Tenet

Christopher Nolan is known for for headscratchers. He takes pride in using a blockbuster formula to dream a little bigger, darling. It is no surprise then that his latest is his headscratch-iest. Playing with elements that he has built his career on - time mechanics, huge set pieces, the spectacle of cinema - Nolan has again produced something unique, something truly original. But does originality equate to quality? This is Tenet.

Tenet is, for all intents and purpose, an espionage thriller. Its comparison to a Bond film has not been understated, and it is a fair likeness. But where Bond has fancy gizmos and gadgets, Tenet has fancy time mechanics which opens the door for all sorts of creativity and breathtaking visuals never before seen in cinema. It's no doubt that Tenet is a spectacle piece, an audio-visual experience made to appeal to its audience on a sensory level and then, secondly, to their intellect. There's been cries that it's complexity for the sake of complexity, a vehicle for Nolan to display his superior intellect, but that is a severe misread of the film. Are the ideas on display here complicated - yes. But more importantly they serve the story, or rather, the experience. Any sort of time discrepancy has to be complicated - there are paradoxes galore - and the film makes clear that understanding all the detail is a wasted effort. This is not because Nolan is clever and the audience isn't, but because to focus on the detail detracts from the big picture event; it takes you away from the experience

That being said, the criticism isn't unwarranted. The screenplay is too dense and the sound mixing too score-heavy (as good as the score is) so it feels like the audience are constantly missing something because they can't keep up with the quick dialogue or can't hear it in the first instance. If these concepts and conversations aren't important, then they need to go. Tenet either needs an extra half an hour to build on these themes, or it needs to chop them. It's clear that the edit has forced the issue, but perhaps this could've been solved earlier with a tighter handle on the screenplay. It's not a confusing plot, but it is unnecessarily overloaded. One sailing scene, for instance, seems almost entirely superfluous aside from the fact that one minor incident in it drives what follows. In an already tightly squeezed narrative this scene (and really this scene is the only major offender) feels like a waste of precious time. 

As already mentioned, Tenet is designed to be an experience yet still begs its audience to stay switched on and focused throughout, rewarding those who do but harshly casting aside those who don't. It can be frustrating, being unclear on what exactly is happening, but Nolan wants the audience to work and persevere. If he is guilty of something, it's for challenging the notion that blockbusters are easy-watches; films where you can disengage and just sit back, passively absorbing content that is designed appeal to all. No one claims Tarkovsky made bad films because you have to work to understand them, yet this is a criticism leveled at Tenet. Do not mistake me here, Tarkovsky and Nolan are very different filmmakers, but it should be clear that complexity or working your audience is not inherently a negative trait. It may be divisive, but not entirely detrimental. 

The complicated ideas on display here are primarily a vehicle for the breathtaking visuals and action set-pieces. Nolan and his team know how to shoot action. The hand-to-hand combat is visceral and hard-hitting, with the punches being felt through the screen - a kitchen brawl makes creative use of a cheese grater which would even make Gordon Ramsey wince - and the large scale set-pieces are astonishing. Making full use of the time mechanics on display (see temporal pincer movements and cars flipping backwards), Nolan stretches the possibility of cinematic action, typically using practical effects wherever possible to ground the chaos in reality. We may be tempted to ask 'how?', Nolan encourages instead to utter 'wow!'.

This isn't Nolan's best movie, mainly for the reasons already discussed, but it is a demonstration of what could be possible in cinema. Bolstered by great performances from a suave John David Washington, an energetic and enigmatic Robert Pattinson, and a brilliant Elizabeth Debicki (whose Kat, however, is under-developed and under-utilised here. She's not alone, but most notable. Another fault of a brutal edit and a tight screenplay). It's charming, it's witty, and it's visually stunning. Challenging the norm set out by countless Marvel productions and other copycat blockbusters, Tenet is a breathtaking piece of cinema that will push people and prove divisive. But who would want to be safe when you can be sensational. 

