of rage felt by one character against a woman he feels let him down. I respected that this was a grown-up, challenging film which trusted the audience to keep up with the multiple plotlines, and which trusted in the strength of the incredible cinematography and production design to present such a rich story. It errs a little too closely to exploitation-level tastelessness at times, in a way which doesn’t always sit comfortably with the film’s lofty ambitions, but as an exercise in both narrative experimentation and thematic richness, I was really impressed with Nocturnal Animals.

9. I, Daniel Blake (Ken Loach, UK/France/Belgium)

The winner of the Palme d’Or, Ken Loach’s latest magnum opus is an unassuming but quietly angry film; powerful and emotive but not without a warm, almost charming and distinctly human centre. Depicting the Kafkaesque (a word used in probably every review I read of this film, but one that is deftly applicable) struggles of a middle aged joiner, who following a heart attack, is deemed too sick to work by doctors, but judged well enough to work by the assessment for unemployment benefits. Grimly authentic in its portrayal of lower class struggles, with so many living in run-down accommodation and working bare bones jobs, the film is a little more heavy-handed in its depiction of the ruthlessness of the job centre and unemployment. But stories are drawn from real research, and perhaps in propaganda-style, it needed this heavier dichotomy to really convey the message at the heart of this film: the welfare system is broken, and human lives are at stake because of it.

8. Love and Friendship (Whit Stillman, Ireland/France/Netherlands)

Possibly one the most pleasantly enjoyable and delightful films I saw, Love and Friendship is an adaptation of an early Jane Austen novella Lady Susan. The genius of this film is to strip away the romanticism which comes so readily packaged with most Austen adaptations, leaving a deliciously arch film about upper class social scheming but untinged by any sort of cynicism. Kate Beckinsale (who you forget how good she can be when she’s not doing endless Underworld sequels) clearly relishes the juicy role of the conniving yet charming Lady Susan, working to worm her way within an influential landowning family to bag a rich husband for herself and her daughter. I’ve not seen any Whit Stillman films before, but he has a reputation for wordy witty examinations of social etiquettes and he has found a fine outlet for his style here.

7. Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (Gareth Edwards, USA)

I’ve made an effort to avoid seeing trailers this year, and so went in to this having seen only a few snippets of footage and read a few generally glowing reviews. And I’ve got to say I generally agreed with them. The most complete and satisfying blockbuster this year by far, a film made by fans for fans. The obvious efforts that have gone into recreating the richness of the New Hope era universe pays dividends, making a genuinely immersive experience. The characters lack the iconic feel of the original heroes and there is such a huge amount to introduce, both in worlds and new characters, that it does feel rushed. But in creating an intense, thrilling war movie which really engages with the best of the Star Wars universe, Rogue One is something very exciting indeed.

6. Little Men (Ira Sachs, USA)

This is the first Ira Sachs film I have seen and it has been long overdue. A seemingly simple New York tale of family conflict, gentrification and class divide told from the view of two pre-teen boys who become fast friends. This despite the fallout and disagreements between their parents once one family inherits an apartment building and have to raise the rent of the small garments shop the other family runs. Depicting the little difficulties of everyday life but from the viewpoint not yet tainted by cynicism and woe, Sach’s film is a quiet but softly devastating film about the unintentional boundaries that come between people, and the ways we work to try to bridge those gaps.

5. Bone Tomahawk (S. Craig Zahler, USA)

I still can’t believe how very very fond I am of this film. Well, maybe fond isn’t the right word for a rough-and-ready horror western film which revels in period details, quirky dialogue, cannibalism and some of the most bone-crunchingly nasty death scenes I think I can recall. But I was surprised how much I enjoyed this unusual blend of a movie. It being a debut effort for writer director S Craig Zahler, the flaws do show, namely a sense of overindulgence. But the vast commitment of the actors helps elevate the material which still easily conveys the sheer passion Zahler feels for this project. Kurt Russell does stellar work making his sheriff more than a grizzled old-timer, but it’s a near unrecognisable Richard Jenkins who helps give this film real heart and eccentric character.

4. Room (Lenny Abrahamson, Canada/Ireland/UK)

So much could have gone wrong with this film that it is perhaps a small miracle that Room came out as fully-formed, as heartfelt and humane, and as uplifting as it did. Tackling a fraught issue ripped straight from the tabloids, Brie Larsson excels as the woman kidnapped off the street and kept prisoner in a small room, forced to give birth to the captor’s baby. Her relationship with the remarkable Jacob Tremblay gives the film its true resonance, and director Lenny Abrahamson does fantastic work showing the naïve, overawed perspective of the little boy growing up in a restricted world, raised by a stoic mother doing the best she can. Their characters are remarkably textured, and give the film a real credible, heart-breaking power.

3. The Witch (Robert Eggers, USA/Canada)

One of the most well regarded horror films of recent years. I read how it didn’t win a lot of fans among horror aficionados who criticised its slow pacing and lack of scares. But the film’s strength lay in its complete evocation of 17^th Century New England, from the remarkable period detail and richness of the language, to make an experience truly draped in an atmosphere of dread and despair. A family is banished from their town for differences in religious practice, and build an isolated farm on the edge of a vast forest. Their faith and trust in one another is tested as a series of personal disasters befall their home. As much a test of will for the viewer as it is a study of religious belief pushed to its very limits, The Witch is a supremely intelligent film, handsomely shot in natural light, that truly understands the power of suggestion to really help the audience immerse themselves.

 

2. Arrival (Denis Villeneuve, USA)

Probably the most striking and remarkable film I saw last year, and one I can’t wait to visit again from new perspectives. Arrival boldly meets the aims of the best sci-fi, which is to explore the human condition through unusual and compelling concepts, whether considering how the future is moulded by the present, or visualising how explorers survive on other planets. The biggest achievement is that despite the bold set-up (aided by some truly striking visual effects, a stark breathy soundtrack, and some remarkably innovative production design), at heart this is not so much a film about communicating with aliens, but a film about communication between humans and the various forms that takes.

The importance of good communication is stressed throughout, whether between the scientists and military men working at one of the alien craft sites, or more pivotally, between the various nations all encountering extra-terrestrial visitors, who potentially hold the safety of planet Earth in their hands. Thinking about this now feels even more pertinent than my first viewing, considering we are now in the era of fake news, post-truth and alternative facts, and so much of the progress we have made as a civilisation so far could potentially be risked by breakdowns in open communication.

1. The Wailing (Na Hong-jin, South Korea)

I was lucky enough to catch a screening of this at the London Film Festival, and wasn’t sure whether to include it on this list. But it turns out this film had a tiny release at the end of November which I hadn’t even been aware of, and which sadly seemed to slip into obscurity. Which is a great shame! As a filmgoing experience, especially in a year where I generally found even many of the good films a bit staid and appreciable only at arm’s length, nothing came close to the sheer brazenness, audacity, scope and insanity of The Wailing. It’s not perfect; it’s overstuffed and only just gets away with wild leaps in tone before getting a bit lost in its own twists near the end. Yet for someone who loves cinema best as an experiential medium, someone who craves films which impact me viscerally, The Wailing certainly stands as one of the most remarkable films I’ve seen in a long while.

Depicting a spate of gruesome murders by villagers in a seeming trance-like state in a small town on the edge of a vast forest, the film finds director Korwan Na Hong-jin start in familiar territory as his debut The Chaser. But it quickly shifts to more disturbing supernatural realms. The police begin to question whether the town has been cursed by a mysterious Japanese visitor who lives in the forest. Brimming with more ideas and more innovation in single set-ups than many films can manage in a complete running time, the direction and editing are taut enough to make the wild shifts in tone and the more overblown moments both sickeningly believable and achingly tense. A remarkable scene depicting the simultaneous casting of death spells is deafeningly loud, frenetic and intense and one of the year’s best.

