Dispatch: From the Front Lines of the Back Rows at London Film Festival 2017

An on-the-ground account of a whirlwind weekend in the cinemas of the country’s capital

IIIIIIFestivals can seem like illustrious affairs from the outside. The ones that become known and ingrained in the public consciousness, like Cannes and Sundance, seem like hubs of glitz and glamour, a place to watch film secluded from ordinary society. This largely comes from the people who attend, stars and creative talent behind the projects in competition who walk the red carpets in the sunny French Riviera on the cusp of summer or hurry along the one in Utah’s Park City as winter comes to a close, attending press conferences, after-parties and galas.

Of course, these are not exclusive to the aforementioned pair of festivals, they comprise a key part of most, if not all. As do the press and industry screenings which constitute their own schedule, often running prior to other screenings, in order to give critics the chance to see as much as they can possibly can without running into as many timetabled clashes. And, there is a third type of festival experience, part and parcel with festivals like TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival) and London Film Festival. That of the general public.

I’ll confess, much of that description is drawn from other’s examples, following festival buzz will eventually lead you down the rabbit hole of hearing about how the sausage gets made, so to speak, with regards to a critic’s experience. The London Film Festival, which runs from the 4th to the 15th of October this year, is the kind of festival that’s open to anyone that purchases tickets to a ludicrous number of screenings across the city –– 242 features plus shorts  –– though largely situated in the West End. It’s far easier to travel into London than it is to find accommodation, let alone make it to Cannes or Park City and a large part of the appeal is that it’s so close to home from many, offering the chance to see numerous releases; some out shortly, others still waiting on a UK release date. Earlier this year, I attended London Sundance –– in order to catch The Big Sick and A Ghost Story –– but that was solely situated at Picturehouse Central, my time there only encompassed an afternoon and the air was tense, a result of the attack that occurred the previous night.

While my experience with London Film Fest this year did primarily involve the same cinema, two of the four screenings I attended with a friend were based there, the fact they were spread out over the course of a weekend and a 36-hour period allowed to the opportunity to branch out a little more, wander and take in the sights of the surrounding area without the nagging need to linger in the lobby because it’s only an hour until the next screening. Upon arrival to Leicester Square on Saturday afternoon, it was clear to anyone that the festival was well underway, due to the numerous signs that adorned the surrounding area, not to mention the booth nearby and a red carpet that ran the length of the entrance to the Odeon, that I understand saw the premiere of Battle of the Sexes later that night.


IIIIIIThe first screening on the docket took place a short distance away, at the Prince Charles Cinema, an unassuming building from the outside, that was even more so due to the faulty directions we received that resulted in us passing by the unassuming back entrance. It’s more of a repertory cinema, the kind that’s prevalent in New York and Los Angeles, but sadly lacking in areas outside of England’s capital; the kind that I wish I could attend more frequently following this first-time visit.

Speaking of first times, we were there to see Columbus, the feature-film debut of Kogonada, a highly accomplished video essayist (http://kogonada.com) who has produced visual studies of the work of Terrence Malick and Wes Anderson, the neorealist movement and musings on the cinema of Richard Linklater and its relation to time. Deriving its title from its setting, the city in Indiana, Kogonada’s film is quiet and languid, meditative about its surroundings, ruminating on the architecture of the city and the nature of hanging around such a place. Having also written the film, it is the story of Jin, played by John Cho, a translator of literature in Korea, and of Casey, who never went to college, instead sticking around in order to care for her mother. She’s the kind of girl who’s described, by another character in the film in fact, as “bookish” – she works in a library and is clear on calling them “films” rather than movies. Jin comes to the city because his father has fallen into a coma, the result of a fall portrayed in the film’s opening. There’s a sense of what’s become Sofia Coppola-patent ennui, but it’s been applied within the framework of a Jim Jarmusch film, ever so slightly esoteric. Fans of last year’s Paterson are bound to find some small-town charms in this.


Much like Lost in Translation, Jin arrives, but he’s unsure exactly what to do now he’s here –– he and his father never really got along. After deciding the first port of call should be the hospital where his father is recovering, he winds up at a restaurant with Parker Posey, in a magnificent supporting turn, as Eleanor and it’s here where the film really starts to crackle. The pair find that low-key gear that’s most appropriate for the conversation they’re having, one where they’ve had a couple of drinks and true feelings about the situation start to slip out as if they were casual small talk, pulling us in as we realise we want more morsels of information. And from there, it really comes alive. Jin shortly comes across Casey and over the course of numerous days, the pair walk to, and discuss various pieces of architecture in the city; though their conversations are frequently about more as the events in their personal lives develop. It should be said that these conversations are engaging on that architectural level, largely a result of Casey’s detailing avoiding a tour-guide vibe.

One observation, that a building’s front is adorned with an asymmetrical cross, has greater relation to the film’s form as well. Kogonada’s video essay about Anderson demonstrates he understands what goes into composing a symmetrical frame, but Columbus illustrates that he knows how to eschew this. Casey and Jin’s first meeting is filmed from a slight angle, when they start walking, Jin becomes briefly obscured by each post they pass. Just as the geography of Columbus has intense thought poured into it, the geography of Columbus has as well and it results in a tight formal grammar and allows from flourishes to spring forth. One conversation between Jin and Eleanor is relayed to us through a mirror and when it comes to a close, it does so on that and another mirror, each on different planes. This kind of shot doesn’t draw attention to itself, but it is breathtaking to see a debut from someone who has that assured confidence and control over their frame, not solely the themes that interest them.


Said cinematography, the work of Elisha Christian, is subtly brilliant throughout, and bolstered by Kogonada’s editing, the pair working together to establish spatial dimensions first and foremost, scenes which exist in a real space, but temporal ones as well, particularly in the way that conversations are cross-cut together –– there’s an example early on, of which the artistry behind it will become clear once you’ve seen it. Casey and Jin have similar, but diametrically opposed problems. She doesn’t know when, or even if, she’s leaving while he has no idea whether he’s staying, but the pair find a register that suggests kinship in accordance to these ideas. The acceptance of stumbling across someone else also dazed by the suffocating smallness of the surrounding area.


Cho has never really had chance to capitalise on his ability as a leading man, but front and center here, demonstrates exactly how good he can be, slipping into the vibe that Columbus demands even if his character can’t. Richardson had a supporting role in last year’s The Edge of Seventeen where she wowed, like much of the cast, but this is more of a knockout showcase, getting to play slightly older with a similar mix of comedy and drama. At first glance, the opening minutes of Columbus play out with a diffuse and elliptical nature, but on further examination go to show that if you prove willing to push through the haze, true instances of beauty on display will reveal themselves.


IIIIIIWhile discussing actors that have rarely been given a chance to showcase their full potential, one of the most noted examples of current times is Elizabeth Olsen who hit the big time with Martha Marcy May Marlene, but since then has largely been caught up in the franchise machine, as the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s Scarlet Witch. Outside of that she’s been a part of such films as: the post-human Godzilla, a Josh Radnor movie which I won’t dare type the name of –– for fear that you will think to seek it out –– and this year’s Wind River where she falls prey to Taylor Sheridan’s inability to craft a female law enforcement agent that exists to do anything other than be woefully unprepared for the situation at hand.

(I should confess that prior to this weekend, I considered Avengers: Age of Ultron the location of her second best performance, although not by default, as the lynchpin of the film she’s phenomenal. It’s my favourite to come from the MCU)

Luckily, Ingrid Goes West is spectacular proof of what she can really do when given a substantial role and how well she can play against type, playing a social media influencer that’s outwardly bursting with energy and more akin to the socialite lifestyle of her sisters Mary-Kate and Ashley than the quieter persona she usually projects.


Olsen’s character, Taylor, finds herself the subject of Aubrey Plaza’s Ingrid. Ingrid is not in a good spot. Her mother recently passed away following a period of sickness and shortly after she wound up in a mental facility, a result of gatecrashing someone’s wedding and macing the bride because she was not invited. After her release, Ingrid reacclimatises herself to the world through the phone which doesn’t leave her side, catching up through social media, namely Instagram. As she scrolls through, pausing briefly and frequently to double tap each post, she encounters Taylor’s profile and by the time the montage of posts is over, Ingrid has herself a new fascination. What follows involves her moving to Los Angeles, making use of the money bequeathed to her by her mother, in the hopes of brokering a friendship with Taylor.