The Top Ten of The Last Ten

10 - The Social Network (2010)

The protagonist of Fincher's Facebook film may have lost some of our respect over recent years, following criticism of his involvement with Cambridge Analytica and attitudes to ads, but whilst Mark Zuckerberg has fallen, The Social Network has soared. Its razor-sharp dialogue, powerful editing, and compelling acting never presents its characters as anything but flawed and broken trying to make it in a world that only cares about popularity. It's still a highly entertaining, and culturally damning, portrayal of the power of social media and the overwhelming desire to be liked. It could be argued that it is more meaningful now than ever.

9 - The Hurt Locker (2009)

Really, The Hurt Locker is what started everything for me. Not my love for films, that was well established, but my love for all things Oscars. The Hurt Locker was one of those rare films that took my breath away like nothing had done before. So why the love for the Oscars? In my mind, Avatar was going to win Best Picture; it was a two horse race. But Hurt Locker won. That was exciting - to see this superb piece of cinema topple the $2 billion behemoth. And every year there's a competition, a battle with a winner to predict. But that's not why The Hurt Locker is so high on this list. Yes it holds a special place in my heart, but it is also a gosh-darn great movie.

8 - Up In The Air (2009)

Some films get better the more you watch them, some get worse. My master's thesis focused on airports in American Cinema (fun, right?)*, looking at 2004's The Terminal and 2009's Up in the Air. I liked both films when starting but now I'd be happy to never see a single frame of The Terminal again. Up in the Air, however, got better with every viewing, despite excruciating analysis. Now that's the sign of a good film. A beautifully crafted movie with George Clooney's Ryan as a living embodiment of airport life - busy, impressive, free, but ultimately empty, devoid of any solid, concrete relationships, revelling only in temporary connections. It's as warm as it is heartbreaking, and much more grounded than its title lets on.

*Full title: Representation of the Airport in American Film: Exploring Marc Augé's Non-Place, its Effect on Relationships, and the Concept of Home in The Terminal and Up in the Air

7 - Django Unchained (2012)

Slavery may not seem like a natural topic for Tarantino, the wise-cracking, violence-loving, history-warping filmmaker that he is. In fact, slavery should surely be treated with the upmost sincerity? I mean, look at 12 Years a Slave - they won Best Picture with their very serious (and very good) representation of one of the darkest times in American History. But with Django, an organic pairing emerges. Tarantino does not treat slavery lightly, but never does he let his audience dwell in sorrow. While this is a victorious story, it still shows all the gruesome realities of slavery and doesn't hide the ugliness of revenge. Is it stylised, yes. Is it often tongue-in-cheek, yes. But does it ever downplay the suffering of those who were enslaved or make light of their plight? No. It could very easily be a disaster, but in Tarantino's hands, it is a major success.

6 - Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) (2014) 

It's tempting to assign Birdman's success to a gimmick: the single long take in which the film is shot. And whilst it's stylistic properties are worth all the merit they're given, Birdman is so much more than clever camera work. As well as being the highest Best Picture winner on this list, it's a stunning piece of visual artistry and outstanding strong telling, contained within the parameters set by the single wandering viewpoint. It's immersive and subversive, funny and miserable, stacked with world-class performances and complimented by a strong rewatch value. Well, how could Birdman not make the top ten?

5 - The Wolf of Wall Street (2013)

At three hours long, The Wolf of Wall Street is easily the longest film to break the top ten, but unlike other similar-length films, particularly those released around Oscar season, it never drags. It portrays the exhilarating appeal of Belfort's lifestyle, regardless of its condemnable morality, whilst not shying away from the ugly, crushing devastation that it brings. It is bold, brutal, breathtaking, and boasts a career-best performance from Leonardo DiCaprio (don't @ me). The picture it paints may be shades of moral and ethical grey, but grey has never dazzled so brightly.

4 - Black Swan (2010)

What happens when you combine the high art of ballet with spine-tingling unease and paranoid suspense of a horror film? The answer: you get one of the best films of the last ten years; an unnervingly dark dive into the human psyche as it pursues perfection. Black Swan is as scary as it is steamy, whilst never being insincere and we, as the viewer, share in Nina's swan dive into madness, experiencing every second of it through her as our unreliable guide with Aronofsky's directing perfectly positioning his audience to constantly surprise, scare, and shock us. As far as films go, this one is on pointe (sorry).

