2010-2019

23.9.23 With the UK government’s recent meagre statement on benefits, I felt it a timely moment to revisit Ken Loach’s Palme d’Or winning I, Daniel Blake (which I admit to rewatching last month in all honesty!). An unflinching drama following a middle-aged carpenter struggling against a heartless welfare system doesn’t sound like a fun night at the pictures, and while the film’s tone strikes as relentlessly bleak, its emphatic performances and an authentic sense of place in working-class Newcastle make for a provocative viewing experience. In his first film role, comedian Dave Johns brings a kind yet unyielding presence to the role of Daniel. From the opening sequence, where he good-naturedly conflicts with a clueless healthcare assessor off-camera, Johns radiates a relatable everyman quality. With his thick Geordie accent and propensity for gallows humour when faced with endless bureaucratic impasses, Daniel gives voice to any of us who’s battled indifference from faceless, unsympathetic members of government or its infuriating institutions.  Among the numerous well-observed scenes of quiet desperation in I, Daniel Blake, Katy’s visit to a food bank stands out in its emotional precision. Brilliantly played by Hayley Squires, Katy swallows her pride to feed her children, and Squires’ delicate acting and Loach’s judicious direction deliver a portrait of human dignity ground down by the system. Her moment of despair, hidden behind the food bank’s cluttered shelves is one of the saddest moments I’ve seen in any film, aided by the technical components of the scene’s framing, timing, and orchestration combining perfectly to create something unforgettable and heartbreaking. The film depicts a stark contrast between the cold and callous nature of the government and its job centre system, against the warmth, humour and sense of community among the people of Newcastle. Loach has consistently demonstrated his commitment to representing the vulnerable and forgotten members of society, and his latest film The Old Oak is no exception. Also, in his retrospective classics and reward-winners Kes and The Wind That Shakes the Barley, Loach consistently demonstrates his ability to use cinema as a tool for working-class commentary. I, Daniel Blake is probably his masterwork; a powerful indictment of the UK’s neoliberal capitalist system, which offers a reminder of the struggles faced by the contemporary working man. The film is deeply depressing, but it is also extremely important, as it sheds light on the critically inhumane treatment of those on the margins by no fault of their own.

15.11.23 Sing Street is more than just a coming-of-age film about ragtag Irish schoolboys, it’s an odyssey through some of the most popular and loved rock bands of the 80s in a unique and reverential way. It beautifully captures both the exhilaration and heartache of youth, with director John Carney showing great direction in allowing the young actors’ infectious camaraderie to form the soul of this movie.  The film is full of excellent music, balancing huge hits from the past and original numbers such as the incredibly catchy ‘Drive It Like You Stole It’. Although performed by professionals, the film gives the impression that the capable young cast performs their songs with the spirit and talent exceeding their years, which they seem to exude. Some silly moments don’t distract from the joy within, such as the emotional yet farfetched ending, and the paedophile priest oddly reappearing as a hero in the lead role Conor’s daydream. Though the ending ties things up rather improbably, it is an emotionally gratifying one. But there is a touch of sorrow amidst the joy as Sing Street also laments how quickly the fire of youth and creative passion can be extinguished if not nurtured. It playfully revels in the transportive power of music to lift us out of difficult times with nostalgia and catharsis. Yet it also acknowledges the bittersweetness of such moments we gain in our youth and then lose fleetingly with time.  Director John Carney has a knack for getting original songs right just like he did with Once, which seems to be the core strength of his films, and he’s done it yet again here. Sing Street affectionately immerses itself in the spirited musicality of 1980s rock, while meditating on holding onto that creative spark as we age. It’s full of heart and hummable tunes which means I will keep coming back to it again and again.