For some, Ingrid Goes West will feel like a personal attack, a result of how astutely it understands the millennial relation to not only social media, but technology itself –– one scene stresses the agony of crafting the perfect ‘haha’ response –– but it’s also deeply hilarious as a dark comedy. Contrasted against beats of seriousness, scenes which play out without jokes that prevent someone from forgetting that Ingrid is not well mentally. As much as the film, directed and co-written by Matt Spicer, plays for laughs, it avoids making Ingrid’s condition itself, which goes un-diagnosed, fair game to be mocked. However, as it is set in sunny LA, there’s no shortage of alternative targets to satirise: from Instagram culture to the world of socialites and socialite desirees to struggling artists –– Taylor’s husband Ezra (Wyatt Russell) and Ingrid’s landlord Dan (O’Shea Jackson Jr.) are a pop artist and aspiring screenwriter respectively.

At the centre of it all, of course, is Plaza herself, whom I’m certain is in every scene. Anyone who’s seen Legion is aware of exactly how multi-faceted her performances can be while still maintaining an air of eccentricity that gives the work a zippy pace. Here, she gets the chance to throw herself into a character who’s uneasily sympathetic a la Rachel in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, but not a mere shadow of that role as she’s looking for a platonic relationship rather than a romantic one; a key difference. Plaza’s a great physical performer, whether she’s trying to be inconspicuous and unintentionally causing a scene, gradually adopting the mannerisms of the LA lifestyle or marching somewhere, making readily apparent that she’s on the warpath. And she has a delightful interplay with Olsen once they finally meet, one that’s packed to give them both lots to do despite the film running a taut 97-minutes.


The script, co-written by David Branson Smith, is deceptively simple, calculating yet that runs as an undercurrent rather than as defining trait. While never rushing from scene to scene to burn through plot, the decisions for where the characters will go feel astute and in service of the wider film, stemming from their personalities and thematically relevant rather than from the need to push the narrative along. Even what seem like throwaway details at first glance feed back into the narrative later on and give it propulsion. The ending is not as sharp as the situation could allow for, but to say that Smith and Spicer run out of things to say would be inaccurate, letting it all come full circle while moving to an adjacent idea. Plaza’s performance is absolutely one of note, and that’ll be hard to shake for the impending future, but Olsen and Jackson Jr. shouldn’t be forgotten either. It’s probably impossible for Olsen to earn a supporting actress nod, although less so than Plaza for best actress, but it is absolutely the kind of performance that is so startling, it makes you furious that no-one had necessarily realised she was capable of that before.

To speak briefly to the screening itself, this was held at Picturehouse Central, and was in fact the UK premiere of the film. As such, it meant that the press were there for a photo-op, as Spicer, Plaza and Billy Magnussen, who plays Taylor’s brother Nicky, were in attendance as well. There were some behind the scenes complications, and the film started late although it is unbeknownst to me what the nature of this issue was. So we had to skip the Q&A that followed in order to make it back home. Something which we’d anticipated regardless due to the extent of our travel, but became certain as the film’s start time drew past the intended 21:00. While the delay certainly put a damper on the evening in a sense, if you’ve been to any post-screening Q&A’s, you know how they can devolve into what is essentially vamping a question into a comment, so maybe it was for the best. And so ended Saturday.


IIIIIISunday was similar, in the sense that the screenings we’d booked for were in the afternoon, but the first was at Hackney Picturehouse and so we had to set out in the middle of the morning to ensure that we’d be there on time. Luckily we were, and with enough chance to sit down in their cafe/restaurant. Despite being part of the same chain, there’s a difference between this and Picturehouse Central, if only because it seems out-of-the-way of the hubbub. Not empty by any means, but situated in such a place that it was possible to have a conversation without having to compete with so many people passing through.

We were here to see Todd Haynes’ Wonderstruck, written by Brian Selznick adapting his own novel. I’m a new fan of Haynes, truth be told, having found Carol and then worked my way through his back catalogue in the past few weeks, in a way creating a retrospective of his work in preparation for this. I was unsure how hard I’d fall for this one, but twenty minutes in, I realised that tears were streaming down my face and the fact they didn’t really stop is the best evidence I can provide that it got me good.


Another period piece from Haynes, albeit dual-period as it seeks to coalesce two stories into one whole. The closest to our current time takes place in 1977, where Oakes Fegley’s Ben has not only lost his mother, portrayed oh so briefly by a comforting Michelle Williams, but he’s suffered an accident of his own that has left him bereft of his hearing. After finding some heirlooms concerning his family’s past, he becomes determined to find his father somewhere in the vast expanses of New York and sets off in search of him, leaving his Minnesotan town.

The second piece is set 90-years ago, in 1927, and features another deaf protagonist – Rose. Played by Millicent Simmonds, she too runs away from her home, although her’s is in New Jersey where she lived with her father, in search of Lillian Mayhew, an actress she takes every chance possible to see on the big screen and portrayed by Julianne Moore, who also has a part to play in the 1977-set section. Eventually both of these children find their way to the American Natural History Museum which serves as an anchoring point between the two periods, with some physical holdovers and connections creating a link between them before the narrative properly interlinks. I imagine you’ve got an inkling of how they do, but that feels right for this as a piece of Haynes’ oeuvre. With his work comes an inevitability, because of his focus on souls lost in the world; “girl[s] flung out of space”. They normally have little choice of where to go in life, but the interest comes from them finding where they fit.


Much of this film rests on the shoulders of Fegley and Simmonds –– as much as Moore and Williams are key, they are supporting roles all the same –– and while much of Simmonds’ story sees her traipsing around alone, Fegley gets a screen partner in Jaden Michael’s Jamie, another kid and one who shows him exactly how magical the museum can be. While Haynes’ work until now has been primarily for an older audience, this will likely play well to a younger crowd and their families, the central mystery of Ben’s father having a tremendous and heart-warming payoff as the puzzle pieces that were previously missing snap into place.

This doesn’t mean that Haynes has turned into a workmanlike studio man however, as it’s still a remarkable rich and warm piece of work from one of the best in the game today. With Rose’s story comes a chance for directorial playfulness as he opts to portray this in the style of a silent film. As Far From Heaven proved, Haynes is a director indebted to the impeccable sense of visual storytelling of directors like Douglas Sirk. Even with the fact he’s operating in a Black and White world here, his frames are still crisp, working with frequent collaborator Edward Lachman, whose lensing is just incredible; both masters of any period setting thrown at them.


With this playfulness comes a risk of drawing attention to oneself, but their work is anything but purely referential. Ostensibly lived-in, the pair are dedicated to crafting rich worlds with this applying to both sections of the whole. Both Ben and Rose’s arrivals to New York are a sight to behold for entirely different reasons and filmed with wholly different approaches. Now admittedly Fegley’s character and performance can be characterised as twerpy. He, is of course, a kid who not had chance to come to terms with the normal world, much less one without his mother and sound. Yet there is majesty to be witnessed throughout his exploration of the city. To set a story within a museum and not see what it contains would be a waste, and Haynes doesn’t squander the location, filling the tale with a startling amount of detail in every shot. That type of aesthetic quality is expectedly finessed, more than solely a ‘kid’s movie’ while still capturing a wide-eyed wonder –– not solely for the characters as they find a place in a world they were unaware existed, but also the audience getting to see it unfurl before them. For my money, it feels like his third best. Haynes at his most accessible while still working within his traditional framework. And for many children, it could easily be their favourite film, for very good reason.


IIIIIIAnd so, later that evening, came a return to Picturehouse Central for the final film of the festival for me. Well I say film, but that’s not necessarily what Manifesto is. A collaboration between Julian Rosefeldt and Cate Blanchett that was originally intended as an art installation. What Rosefeldt has done is appropriate various manifestos of the world, ranging from the writing of Karl Marx to that of Jim Jarmusch and Lars von Trier, turning them into extensive monologues for Blanchett to deliver as a variety of characters. By my count, there are 13 distinct characters that she plays on-screen, perhaps more dependent on the nature of the voice-overs that intermittently play over the footage of the surround area captured by Rosefeldt’s glacially panning camera.

Now as we all know, one Blanchett is great, if there are two then you’re likely watching Coffee and Cigarettes and presumably 13 would provide a new definition of pure cinema, but there is something missing from the work. I haven’t had the chance to experience the art installation this project was originally intended as, but I imagine that something has been lost in translation. The sequences have been truncated from what I understand about the original segments, part of which includes a chanting in each that creates an echo chamber as it plays simultaneously against 11 other chants. The idea of the segments playing all around you sounds like a more involving idea.


A confrontational piece of work, but one of contradiction as well. The various sequences spill into one another, calling bullshit on what was stated not five minutes ago, only to have the same happen to them. Starting with one character that I’ll affectionately call Homeless Man with a Dog and Bullhorn (seen above) who is trudging through a disused and abandoned stretch of land, the film eventually segues into an eulogy being given at a funeral and another of a conservative mother saying grace before dinner. It’s clear that Blanchett’s having fun with each and every performance, relishing in the self-reflexivity, most evident when she plays both anchorwoman and weather reporter on the scene and they converse about minimalism.