3 - Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

There's no other film on this list quite like Mad Max: Fury Road. Firstly, it's a sequel. Not only that, it's a reboot-sequel. And not only that, but it's a reboot-sequel set in dystopian wasteland, ruled by a cult of radioactively decaying, kamikazing mad-men that drive spikey sand-buggies and swing flamethrower-guitar players from ropes whilst chasing the few females left in their world. Not your typical Oscar bait, but simply brilliant. A visual masterpiece, a joyous thrill-ride, an overwhelmingly unique piece of cinema; Fury Road is all these things and more. But what does Fury Road have that few others on this list have? Fun. It takes it's fun seriously, and as a result it is seriously fun. Whilst other films may make us well up or pull on our heartstrings, Fury Road begs us to watch again and again and again. It says 'hey, hop in. Enjoy the drive', and we can't not. It's just too good.

2 - The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014)

Auter is not a word thrown around much these days, and probably for good reason. Do many directors today really have a distinguishable style, something immediately recognisable? A few names spring to mind, but none more so than Wes Anderson; his style is uniquely crafted and The Grand Budapest Hotel is the jewel in his crown. A ridiculously comic, character driven caper featuring a dream cast, a non-linear narrative (complete with complementary aspect ratios) and signature cinematography. It is a meticulously detailed cinematic experience which never sacrifices its entertainment value or its beauty. In fact, it truly encompasses all that the medium of film has to offer in order to tell a fantastic and phenomenally funny story.

1 - Whiplash (2014)

It's not often I finish a film and want to re-watch it immediately, but that's what happened with Whiplash. I was rewatching it the very next day after thinking about it all night. Almost five years since its release, and I'm still thinking about it all the time. It is a reminder that films don't have to be box-office behemoths filled with cherished intellectual property to be brilliant, but great performances, a sharp edit, a contained narrative, and only personal stakes can do the job fine. Damien Chazelle has become a regular at the Oscars (with La La Land and First Man in the last few years) but not because his films are 'Oscar-bait', but because they are good films without appealing to the conventions of a typical winner. And sure, he hasn't gone home with a Best Picture gong yet but his best film to date gets the absolute privilege of sitting at the top of this completely pointless list, on this completely pointless blog with an author who will fight tooth and nail for it to stay there. 

1001 Movies - An American in Paris

In 2009, Hugh Jackman proclaimed 'The musical is back!' as he performed with the stars of hit musicals High School Musical 3 and Mumma Mia! at the 81st Academy Awards. It's hard to argue with him; since then The Greatest Showman, Beauty and the Beast, Mary Poppins Returns, and even the modern retelling of the classic Les Miserables have all hit the top ten highest grossing musicals, have become cultural hits and have led to more musical magic being slated in the coming years. But none of those films performed as well critically. Despite great songs, they lacked something: a pulse. Life. A beating heart in and amongst their big name leads, flashy productions, and Oscar nominated numbers. Vincente Minnelli's 1951 classic An American in Paris had that so who could ask for anything more?  

Of course, it's rare to find a film with quite as much as heart as An American in Paris. It's an emotional roller-coaster with joy and sadness, love and loneliness, paints and pains. The story of struggling artists that struggle equally in love. Their poetic minds fantasising about what love is, how love should be, and who to love. And the heart of the film is not one that beats, but rather taps as a gleaming Gene Kelly and a solid supporting cast explore the passionate rhythm of art and humanity through song and dance, tip-tapping their toes through some of the most enjoyable musical numbers ever committed to screen. To sum it up in the language of the film: S'wonderful, s'marvellous!

Its vibrant pastel palette protrudes from the screen, engulfing the audience in its radiancing warmth and joy, the picture it paints paying homage to the art it so obviously admires. This is most explicitly and exceptionally clear in its final astonishing dance sequence which leaves the audience gasping and breathless, before throwing them back into reality, just as Gene Kelly's Jerry is at the film's end. There's something undeniably special about the construction, presentation, and execution of every element of An American Paris from the contagious dancing, to the heart warming singing, to the gut punching finish. Is it Kelly's raw charisma and talent? Is it Gershwin's moving music? Is it that jaw-dropping ballet climax? Whatever it is, it's got a pulse; it's got rhythm.

