2024 - a year in film

6.9

Earnestly sporting some really simple yet effective storytelling; J.A. Bayona‘s The Impossible is extremely well crafted and tension filled throughout. Solid performances from its principal cast elevates a pretty “routine” survival tale. Sure it’s a little saccharine but by that time it’s all well deserved. Bayona has crafted a film epic in scale whilst retaining some realism and genuine emotionality.

5.1

Earnest yet derivative. Modestly effective if overly saccharine.

6.4

Wild and uncanny. Trippy and memorable.

Heightened and purely cinematic; Infinity Pool is a beguiling if slightly gruelling experience.

There will be some that find the lack of a straightforward literal interpretation rather irksome but Brandon Cronenberg has fun with this notion throughout with narrative flourishes and playful, pithy dialogue. Having said that, I’m not sure it all comes together as a cohesive and satisfying metaphor and/or allegory. At points it seems a little on the nose thematically and others it seems too abstruse. Cronenberg examines humanity, class and identity through a darkly comedic, existentially discombobulated lens and occasionally overindulges his fancy.

Much like Cronenberg’s previous works, at the centre of all of the blood and guts is a golden nugget of an idea or question. This idea is then taken to its logical endpoint before being dragged kicking and screaming to hell. The moral quandary at the films heart is served up at a constant sizzle. The moral decay brought on first by an accidental murder and then exacerbated by the very strange judicial system on the fictional island is visceral and uncomfortable to watch. We are made to question what we would do in those circumstances; how would that affect you? What are we made of if such traumas or choices can break us down so completely? What is the price of pure hedonistic indulgence? You get the feeling that, like Miyazaki, Cronenberg works backwards from an image or scene; these retina burning moments stick out and punctuate what might be considered a slightly meandering, perfunctory narrative. Infinity Pool is perhaps more conversational than traditionally structured.

The heightened tone is sometimes pushed too far towards the campy and although this is offset by wild violence and craziness, The performances are tricky; they are smothered in style and visual “delights”. Mia Goth has mastered this type of carnality; here she presents a peculiar and twisted creation; she is convincing if a little unruly. Infinity Pool as a result feels tonally inconsistent. Also, this does start feel a little bloated by the final act as it lacks, by design, a logical endpoint and its final throws start feel a little repetitive.

More experiential than satisfying, Infinity Pool is a great addition to an already interesting, small body of work from Brandon Cronenberg. Where else is there to go?

4.8

Effective enough pot boiler.

Despite its modern and very “current” trappings, Influencer is a pretty standard killer thriller. Marred by some slightly unconvincing, wooden acting; Influencer strikes a strong and consistent tone, dropping references and prescient (if superficial) themes throughout.

There are more than enough twists and turns to keep this interesting but this works better as silly fun than it does as a skewering of social media. Social media is mere wallpapering here; it’s a skin. This might’ve cut deeper if it was more focussed and centralised. If this was an examination of a character and their sociopathic then psychopathic relationship with social media rather than a standard cat and mouse type deal there might be more to chew on. Sure, the lengths CW goes to in order to cover up her crimes are scary given how accessible the technology is but we aren’t left with any questions after the credits roll. Influencer is too neatly and cutely tied up at the end to leave any room for thought. This is the cinematic equivalent of a thought terminating cliche.

Influencer is not Ingrid Goes West but nor is it Single White Female, Influencer ends up just being premium grade pulp fiction.

3.5

Despite all of its cliches and saccharine bluster; this is a largely unlikeable and dull affair.

5.5

Handsome and well played; A Dangerous Method is a sombre and rather bland affair when all is said and done.

The solid performances are hamstrung by a stately but stagey script and style. It’s interesting for sure but Cronenberg is scratching at the surface here and seems more interested in the rather banal relationship dynamics of his players than the nitty gritty of the subject(s). Sure it’d be difficult to cinematically articulate the finer points of Freud and Jung but isn’t that what Cronenberg was doing with his early work? Using visual metaphor and allegory Cronenberg was able to make grand thematic overtures that make A Dangerous Method look like Employees Leaving the Lumière Factory.

6.1

Earnest and quietly affecting; Causeway is a minor work propped up by two good central performances.

This is familiar stuff. The indie drama scene has been beating this drum for years now and with good reason as Causeway shows can be real life under all of the contrivances.