Of course it’s fun to hear her rant about Dadaism surrounded by people mourning. Almost as much as seeing her deliver the principles of Dogme 95 to children who are might not be old enough to count that high. It is certainly an experience, though whether it’s a grueling one will ultimately depend on whether the idea of it alone is enough to put you off. If the absurdity of the experiment sounds intriguing, that might be enough for it to win you over, leaning into the insanity. In a way, I don’t feel I’m doing it justice, it bombards the mind like a 90-minute college crash course on a full syllabus and likely requires a type of criticism more commonplace to the world of art as opposed to the world of cinema, despite also defying traditional criticism. Regardless, it is one heck of a showcase for Blanchett’s capabilities as an actress, some of the best proof that she’s the best working today and even the original form is lost in translation, it’s a bold kind of art that I’ll happily welcome more of across more screens.


With that, my LFF 2017 has come to a close. The start of a new week saw my return to uni, travelling back across London and beyond. This weekend was an absurdly great time, the kind that makes you enviable of everyone who lives close enough to attend more over both weeks of the festival. Only a few hours away from it all, I’ll profess to missing it already, to the point where I scoured St. Pancras in search of a copy of Little White Lies, there being a great difference to the relative silence of a commute and the simmering buzz of being around people as devoted to film, also having conversations about the merits of what they’ve seen.

Still there’s always next year.



Baby Driver Puts the Pedal to the Metal and Forgets About the Cruise Control

Edgar Wright’s new vehicle is by all accounts slick, but might have a little too much going on under the hood.

Making a mixtape is a labour of love, or so I assume –– I don’t think anyone’s made one since the creation of the iPod, but that means we’ve made playlists instead. We create one for every occasion: the gym, work, house parties etc. and it’s still just as meticulous a process. Ensuring one song flows to the next, creating a connective tissue running through, much like the artists themselves do when making an album.

Behind Baby Driver is Edgar Wright, a writer-director whose rightfully seen as an artist, one with a particular sound –– his voice, distinct and recogniseable after the success of The Cornetto Trilogy and his other work. In Baby Driver, Wright has attempted to make more than just a mere playlist of hits to belt out, instead swinging for the fences and creating a concept album, the film’s DNA being the music itself.

If your primary complaint about La La Land involved a lack of music, then consider your problem solved as this is stuffed with tunes;  Baby’s (Ansel Engort) numerous iPods providing the film’s needle drops. By all means a musical, but one that takes existing tunes and arranges them to tell a story over the story giving way for songs, Wright rarely lets the music let up and it feels near constant as a result. The first act seems unrelenting in that way, but avoids Suicide Squad-level of tedium due to Wright avoiding the easy songs, springing for the deep cuts from a wide array of artists: Queen, Simon & Garfunkel, Run the Jewels and many more.

Just as important to this film as the score are the scores that the criminal cast are looking to attain from the variety of heists they pull off. While many sequences are choreographed to the music playing in Baby’s eardrums –– from an early long take where he glides through the streets of Atlanta on a coffee run to more simple flourishes like Doc (Kevin Spacey) splitting up the crew’s cut of the cash –– these crimes are more elaborate, the set-pieces of the film and most thrilling sequences.


Other movies in the crime genre, like Heat, take us inside the location being robbed, but Wright sticks with Baby and the getaway car. Sequences like that early long take demonstrate Engort’s adeptness at moving less like Robert De Niro and more like Fred Astaire and that flow extends to when Baby’s behind the wheel. The cars he drives weave through Atlanta, and its commuters, with his foot on gas, there’s no time to slow down as he looks to evade the cops. John Wick: Chapter 2 might engage in car-fu, treating the vehicles as other fighters, but here stunt coordinator and driver Jeremy Fry, who worked on both Wick chapters, moves from martial arts to music in order to deliver spectacle that’s just as graceful as the bullet ballet.

Baby’s cut from the same cloth as Ryan Gosling in Drive, a stoic character that’s content to cut the chatter. This changes when he meets a waitress, Debora (Lily James), their interactions light-hearted as the pair dance around the other verbally. The blossoming relationship provides the emotional through-line of the piece, but Wright incorporates some prior tragedy, the layers of which are gradually pulled back before being revealed in full. With a concept like this –– a getaway driver suffers from tinnitus and listens to music to drown it out –– it’s somewhat necessary to explain that, especially when aiming for a degree of realism like Wright is.


As such, it engages with ideas from other crime movies, most notably Walter Hill’s The Driver, but includes more general ideas like a shipment of weapons and a sense of uneasiness when it comes to who the characters can trust. The film doesn’t slow down, running just shy of two hours and so feels filled to the brim with ideas. Wright layers these in a way you’d expect. While Mad Max: Fury Road went for a simpler narrative (in basic terms –– Point A to B and back) which allowed for maximum insanity, Baby Driver proceeds in a more traditional fashion, building through cause and effect, as that central crime narrative finds itself entwined with Baby and Debora’s relationship, among others. On the first watch, it doesn’t seem as well structured as the Cornetto trilogy, in terms of early foreshadowing, but there’s a chance that a more silent protagonist allowed Wright to leave the set-up of various elements unsaid, and this will become more apparent when re-watched.

Baby serves as the film’s protagonist, doing what he does for Doc to ensure everything goes off without a hitch or casualty, but he’s part of a cast of criminals run by Doc and made up of Buddy (Jon Hamm), Darling (Eiza González), Bats (Jamie Foxx) and other bit players. Wright plays with the tension derived from this crew without making too knotted of a web –– Buddy and Darling are a couple –– partly due to how fast the film moves. It’s nowhere close to the near-three hour run-time of Heat, more in line with modern-day action movies and shorter than most superhero fare, there’s no real wiggle room to really delve into the rest of the crew’s interior lives.

Even with small glimpses, they shine. Foxx plays a wildcard and relishes the opportunity to go further over the top than the rest of the cast, González avoids the over the top quality other actresses may have gone for with this Bonnie (of & Clyde) character, commanding a mutual respect from everyone else, not least Hamm who with Spacey play the straight men in this enterprise, although Hamm’s walks a more precarious line, with that stern seemingly papering over rage. James plays the purest part, a respite from a far murkier picture that I think most are expecting, her chemistry with Engort allowing for a lighter mood –– one that might cause you to grin, but not necessarily laugh out loud. It should be said at this point that everyone here is phenomenal when it comes to how they use the space, hitting the musical beats with ease, a fact highlighted by how rarely Wright has to cut in closer from a wider shot to mask a mistake.

baby-driver-image-3His visual style remains, evident with the little things, like button presses and there’s some wider visual flourishes  –– one transition involves moving from a close up of Baby in shades to his car roaming the streets which Wright does with a gentle push in –– coming from another collaboration with cinematographer Bill Pope. Wright is clearly in control of the look of his film, while it may not utilise center framing like Mad Max: Fury Road, the action rarely gets muddled, even as the cuts get more frequent, down to the guiding hand of the soundtrack. Sound editing is just as key to Baby Driver and there’s at no point does someone seem to be a beat behind, making this a very rewarding experience if you know the songs.

While it’ll certainly play well with a crowd, Wright’s also looking to provide a unique, singular experience. A thin whine runs through scenes, because of Baby’s tinnitus, which shows how Wright is looking to focalise this movie through Baby’s head, putting the audience in there without relying purely on POV shots. For the most part, Baby spends the film with both earbuds in and the music booms. When inside a building, it’s by no means as overwhelming and gets even fainter when an earbud is removed. As a result of this near-constant soundtrack, not to mention the dialogue and other aural aspects, the sound mixing has a lot to contend with. In the moments where no-one’s barreling through the streets over the speed limit, the balance sounds good, but when Baby’s foot’s on the floor, there are moments where it feels like too much, as if you’ve found yourself right in front of a band performing live, but without earplugs.

ansel-elgort-in-baby-driverBlockbusters have a tendency to slip up in the third act, but that’s not strictly the case here. Instead it feels like it could have afforded to go a little further in its climax, but I’m willing to bet they couldn’t afford to from a financial perspective. Wright remembers the relationships built up over the course of the film lending it the necessary emotional weight, which demonstrates the strength of this film’s second act, its peak which goes far enough in developing those relationships. There’s one decision I’m not completely on-board with, but upon reflection is likely to be less of conflicting with prior actions and more because of the relative brevity of the film making it seem sudden.