My Top 20 Films of 2015: Part 2

My 10 favourite films of 2015. And find films 20-11 here.

The ones I missed: Crimson Peak; Slow West; A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence; Eden; Steve Jobs; Jurassic World; Amy; The Look of Silence; 45 Years; John Wick; Taxi Tehran; Appropriate Behaviour; Pasolini; Love Is Strange; The Forbidden Room; Sunset Song; Brooklyn; The Good Dinosaur; Mistress America; While We’re Young; The Wonders; Love & Mercy; Far from the Madding Crowd; Trainwreck; Clouds of Sils Maria; Chappie; Spy; Ant Man; Straight Outta Compton; 99 Homes; The Martian; Bridge of Spies; Macbeth; Foxcatcher

10. Catch Me Daddy (Daniel Wolfe, UK)
I was so impressed with this rugged and fierce low-budget thriller, where so many elements are stripped back to make something so very urgent and shocking. It follows Laila (Sameena Jabeen Ahmed), a young woman who has run away from her Pakistani family to live a meagre existence with her boyfriend in his trailer. The family tracks her down and her brothers and several bounty hunters chase them through the night onto the Yorkshire dales, as the couple fights to escape.

The depiction of the Pakistani family could be said to border on an offensive stereotype, but at the heart of this film is a desperate survival thriller where the limitations of setting and plot work to create a claustrophobic verisimilitude, full of restrictions. It’s set over a single night, and the small scale helps infuse a sense of dread over every scene – you can’t possibly imagine how they can they could escape when everything seems weighted against them. The ending scene alone is brutal and terrifying. It’s beautifully filmed with some interesting stylistic choices that actually makes this an almost hypnotic experience.

9. The Tribe (Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy, Ukraine/Netherlands)
A teenager is sent to a Ukrainian boarding school for deaf children where he quickly falls into the vicious criminal gangs that run the dormitories and terrorise the younger children and local residents. What’s remarkable is the entire film is told in sign language without subtitles. As a formal experiment about the amazing ability of cinema’s visual language to tell stories and convey themes, this film is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The filmmaking is impeccable – there are long takes here that rival Birdman for sheer audacity and achievement, and I learnt a lot about how important sound design is to immerse you within diegetic worlds.

The Tribe is also a fascinating allegory for Ukraine’s displaced position within Europe, and a depiction of the harmful conditions caused by poverty. It’s an incredibly tough watch with scenes that rank amongst the most disturbing I’ve seen all year. I honestly don’t think I’d ever want to watch it again, but I’m glad I’ve seen it.

8. Ex Machina (Alex Garland, UK)
At a time when so many sci-fi films are massive mega-budget epics, it’s invigorating when an unashamed genre picture makes the decision to remain low-key. Essentially playing out as a chamber piece with four characters, Ex Machina is a fascinating allegorical story which plays with modern fears of rapid progress and technology, and feels like a classic even as you are watching it.

Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), a young computer programmer, wins a competition to meet elusive CEO Nathan (Oscar Isaac), who gives him the task of performing a Turing test on his newest creation, an AI robot called Ava (Alicia Vikander), to determine whether she could pass as human. It’s a wonderfully simple premise, which expands in ways I never expected. It plays out like a futuristic Gothic horror, with its isolated mansion full of secrets causing a descent into fevered paranoia, and characters who never appear as they seem, not least Ava as the Frankensteinian monster. There’s solid performances all round by a cast very much en vogue this year, not least a starmaking turn by Vikander, who graces Ava with a balletic otherworldliness.

7. The Diary of a Teenage Girl (Marielle Heller, USA)
A wonderfully refreshing and frank movie on what it is like to grow up, what it means to be a woman, and how sex can leave you giddy with emotion, Diary of a Teenage Girl had me grinning throughout both from sheer recognition and relatability, and because it’s a wonderfully written movie, very funny with an incredible fearless performance by Bel Powley as Minnie. Set in San Francisco in the mid-1970s, we follow Minnie as she first explores her sexual desires, beginning a secret affair with her mother’s boyfriend.

The most remarkable thing about this film is the balance of tone it achieves. No act or emotion is shied away from, but the film never falls into the pit of judgement or shaming. Minnie is entirely unashamed by her actions and it refreshing to see a film which takes risks with potentially controversial themes and produces something honest and universal. This is a noteworthy debut and Marielle Heller is a name worth remembering.

6. Inherent Vice (Paul Thomas Anderson, USA)
I’ve always struggled to read any Thomas Pynchon, as much as I’ve desperately wanted to engage with his work. Often brimming with dozens of characters, heaps of cultural references and quotations, and wild shifts in tone and voice, Pynchon’s work doesn’t seem adaptable for the screen. So I think it’s a huge achievement that Paul Thomas Anderson was able to translate Inherent Vice and create something so complete and so assured.

A beguiling mixture of film noir and stoner movie, Inherent Vice follows the multiple investigations of “Doc” Sportello (Joaquin Phoenix), an LA county private detective and dopehead. It’s a deliberately dense and mystifying experience, capturing the essence of a time in place in transition – the end of 60s-era hippieism and idealism and rise of corrupt politics and paranoia. Yet this never stops it from being a genuinely funny and farcical romp, and one of the most unexpectedly entertaining adventures of this year. The way all aspects from the production design to the mellow dialogue and Jonny Greenwood’s lush soundtrack completely immerse you in this world is awe-inspiring and left me feeling a little dazed (and a little blazed too). The convoluted plotting and sheer weight of material can be demanding and deserves multiple watches, but I’ll be a bit controversial here in saying I think the film makes perfect sense as challenging yet conventional detective story. Inherent Vice also has the honour of being the only film since university that I’ve gotten to see projected in 35mm, which gave it this gorgeous grain and texture which only improved the evocation of the 70s.

5. Mommy (Xavier Dolan, Canada)
The latest by the sickeningly talented Xavier Dolan (he was 24/25 when it was being made) is his most mature yet. It feels both epic and intimate, following the lives of those normally considered quite small and unimportant and raising them to a pedestal of high drama and high emotion.

We see widowed mother Di (Anne Dorval) struggle with the task of raising her troubled son Steve (Antoine Olivier Pilon), who has ADHD, is prone to violent outbursts and has just been released from an institution. With help from shy and repressed neighbour Kyla (Suzanne Clément), they work hard to get by. It’s a simple premise, but brimming with such heartfelt emotion and positive energy that makes this a tough but rewarding, moving and entertaining watch. It’s obvious Dolan deeply loves his characters and he throws every stylistic trick at this to make something which feels very special.

4. Inside Out (Pete Docter, USA)
Proof that Pixar works best when taking risks, Inside Out is the strongest film they’ve made in years and surely one of the most ambitious – a challenging study of the mind of an 11 year old girl which simultaneously appeals to both adults and children with a broad array of jokes, insights and titbits. There have been articles bemoaning the flaws with the depiction of emotions in Riley’s mind, but… come on, this isn’t a documentary. What we have is a vast concept attempting to depict how our minds work in a way that everybody can appreciate, all beautifully designed and performed.

The sheer weight of ideas and bases covered can get a little frenetic, but the way the story is able to tie the stresses of a family moving to a new city with the gradual breakdown of a young mind is pretty incredible. Kudos too for making a film which shows the necessary importance of sadness, and how we cannot experience the truest forms of happiness without it.