Despite its obvious, major influence on later acclaimed films (see Best Picture winner nominee La La Land) as well as less critically adored musicals, one thing is clear: they just don't make them like this anymore.

Best Pictures 2019: Part I

A Star is Born

A dazzling directorial debut from Bradley Cooper, breathing new life into a classic Hollywood narrative. As the fourth re-imagination of of the same story, there's a danger of being stale and tired, falling victim to over-used tropes and clichés. Cooper, however, fearlessly presses on like a veteran and creates one of the year's biggest and boldest hits.

A Star is Born requires one thing to succeed: a real star. Fortunately, it has two. Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper are astonishing, with Cooper particularly turning in the performance of his life and Gaga's mesmerising voice will blow you away; the leads make this story real. There's an overwhelming feeling of truth hidden behind the artifice of cinema, helped in no small part by having a pop star reenact the climb to fame with dialogue that feels pulled directly from Gaga's backstory. It's a beautifully shot, masterful piece of work, that seamlessly overcomes its weaknesses such as pacing in its third act. Like the songs it contains, the film hardly misses a note. It's enthralling, moving, and musically outstanding.

Black Panther

Marvel films dominate today's cinematic landscape and appear in, and regularly on top of, lists of the best movies of the year. Whether you believe they're that good or not, no one can deny their cultural impact and certainly not that of Black Panther. The eighteenth film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe caused a worldwide stir at the beginning of 2018 when it was released and those ripples are still apparent now, a year on. It's clear to see why; in a cinematic universe, and more widely a cinematic landscape, featuring predominately white male heroes, the lack of representation for people of colour in cinema's biggest franchise was painfully apparent.

But Black Panther is not just a check box for the MCU's diversity quota; it's a political commentary, a thrill ride of power struggles, and one of the MCU's best movies. In many practical elements, it is flawless. Its production design and costume design are inspired, drawing inspiration from African tribal wear - the image of which contrasts with the valuable knowledge and resources the Wakandans have to offer. It feels more timely, more pertinent today than Marvel's other films, but even its visually impressive and strong design, fresh take on the superhero genre, and brilliant performances can't save it from feeling too neat, too restrained by the bigger picture that the MCU has in sight. With a bit more freedom, it's exciting to imagine what Black Panther could have been.

Bohemian Rhapsody

The controversies surrounding new allegations of sexual misconduct by director Bryan Singer may be an external factor affecting how (and if) one watches Bohemian Rhapsody but on on it's own merits, it still struggles. It's not a bad film, but it's not great. It's all spectacle and no depth and it feels like a cheap imitation of a creative genius. It's not just air-brushing to compress the narrative, it's unnecessarily manipulating Mercury's life to evoke an emotional response and tell a more compelling story. But it feels dishonest; Mercury was a legend, so why adjust key aspects of his life? In order to tell a 'better' story?

And despite being an entertaining romp through Queen's greatest hits, it's often emotively flat. The supporting cast are one dimensional at best which elevates a brilliant performance by Rami Malek by contrast. But there's no character development beyond Mercury, which is strained anyway and mostly hinges on a literal descent into a gay underworld. Maybe there was something worse here, salvaged into something watchable and mostly enjoyable by veteran editor John Ottman, but it's not inventive, innovative, and inspiring like its subject. And really, isn't that what Freddie deserves?

Vice

Featuring a powerhouse politician embodied in a powerhouse performance by Christian Bale, Vice tells the story of Dick Cheney; his subtle rise to a position of power and how he wielded that power. Adam McKay’s energetic follow up to The Big Short is angled in a way designed to make Thanos look like a puppy dog. It’s partisan and biased but it’s completely compelling film making, playing with narrative story structures and using its cinematic medium to full effect. There’s a restaurant scene where the menu offers tasty travesties from the invasion of Iraq, a false ending, archival footage, a Shakespearean soliloquy, and much more. It’s a storytelling marvel.

That being said, it sometimes rushes and sometimes drags and occasionally becomes confusing as we jump between self-aware meta-scenes, safari footage, and the main narrative. There’s a lot to digest which will no doubt require multiple viewings and it’s exciting enough to not make that a chore. It's funny, which only highlights the severity of its subject matter. It's a well aimed satire and, for the most part, it hits its mark dead on.