14.9.23 2023 could have been a better year for horror films, with Talk to Me being the best of a mediocre selection. But we did have some good news: a sequel was announced for one of my favourites from the genre in the last 30 years or so. Almost 10 years later, It Follows remains one of the scariest films I’ve ever seen. Subjectively, I love its 80s, dreamlike synth soundtrack and style. Every time I rewatch it, I’m also impressed by the mise-en-scene surrounding the alcoholic mother and absent father, which adds layers of intrigue I think many moviegoers fail to notice. Additional layers of subtext regarding promiscuity, sexual assault and even the AIDS pandemic, continue to resonate years later. The film also touches on the anxiety of escaping one’s childhood and the dark past within it, only to realise the baggage finds a way of catching up with you. Always. In terms of technical aspects, I would also argue It Follows has aged incredibly well. The cinematography and innovative camerawork still deliver tension and regular frights with every viewing. We have seen some decent independent horror films in the last decade or so, but none have matched the brilliance of its core premise and how it serves as a metaphor for so many of our own personal demons. Whether it’s guilt, anxiety or regret, the film taps into the paranoia of being followed by an unseen, persistent force. This is compounded by forcing the audience to focus on the middle of the screen, allowing tension to build with every scene. It’s a simple but genius device which I have never seen utilised that well in any other horror film, although I do recognise its original, terrifying use in the door slam scene in 1974’s The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Years later, It Follows still has a huge impact and gets under my skin like no other horror film. The sequel promises to build on the original’s strengths while exploring fresh territory, and I hope it retains the dreamy world without a clear sense of time. On this rewatch, I reflected on my own experience of mid-adulthood in all its dimensions, in ways both substantial and insubstantial. It comes close to perfection within the horror genre while leaving some mystery about its dark but wistful atmosphere.

13.8.23 Of all the films associated with Aaron Sorkin’s breakneck dialogue, Steve Jobs is by far my favourite. It also makes for a great double bill with 2023’s Blackberry which I watched a couple of weeks before rewatching this in December, as I have been holding back from reviewing this for a while. At its best, this is Danny Boyle’s attempt at a riveting character study, anchored by Sorkin’s rapid-fire screenplay and a superb ensemble. The script crackles with energy which still impresses me, considering the subject matter of a man setting up for a presentation three times is far from exciting at first glance. As we follow Jobs across these product launches, witnessing his complex relationships with colleagues like Steve Wozniak (Seth Rogen) and Joanna Hoffman (Kate Winslet), we soon begin to realise that this icon of popular tech may be seen as a great man despite some questionable morals and suggestions of misogyny and self-aggrandisation. Michael Fassbender is simply brilliant as Jobs, capturing his visionary genius and single-minded drive, yet not shying away from depicting these less sympathetic traits several times over the different flashpoints.  Feeling more like a stage play, the three-act structure allows us an intimate look at Jobs’ life over a decade, although only teasing us with the product launches and instead focuses more on callbacks to the past, key interactions with his daughter, and most pleasing to my taste, pointed discourse with Jeff Daniels as Apple CEO John Sculley. Here we see the script come alive, harkening to an intense stage drama, and Boyle embraces the material with kinetic direction and visual punctuation, like the pulsating electronic score underscoring Act One. For those who connect with the subject matter, the first-rate performances and writing make Steve Jobs an engaging character study from start to finish. Daniels nearly steals the film as Sculley to be honest, going toe-to-toe with Fassbender’s commanding lead performance. Steve Jobs shows us an imperfect visionary who revolutionised everyday consumer technology, but often struggled in his personal life. Sorkin’s script delves into thought-provoking themes about the costs of genius and the complex power dynamics of business and creativity. With its propulsive energy and a powerhouse, near-career best showing by Fassbender (I think his role in Shame is truly his best), Steve Jobs soars right up until the energised, massively satisfying ending. Steve Jobs the man was clearly a man of prescience, but also deeply flawed, and contemptible to some. ‘Poorly made’? Well, Steve Jobs might have been in terms of his morality and parenting, but the film certainly isn’t.