3. Carol (Todd Haynes, UK/USA)
Probably no other film this year has come with such a formidable wave of critical appreciation and as such a huge weight of expectation. Thankfully, Carol delivers on every front. What an extraordinarily transcendent film this is, where the slightest gestures and minutest details are magnified to create this enveloping and magnetic sensation of feeling almost drunk with adoration for someone.

It is named after Carol (Cate Blanchett), the object of desire of young Therese (Rooney Mara) who is true anchor of this story. Both their performances are so true to life, their conversations scattered with these wonderful little asides and moments of silence that conveys the scenario of two women both discovering feelings from one another that they’ve never experienced before. The chemistry is amazing. It’s the simplicity of the story and sheer amount of thought and care that has gone into every detail from the costumes and to the swoon-worthy soundtrack (seriously, how has Carter Burwell never been nominated for an Oscar?) that truly gives this film its power.

2. Mad Max: Fury Road (George Miller, Australia/USA)
This film is omnipresent on pretty much every ‘best of’ list of 2015 but that’s for bloody good reason. Jesus Christ, it’s a hell of a ride. Essentially playing out as one giant chase scene, Fury Road is surely one of the greatest action films ever made – experiential cinema of the purest kind, with a completely fully realised world, complete characters with an unusual amount of depth and drive, some wonderful artistic asides (including the lovely silhouettes of the night scene in the middle) and bold creative choices.

All aspects of the production design are just gorgeous, with an embrace of the grotesque and a sheer cacophony of detail and visual splendour that makes the film exhilarating. All aspects from the editing to the special effects to the stunt work is mind-blowing, although perhaps what is most respectable is the focus given to characters and themes. The film has roots in Western frontier films about the need for a place to call home and where survivors have to fight hard to make their lives matter. It explores environmental disaster and the consequences of political conflict and vengeance. And as many have pointed out, it’s an action film which dares to explore themes of female empowerment and give varied autonomous roles to women. It all boils down to the most extravagant, sense-numbing, over-the-top two hours of madness I’ve probably ever seen, a tense thrill ride that is rare for truly giving us something to root for.

1. Timbuktu (Abderrahmane Sissako, Mauritania/France)
It feels like a rare treat these days going into a cinema totally unknown and unprepared for what’s coming. Other than the word of one good review I saw, this was how I went into Timbuktu. And what a fine film it was: a humanist masterpiece which explores difficult subjects with concern, honesty and humour.

Inspired by the real life takeover of Timbuktu in Mali by Islamist extremists in 2012, and the news story of the stoning of an unmarried couple, Timbuktu is a documentary-like collection of interconnected stories concerning the struggles of the ordinary people under the dictatorial regime. Terrorists on motorbikes pronounce the new rules over loudspeakers: sport and music is forbidden, women must dress appropriately, unmarried men and women cannot be in the same room. The residents remain defiant in wishing to live as they always had done, and in exposing the absurdity of the new regime. A woman at a fish market argues with a man forcing her to wear gloves. Another man is forced to remove his trousers in the street because they are too long. Others don’t get off so lightly.

Timbuktu’s real strength lies in its ability to present such a wide range of stories with maturity and compassion, all the while imbuing it with a sense of truth and drama that makes it feel vital. It displays the propensity for absolutely anyone to perform cruel or noble actions. It depicts the importance of individuality as well a sense of Islam as a community, where lives can come together and live peacefully and fruitfully. People are inherently contradictory – the invaders break as many rules as they enforce. But this truth about our flaws is never presented in a way that is patronising or lecturing. The terrorists are depicted neither as monsters or heroes

There’s long been this sense of Timbuktu in Western culture as being a mythical place of bounteous riches. Instead, it’s a poor, but historically important town on the edge of the Sahara. But it’s films like this that perhaps offer a sad indictment of Western ignorance to plight of many ordinary people, and can offer us a glimpse of these lives in a way that is searingly honest and humane, yet also entertaining and charming in its own way. It’s a tragic film, but not one without hope. A scene involving a game of football is especially magical. It’s because of films like this that I love cinema’s ability to show lives and stories so new to me and make them feel real.

My Top 20 Films of 2015: Part 1

Given the sheer breadth of films I’ve seen in 2015 and just how excellent many of them were, I’ve ended up extending the list to 20 entries this year. There was so much that I enjoyed, and many emotional and mind-blowing moments that I wanted to talk about that it seemed a shame to miss too much off.

My list is based on films with UK release dates in 2015. I spent the first few months of the year living in London, which gave me access to a wider range of cinemas than I had ever experienced before, and a number of limited release films which I probably would have struggled to see elsewhere. I also had money saved then, and could afford to go at least once a week! Moving back home, my trips were less frequent, but still regular. Saying that, there was still a huge amount I missed this year which I need to seek out.

I’ve realised my tastes have gotten especially … abstract this year. I love actively seeking out the most unusual and non-mainstream films going, as I increasingly find them so much more inspiring, satisfying and original than many major releases (not to say I haven’t been to see many of the biggest films of the year and not enjoyed them). So I imagine some of my choices might be a bit off-kilter for most people’s tastes, but these are the films that have really blown me away this year.

It was also a standout year for marginalised voices, with a wonderful range of films by and about women, and people and cultures not readily seen on the big screen. Many of the films on my list are also debuts, which is an incredibly exciting indictment of what the future of cinema may hold.

Honourable mentions: White Bird in a Blizzard; White God; Birdman; Whiplash; Spectre; Phoenix; Girlhood; Star Wars: The Force Awakens; Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation; Selma

20. A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (Ana Lily Amirpour, USA)
Billed as “the first Iranian vampire western”, Ana Lily Amirpour’s assuredly confident debut is an exercise in pure style but one which thankfully doesn’t excise substance. In an Iranian ghost town dogged by drug addiction and mired in decline, a lone female vampire glides along the streets, casually observing and haunting the prostitutes and lost souls in the night. A young man in debt to a dangerous pimp begins a tentative relationship with this unfathomable girl.

It’s a fascinating feminist work exploring female autonomy and strength under pressure, with splendid moody black and white cinematography that makes this one of the most distinct films of the year. Glacially slow at times, but with an eye for bold visual style and full of love for a whole gamut of genre influences, A Girl Walks… is a highly impressive addition to the vampire canon we never thought was needed.

19. Sicario (Denis Villeneuve, USA)
At a time when so many action films rely on rapid editing and visual excess to create excitement, it is doubly thrilling that Sicario is such a patient film. It takes its time. Scenarios and settings are allowed to develop, the stakes are heightened, and the consequences can be explored in all their brutal detail.

An overwhelming sense of hopelessness hangs over everything and everyone – FBI agent Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) falling in out of her depth with the umbrous missions of CIA officer Matt Graver (Josh Brolin); the impossible task of the Mexican police in a state where corpses are left hanging in the street; the endless machinations of both sides of the conflict. At once both a desperately sad film about the failure of the War on Drugs and the ruinous damage it has caused, and a blisteringly original action film and revenge story, Sicario can’t help but leave you shaken.

18. The Duke of Burgundy (Peter Strickland, UK)
Probably the most beguiling and idiosyncratic film I’ve seen all year, The Duke of Burgundy is a rich fever dream of sensation for heart and mind. In a world without men, we observe the unusual play of power between a loving sadomasochistic couple (Sidse Babett Knudsen and Chiara D’Anna) as they perform their repetitive rituals. Deeply European in sensibility, plot structures concerning the blurring boundaries between dominant and submissive are subsumed within the heady atmosphere of deep longing which positively drips off the screen.

Every little detail is presented with the most exquisite care and attention. Each frame is unbelievably pretty and every gesture, every brief touch of fingers along skin, the brush of luxurious material or the flutter of a butterfly’s wings becomes a fetishistic indulgence of the most exquisite kind. At its heart though, this is a generous affable story of the complex love between two women. I can’t wait to see this again; I’m sure a second viewing will divulge new pleasures.