That brevity results in a tightness in the script that makes it hard to simply point at Heat‘s runtime and ask for it to be closer to that. The film is meticulously crafted around a very precise soundtrack and timing that doesn’t allow for an additional scene to just be inserted midway through the run-time and alleviate all concerns, especially when it can be argued the ending has to string together more scenes than it should in order to provide a satisfying point to leave off.

Despite these final act issues, there isn’t a point where I didn’t enjoy myself and that may be the real strength of the film. For a while now, I’ve found myself liking blockbusters and tent-poles less than people I know and the initial consensus that forms online. Wright’s sheer devotion to the concept, never backing off from the initial idea that makes the film feel gutsy in a way that’s hard not to admire. Even the beat that didn’t gel with me is one I enjoyed seeing play out because instances like that make it clear this film has a far more complicated morality to it than expected and instances like that allow for debate.

It’s this kind of ambitious filmmaking that doesn’t just aim to shoot straight down the middle and win over everyone with the lowest amount of effort, instead going for something vastly different, where the passion and craft are clear. This results in likability and enjoyability being ideas which aren’t directly proportional –– it’s possible to like it without loving it, while still loving the time you spent with it. Wright has made a mixtape, a concept album, one which I admittedly didn’t love every track on it, but is one that I want to listen to again, now knowing the sound and feel to expect, looking to see how it all links together.

The Elegant Simplicity of Wonder Woman

DC’s latest works not only because it’s fine with being a superhero film, but because it is unashamedly so.

The most striking distinction, the one that separates Wonder Woman from the rest of the DC Extended Universe, is unusually that despite the film’s title, Diana Prince (Gal Gadot) is not referred to by that title within the film. Lest we forger that prior to their 2017 summer tent-pole, this was a universe that saw both Batman and Superman undergo periods of uncertainty, with the weight of the world thrown at them, in order to question if they ‘be worthy’ enough to protect their cities on opposite sides of the bay.

Not only that, but just ten months ago, this universe revealed itself to be one where the alleged supervillains (and believe me, we were told they were bad guys many times) appear to have been more willing to save a city, one that none of them come from, from an unquestionable evil. Wonder Woman does not trade on the moral queries of the previous entries or this franchise, or at least it doesn’t when it comes to its protagonist. Instead, Diana is Wonder Woman and this is not up for debate.

This simplicity can be seen in individual story beats, like when Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) steals the notebook of Doctor Poison (Elena Anaya). He simply sees it and goes for it. As a whole, the movie trades on this kind of simplicity when it comes to plot –– It does not try to intertwine four/five plot-lines like Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice, nor does it appear to being going where the wind and mood takes it a la Suicide SquadHowever, I don’t want to imply that this film is basic by any means.


It’s smart, not in a Whedon-kind of way where the words ‘mewling quim’ end up in the finished product, but in regards to gender roles and the subversion of those within a blockbuster. This should be clear from the fact that Steve Trevor, despite being the romantic interest, is granted a great deal more to do than his respective female counterparts, but it applies to other scenes. Written by Allan Heinberg, there are points, such as when Diana walks in on Steve exiting the bath or later when they depart for London and discuss sleeping, where you might anticipate where these scenes will go, based on similar versions across many other pieces of media. This is primarily due to the dialogue, leaning on low-hanging fruit for these scenarios which can be played as cutesy-awkward, but under the lens of Patty Jenkins, an air of earnestness comes across.

Andrew Sarris considered this to be ‘Interior Meaning’, or the conflict between the text the director works from, and the text that they create. As a result, the joke isn’t on Diana. It might be played as humorous, but not for laughs directed at her because Jenkins understands there’s difference between being a fish-out-of-water and naivety writ large. A similar notion applies to Sammy, Charlie and Chief, played by Saïd Taghmaoui, Ewen Bremner and Eugene Brave Rock respectively. They might be stereotypes, a symptom of the script adopting a brisker pace upon arriving in Man’s World, but the qualities that come with these rough character outlines aren’t why they’re funny.

This notion of ‘interior meaning’ was demonstrated last year in Batman v. Superman, when Gadot ad-libbed her smile during the Doomsday fight, before she rejoined the brawl. With the focus now on year, she shines even more brightly than she did there. Present in the actresses that portray a younger Diana, Gadot demonstrates a determination in all of her actions and decisions throughout the film, and as a fish-out-of-water, she plays confusion without an air of vapidity –– the moment in which she becomes enamoured by a baby sees her tap into the same compassion and care for life that takes across No Man’s Land in the second act, the film’s most inspiring and flowing sequence.


With Chris Pine, the pair demonstrate a chemistry that runs as an undercurrent in most if not all of their scenes even when it is not the focus and without either of them needing to say anything about it. Jenkins’ has a clear talent for non-verbal moments like this, the reason the wonders of the first act shine despite the heavy exposition about the mythology of the Amazons and gods. When dealing with scenes that are explicitly about the duo’s relationship, Jenkins focus on the pair and avoids cutting away to show reactions of others. This is about what they have together and that unity makes them best comic book pairing since Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter, a comparison that would be made regardless, but is ultimately welcome.

If anything, this goes to show that a lot of the film’s problems exist on a script level. in fact the issues present in the film –– exposition, underwritten supporting cast, a third act that forgets some themes previously considered, bad CGI –– are ones present in most superhero films (Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Doctor Strange, Captain America: Civil War and Suicide Squad to offer just one possible assortment to fit this particular bill). It’s to the credit of Jenkins that the first two acts, the second most of all, are so strong, that these issues don’t weigh the film down further. In this lead-up to Wonder Woman‘s release, there was a worry that it would seem to similar to Captain America: The First Avenger and Thor, but instead it feels fresh, in the way that Deadpool captured the zeitgeist and that’s a matter of new perspective.

Of course a disconnect from the wider DCEU helps with that. In fact, we don’t receive a definitive answer as to why Diana left Man’s World and the film would be better served without a framing sequence possibly reminding reviews of that. As with those moments mentioned previously with regards to ‘Interior Meaning’, this sense of hopefulness hasn’t been seen in this universe before (even if select viewers found it in Man of Steel) and the sheer desire to do good is frankly awe-inspiring, hopefully a point of refocusing for this franchise.


With any luck this refocusing will shift away from fights set against green-screens involving all manner of flames and explosions. This is where the film becomes messiest, the bad CGI more noticeable now taking center stage, not helped by the editing. Despite this, Gadot remains a constant, continuing to show that she demonstrates this character in a way that even fans of her previous appearance likely couldn’t have anticipated. Through this it becomes clear that it’s never been Gadot’s acting that’s been flat, but instead that it seems this way when what’s around her, background and elements in the scene, are.

By and large, I think we’d like comic book movies to be something more, which is why so many latched onto Logan because it wasn’t a comic book movie played straight in its first half. At the same time, we have to also recognise that when one wants to be a comic book movie where good stops evil and then goes on to do that exceptionally well then that’s as equally deserving of praise.

Thankfully, Wonder Woman did not end up being a rehash of movies that Marvel made six years ago, but instead a refreshing and joyful experience because of how it subverts those, fighting against the traditions of the genre for as long as it can hold out, and at 140-minutes, it does so for near-two hours. It grants Steve an arc rather than relegating him to the role of romantic interest alone, a lesson which needs to be universally applied to the genre, blockbusters and film at large. When Jenkins is able to place the camera further back, a benefit of filming in real-world locations, and shoot action wide over the industry-standard proximity, the phenomenal blocking and choreography gets shown off, most prominently on Themyscira. It does not get lost in the weeds of what it means to be a hero, postulating if Diana can wield the lasso like they wondered if Steve could with the shield.

Instead, she simply does.


Logan’s Heroes

On Mangold and Stevens’ icons and the imitations.




I keep going back to Shane.

Not unwarranted by any means, instead it’s hard not to considering the way that James Mangold utilises segments of the 1953 film within his own during the casino interlude, but Logan walks the path of George Stevens’ Western in more ways than just this. This is most relevant in discussing the farmhouse sequence in which the trio of Logan (Hugh Jackman), Charles Xavier (Patrick Stewart) and Laura Kinney (Dafne Keen) are taken in by the Munson family, its patriarchal figure portrayed by Eriq La Salle, where Logan finds himself on the border of peace and violence. The tectonic plates where shift, sizable or minimal, can cause shake-ups –– the same conundrum that Alan Ladd’s titular character found himself in, in 1953.