Causeway is a slight, delicate and empathetic study of trauma. There are no grand actorly last stands or late rushes to the airport; but there’s sympathy and genuine affection for the story being told. Lawrence is particularly good; she is understated here but her character is well drawn and interesting. There’s genuine chemistry between her and Brian Tyree Henry even if the relationship feels a little underbaked. I wouldn’t say that it all comes together all that satisfyingly; it feels a little rushed in its third act but this is a clear byproduct of the painterly way Lila Neugebauer has chosen to tell the story.

Narratively, there is something missing. I understand that this is supposed to be more observational than truly cinematic but a wider lens could’ve yielded greater rewards. An extra strand or higher stakes might’ve propelled this wispy indie into truly memorable status. As it is, Causeway is an enjoyable and fairly safe affair carried by handsome direction and convincing performances.

4.9

Melodramatic and unconvincing. Bittersweet and well made.

Despite some solid performances, and much like Mel Gibson’s character, The Beaver just can’t quite pull itself together. Its messaging might land and the film is cinematically astute but this feels more contrived than lived in. There are reels and reels of this type of American dysfunction, granted never quite this “out-there” but we get treated to these types of metaphorical cinematic excursions one or twice a year. This type of visual metaphor has been done better and more convincingly.

Aside from a few sympathetic flourishes, these characters are drawn too thinly and are rendered unlikeable as a result. It’s a shame as some of the dialogue is snappy and witty and the cast is stacked with talent.

The Beaver ends up feeling more novelistic than novel and might have benefitted from a less formal approach. What exactly is the tone here? The puppet is never quite played for laughs but it’s introduced playfully. Gibson’s character ends up a little undercooked and perhaps it would’ve been more satisfying to see him and the beaver interacting. This ongoing conversation might’ve blunted the metaphorical and thematic underpinnings but it might’ve made the film more accessible and likeable. To compound this tonal confusion, Foster’s film is melodramatic but never truly dramatic or affecting. Ultimately, The Beaver is just too slight to be truly memorable.

6.7

Handsome and sombre. Unsettling and depressing.

The Beasts is a compelling, if slightly cold, small scale drama. Focussing on the dispute between “hill folk” neighbours in the Spanish countryside; The Beasts is a lesson in quiet tension building and tonal consistency. Despite elements of the thriller, Rodrigo Sorogoyen‘s film is squarely a drama. Indeed, the denouement of what would be the thriller version of the movie here happens an hour or so into the film. However, Sorogoyen is much more interested in the relationship dynamics, politics and fallout of the themes and plotting at hand. Theres a sense of dread for sure, we know this type of story well but it’s the way we collect the beats that feels fresh and earthy.

6.7

Offbeat and engaging. Uncomfortable and ambitious.

Force Majeure was a film nested in a compelling idea. The thematic head of steam built around this central question then created the narrative. Ruben Östlund’s The Square works the opposite way around; it’s a film with so much on its mind and with so much to say that loses some of Force Majeure’s narrative thrust. It is on one hand a detailed portrait of the art world; its day to night, its relationship with intellectualism, its relationship to the press and finally its standing in the “real” world but it picks up and drops these threads in a seemingly haphazard fashion. This “haphazard” ballooning creates a dizzying experience and as a result The Square is a film that comes together better in retrospect with reflection.

Propped up by a few brilliantly executed set pieces; the film is perhaps too loose to be memorable overall. There’s some great ideas proffered here mostly centred around art pretension, class, a bystander society, persona, selfishness and prejudice but these ideas are too often vignetted and fail to bleed into each other. This vignetting might have worked better using the Short Cuts mode; cutting up the story and themes dividing them amongst a series of players rather than trying to funnel them all through Christian.

Having said all that, this is still immensely enjoyable stuff, Östlund packs in more than enough food for thought. Despite its bloated runtime and icky, uncomfortable content, the film is never a chore. I would say that this would definitely benefit from a second viewing as it’s perhaps a little too tonally and thematically broad to fully take in one sitting.

7.0

Amusing and painful. Effective and mean.

Andrew Gaynord‘s jet black comedy of manners is full of constant surprises, fiendish humour and toe curling miscommunications.

Perfectly pitched between Kristoffer Borgli’s Sick Of Myself and Ben Wheatley’s Happy New Year, Colin Burstead, All Of My Friends Hate Me is a fine dissection of guilt, lad culture and victimhood.

Everybody loves a joke but nobody loves a fool. This is perhaps so excruciating for its kernels of truth. Sure, this is turned up to 11 but we’ve all felt this way. Gaynord’s strength is his control of tone. This could’ve been a wilder, looser and less satisfying experience. Gaynor tightens the reins; the joke remains the same no matter the mode chosen to tell it. English productions over the years might’ve veered closer toward the horror but All Of My Friends is benefitted by keeping its feet on the cold, hard ground.