17. The Dance of Reality (Alejandro Jodorowsky, Chile/France)
Cult arthouse hero Alejandro Jodorowsky returns with his first film in 23 years and it was wonderful to have him back. An outlandish and deliciously unhinged autobiography of his childhood and struggles with his father, mixed with Jodorowsky’s trademark spiritual allegory and fantastical black humour, it honestly feels as fresh and urgent as the best of his work from the 1970s. There is a sense of spectacle and a number of incredible shots unlike anything I’ve seen.

The explicit content and blatant slaps in the face of all plotting and thematic conventions, plus the fact it’s simply batshit crazy, means more casual cinemagoers will likely be left frustrated. But for fans of his work, myself included, The Dance of Reality is a treat, and it was a pleasure to have seen it on a big screen with an audience. This is the most unashamedly auterist film of 2015, one that feels almost of another era for its sheer audacity and singularity.

16. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (Isao Takahata, Japan)
Sadly set to be one of Studio Ghibli’s final films, Princess Kaguya surely has to be one of the most beautiful animations ever made. Every frame is a work of art in its own way with a glorious focus on line and texture hardly seen in animation these days – the complete film is a magical moving watercolour whose sheer beauty at times brought tears to my eyes (I know, it sounds ridiculous but it really did)

Inspired by a traditional Japanese folk tale of a bamboo cutter who discovers a magical girl and vast riches growing in bamboo shoots, the story is given a modern feminist sensibility about the importance of respect and honesty, and the way wealth and power corrupts. I know some have found the traditional Japanese elements involving the spiritual a little alienating, but you’ve just got to throw yourself into this world. And see it in the Japanese language if you can.

15. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl (Alfonso Gomez-Rejon, USA)
At first glance, this looks like the epitome of the quirky Sundance teen hit about artsy middle class teenagers. Which is why I couldn’t believe how very much in love I fell with Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, a thoughtful and genuine story of friendship which is also a welcome, playfully critical antidote to the more self-indulgent trends of recent teen movies, especially illness movies.

Concerning Greg (Thomas Mann), a painfully awkward high school senior whose comfortable non-status at school is disrupted when he’s asked to befriend Rachel (Olivia Cooke), who is diagnosed with leukaemia, the film is a decidedly arch and self-aware film about teen films, full of knowingly ironic dialogue and comic stereotypes. But I felt the strength of the performances and characterisation drew the film from the brink of irritating pastiche to become something much warmer and more likeable. It is choc-a-bloc full of classic film and music references which of course I lapped up, but it was the moving and heartfelt moments which unexpectedly left me a emotional wreck that really made me love this film.

14. The Lobster (Yorgos Lanthimos, Ireland/UK/Greece/France/Netherlands)
One of my own most anticipated films last year, I’m glad to say The Lobster mostly delivers. A sci-fi comedy romantic drama that depicts a future society where it is illegal to be single, we watch freshly divorced David (Colin Farrell) as he’s shipped to a special hotel to find a new partner. What follows is a bizarre satire of dating routines and a chilly experiment of social mores pushed to their limits which we are invited to observe with pleasure.

Brimming with endless standout setpieces, a fine cast and a fiercely original script, The Lobster marks Lanthimos as one of the most singular directors working today. The film stalls somewhat in its final scenes in the forest, but the sheer commitment to its deadpan absurdity is bewildering and extremely entertaining.

13. A Most Violent Year (J. C. Chandor, USA)
It may be because it has been nearly a whole year since this was released (longer in America) that this film seems to have been so gravely underappreciated, forgotten almost. Which is a great shame, as this was surely one of the most assured and thrilling films I’ve seen this year. Oscar Isaac (what a great year he’s had!) stars as Abel Morales, head of a small heating oil company in early 1980s New York. He’s under immense pressure – more of his truck deliveries are being hijacked and stolen, and a determined district attorney (David Oyelowo) is scrutinising the industry, steadfastly rooting out corruption. Torn between the more determinedly pragmatic approach of his wife (Jessica Chastain) and his own tenacious need to remain legitimate, Morales struggles to keep all his plates spinning.

A real slow burner thriller, A Most Violent Year is less of the action thriller than many had come to expect. Instead, it’s a frosty character study which values intricate plotting and rewards audiences ready for sophisticated drama. It recalls the best of New Hollywood-era crime cinema, especially the films of Sidney Lumet, and confirms Chandor as one of the most promising writer-directors working today. Excellent stuff.

12. Wild Tales (Damián Szifron, Argentina/Spain)
My God, this film is fun. A portmanteau of six short films all linked by themes of violence and revenge, which includes a demolitions expert waging war against a car towing company, road rage getting out control, and possibly the worst wedding reception in history. The first and shortest story is a veritable gut-punch, with one of the most hilariously dark scenarios in a film in years.

In anthology films like this, it’s frequently inevitable that some parts outshine others but thankfully in this each story has its own strengths. It covers a bewildering array of conflicts, many linked by raw frustrations with bureaucracy, technology and infrastructure that can’t help but make you feel tensions might be running deep in parts of Argentina. At once tense, frustrating, and more than a little fucked up, Wild Tales is an intensely satisfying experience, if not simply for the fact that your day cannot possibly get any worse than the ones here.

11. Tangerine (Sean Baker, USA)
Much of the publicity surrounding this ultra-low budget film was astonishment at how the entire thing was filmed on an iPhone 5. And it does look fantastic, drowning in lush sunshine and neon glows. But it’s so much more than. It’s a boundless portrait of Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez), a transgender sex worker who, upon being released from prison on Christmas Eve, discovers her pimp boyfriend has cheated on her with a cisgender woman. This sets off a raucous chain of events, as Sin-Dee storms across LA trying to find the mystery woman, and best friend Alexandra (Mya Taylor) is left trying to calm her down.

There’s so so much to admire and love about this film. It’s a remarkable example of just how expansive and creative low budget cinema can be. It features trans characters played by actual trans performers. And it’s an immensely enjoyable and deliciously purile black comedy, which recalls the best of John Waters’ filthiest comedies. It feels completely genuine, making it a quotable, brash and confrontational experience. Building to an epic confrontation that leaves you watching through your fingers through sheer awkwardness, I left feeling both exhausted and exhilarated. If there is any one film on this list I feel everyone should watch to see what cinema is capable of, this would be it. Go see it!

My Favourite Albums of the Decade so far 2010-2014

I came across this list on Pitchfork a few weeks ago of their top 100 albums from the last 5 years. As usual with Pitchfork, I didn’t recognise a great swathe of the albums featured, although I was surprised to see quite a few of the albums I have enjoyed a lot over the last few years come up. And that got me thinking about what music has had the biggest impact on my tastes recently. Especially when I consider these 5 years have covered probably the most important in my life so far, namely the last two years of school and the whole of my university days.

So here’s my own personal list of my favourite albums from 2010 to 2014. These aren’t necessarily in the order that I would consider them all the best, but they’re more in order of which ones I have enjoyed the most, or which have dominated my interests the most significantly. I’m sure I’ve probably forgotten several. Nevertheless, the list was supposed to be about 15, but whilst I was writing it out, more and more suggestions kept coming up until I finally had to limit the list to 25. Sorry about this being so long. Plus if anyone ever does read this and have any suggestions of things they think I might enjoy, please let me know! I’ve found my taste is sadly limited and I’m sure I’m missing out on lots of amazing things.