Evidently indebted to Stevens’ film, Logan deals with the push and pull of those two states and the battle of the self, although this (presumed) final outing for Jackman’s portrayal also assumes it necessary to demonstrate this with an overt physical battle. Films are by no means required to be subtle –– Darren Aronofsky plays with this same notion in Black SwanHell or High Water, an actual Western, utilises its opening shot of a graffitied wall to directly state its theme and The Departed ends with a shot of a rat, that has simultaneously become both joke and verbatim for already obvious symbolism –– and even the genre that Logan most wishes to be taken as, a Western, has never required such a caveat, indicated by not only the aforementioned Hell or High Water, but also in the way that HBO and Jonathan Nolan & Lisa Joy’s Westworld lampoons a staple of the genre, asking participants to decide whether they want to be a black, or white, hat.

While Logan, the character, may not be enamoured by Shane, leaving Charles and Laura to watch, Logan, the film, is clearly so, walking in the footsteps of the Ladd who came before, until the end, in which Mangold makes a key diversion. Logan does not end with its hero walking off into the sunset, as Laura calls his name, neither sure if he will finally fall when he crosses the hill, from a wound inflicted in the final fray. Instead, and if we accept this to truly be Jackman’s last performance as the character, both in the timeline of the X-films and the production of those films, we see Logan die, but also understand that both the young and the old, the peaceful and the violent, the student and the teacher can finally rest.


It’s a resonant idea, the reason that so many have attested to shedding a tear for what many consider one of the consistencies in a franchise which has gone through turbulent times to say the least.

However, I don’t believe that it’s as perfect as it could be and the reason that this feeling refuses to leave my side, is down to the elements existing within the film as is –– this isn’t a call for Cyclops or Nightcrawler to have been involved within a climax, instead the opposite. James Mangold, has proven himself capable of making multiple types of film, two types being: Westerns and proto-Westerns. 3:10 to Yuma falls under the former, Copland and Logan, under the latter. Mangold is clearly both in love with, and indebted to, the Western, from the way he loves to shoot the desolate landscapes in wide shots, to the already mentioned links to Shane, and this is where the issue arises. As much as this film tries, it can’t be ShaneLogan is a film whose cast consists of comic book characters from a pre-existing universe, and as a result of this, compared to a film like Persepolis or the upcoming Atomic Blonde, that link to the genre precludes all other possible classifications.

As a result of that, Logan utilises one of the genre’s frequently used tropes, clones, for both good and bad. The former, X-23/Laura Kinney, is great, more impressive than many breakout child performances because Keen’s initial impression on the audience is conveyed while mute, and after she breaks her silence, she and Logan have a dynamic much like Shane and Joey. The latter, X-24, played by Jackman, is not and his importance to the plot of the film allows us to clearly mark the point where the film drops-off –– when it cuts in order to show his POV from a room in a facility –– and unfortunately, never recovers. Essentially, X-24’s existence makes subtext into text, a narrative decision not required.

The comics that fill this world already go to demonstrate that Logan is feuding with someone who shares his appearance, a former self, one that has also been immortalised, in these works and the minds of children. If you will, these comics have become the dime novels of this world, embellishing events in order to make them more exciting. Eden isn’t real, at least not as the issue presents it. Instead, it becomes a reality, if only for a precious moment, thanks to the children, who saw this adventure in its paneled glory, and were driven to make it true. Logan was already in a battle with himself, attempting to prove that he could be the costumed man in the comics.


I feel that it would have been more appropriate that the allegorical gunslinger, the legend, is in conflict with what became his legend.

My problem with Logan isn’t exclusive to this film as I feel similarly about The Wolverine and the inclusion of the Silver Samurai. Much like then, I wish that Mangold had been able to go all the way with regards to their respective inspirations, but it feels like a bigger flaw here, because not only does Logan have less faults overall, but it’s also closer to true greatness. As mentioned, Mangold has shown himself capable of making both Westerns and proto-Westerns. In its decided permutation, Logan would like to be Shane, but it can’t because of its comic book links. Simultaneously, I don’t think that Logan can be the best comic book film because it is those tenuous tropes, those links to the genre that hold it back.

I keep going back Shane because it told the story Logan was almost able to tell and because clones never have the essence of the original.

The Grief of Personal Shopper

A study of the people who move forward, and the ones who don’t, following tragedy.

Personal Shopper is not the first of Olivier Assayas’ collaborations with Kristen Stewart to involve a train nor the first to involve messages being exchanged on said train. Clouds of Sils Maria opens on one, finding Stewart’s Valentine mid-conversation on the phone, an assistant to Juliette Binoche’s Maria Enders. Maria derides the idea that she will be starring in another X-Men movie, she’s tired of acting in front on green screens.

Clouds of Sils Maria is about how our perspective on art changes as we grow older, how it is possible to see in it a new light with more life experience. Assayas has said before that he sees cinema as ghosts – an intriguing thought. You write a movie, go through the stages of production, produce a cut of the film with which you are satisfied with enough to set it aside for x amount of time, until the press tour comes and you need to get back out there to lavish the movie with praise, but having had time apart from it. Perhaps even seeing it differently.

Personal Shopper is a literal ghost story. Maybe. It might be fair to say that it’s one-third a ghost story, one-third a Hitchcockian thriller and one-third a character study. It might be more than just these three movies. It might not work entirely in every frame, but it’s wholly fascinating and unsettling in equal measure. It invites you to be uncomfortable. I shift around a lot when seated, but here, I realised that I wasn’t shifting to get comfortable. Instead, I was moving to pull myself closer to the screen, perhaps to avoid reaching a point where I felt safe and secure about what was going to happen.

Kristen Stewart plays Maureen, a personal shopper. Someone who’s stuck in the material world when she’s feeling disconnected from the real world. You see, her twin brother, Lewis, died three months ago, from a condition that she shares. Opening on her arrival to the house that he once owned,  it feels appropriate to suggest the nouveau Gothic nature of this. The cast-iron gate secluding the chalet as the carriage of the time (in this case, a Volvo) draws nearer. She’s come here to see if she can feel her brother’s presence, in her own words, she’s waiting.

Others are waiting as well, a couple of Lewis’ friends are interested in the house and are waiting on Maureen to determine whether the house is inhabited by a presence which may or not be Lewis’. On the other hand, Sigrid Bouaziz’s Lara, his ex, has come to realise that it’s appropriate to mourn, but that we do so, in order to carry on. As such, she’s found someone new, but it’s impossible for her to do so completely, evident in how she has an interest in carpentry, Lewis’ profession.


Maureen hasn’t moved on yet. The movie finds her in a unique position of grief. In fact, the camera always wants to find her. In Stewart, Assayas found his muse. The camera floats through the scenes, gradually panning around, then it’ll rush to hold on Maureen and rightly so, because this is Stewart’s finest performance. Much like Jackie, the film hinges on this central performance and it’s so captivating throughout.

If you’re surprised by the notion that Kristen Stewart can act, then it would pertinent to remember that she delivered a striking child performance for David Fincher in Panic Room. Being honest, the time for being surprised that she could act should’ve passed back in 2009 following Adventureland.

Since then, she’s moved past the Twilight movies (although I would argue her androgynous blank slate approach is a smart approach for a YA franchise when teens are looking for protagonists like them) to create a space in which she can operate without anyone trying to encroach on it. A naturalistic approach that feels effortless, you’ll never catch her acting and that’s kinda the point. Other, more showy actresses, could take the role of Maureen and decide that certain beats deserve bigger, more clearly emotional reactions that you can identify as acting. Instead, Stewart encapsulates the character. As much as it’s possible to say this is a movie of Olivier Assayas, it’s perhaps easier to call this Kristen Stewart’s movie. She’s created this brand where she’s cool, but doesn’t care –– where she can drop the f-bomb on live TV and come back from it in three seconds flat –– and this movie is modeled after that in a way. It’s not a standard ghost story and it doesn’t give a damn if you’re not on-board with that.

It’s the tics that become noticeable with how laser focused the film is on her at all times. During the most atypical sequence, set on the Eurostar, she texts with an unknown number. Her thumbs twitch, as if she knows how she wants to respond, but is hesitant to do so. Throughout the movie, it’s the way that she doesn’t always know what to do with her hands, the way that she goes to board the Eurostar and seems to have forgotten that she’s holding the ticket in her mouth, trying to balance the rest of her luggage, the way that she stammers in a way that clearly isn’t like an actor for David Mamet would. The line readings aren’t ones which have the exact number of repeated syllables written on the page, they’re ones from someone in the moment, playing off the spectral energy.

To get to the titular focus of the film, she zips around Paris (and London), picking up clothes for Kyra, her boss. She’s not a fan of this job by any stretch of the imagination, but she sticks with it, even when presented with other prospects. An offer she receives is more glamourous, both in what she’d have to do and where she’d be, not to mention easier. It’s a movie about grief, but also about the inability to do so. Others do their best to move on, Maureen keeps going back to Lewis’ house. She’s not able to move on, but she keeps moving around, running countless errands for Kyra in the hope that filling her time will keep her mind busy as well.