Best Picture: Part I

Dunkirk


Visionary director and innovative story-teller, Christopher Nolan tackles the tale of one of Britain's most dangerous challenges during the Second World War: the evacuation of Dunkirk. The story is told in three temporalities with three areas of battle - we spend a week on land, a day on the sea, and an hour in the sky. The stories, interwoven into one another, capture the struggle and determination of both the British public and armed forces.

Nolan is at his visceral best. Every bomb hit you, water pouring into a claustrophobic space engulfs you. This is sensory film making as it should be. Delicately balancing his timelines to maximum effect, Nolan manages to tell three powerfully engaging stories which are all as gripping and nerve wracking as one another. A master class in war films.

Phantom Thread


Daniel Day-Lewis' 'retiring' film, Phantom Thread tells the story of a man, a dress maker, though more importantly, he's a perpetual bachelor, allowing women to float through his life and inspire him on a breeze before they drift away again. But falling for one of them disrupts his whole life.

Beautifully shot and wonderfully crafted, Paul Thomas Anderson's latest struggles at times to be fully engaging. Grounded by solid performances by the whole cast, notably Day-Lewis, Phantom Thread is, in essence, a film about the consuming world of fashion and an eccentric designer but his quirks often rub the wrong way, making it difficult to support the central figure and his reluctant pursuit of romance. It works as proof that making a technically brilliant film does not necessarily make a brilliant film.

Get Out


Take a the sense of unease you get in any good horror movie. Combine it with overtones of the racial oppression that haunts suburban, southern USA. What you get is Jordan Peele's phenomenal Get Out, a striking racial satire with Daniel Kaluuya anchoring the film with a star-making leading turn.

The important social issues presented in Get Out are the reason satire exists - to hold a mirror up to society and highlight its blemishes - and Peele focuses his quiet anger on making the audience feel uncomfortable before unleashing it in loud, brutal fashion.  Get Out is bold. Get Out is brave. But most of all, Get Out is terrifying. The question that remains is whether it is the film that is scary, or the darker reality it is portraying?

Call Me by Your Name


Beautiful, relaxed, loving film-making. This is what is on display in Call Me by your Name, the unconventional and forbidden character driven love story set in the countryside of Italy. The camera floats around the leads passively, simply observing something, allowing characters and relationships to evolve in its view. 

Featuring strong performances from its leads but also from the minor characters (particularly Michael Stuhlbarg, who was robbed of a Best Supporting Actor nomination), Call Me by your Name is arguably the most rounded, well crafted film at the Oscars this year. It succeeds on every single level, not to mention Luca Guadagnino's immense control over combining all these elements. This is film making at its very best, its most powerful, its most emotive. And the the long takes are to die for. 

Oscars 2018: Part I

 Beauty and the Beast 

The live action re-telling of one of Disney’s biggest and most successful animations that occasionally dips its toe into original thought but otherwise clings passionately to its 1991 predecessor. And a little too much.

The issue with remaking a classic almost shot for shot is it all feels too familiar - we’ve seen this done better before. That’s the problem here. The nostalgic enjoyment of the original is overshadowed by the creepy realism of the living objects and the layers of auto tune slathered over certain numbers. The aim here is to recreate something magical but in doing so, the film loses its own magic. It feels like that passion is for imitating rather than creating, and as such it’s noticeably the lesser beast. It’s adequate; everything is done fine, but why settle for fine when Disney proved how well the story could be told 26 years ago. 

Strong Island


Director Yance Ford retells the circumstances surrounding his brother's murder and tries to get answers for why his killer walked free. Intermingled in the story are interviews with family and friends whose calm, quiet anger and hurt are the heart of this documentary.

A more haunting, personal, and pained perspective on the institutional racism in the US and its justice system than last year's 13th or OJ: Made in America but not quite as captivating or as powerful.

Kong: Skull Island

At the close of the Vietnam war, a team of scientists, explorers, and soldiers go on an exhibition to the elusive and uncharted Skull Island. A standard mapping mission with a sinister ulterior motive that goes wrong immediately when they disturb the king of the island: Kong.