25. Haim – Days Are Gone

A trio of sisters who have probably gone from playing guitar covers in their garage as kids to creating an album of super catchy throwback pop-rock. It’s really endearing, adding a fresh quirk and energy to the sort of girl power rock of Pat Benatar and The Pretenders.

Top tracks: Don’t Save Me; The Wire; If I Could Change Your Mind

24. Bon Iver – Bon Iver

Listening to this album seems to create images in my head of vast landscapes of fields and dense forests with early sunlight breaking through the trees. Justin Vernon’s work does come across as being the sort of music that would have been conceived alone, playing a guitar in the forest. But this self-titled record has a little more of an edge to it, experimentations with instruments and arrangements to make some songs which can be genuinely gorgeous. Vernon’s emotive falsetto is sometimes hard to understand, and lyrics are often vague, but I get the sense of this being about a need for losing oneself at times, and an awareness of how you fit within the places around you.

Top tracks: Holocene; Michiant; Towers

23. Mac DeMarco – Salad Days

I was pretty fucking delighted when I discovered Mac DeMarco last year. His distinctly low-fi jangle rock have these laid back, drunken guitar melodies and mellow vibes that always leave me in a goofy chilled out state. I listened to this and 2012’s 2 almost interchangeably and I couldn’t decide which I should pick for this list, but I think Salad Days just pips it. More personal, it has DeMarco considering his relationship with his longterm girlfriend, and worrying about getting old, before remembering that he’s 23 and in no place to be concerning himself with such quandaries. But it’s still infectiously listenable, catchy and a lot of fun. I think his videos and interviews neatly sum up his chain-smoking slacker appeal, with his offbeat style and delightfully perverse humour.

Top tracks: Goodbye Weekend; Passing Out Pieces; Chamber of Reflection

22. Arctic Monkeys – AM

Frankly I find Alex Turner’s style choices come across like he’s trying too hard sometimes (maybe I do just miss the band when they were awkward teenagers like I was). You can’t say their same about their last album, which proudly boasts of its hip-hop and classic rock influences but still comes across as effortlessly new and simply cool. It’s a world away from the messy Sheffield nights out of Whatever People Say I Am… yet is still brimming with Turner’s sense of wit and clever lyrics.

Top tracks: Arabella; R U Mine?; Do I Wanna Know?

21. Disclosure – Settle

I don’t give a shit whether this album really is true house music, like I’ve seen in plenty of arguments online. Settle stands out amongst all the swathes of dance-pop you hear in clubs for its sheer ability to combine textured production with some serious pop hooks. The great thing about Settle is that it’s a proper album of great tracks, not just some hit singles and some filler. There’s a surprising and satisfying variety, from the glitchy preaching of ‘When a Fire Starts to Burn’, to the uptempo sensuality of ‘White Noise’.

Top tracks: White Noise; Confess to Me; When a Fire Starts to Burn

20. Jon Hopkins – Immunity

The art of the album as album – this record is something that really can only be best appreciated by listening to it as a whole. I saw reviews describing this as electro, IDM (intelligent dance music) and ambient. Immunity takes its time to create vast symphonies of organic atmospheric sound, a lot of which is actually taken from natural sounds and objects, then distorted to create unheard sounds. This approach of experimentation is reflected in the album cover of a microscopic image of coloured crystals.

Top tracks: Open Eye Signal; Collider; Sun Harmonics

19. Janelle Monae – The ArchAndroid

A wildly ambitious double album by the all-round flawless superlady. Taking inspiration from the Fritz Lang movie Metropolis, it loosely tells a tale of a time travelling android called Cindi Mayweather. Its essence though is a potent mixture of styles, combining among other things, indie R&B, psychedelic pop rock, Prince/Michael Jackson-era funk, and cyberpunk. It sounds extreme. In some ways it is – it’s too long and the second half is over excessive. But so many songs are genuinely great, hugely listenable and clever pop hits that are just so charismatic and irresistible.

Top tracks: Tightrope; Cold War; Locked Inside

18. Fiona Apple – The Idler Wheel is Wiser Than the Driver of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do

I wasn’t very familiar with Fiona Apple before hearing this record, though finding out more about some of the obstacles she’s faced help make a tiny bit more sense of this challenging but compelling collection. Frequently sparse, with raw and minimal elements that are so thoughtfully arranged to give this a sound which can only really be described as powerful. Plus her songwriting is soooo good – lyrics that just flow sensually and turns of phrase that I find delightful whenever I hear them (“The rib is the shell, the heart is the yolk, and I just made a meal for us both to choke on” is one of my faves). This is the sort of album that deserves your full attention, and I blame a lack of effort on my part for it being fairly lower on this list.

Top tracks: Hot Knife; Werewolf; Daredevil

17. Björk – Biophilia

Björk’s quest of combining pop with the avant garde really came to fruition with the immensely ambitious, imaginative and challenging Biophilia. It’s a concept album which explores our relations with one another through the massive expanse of nature and the construction of the universe, for example ‘Mutual Core’ using the image of tectonic plates drifting, merging and parting. From the creation of new instruments to a tie-in interactive app, the scope of this album was pretty massive and could’ve overwhelmed the music itself, but thankfully they proved to be some of her warmest and most successful in years, full of moments that can’t help but make you swoon.

Top tracks: Cosmogony, Moon, Virus

16. Poliça – Give You the Ghost

Now this is how you use autotune properly! Not to cover up bad singing, but here as Channy Leanagh uses it to create distortion, helping produce songs which build an impressive atmosphere and a sense of disconcertion. With drumlines honed in with military precision, sweet layers of minor key synths and a fascinating blend of funky bass, this album is a unique listen that improves after several listens.

Top tracks: Lay Your Cards Out; Dark Star; Wandering Star

15. Grimes – Visions

This was my first listen to any of Claire Boucher’s work and you can’t help but immediately get drawn into it. If it’s the bite of the heavy electro dream pop hooks, or the almost childlike waifish voice that holds it all together and sings powerful lyrical songs about reclaiming her body and an array of fantastic hallucinations, it’s all fabulously direct. A little too long perhaps, but there’s no doubting the intent and the intelligence and singularity of this album.

Top tracks: Oblivion; Genesis; Be a Body

14. The Weeknd – House of Balloons

The first of Canadian artist Abel Tasfaye’s trilogy of self-released mixtapes, House of Balloons is a collection of downtempo alternative R&B tracks infused with a trip-hop and ambient electronic vibe. Packed full of samples, Tasfaye sings in this anxious-sounding falsetto that belies the album’s theme of the pleasures and downsides of partying, drug taking and anonymous sex. There’s an impressive sense of the nocturnal mood, with lyrics dripping with raw sexual desire and existential dread. It’s heavy but incredibly engrossing, and feels freshest here before he dragged the theme on for two more mixtapes.

Top tracks: Wicked Games; The Morning; House of Balloons – Glass Table Girls

13. First Aid Kit – The Lion’s Roar

I wasn’t aware of the popularity of country music in Sweden but it seems for some Swedes it does rate as highly as their love of heavy metal and electronica. This album by sisters Klara and Johanna Söderberg is more indie-country, but comes highly inspired by classic American folk and country, including their dedication to singer songwriter Emmylou Harris. What definitely characterises The Lion’s Roar though is their absolutely gorgeous vocal harmonies, and indeed their crisp and powerful voices individually.

Top tracks: Blue, Emmylou, To a Poet

12. St. Vincent – St. Vincent

Annie Clarke has described her self-titled fourth album as being “a party record you could play at a funeral”. It finds her in a much more exuberant and outlandish mood than her last work, but still retaining much of her eccentric fascination with the macabre. Packed full of innovative guitar freakouts and pinprick synths but never to the point of excess, St. Vincent is a diatribe about, amongst other things, the oversaturation of media and screens in modern life and the sense of disconcertion and actual disconnection that creates.