Film Review Personal Shopper

I think my viewing of this movie has been enhanced by the conditions in which I saw it. You see, it wasn’t playing anywhere near me, I had to travel ninety minutes to do so, which meant I had to get the train. Into St. Pancras. The station from which the Eurostar departs for Paris. I didn’t so much walk back through the station, instead I let the balls of my feet carry me to the platform without giving me a moment to properly acknowledge I’d walked through a section depicted on screen not two hours ago. It made me hesitant to get on the train to come home, in the same way a standard horror movie may make you reluctant to turn off the light and go up to bed. I decided to turn off my phone, so I needn’t run the risk of getting a notification.

I found a lot of myself in Maureen. I said that I shift around a lot and that extends to generally, not just in a seat. I don’t know what to do with my hands, I palm at the sides of my hair to push it over my ear, and noticed I was doing it more as I walked back. There were things I noticed, but Personal Shopper made me realise something as well.

I’ve lost relatives, but unlike many, this didn’t really happen until the back half of my teens. Which meant it coincided with depression and familial breakdowns, the pressures of achieving grades to get into uni and the need to display outwards that none of this stuff was having any real impact on me.

There was a time shortly after my Granddad died that I was in History. We were split into groups, it was something about the Berlin Wall. I finished whatever I had to do pretty quickly and I just did the work tasked to everyone else in my group. This extended outwards, I kept, and keep filling time, I’m at uni as I do two podcasts a week, one of which I edit, as I hold down a job as a comics critic as I read to keep up in order to do so as I consume pop culture at a rate which can’t seemed to be matched by the people around me as I write this post as I plan to have a movie, which could easily be one hundred and fifty pages, written the end of the month as I don’t, and haven’t, grieved for any of the losses of the past four years, minimum.

Personal Shopper does it’s best to offer a distinction between the material world, the physical and the spiritual. I’ve avoided discussing the ending, but it doesn’t provide definitive answers to some of the questions that the movie, and the audience, will posit, but I think it can provide answers to questions we ponder regardless. It is so strikingly different from everything I’ve ever seen, that over the course of the screening, it dawned on me that I was watching my new favourite movie, art is at it’s best at it’s most ambitious, even if imperfect. Were a movie to present these ideas in a more conventional fashion, it would likely not have the same effect on me. The unconventional nature of this magnificent film eschews the turns of phrase that conventional movies, and people in general, rely on, in order to talk about grief and mourning – there’s no stressing of “take your time”. Due to this, I listened instead of brushing it aside and finally heard, in a way that didn’t feel part of the motions in the wake of tragedy, that it was okay for me to grieve.

A Year in Review

Let’s be real: this year was goddamn awful

But we’re part of the human race and we do our best to endure. One of the ways we can do that is shout about the culture that deserves to be praised. I understand that’s been something which has been tough to do in the past couple months. I’ve struggled with finding the balance between talking about present-day problems and shouting about the stuff that I love, lean too much on the former and I’ll fall down the rabbit hole of darkness, lean towards the latter and it looks like I’m using art to ignore the real world. While I can understand why some want to be able to watch TV and ignore the trash fire of the outside world, I can’t get behind it in any capacity. The best art takes a look at the world and allows us to try and make sense of it all. It can bring beauty into our lives and deliver hope. At the very least I hope that the stuff I rave about here will give you something which can help you with that.


Early on in this process, I was half tempted to put Creed, Room and Spotlight on this list considering they released here in early 2016, but if I was going to do so, I’d be including one too many technicalities and it’s also unfair to the movies that were released in general in 2016 which are phenomenal.

Another technicality that I won’t be including is Spike Jonze’s ad for Kenzo World:

Basically if Duck Amuck can count as a movie than so can this dammit, but it would also mean not being able to write about one of the movies that are on the list below and once I’d made the list sans Jonze’s commercial, I realised I wanted to write something about all of those movies.

Let’s kick this off with an honourable mention for Jon Favreau’s The Jungle Book, a technical masterpiece that blended CGI with live-action, retained the soul (and songs) of the original and consisted of a stellar cast that all delivered solid performances. Despite this it didn’t wholly blow me away, but the technical aspects are impressive enough that it deserves to be in the end of the year conversation.

Movies that just missed the cut: 10 Cloverfield Lane, Everybody Wants Some, Finding Dory, Ghostbusters, Hail Caesar, Other People and Sleeping with Other People.

The movie that I know for a fact I won’t be able to stomach: Green Room

Movies that I missed: American Honey, Hell or High Water

And part of me is grateful that Jackie, La La Land, Moonlight, Silence and The Handmaiden don’t come out until next year here because those would have made the list harder to whittle down, but at the same time I wish I could have seen them already. Onto the top 10:

10. The Beatles: Eight Days a Week

The Beatles were the first band that made me actively listen to music. It’s cliche, I know, but it’s a cliche because they’re a band that really is that good. Obviously, the fact that I’m nineteen means that I’ve never had a chance to see them live or get swept up in the phenomenon that they caused back in the Sixties, but Ron Howard’s documentary, combined with the restoration to the Shea Stadium footage is the closest you’ll be able to get to doing both of until we invent time travel. To focus on Howard’s work first, it’s a well paced timeline of how the Beatles started through to how they ended, it avoids talking about the extraneous details of the Fab Four’s lives because it’s more so about them as the band, over everything that happened when they spent time away from each other. It showcases their rapport and bond, but also how these started to wain. And then I also got to watch around thirty minutes of the Shea Stadium concert in 4K, which to my knowledge was only available when watching the movie on the big screen. If you didn’t catch it in cinemas, then you’ve made a misstep there because it’s just so damn incredible to see a band in their heyday in near perfect condition. In some moments, we may have seen it better than the people who were actually there.

9. The Neon Demon

When Nicholas Winding Refn’s latest premiered at Cannes, it was booed. When I heard that, I thought that would be exactly what Refn would want. When I saw it, that sentiment was confirmed. The most evocative pieces of art inspire reaction, regardless of what reaction that may be. It has a lot of elements going for it, Cliff Martinez’s synth score, Refn’s eye for framing and Natasha Braier’s cinematography creating glamourous catwalks and scenes of horror. The technical qualities of Refn’s movies have never been in question, it normally comes down to the story being told. Here, Elle Fanning’s Jesse moves to LA with the intention of becoming a model who becomes ensnared in the industry and it’s obsession with youth. The message of the movie and its dialogue is blunt and at times makes Knight of Cups look dense by comparison. And some won’t like this, thus is the nature of art-house. But for those like me, which do engage with the movie, will be struck by the tale it tells and ask themselves whether that’s the point. Refn might have said this is his way of finding the sixteen year old girl inside him, but I think for everyone else, it allows us a chance to find our way into his head.

8. Zootopia

Continuing the Disney Animation renaissance of the 2010’s comes Byron Howard and Rich Moore’s Zootopia which invites the characters and us to engage with their internal biases. Ginnifer Goodwin’s Judy Hopps  moves from relative safety in Bunnyburrow to Zootopia, a vibrant and wild city filed with more than two of each and every animal. Teaming up with Nick, a fox voiced by Jason Bateman, they uncover a conspiracy that runs through multiple districts of the ‘animal utopia’. It’s a fairly standard detective/cop story structure, but the startling thing is how it engages with ideas of prejudice in a world where predator vs. prey has been the norm for so long. Largely the movie moves at a swift pace, like the train ride which introduces us to the city, it spends enough time in each area to gain relevant information and then moves on, but it still has time to take a beat and linger in the world of sloths. Deftly funny with a message, Zootopia continues to prove that Disney might make animated movies, but they are by no means just kids movies.

7. The Odyssey

The first technicality of the list because while you’d be correct in stating that Florence and the Machine released the first chapter of The Odyssey back in 2015, the full film from Vincent Haycock was uploaded back in May strings the various chapters together with some transitional spoken word segments. Unlike Donald Glover’s release of Clapping for the Wrong Reasons and the screenplay for Because the Internet in conjunction with the titular album, The Odyssey is more spiritualistic, tracking Florence on a journey she makes, both physically and within herself, post-breakup.  Haycock’s camera is in near-constant motion, always moving in some direction, much like we are in life. Sometimes it’s steady, when it tracks Florence as she sings How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, while the What Kind of Man segment sees it lurch from side to side as if looking for an escape from the wall of people that’s closing in. Ship to Wreck is the most technically spectacular sequence of the piece, using a Steadicam to weave in and out of rooms as the relationship deteriorates. Some choice camera cuts give it a forward momentum, always scanning for the next event. Boasting an unusual lighting set-up, the segment turns the lens inwards as time goes on and eventually Florence is attacking a version of herself, which goes to show how the movie asks that you not only allow emotion to come out, but to look deep to find exactly how you truly feel.