10.8.23 First watch: 4 stars With the stock of Michael Keaton having gone up so much, as well as the novelty and camera shenanigans within Birdman losing impact, it has waned as a compelling story on rewatch. Now 10 years old, the film doesn’t feel quite as fresh, with a loss of validity now Keaton has returned as Batman in 2023’s The Flash. It remains an ambitious and technically impressive film that explores celebrity culture and ego smartly, through the post-Hollywood life of Riggan Thomson, a washed-up actor striving for a comeback. Keaton delivers a great physical, meta-performance as Thomson, an actor known for playing a superhero in the 1990s, now trying to reinvent himself. With art imitating real life, Keaton captures Thomson’s desperation and delusions of grandeur, though moments of clarity are few. Emma Stone as Thomson’s snarky daughter and voice of the audience seems like the only reasonable person in the whole cast of up-their-arse Broadway performers. However, the propulsive, jazz energy created by the score and the single-shot style has become exhausting and overly showy on repeat viewings. While an impressive stunt, the constantly roving camera calls unnecessary attention to itself. Although the gimmick suits the story of Riggan’s unravelling mental state, it does the unfortunate thing of reminding the viewer of better films with long takes, such as in Goodfellas, Children of Men and Touch of Evil. Another more unfair sleight is to say how the jazz score also reminds us of Damien Chazelle’s superior work, namely Whiplash.  Not a bad film by any stretch, Birdman just relies too heavily on technical chicanery and self-awareness now weakened by Keaton’s rise. Once you see past the camera tricks, the story feels hollow. The performances deserve praise but cannot sustain the ambitious conceit alone; what once seemed bold now appears a mildly enjoyable black comedy unable to support its weight. Birdman remains a unique entry in Iñárritu’s filmography, but its flaws have become more glaring.

28.2.24 Loveless is not an uplifting film, but it’s powerful, weighty and overwhelming in the best possible sense. By creating a riveting portrait of a family in despair, it offers a scathing commentary on contemporary life in Russia, devoid of heart and soul. At the story’s core lies every parent’s worst nightmare: the disappearance of your first child. But the lack of urgency from 12-year-old Alyosha’s soon-to-be-divorced parents makes it abundantly clear that neither wants him. Both Zhenya (Maryana Spivak) and Boris (Aleksey Rozin) have moved on emotionally, although still in the same apartment at the start of the film which is quickly being sold to a younger more hopeful couple. Our wicked pair, in contrast, have lined up new lovers and made plans that don’t include the son they heartbreakingly refer to as the worst mistake of their lives. The two leads are equally disgusting in their selfishness, pride and egocentrism. Their nasty, passive-aggressive digs are electric and darkly funny at times. The performances are uniformly strong, with Spivak’s Zhenya a particular standout as she dominates her scenes with entitlement and ignorance. Yet even the side characters relish opportunities to showcase humanity’s capacity for being profoundly ignorant and detached. In one of the film’s most intense and upsetting scenes, we see the repulsive attitude from Zhenya’s mother, a true battle axe, who rants at her daughter explaining just how she got to be how she is. Much has been said about the final character shot in the film, showing a woman dressed in an Olympic Russia tracksuit, furiously running on a treadmill alone in the cold, going nowhere fast and isolated – a fitting metaphor for life under Putin. The film therefore emphatically succeeds as both blistering social commentary and thriller, with the likes of Fincher no doubt nodding in approval. For anyone seeking to understand the deep dissatisfaction residing in much of Russian society, Andrey Zvyagintsev’s scathing dissection is never less than extremely compelling. I am only just starting to venture into Russian cinema (having only seen this, Mirror, Battleship Potemkin and Come and See) but I must see more, so I think the director’s other known work Leviathan will be the next Russian film I try and seek out.