Top tracks: Bring Me Your Loves; Digital Witness; Rattlesnake

11. Metronomy – The English Riviera

A highly appealing and breezy pop-rock record inspired by seaside towns on the Devonshire coastline, here reimagined as glamorous hotspots equivalent to the likes of Monte Carlo. The laidback tone, low-key instrumentals and mellow vocals may come across as a little superficial, especially in the dreamy visions it evokes of sundrenched romances. Indeed the album does lack a little bite, but I don’t see why everything has to cover dark and heavy themes. The English Riviera is highly polished and effortlessly chilled, it’s the restraint and lack of complication that helps makes these tracks so catchy and charismatic.

Top tracks: The Look; The Bay; Everything Goes My Way

10. Grizzly Bear – Shields

Definitely the band’s most sophisticated album yet – it’s exquisitely crafted, full of little details and layers that become clearer after you listen a couple of times. It comes across to me as being quite melancholy, with some fairly abstract lyrics giving the album a genuine emotional core. You can really tell this was a collaborative album by the four members and the whole album has this texture which I’d love to hear on a proper vinyl record.

Top tracks: A Simple Answer; Yet Again; Sleeping Ute

9. Arcade Fire – The Suburbs

The soundscapes and feelings and tales the band manage to evoke on The Suburbs are just so great. The remarkable lyrics detail for me their teenage memories of being stuck in small towns, contending with boredom yet tinged with an almost overwhelming sense of tension, of unknowingness about their fears of the future, the beyond, as well as dreams of escape. It’s still an incredibly warm album with a feeling of play and nostalgia.

Top tracks: Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains); Ready to Start; Deep Blue

8. Melody’s Echo Chamber – Melody’s Echo Chamber

This one’s really grown on me the last year or so. A hugely impressive debut from the French singer Melody Prochet, the album is a psychedelic dream pop that finds inspiration in its fantastic production through contrasts. Playful pop melodies are infused with fuzzy guitar blasts, and Prochet’s soft floaty vocals drifts between it all, singing songs of yearning and heartbreak. It’s all pretty otherworldly, building dreams upon dreams to make something that you can get genuinely lost in.

Top tracks: Some Time Alone, Alone; I Follow You; Endless Shore

7. tUnE yArDs – W H O K I L L

Within the first minute of opening track ‘My Country’, you just know you’re listening to something just so singular and so refreshingly bold. Insanely playful with a seriously exciting approach, based mostly in tribal-style percussion, bass and Meryl Garbus’s distinctive vocals all looped over one another; any sound can become music. Each track is distinct, and actually covers some serious stuff, from her disturbed reaction to the prevalence of violence on the streets and police brutality, to the vast inequalities between genders and classes, and attitudes to her own body (“I can’t believe I ate the whole thing…”). It’s super appealing and danceable, and a complete joy.

Top tracks: Bizness; Gangsta; My Country

6. PJ Harvey – Let England Shake

Polly Jean Harvey’s latest, an understated folk-infused collection of war poems is really remarkable in its breadth but also in its intimacy. Inspired by WW1 poetry but drawing from the imagery and accounts from Afghanistan, Let England Shakes is striking in its compositions and storytelling. At its core, the album takes a quiet but bitter study of English history, how so much of it is driven by bloodshed and how so many events are the result of our seemingly innate appetite for violence.

Top tracks: The Words That Maketh Murder; In the Dark Places; England

5. Jessie Ware – Devotion

Sometimes I’m surprised just how much I adore this collection of R&B and soul-infused love songs by south-Londoner Ware. The whole thing feels both current and timeless, with some sleek production that makes every track sound like the aural equivalent of reclining on a bed draped in velvet or any other luxurious sexy activity. It all comes down to Ware’s silky smooth voice, which helps create songs that, unlike many dance and pop songs lately, doesn’t have to try hard or make a lot of noise to grab your attention and hold it. Elegant and impeccably styled, Ware’s genuine insights into the various sensations of love, lust and desire is excellent stuff.

Top tracks: 110% (If You’re Never Gonna Move); Running; Wildest Moments

4. Dirty Projectors – Swing Lo Magellan

Frontman Dave Longstreth has always been a lover of big ideas, which he had explored the last few years with a set of disparate concept albums which I’ve got to admit I’ve found mostly impenetrable. The Projectors’ latest album however strips this for a more focused and more personal set of tracks which still retain their erratic sense of experimentation. Songs switch easily between the playful and frenetic (‘Offspring Are Blank’, ‘Unto Caesar’) to some deceptively simple acoustic ballads (‘Impregnable Question’, ‘Swing Lo Magellan’), though all tracks feature Longstreth’s exploration for deeper meaning. Add in some ample usage of Amber Coffman and Olga Bell’s gorgeous vocal harmonies and you’ve got a genuinely exciting album which I’ve enjoyed many, many times.

Top tracks: Impregnable Question; About to Die; Offspring Are Blank

3. St. Vincent – Strange Mercy

Any glimpses of Annie Clarke’s quirks and eccentricities are only hinted at here in her pivotal third album, but when they are, you certainly know it. Her most insular album, it found her looking in at herself during a period of self-imposed isolation. Though relatively low-key and understated, the whole album throbs with this razor sharp tension between control and chaos. Relatively precise and mannered art pop songs (‘Cruel’, ‘Northern Lights’) suddenly erupt with tortured guitar shreds, often in place of Clarke’s own repressed emotional vocals which only really hint lyrically at the pressures she’s feeling. Like the suffocation on the album cover, tracks study Clarke’s dissatisfaction with societal norms (e.g. monogamy in ‘Chloe in the Afternoon’) and her place outside them (“You’re like a party I heard through a wall”). Complex, fascinating and super-cool, I’ve always found Strange Mercy to be one of those albums that can have a vice-like grip on me.

Top tracks: Cruel; Northern Lights; Dilettante

2. Crystal Castles – Crystal Castles II

This is one of those albums I could happily listen to all day (and indeed I have). The sounds, the layers and the timbre are just so rich and dense and full of surprises and originality, I find myself composing whole music videos and scenes in my head when I listen to it. Rough and glitchy dance-punk characterised by abrasive noise-driven rave rhythms and Alice Glass’s shrieking vocals, before switching to softer, even delicate, electro-dream pop, and in many cases all within the same track, it’s bipolar and extremely polarising. ‘Empathy’ gets me closing my eyes and imagining dream rave scenes, while ‘Doe Deer’ just feels like making you want to kick a fucking door in. Full of energy, endlessly inventive and still fresh after 5 years.

Top tracks: Baptism; Empathy; Celestica

1. Tame Impala – Lonerism

Usually I find the albums I come to like the best are ones that had to grow on me in time and ones I often didn’t appreciate at first. But there are those odd times when you listen to something and you know instantly how fantastic it is, and for me this is one of them. With practically every part recorded solely by frontman Kevin Parker, it’s fitting that Lonerism is an album with explores introspection and feelings of isolation and loneliness. Yet Parker also spoke about his interest in making cheesy pop songs, but here infused with a potent psychedelic-electronic bluesy rock mixture that’s at once forward looking but drawing from 60s/70s era sonics (Parker’s John Lennon-esque vocals can’t help bringing up such comparisons). From the insta-iconic hard blues guitar riff of ‘Elephant’ to ‘Apocalypse Dreams’ with its poppy piano rhythms and vibrant vocals blurred with some lush synths and heavy guitars, Lonerism is always a surprising listen, something I feel is tinged with a sense of discovery every time I listen to it.