Kong: Skull Island is a Vietnam film without the Vietnam. Visually, the inspirations from the likes of Platoon and Apocalypse Now are clear but the enemy are replaced with the unknown inhabitants of Skull Island. The film suffers from clunky dialogue and underdeveloped characters and relationships but succeeds in being a heap of fun. Considering the big names involved (Larson, Jackson, Hiddleston, Goodman), the film feels like it lacks depth in its human performers (which the exception of Jackson and John C. Reilly) whilst their computer generated counterparts dazzle.  It’s a film on the brink of brilliance so it’s a pity that it falls short on some major points (developed characters, particularly female, being the most needed element).


The Boss Baby

Obviously babies come from a company called Baby Corp that is run by businessman babies - we all know that - but in The Boss Baby, Puppy Corp, their business competitor, is about to release a new puppy that will be so adorable, no one will ever want a baby again thus putting Baby Corp out of business. 

The Boss Baby is a charming family film with enough 'adult' jokes about memos and meetings to keep the parents entertained. That being said, it walks a path well trodden; whilst the premise is original and entertaining, the story is lacking innovation. It's silly fun but Dreamworks still has a way to go to match the constant standards of Pixar.

The Greatest Showman

Phineas Barnum (better known as P. T. Barnum - played by Hugh Jackman) is a tailor's son - mistreated, penniless, and dreaming of better things for himself, including a life with Charity (Michelle Williams), the daughter of a wealthy client of P. T.'s father. Seeking to change his fortune to give Charity the life of her dreams, Barnum sets about making his fortune with a museum of curiosities, adapting it slowly into a hugely popular and increasingly controversial circus of oddity performers such as a bearded lady, a tattooed man, and a dwarf soldier. But as the circus becomes ever more renown but at the same time more ridiculed, Barnum teams up with Philip Carlyle (Zac Efron), a theatre producer, and sets his sights on a higher class of audience.

The Greatest Showman is a passion project that took seven years to take to the big screen that has produced some of the most inventively staged and filmed musical set pieces of the last 20 years. It immediately bursts into life straight from the Fox logo with a silhouetted ringmaster prancing and dancing his way through the greatest show whilst singing at the top of his lungs to a percussive beat that will make you jam out in your seat; it's clear from the off what sort of musical you are in for. With contemporary influences poured onto lavish ensemble numbers, The Greatest Showman's greatest strength, quite appropriately, is its showmanship - its marvellous spectacle. Teaming powerful voices like Hugh Jackman and Keala Settle with Oscar award winning songwriters Benj Pasek and Justin Paul and topping it off with choreography by Mathieu Leopold, The Greatest Showman dazzles, astounds, and brings joy through its big numbers.

The problem with this is that the narrative falls victim to a lack of detail, a lack of care. A story of showmanship is sold with showmanship, but much like P.T. Barnum's true life ventures, there's an element of fraudulence here. So much is expended on the set pieces that a huge amount of what is in between is shallow and lacking in substance. The stars of Barnum's circus, his critics, and his colleagues are all superficial creations, existing without backstory or depth beyond the most surface elements. Major plot points are skimmed over and the audience are expected to just accept the world with which they are presented but it leaves a certain hollowness to the whole thing. It's a pity that the passion that went into getting the film made (see videos from the workshops and the B-roll footage for evidence) couldn't make its way onto the screen.

It could be argued that what La La Land (the songs in which were also penned by Pasek and Paul) lacked, The Greatest Showman has. It has flair, it has style, but it lacks the substance of it's Oscar dominating peer and that's the difference. It could be put down to rookie director Michael Gracey going through some teething problems in directing his feature film though the influence of his career in visual effects is not lost here. The film is beautifully shot and edited and the narrative, or what is there, is brilliantly emphasised through some digital trickery and imagery and smooth scene to scene transitions. It never drags and it is never unenjoyable.

One of the truest movie musicals in recent cinematic history. It's no Sound of Music but it is a heap of fun expressed through a impressively dominating production design and while you'll want to watch the songs over and over, the overall product is missing the definition that could have made it the greatest show.