4.3.24 I don’t love the X-Men films to rewatch all of them before Deadpool and Wolverine later in the year, but I remember enjoying Days of Future Past enough to check it out again. On rewatch, I found it to be an entertaining instalment, which at the time breathed new life and dynamics into the mutant universe. By seamlessly blending old and new franchise elements into one delightful package, it acts as a much-needed jumpstart for a series in need of fresh legs to stand on. While more dramatic than First Class but lacking a definitive villain, Days of Future Past is imbued with a reverent admiration for Marvel’s rich source material. The excellent visual effects, star-studded ensemble, witty self-aware writing that knows when to inject some comic relief without becoming too jokey, and Bryan Singer’s skilled direction elevate it to an incredibly fun balancing act of beloved characters. Using Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine as the bridge between timelines is a brilliant move that grounds the fresh storytelling in a familiar, iconic character. While using Richard Nixon as a villain is admittedly a cheap ploy, the climactic showdown between past and present villains, one real and one fictional, still satisfies. For better or worse, Days of Future Past wholeheartedly embraces unabashed comics-style storytelling more than any previous Marvel film entry. It’s a crying shame the subsequent Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix failed to capitalise on this film’s deft balancing of casts and emotionally resonant stakes. While not perfect, Days of Future Past combines the best of both eras to create an immensely entertaining whole that reinvigorated the X-Men series, at least for a little while, leading into the Deadpool and Logan movies. With its daring narrative ambition and seamless melding of rosters, it’s a temporary triumph in the Marvel Universe that has me excited for 2025’s Fantastic Four reboot starring Vanessa Kirby and Pedro Pascal.

27.02.23 45 Years is a ghost story. And a horror film. But it’s presented as a drama about a retired childless couple with a secret. Delicate on one hand, yet brooding and haunting on the other, the film plants a shard of ice into a seemingly solid marriage and shows us how trust and intimacy can be shattered. It’s a real ‘slow chiller’ (rather than a slow burner, let’s stick with the cold theme!), with some excellent narrative devices utilised which I don’t think I’ve seen before. One of the most potent and memorable is the attic scene, with the incredibly effective use of a split screen and an old photo projector. This allows Charlotte Rampling’s character to discover the unknown, whilst at the same time allowing us to see both her reactions, as well as what she is seeing the whole time. But even more impressive is the finale of the film. Without giving anything else away, it’s simply one of the best movie endings and final scenes I can think of. I think about it often and it sends shivers down my spine when reminded of it. Rampling’s agonising face and the use of familiar music now heartbreaking in its lyricism syncs up in such a beautiful yet unsettling manner. 45 Years is a great film regardless of these two scenes, and there are many other powerful moments to behold. It makes for a good rewatch and feels somewhat underrated despite its popularity amongst those who have seen it. Andrew Haigh is an assured director who appears to have had some bad luck with the studios he’s been attached to. His new film ‘Strangers’ is out in late 2023 starring Paul Mescal and Claire Foy. I can’t bloody wait.

07.02.23 Jim and Andy is the rare occurrence of the documentary being much better than the film it is based on. I think Man on the Moon is a ‘fine’ film, although I always felt it was rushed and compromised in its portrayal of Andy Kaufman’s life. In Jim and Andy, we see the reality of the film’s turbulent production and just how stressed Milos Forman was having to deal with Jim Carrey and his exhausting channeling of Kaufman and his alter ego, the abrasive Tony Clifton. It’s unbelievable to think that this shell of a man on screen was the same man who directed Amadeus and One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Like just in Man on the Moon, Carrey takes centre stage and is almost the complete focus of the audience’s attention. Now much older and wiser, Carrey bares his soul in a series of selected extracts, intertwined with excerpts from his impressive and lovable filmography. What makes Jim and Andy so good is only partly to do with the original film footage, and that the main spectacle is witnessing Carrey’s emotions shift and his face contort with each heartfelt comment. It’s the only film I can think of which shows one person commanding four ‘performances’ (old Jim, new Jim, Andy and Tony), which when you consider scenes in The Mask and The Truman Show, give a sense of Carrey’s mental state as his career quickly accelerated in the nineties. It’s an incredibly revealing but accessible documentary which shines a light on a beloved but cerebral movie star.