Top tracks: Elephant; Apocalypse Dreams; Mind Mischief

Extra mentions: Anna Calvi – Anna Calvi; Foals – Total Life Forever; Alt-J – An Awesome Wave; Chemical Brothers – Further; Sleigh Bells – Treats; Django Django – Django Django; LCD Soundsystem – This Is Happening; FKA twigs – LP1; Lykke Li – Wounded Rhymes; The Kills – Blood Pressures; Kanye West – My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy; Savages – Silence Yourself; Queens of the Stone Age – Like Clockwork; Little Dragon – Ritual Union; The War on Drugs – Lost in the Dream; SBTRKT – SBTRKT; Manic Street Preachers – Rewind the Film; La Roux – Trouble in Paradise; Aphex Twin – Syro

2014 in Review: My Top 15 Films

I’ve gone to the cinema far more this year than I’ve ever been before. Nothing beats seeing seeing a film on the big screen. Looking back, there have been so many incredible films I’ve seen this year, it’s probably been a very long time since there’s been so many films out which I genuinely loved. Here’s 15 of those films.

Honourable Mentions: Gone Girl, X-Men: Days of Future Past, Mr. Turner, Edge of Tomorrow, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, 22 Jump Street, Nightcrawler, The Double, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

15. Inside Llewyn Davis (The Coen Brothers) 
Just a few minutes into Inside Llewyn Davis, I realised it’s been years since I last watched a Coen brothers film, probably True Grit in 2011. But it doesn’t take long for me to feel safely back in Coen territory, if not for the film’s caustic wit and playful sense of irony. Although playful may not always be the right word for this film, which is often melancholy and at times quite bleak.

Set in New York’s Greenwich Village in 1961, it follows the eponymous hero (Oscar Isaac), a struggling folk musician having to sleep over on couches and failing to make ends meet. And that’s about it really. A sub-story about the search for a lost cat forms the closest the film has to a conventional plot. Instead, much of the running time is given to live performances, and various episodes of bad luck in Llewyn’s life. Although much of the shit in his life comes down to the fact he’s an unlikeable jerk with a stubborn need for authenticity in everything, it’s testament to Oscar Isaac’s understated performance that Llewyn’s struggles don’t verge on unwatchable, and I look forward to seeing Isaac in upcoming films A Most Violent Year and Ex Machina. Brimming with the most exquisite cinematography and some wonderfully poetic shots and moments (one of a cat limping into the bushes on the side of a misty motorway still sticks out for me), Inside is yet another triumph for the Coens.

14. The Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson)
Any new film from Wes Anderson is always greatly welcomed, and Grand Budapest is no exception. Anderson’s vision has become so singular and distinct as to become instantly recognisable, and that brings the fear that style will overpower substance. Whilst I still prefer the more focused character studies of Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums, the zany capers of Grand Budapest still reveal a playful soul beneath all the artifice and dense non-stop plotting.

A formidable handling of the conventions of time and place makes a film that evokes a deep-rooted sense of loss for a way of life that has long since passed. A second viewing reminded me how this story can be quite sad at times, but that doesn’t take away from how much fun this pristinely made adventure is.

13. American Interior (Dylan Goch/Gruff Rhys)
There were plenty of great films that could have gone on this list, but this charming film has been so gravely underappreciated this year that I thought it deserved a little more love. A four-part project by Gruff Rhys, frontman of Welsh band Super Furry Animals and solo artist, consisting of a book, an app, an album (which is really good, seriously, check it out), and this film; American Interior is part documentary, part concert movie, part road movie. It follows Rhys as he retraces the journey of his distant ancestor John Evans, who travelled across America in the 1790s in search of a fabled lost tribe of Welsh-speaking Native Americans.

Accompanied by a puppet Evans companion, Rhys explores Evans’s bizarre and extraordinary life story through interviews with local historians, which provides the inspiration for his latest album, shown on screen through recording sessions and live performances. Gorgeously shot in black and white with occasional bursts of colour and animation, American Interior is a glorious homage to the majesty of the American landscape, as well as a lament on the decline of native cultures and languages. Rhys proves an engaging guide in this ode to exploration and fantasy, well worth seeking out.

12. Guardians of the Galaxy (James Gunn)
I have started to grow slightly tired of the sheer proliferation of superhero movies (although admittedly many of the ones I saw this year turned out to be surprisingly great). And seeing the schedule Marvel and DC already both have for the next few years is a little disconcerting, knowing essentially there’s no escape from them. So when news came out that Marvel were making a big budget blockbuster based on a little-known comic from their back catalogue, you couldn’t help escaping the feeling they were starting to scrape the bottom of the barrel.

So it was most pleasing to discover that the risks paid off: this riotously entertaining film helps to inject some much needed anarchic fun back into the summer blockbuster. But what surprised is just how fiercely intelligent this film is: able to establish character far quicker and deeper than most other Marvel releases, and by having the protagonist be the only human in this alien galaxy, especially one as watchable and charismatic as Chris Pratt, helps makes this far-out premise genuinely engaging, even relatable. The 70s soundtrack, as well as being just downright fucking sweet, helps humanise this bizarre (and I don’t know if it was just me, but sometimes confusing) premise into something joyously impressive.

11. 12 Years a Slave (Steve McQueen)
A deserving Oscar winner, Steve McQueen applies his unflinching clinical gaze to the atrocities of slavery in this undeniably powerful drama. The precise framing and long takes seem the only suitable way to do justice to this atrocious story of a free man Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor) tricked and sold into slavery.

Ejiofor’s quietly dignified performance, often only expressed through the smallest of facial gestures, is the anchor at the heart of this film which would be better defined as an endurance test rather than a viewing experience. Indeed, all performances are uniformly excellent, although the intense focus on Northup doesn’t allow the film to explore any other characters in as great a depth. The magnificent cinematography and bold imagery displays human capability for both great cruelty and goodness, and provides a necessary depiction of a time when slavery was seen unquestionably as an ordinary feature in everyday life.

10. Ida (Pawel Pawlikowski)
A young orphaned nun Anna (Agata Trzebuchowska) in 1960s Poland is advised to visit her aunt, her last living relative, before taking her vows. Her aunt Wanda (Agata Kulesza) is an alcoholic judge who tried many anti-Communists for Poland’s Stalinist regime, and together the two women travel to their home village to discover what happened to their family.

Ida is the very definition of the power of simplicity. Crisply shot in 4:3 and exquisite black and white, large portions of the film take place in near-silence. Characters are often framed at the bottom of the screen, with great emphasis on the vast spaces above them, creating a spiritual void at a time when much of Europe was still suffering from the consequences of the Holocaust. The use of completely static camerawork and two incredible performances help give even the smallest and quietest of moments (a slight giggle during a silent meal, for example) great power. Very short and concise, this unassuming drama is a hugely effective study on the nature of identity.

9. Under the Skin (Jonathan Glazer)
The long-delayed and highly anticipated third feature by visionary director (this term is so overused, but if ever it applies to any director working today, it’s gotta be) Jonathan Glazer, Under the Skin is just one of a surprising number of films this year to explore the nature of humanity. But none have been as unique and challenging as this honestly unknowable visual feast.

Offering a remarkable outsider view on the most ordinary of situations, it follows Scarlett Johansson as a mysterious stranger who preys on men in Scotland. Often keeping viewers at a distance, and never offering any form of rationality or explanation, Under the Skin can at times be frustrating, and other times exhilarating. Mica Levi’s creepy score (one of the year’s best), and some truly bold unforgettable imagery help create this nightmarish vision.

8. Interstellar (Christopher Nolan)
Expectations are now sky high with every new Christopher Nolan, and yet again, he delivers. Epic in every sense of the word, this latest project crams near enough every giant sci-fi trope to create a sprawling intergalactic odyssey unlike anything else this year, with some of the best realisations of outer space I’ve ever seen.