This is keenly observed even when being slightly overindulgent and stereotypical. For all of the depression induced by Pete’s lack of self awareness; the script knows exactly what it’s doing. This is obviously a lived idea. Pushing characterisations beyond satirisation into the farcical, we are taking a deep dive into Pete’s fragile, black and white, detached world view. Pete’s humbling is our humbling as the audience is asked to consider their own role in social groups and the fallaciousness of such an idea. We aren’t ever one thing especially in a group setting. The reveals aren’t especially revelatory when they happen and it never quite goes full April Fools Day or Bodies Bodies Bodies but Gaynord and co really mange to build up a head of steam here particularly in its final throes.

This might feel like a difficult one to pin down but there’s still a lot to ruminate on after the fact. This is a deeply uncomfortable but ultimately satisfying experience.

6.7

Harrowing and effective; J.A. Bayona‘s Society of the Snow is a brutal but satisfying cinematic experience. Bayona can pull this brand of old school blockbuster cinema off in his sleep. Punctuated by some memorable sequences; this is an emotionally gruelling film. An unbelievable story told by a master of his craft.

7.3

As engaging as it is heartbreaking, How To Have Sex is an unsentimental and nuanced look at the pressures and expectations of youth.

Sidestepping some of the trappings of this type of film, Molly Manning Walker focus on smaller moments with lingering close ups, loaded stares and awkward miscommunications. We get the icky moments but they are brief and restrained with both eyes on Mia McKenna-Bruce‘s Tara not the vulgarity at play. It’s a clever, emotionally intelligent choice as this restraint builds the dread and unease rather than breaking it with the explicit.

The writing is sharp. There aren’t any easy outs. Relationships are painted as messy whether platonic or otherwise. This isn’t a battle of the sexes. This is the films strength. Molly Manning Walker isn’t interested in putting nails in a coffin but there’s an honesty and matter-of-factness to her storytelling. The culture is on trail here not specific people. Despite its gruelling content, How To Have Sex ends on a surprisingly upbeat note as with Tara’s honesty comes hope and strength.

This is as nightmarish as it is familiar. A fascinating slice of life look at disaffected youth and an invitation to consider your own role in this complicated story.

3.7

Messy and familiar; Next Goal Wins amounts to little more than a string of silly jokes and some tired heart-string pulling. We need to be more invested in Fassbender for this to work but they are intent on making him unlikeable and useless throughout. This loses the threads of its largest influence, Cool Runnings, and never finds the heart that made it such a likeable movie. There are some nice moments and sequences (with Jaiyah and Armani in particular) but this is too unfocused and scattergun to build up any momentum.

6.4

Subversive and conversational. Silly and blunt.

Like much of Ruben Östlund‘s work so far, Triangle Of Sadness doesn’t quite hang together, at least not in a traditionally cinematic sense. It’s overlong and disjointed but it posits enough questions and ideas to keep repeating on its audience after the fact.

This is perhaps Östlund’s broadest film and is real mixed bag as a result replete with gross-out humour, chucklesome visual gags, and the occasional wearisome, on the nose satirical whipping. Triangle Of Sadness is lacking some of the emotional intelligence of Force Majaeure and the art-world focus of The Square. Östlund chooses to open up his world here to skewer the absurdity of modernity but he sacrifices the personal to the grand. There’s still fun to be had - the opening section feels more specific and intentioned as does the demise of the boat which is pretty entertaining for all its blustery excesses.

Crucially and true to form, this isn’t just about how abhorrent the rich are, Östlund is interested in how self serving and narcissistic we all are, given the chance. All of the characters on the ship exemplify the schism between societal value and material worth in the modern world. The films playful character subversions only serve to highlight this point as “toilet manager” Abigail finds actual value after the shipwreck as she turns into the sole provider and leader of the group. However, instead of this leading to her to enlightenment it leads to her rumination. Ultimately, these ephemeral or material things we covet (money, power, validation) end up destroying us.

Carl is perhaps the most earnest character and is looking for love and self worth in a world that only values his surface. Even his relationship with Yaya is transactional and based on the strength of their socials not their bond. He is eventually forced to abandon his search for true value and self worth when he pimps himself out for the relative comforts offered by the tyrannical island queen Abigail. He gains perspective and “truth” to late to save Yaya, if he was ever truly capable of doing so…
These are tricky and rewarding grace notes. I can see how it’s easier to paint the film as just a satire of the rich. This is not simply another “eat the rich” film. The main issue is that it’s not focussed or nuanced enough to paint a convincing counterpoint to its humorous, extreme skewering of the wealthy.