6. The Nice Guys

A buddy cop movie from Shane Black. You know what to expect. If there is something surprising about this comedy, it’s that Russell Crowe as Jackson Healy and Ryan Gosling as Holland March work so well as a comedic duo. But as is the nature of Shane Black to find what works in a movie despite the many absurdities he includes as well – this is a movie involving Hannibal Buress playing a CGI bee. Healy and March are on the case of tracking down a porn star, previously thought dead, and uncover something larger along the way involving a missing child. While not necessarily a bold new experiment for structure or a hugely inventive redesign of the genre, this is a buddy cop movie from Shane Black. This should be enough to understand that the movie does what it does exceptionally well. It’s consistently funny, thanks to Crowe and Gosling and through Black’s work with cinematographer Philippe Rousselot, a vivid picture of life in 1970’s Los Angeles is created within those opening, sweeping shots of the area and continues to exist in every inch of the frame moving forward. A neon-noir movie if there ever was one.

5. Nocturnal Animals

If Tom Ford wants to take 7 years between movies, then as long as each of them achieve this quality, that’s absolutely fine. Susan Morrow (Amy Adams) is living the dream in Los Angeles as the owner of a high end gallery, with a charming husband, Hutton, played by Arnie Hammer, but she’s unhappy with life. Her former husband, Edward (Jake Gyllenhall) sends her a manuscript of his most recent novel entitled Nocturnal Animals. From there Ford mixes three narratives – one about Susan in the present day, one centered around her and Edward’s courtship, and the novel’s, which provides an allegory for their relationship as well as Edward’s response to it ending.

I watched this movie pre-Trump’s America and I have no idea how it plays now with its exploration and condemnation of toxic masculinity. Adapted from a book released back in 1993 by Austin Wright, who knows if they could guess how the themes would have been so relevant. With this focus alone it would be one of the most striking movies of the year, but it’s also a movie made by Tom Ford who proved back in 2009 that he could create an intricately designed movie. Working with Seamus McGarvey, Ford constructs a world as opaque as his winter collection. There’s a lot of moving pieces on the board for the duration of this movie, but Ford’s eye means they all weave together to form the wider tapestry.

4. Weiner

After this godforsaken year, I never want hear about Anthony fucking Weiner’s fucking weiner again, partly for political reasons (anyone aware of what happened in the final days of the election should understand why), but also because I’m not sure I could bear to remember any specific details of his life after having experienced some of it in horror thanks to Josh Kriegman and Elyse Steinberg. For context, Anthony Weiner was a member of Congress who was quickly gaining attention for his impassioned approach to government back in the early 2010’s. Then pictures of him in his underwear appeared on Twitter and tarnished his political standing. Kriegman and Steinberg started the documentary with the intention of following his campaign to become Mayor of New York in 2013, only another scandal broke as they were filming. Somehow, he allowed them to carry on filming. Essentially about a man who doesn’t know when to stop, the camera (and the audience) gain front row seats to this horror show and it only becomes more excruciating as time goes on. Not just for us obviously, as his wife Huma Abedin is also present during these events, having stood by her husband. Forget the VVitch, this is truly the horror movie of the year and even begins to feel like an exploitation film, even more so than the Neon Demon borders on that genre, mainly because you can’t tell if this is going too far over the top. Then again, maybe that makes it the fitting movie to represent this god damn year.

3. Arrival

This was the first movie I saw after Trump’s America became reality. It broke me. Not because of the tragedy that the movie makes apparent at the start regarding Amy Adams’ Louise and her daughter, but because it showed a world where we can work together and even now, a month after seeing it, that idea feels like even more of a dream than it did the Monday after the election. Adapted from Ted Chiang’s Story of Your Life, it sees twelve alien crafts arrive on Earth and humanity’s attempts to understand what’s going. Working with Jeremy Renner’s Ian, Louise is tasked with doing so thanks to her extensive study of language. Through this, director Denis Villeneuve finds humanity’s greatest asset – communication. Simply by talking to each other we can move to solve problems and prevent the worst, the latter of those notions coming together within the movie’s stunning climax which sees screenwriter Eric Heisserer reveal his hand and thus the true nature of the screenplay’s structure which creates this grand unifying narrative that is sure to speak to you in some way.

2. Lemonade

The second technicality on the list. When I first started putting this piece together I was unsure about how much I’d have to fight about putting Beyonce’s opus and testament to black culture of past & present on here. Since critics have started publishing their pieces, I’ve felt fairly vindicated knowing that I’m not the only one who believes this should be counted as a movie. The sixty minute movie is rich with colour and is comprised from eleven distinct segments that flow from one to the next, while still having their own distinct emotions, no one is going to confuse the poignancy of Daddy Lessons with the quiet rage of Sorry.  Even though the former of those spoke to me more, to pick a favourite would feel at odds with the fact it’s such a cohesive piece. Provocative and unapologetic, this is Beyonce at her best and it’s easily worth fighting with Tidal’s esoteric streaming service in order to experience this.

1.  Paterson

I have never seen a Jim Jarmusch movie before. I wanted to, believe me I did, but I missed out on Only Lovers Left Alive back in 2014. Since seeing Paterson, I don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about it in some way. Paterson stars Adam Driver as Paterson, who lives in Paterson as a bus driver, writes poetry and adores William Carlos Williams, who published a collection of poems entitled Paterson. That’s a lot of Paterson, sure, but also demonstrates what the movie has at it’s core, the city of Paterson. Jarmusch is content with letting the silence of the scene linger as Adam Driver walks to work, drives the bus or nurses a beer at the bar, over the course of seven days (and one morning) of his life. From just these facts I could understand you turning your head at why this is on the top of my list, but at the same time I ask you watch this in order to understand why. In essence Paterson is about an objectively good person and how through idiosyncrasies and people, we seek to fill our lives in order to make them whole, while at the same time being content with the silence that occupies the space we can’t fill. That is true for Driver’s Paterson, but also Golshifteh Farahani’s Laura, his wife who spends her days dreaming of businesses she desires to run while slowly giving their house a make-over. They both have their quirks and don’t fully comprehend the other’s, but they respect each other enough to let them have them.

It’s a movie which despite the structure suggesting monotony, quickly informs you to have no expectations. A conversation with a set of wannabe gangsters quickly offsets what you’d expect from a scene like that in almost every other movie. When Paterson gets caught eavesdropping, no one comes off having been insulted or physically harmed, instead the characters involved share a brief conversation and part, better off for having talked. The moments in the bar are subdued (bar one), but are rich with character. From Barry Shabaka Henry’s Doc who plays chess with himself to William Jackson Harper’s Everett, these are all people trying to get by and suffer setbacks on occasion. I’ve watched just over a week of Paterson’s life in Paterson (in Paterson), but if I’m going to be completely honest, that one week made me feel as if I’ve vicariously lived a complete life. And it’s quite a life.



Captain America: Civil War

Being completely honest with you, this award wasn’t that difficult to decide. I mean DC’s output was some of the worst stuff to ever grace cinemas, Deadpool didn’t land with me and even then it didn’t do anything genre-breaking despite calling attention to tropes, X-Men: Apocalypse had a certain visual style to it, but a narrative that comes two years too late to avoid being called out for it and Doctor Strange also had a visual style, but has a ridiculously thin narrative.

Which leaves Captain America: Civil War, a movie I enjoyed immensely at the time, but am scared to go back to in case I find my minor flaws that I have with it currently are bigger than I thought. Even with that and mind, the Russo Brothers, Markus and Mcfeely delivered one of the strongest blockbusters of the year drawing lines between the heroes of the MCU and asking them to duke it out for our pleasure. The conflict isn’t perfect, but the Russo’s handle the large cast reasonably well, giving them all moments to shine, even if the focus is on RDJ and Chris Evans, a sentiment which is especially true when it comes to the airport sequence, one which will become synonymous with Marvel moving forward.



Starting again with an honourable mention, we have Gravity Falls which aired just one episode this year ‘Weirdmageddon 3: Take Back the Falls’, the show’s finale. After a long delay between it and the previous episode, it had a lot riding on it when it came to providing a suitable send-off for this weird and charming show from Alex Hirsch. Luckily it did, providing some fan service without going overboard in addition to a conclusion to the overarching plot while also saying goodbye to the town without closing every single door. The highlight is perhaps the heartfelt battle between Bill and Stan as the latter’s memory starts to fade. If you haven’t seen the show then I implore that you do, I would have felt wrong not mentioning one of the strongest animated shows I’ve ever seen in this end of the year round-up, but couldn’t bring myself to include a single episode on the list.