Plagued somewhat by an incessant need for exposition, at times verging on the wrong side of sentimentality, and open to a great degree of logical nitpicking (its ambition sometimes is just to excessive to really contain itself), but Nolan is absolutely right when he describes this as “experiential” cinema. This is one of those movies you just need to sit back and truly feel, to experience rather than simply view. Of course it definitely helped that this was the first film in years that I’d seen in Imax. I’d forgotten just how huge the screen was, too gigantic to even fully take in, and with sound so deep it makes the room rumble. It was magnificent.

7. The Lego Movie (Phil Lord/Christopher Miller)
With the news that yet another movie was coming out based upon a toy, hopes were not high for this film. Yet, after seeing the trailer, I got genuinely excited. And after watching it at the cinema, I was surprised just HOW much I loved this movie. Coming from directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller, the guys behind the also surprisingly great Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs and 21 Jump Street, it’s no surprise this turned out to be probably my most gleefully enjoyable trip to the cinema last year. It emphasises the simple but unmistakable benefits of good writing, and is so beautifully rendered; plastic never looked so good!

Of course there’s no escaping the fact that this is at its core, one giant advert for LEGO®, although the film frankly accepts this and openly undermines it with plots about corporate dictatorship, destructive consumerism and a gigantic love for absurdist humour and pop culture references, coming to the slightly suspicious conclusion that individual creativity can be expressed most freely if one owns a Lego playset. I actually wrote an essay about The Lego Movie for uni, and was delighted to find that the film stood up to multiple viewings; indeed it is so rich in visual humour that many jokes I only discovered or appreciated upon subsequent viewings. Frankly, exploring the film’s flaws and inherent contradictions made it even more fascinating for me.

6. Stranger by the Lake (Alain Guiraudie)
Franck (Pierre Deladonchamps) begins spending his free time at a nudist bathing spot by a lake, also popular with gay men as a cruising spot. He sparks a friendship with recently divorced Henri (Patrick d’Assumcao) who unusually sits fully clothed and away from the other men. Franck later becomes totally infatuated with Michel (Christophe Paou), a Tom Selleck-style moustachioed man he spots on the beach and in the woods. However, the tranquillity of the lake is disturbed with the discovery that a murder has taken place there.

Set entirely at these locations and layered only with a soundtrack of blowing winds and rippling water, Stranger is a genre-crossing study of the murky forces of lust and desire. Controversial for its copious amounts of full-frontal male nudity and extremely explicit sex scenes, but, similar to Blue is the Warmest Colour, I feel these scenes suitably convey the all-consuming power of obsessive love and sexual desire, rather than any use as mere shock tactics. The directing is technically brilliant and innovative, whilst the use of repetition and deadpan humour makes this almost Hitchcockian thriller a weirdly hypnotic experience that’s deeply compelling.

5. Only Lovers Left Alive (Jim Jarmusch)
Just when you thought the vampire genre couldn’t go any further, back it rises from the dead with a fresh breath of life. Jim Jarmusch’s hyperstylised and largely plotless deconstruction of the genre follows long-married Adam (Tom Hiddleston) and Eve (Tilda Swinton). Focused less on the supernatural aspects on vampirism, Only Lovers explores the couple’s differing responses to everlasting life, and their outsider view onto the state of human culture. Adam has become disillusioned with the decline of human artistic output, choosing to isolate himself in the ruinous streets of Detroit to make droning guitar music. Eve meanwhile, retaining her love of life, explores the nightlife in Tangier and hangs out with Christopher Marlowe (John Hurt) (one of the film’s jokes being that the greatest human creations were actually made by superior vampires).

Full of casual namedrops of writers and rock musicians, Jarmusch has made a film that is deeply cool and sexy, and has in my view the best soundtrack of this year. Hiddleson’s and Swinton’s fine performances meld perfectly with Jarmusch’s trademark offbeat humour and minimalist style. Perhaps simply about an aging couple struggling to adapt to the changing world around them, Only Lovers also argues that like Adam and Eve, great art is timeless.

4. The Wind Rises (Hayao Miyazaki)
With the sad news of Hayao Miyazaki’s retirement from feature filmmaking, comes the pleasing discovery that this, his last film, is one of his best, in an already illustrious career A fictionalised biopic of Japanese aeronautical engineer Jiro Horikoshi, who was the chief designer of the aircraft Japan used in World War Two, The Wind Rises is less fantastical than previous Miyazaki films but no less spectacular and amazingly realised. A character study that largely forgoes plot in favour of important scenarios in his life and within the context of Japanese history, the film gorgeously expresses the beauty of design, and visualises the excitement and anticipation Horikoshi feels about flight and creation in ways that are breathtaking to watch.

At times ponderous and even slow, and displaying a fervor for technology unusual for a director so often invested in environmental interests, The Wind Rises is undeniably a deeply personal film from a master storyteller. It is both about, and by, dreamers with an intense passion for beautiful design drawn from nature, and strong pacifist tendencies. As with all Studio Ghibli films, every frame is a work of art in itself, and clever dream sequences and the inspired touch of having human voices make all of the film’s sound effects, from engines to wind and earthquakes, help make this truly magical.

3. Pride (Matthew Warchus)
Taking a little known story about the an unlikely allegiance between a group of Welsh striking miners and a London gay and lesbian rights protest group, Pride has most definitely earned its place as one of the most beloved crowdpleasers of the year. Whilst the directing is fairly unexceptional, it’s down to the strength of the excellent script and fantastic ensemble of actors that this film is able to grant depth to this large cast of characters, and offer them all moments to shine.

At once laugh-out-loud funny and tearjerkingly heartfelt like the best melodramas can be, Pride is one of those rare films full of moments that make you want to burst into applause or stand up and cheer. It’s a joy to watch, even after multiple viewings.

2. Her (Spike Jonze)
What initially sounded like a potentially disastrous concept for a film: a man falling in love with his computer, miraculously turned out to be one of the most touching, delicate and heartbreaking love stories of the last few years. A smart and funny exploration on love and a surprisingly genuine study on the nature of modern relationships, Her further cements Spike Jonze’s place as one of my favourite filmmakers.

Joaquin Phoenix plays against type as the sensitive romantic Theodore, while Scarlett Johansson brings an incredible emotional depth as the operating system Samantha. Excellent production design confirms this as one of the best sci-fi films recently made, and every frame looks like it’s been Instagramed to within an inch of its life. No degree of hyperbole can do justice to just how wonderful Her really is.

1. Boyhood (Richard Linklater)
It just couldn’t be anything else really. The 12 year filming period is remarkable enough, but the degree of intimacy and truthfulness Linklater and his cast achieves with this sprawling tale is even more miraculous. Boyhood perfectly blends the specific story of the Evans family, through snapshots of the events of their lives both remarkable and discerningly ordinary, with an exploration of the universal truths that form the facets of the human condition we all experience in our own lives.

Parenthood, friendship, first loves, self-discovery… Boyhood covers this and more. The film is not about any great aim or journey or conclusion. It simply shows one example of how we all live in the present, the minutiae of little moments that form our every days, and mould us into the people we are today, yet we’re still shifting into the people we will be tomorrow, or next year. So many moments in Boyhood are, despite the specifics of the characters, so relatable and universal, it’s seriously quite special to watch.

Stuff I missed: Calvary, The Raid 2, The Lunchbox, Nymphomaniac, Locke, Blue Ruin, We Are the Best!, Snowpiercer, Frank, The Drop, The Babadook, The Homesman, Leviathan, Two Days, One Night