The result is a nibbling film that is as bloated as it is predictable and as frustrating as it is engrossing.

6.7

Quiet and understated. Sympathetic and effective.

Michelle Williams does a great job with a difficult character. Her hunched, ever-pained Lizzy inspires compassion and ire in equal measure. Williams has peeled away all of the artifice of the “movie star”. Sure her getup is comical to a point but it feels lived-in rather than manufactured and oscarbaitory. The earthy and considered storytelling from Kelly Reichardt helps these flourishes of eccentric specificity and/or idiosyncrasy feel earned rather than forced.

It is an interesting character piece but it’s perhaps more rewarding viewing Lizzy as a proxy for the artistic experience. She is devoted and all consumed by her passion, to the point where there isn’t much left. Lizzy’s personal life is ashen; driven by miscommunication and irritation. Her family completes the artistic picture as her father peacocks colourfully about the art world whilst living the bohemian life way into his 70s and after his “retirement”. Her mother manages or administrates the art school with a cold and dismissive air; a woman driven by reality and not dreams. Lizzy’s brother is the archetypal tortured, broken artist caught in the middle; a man of supposed genius that cannot function in the “real world”. Each member of the family represent possible avenues for Lizzy if she can’t free herself from the burden of dreams. We all tie ourselves to a rock but it’s about how much we let that rock weigh us down that is the true test. Showing Up is a film about the burden of artistic expression. Art maybe the only way Lizzy can express herself authentically. A lot is made of Lizzy’s inability to get what she wants. She leaves ignored voicemails and is constantly engaged in cyclical, repetitious conversations. Art is her means of escape from the drudgery. If she can put herself into the work; she can better understand and be understood.

Despite its distance and slight sourness, the film ends on a hopeful note; it’s a genuine, quietly affecting last few moments. Sure some of the metaphors might seem a little obvious and on the nose but Showing Up is effective cinema nonetheless.

6.3

Good natured and fun. Chucklesome and brisk.

It’s central themes are perhaps needlessly over explained at points but this still works. There’s an undeniable like-ability and silly charm to Jake Johnson’s slight but satisfying comedy. This would be a good companion piece to Colossal or The One I Love as all films are underpinned with “real world” problems and glossed over with high concepts and cartoonish stylings.

4.4

Earnest, meat and potatoes curse potboiler.

Night Swim is a handsomely made modern horror cobbled together using riffs and moments from better movies. There’s an old school, Stephen King vibe to this that hinders rather than elevates. King is famed for putting too much meat on the bones whereas Night Swim starts to feel a little thin and repetitive. All of the beats of a more well rounded story are present but it never threatens to pull together as effective piece of cinema. The MS side story is neat but criminally underutilised and is more wallpapering than an actual narrative propellant. The rules of its premise seem a little inconsistent too, frustratingly so, as at times they seem so limited but other moments suggest more expansive opportunities. Ultimately, Night Swim descends into a series of cliched moments; most are unconvincing and tired. Add this one to the long list of tidy ideas overstretched and botched by lack of imagination or risk.

6.0

An often deeply unsettling jet black comedy, The Death of Dick Long is an oddly enjoyable/weirdly affecting experience. There are some truly memorable sequences and moments here even if the films style is a little too grounded and gritty at times. Perhaps most notable for being the start of a filmic journey that has recently yielded Oscar success for director Daniel Scheinert, Dick Long is an odd and singular experience in its own right.

3.5

Humourless and unconvincing. What a missed opportunity.

4.7

Overfamiliar and slight; Super Drunk is a gently amusing if tonally erratic coming of age comedy. The messaging is abit muddled and it’s way too thin but this is breezy enough to sustain interest. It’s a shame that this feels a little sanitised, containing none of the balls of its source material.

5.9

As absorbing as it is cold, When You Finish Saving the World is a well made and interesting directorial debut for Jesse Eisenberg.

Straddling some big ideas and themes, the film doesn’t quite come together as satisfyingly as similar movies and feels slightly unbalanced tonally at times. There’s definitely more than a whiff of Noah Baumbach here which makes sense but this is lacking a few of his signature grace notes. Themes of entitlement, exploitation and virtue signalling are handled well and Eisenberg is careful not to come down too strongly on either side. The duelling, mirroring narrative structure works really well too and nimbly builds to its modestly affecting conclusion.

We’ve seen these self obsessed, well-to-do, highly educated characters a million times in indie cinema but perhaps never quite so abrasive, sad and lost. Julianne Moore is much better at navigating these unlikable characters; there’s a depth of understanding to her that isn’t present with Finn Wolfhard’s Ziggy. Ziggy is a “child” so his narcissism and naïveté is understandable. He is desperate for validation as he clearly doesn’t get it at home. His music seems to be a reflected, idealised version of the truth as, in reality, Ziggy seems ambivalent/ignorant to friendships and social systems. The mechanics of his complicated relationship with his mother are hinted at cleverly throughout and mirrored in his mother’s clandestine, well intentioned relationship with Kyle. All of this fails to make Ziggy a compelling character. Wolfhard does well with the musical elements but he is just an Eisenberg stand in for everything else. I suspect there was more to the father character as he seemed to be an interesting counterpoint to his son and wife’s narcissistic tendencies.

Some of the ideas will continue to resonate and repeat but mostly this is just solid indie cinema.

7.5

Intimate and tense; The Teachers’ Lounge is a subversive and nifty small scale drama/thriller. Essentially about the fatuousness of conflict and zero tolerance, Ilker Çatak‘a film twists and turns, offering no easy outs or conclusions.

The moral murkiness of the modern world is on full display here as characters constantly do the wrong thing for the right reasons with everyone ending up speckled with shit. We all want to know the truth but it’s the way we achieve it that is the marker of success of a person or society. Casting aspersions, interrogations and covert operations may lead to truths but they also sully the justice.

The Teachers’ Lounge is an often frustrating and distanced watch. Carla may be a good teacher with strong principles but she isn’t especially likeable - this isn’t Hollywood. The truth is that there isn’t one character here to truly root for in a traditional sense. They are all representative of our cynical, insecure and judgemental society in which retweets and gotchas are seen as more valuable than moral decency or respect. Even when standing up against false accusations the father of one boy states that he knows his son isn’t stealing because if he was, he’d break his legs. A noble sentiment smashed with crassness. This subversion runs throughout the film, the adults talk with a childlike, haloed naïveté and the kids seem world weary and beaten down. We are treated to this constant tripping up of idealism. Sure it would be great to live in a world where nothing bad ever happens but what price would you pay to get there? And who would you be after paying that price?

The 4:3 aspect ratio is an obvious choice as it both cinematically represents Carla’s idealistic, naive, myopic world view whilst adding to the claustrophobic atmosphere of the films single location. The music too adds to the growing dread with anxiety inducing orchestral stabs at key moments and landscape changes. Perhaps the key to the entire production is the writing. The way the film weaves in and out of suspicion with an earthiness and realism is a treat. It would been much easier to write this punctuated with Sorkin-esque, overtly cinematic monologues about “the state of things” but Johannes Duncker and Çatak chose to hold back focussing on character. The dialogue between the teachers is neat and is delivered in overlapping, fractured snippets. It feels as if there’s so much going on just off screen or in between scenes. This creates an itchy sense of unease, one that never fully gets scratched.

Engrossing and experiential rather than truly enjoyable; this is the type of cinema that sticks and repeats - in other words, the best kind of cinema.

4.5

Earnest and allegorical. Slight and unconvincing.

In the end, The Night Eats the World is just too familiar to be memorable. There are flashes of effectiveness but this mostly middle of the road zombie stuff. The film is constantly hampered by some really strange decisions such as the majority of the film being in English which lends the dialogue an awkward and detached hokeyness. Anders Danielsen Lie is always watchable and he convinces in what is essentially a solo performance.

The idea of the world literally and figuratively ending after a break up isn’t exactly new but there’s some neat additions here. Isolated in an apartment block, Sam encounters different facets or time periods of his life in each new apartment he explores. These include the zombie family next door representing his newly deceased relationship and a graffitied, punk rock apartment (and drum kit) representing his rebellious, free-spirited, self destructive youth. This idea would’ve been more powerful had it been explored more with extended dreamy flashbacks or involved “reenactments”. This could’ve been Dawn Of The Dead meets Mirror but it ends up doing neither justice.

The film ends on a hopeful note (there are plenty more apartments in the sea…) and you can see how, with a firmer and more imaginative hand, this could’ve been so much more.

6.5

Darkly amusing and light; Linklater shows a deft touch as he somehow finds a balance between cartoonish and vérité. Black is great here as he is the physical embodiment of the films playful and snaky tone. It’s a real tightrope act and it doesn’t always work but there’s enough meat to pick at.