Before we kick off with the list, let me just note which other shows were also in contention for a spot: Better Things, Bojack Horseman, Catastrophe, Girls, Insecure, iZombie, Lady Dynamite, Love and Person of Interest. Now let’s start the countdown:

10. Search Party

I expect that this show from TBS will pass by many and that’s a gosh darn shame because it’s truly unique, even if it doesn’t necessarily appear to be from the outset. Much like Girls, it opens at brunch, but quickly switches gears when the four main characters – Dory, Drew, Elliot and Portia start discussing the disappearance of Chantal Winterbottom, someone they once knew at college. Very quickly this show shifts into a mix between millennial character study, examination of millennial shows and procedural. There are multiple instances when I gasped at what the show did, but not in response to dynamic reveals which shake up the whodunnit, more so instances like the establishing shot to the vigil which instantly aids an air of Fincher to the episode. The final episode of the season is also particularly damning of Dory, Alla Shawkat’s character, which is a ballsy move for a show to make after spending so long charting said character’s journey.

9. Better Call Saul


I’m going to be honest with you here, I think that I like Better Call Saul more than I ever did Breaking Bad.


Don’t get me wrong, Breaking Bad is an incredible achievement in almost every regard, but Better Call Saul seems to be having more fun with Jimmy McGill’s downfall. That and I’m not being told that Better Call Saul is the best thing ever made every few minutes I spend on line. Maybe that’s because a lot of people appear to be content with how Breaking Bad came to a close and decided that they didn’t want more, but they’re wrong. Better Call Saul is just as much must-see TV as Breaking Bad was as creators Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould have taken everything they learned while making that to put them ahead of the curve that was Breaking Bad’s trajectory.

One could have been content with the exploration of Jimmy McGill’s life and just that, but the pair and the rest of the talent behind the camera and in the writer’s room have fleshed out this shades-of-grey world with other characters like Chuck McGill, Howard Hamlin and Kim Wexler to create a vortex rather than downward spiral as each character falls further and further into the abyss, with these subplots being far better intertwined into the core story of Bob Odenkirk’s character than examples from Breaking Bad like Marie’s kleptomania.

8. Transparent

Amazon Studios honestly doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to their streaming content, but Transparent continues to blaze a trail and making their other shows look worse in the process. Jill Soloway’s exploration of being Trans became more artistic this season, amping up the spirituality and letting this drive the characters on their separate journeys for which they don’t necessarily know the destination, finally bringing the Pfefferman clan back together in the finale for a cruise. It’s a show about exploration and finding not only who you are in the world, but where in the world you fit. This is inherently obvious from Jeffrey Tambor’s portrayal of Maura who’s journey since the start of the show has been looking for initially acceptance of their identity, but it can also be seen in Josh’s realisation he could buy a house elsewhere or Shelley’s desire to find her brand. Much like Bojack Horseman Season Three, it’s not as tight of a web as their second seasons were, but this seems to works when it comes to Transparent which concurs that the end result may not be a perfect fit, but it’s good enough of one that you can be happy.

7. The People vs. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story

Despite my annoyance that Fargo’s second season (the best season of television from the last ten years, at least) was largely sidelined in lieu of this when it came to award, I always knew this was going to end up on this list. Observing the lives of the many personalities that played a role in this infamous trial, from Sarah Paulson’s Marcia Clark, who shone in the season’s strongest showing, to Courtney B. Vance’s Johnnie Cochran, an ever present force of nature to David Schwimmer’s Robert Kardashian whose line reading for the word ‘juice’ could lighten any scene While Cuba Gooding Jr. never truly steps into the role of O.J. Simpson, this is in part due to the caliber of the rest of the cast being so impressive.

That single minor quibble aside, the story is just as shocking now as it was when it was playing out in real time back in the 90’s, bolstered by Ryan Murphy, Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski’s immediate re-contextualisation of the case with regards to racial tensions in the 1990’s, sparked by the murder of Rodney King. This opening montage sets the table for the season moving forward as implicit racial and sexual biases are noted and interrogated. The direction throughout the season is something which can be considered truly interesting with the way the camera rushes forward, like a press pool reporter rushing to the defendant leaving the courthouse, towards the characters as startling revelations are uncovered. This energy and sense of motion goes to highlight how this is a show that doesn’t let up.

Also, try out O.J.: Made in America, the 5-part ESPN documentary which provides even more context before running concurrently with the events covered in People vs. O.J..

6. Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

Rachel Bloom and Aline Brosh Mckenna’s musical comedy reminds me a lot of Veronica Mars. Make no mistake, this are inherently different shows, but to me they both shouldn’t work. Veronica Mars took a Nancy Drew type character and put them in a hard boiled noir town with a sun drenched filter obscuring some of the seedier details of the story, but resulted in one of the strongest shows to ever air.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend follows suit by charting a Mr. Chips to Scarface journey, much like the one Vince Gilligan pulled off on Breaking Bad, but does this through a screwball musical comedy that mixes up the formula each and every week. Rebecca Bunch, played by Bloom, is clearly not sound of mind and a hazard to all in her immediate space and moves to West Covina following an encounter with a boyfriend from years ago. Since returning in the early months of 2016, the show has understood the niche it fills within the TV landscape, providing a unique arc for Rebecca, only possible on a show like this. In it’s second season, the arcs for her and the supporting cast have continued to reach new heights and all of this is in addition to coming up with original songs each week. From the Lemonade-influenced ‘Love Kernels’ which kicked off the sophomore season to ‘Friendtopia’ which takes the concept of squad goals and the militarastic ideals the concept confers, and throws them into a Spice Girls song.

5. The Girlfriend Experience

Again I expect this show to pass people by. Taking it’s name from Steven Soderbergh’s 2009 film, Logan Kerrigan and Amy Seimetz pen and direct a story about Christine, a young woman in law school who turns to the world of escorting. Their incredibly hands-on approach means the show has an immediate feeling of auteurist style and Shane Carruth’s omnipresent electronic score gives it an arthouse quality, one that could be felt in his movies. It avoids being simply sexploitation or Game of Thrones-esque sexposition, seemingly anticipating this reaction and takes steps to preclude you from saying this once you’ve watched a few episodes. Riley Keough gives a haunting and threatening performance, rolling with the show’s transitions into other genres like in the ninth episode ‘Blindsided’ where the show becomes more of a thriller. In the finale ‘Seperation’ I have no idea what it becomes, but it’s so unabashedly engrossing. In addition to all of this, it succeeds a streaming drama in being expertly paced, which helps to be an engaging show and experience like no other.

4. You’re the Worst

I’ve spoken at length about this show on here (I recapped the entire season and wrote about the connection I have to Gretchen, linked below) so I won’t spend too long here repeating myself. Regardless, coming into this season I was apprehensive after that cathartic second season that it something would be missing and it initially felt like that, however once it makes clear that the season wasn’t about therapy or communication, but family, it immediately starts to soar again. Now, family doesn’t necessarily mean a blood bond though, it can be with the friends who are there for you, most evident in Edgar’s arc and the conversation he shares with Lindsay in ‘The Last Sunday Funday’ which featured one of the most beautiful scenes to air this year. Stephen Falk and his room have created a truly artistic show, some of it’s messy, but it’s fitting for the lives these characters lead, so once again, thank you Stephen Falk. Thank you Aya Cash. Thank you everyone involved for giving me a show that has helped to understand myself.


3. Horace & Pete

The final of the shows that will pass a ton of people by and that’s almost by design. From Louis C.K., the first episode was released back in January on his website and announced via a newsletter. As a result it didn’t necessarily slip under the radar, more so appear in our base, blending in with the rest of the high quality TV, causing some people to gloss over it.

As writer, director, editor, actor and distributor, Louis C.K. moves past the traditional notion of what an auteur is to deliver a ten part narrative about a bar in Brooklyn, which has always been run by a Horace and a Pete. In this case, these characters are played by Louis C.K. and Steve Buscemi respectively, but other magnificent actors like Alan Alda and Laurie Metcalf stumble into the bar along the way. It’s such a feat that I find it hard to talk about, I know on one level that it’s one of two streaming dramas (other being The Girlfriend Experience) which has the appropriate amount of plot for the running time of each episode, but beyond that there’s so much going on both on screen and in how the show was produced that I just find myself enamoured by it all.

2. Atlanta

Back at the TCA’s in the summer, Donald Glover expressed a belief that his auteurist comedy-in-theory Atlanta was Twin Peaks with rappers. That phrase took the discussion of the show by storm when it premiered, within the hour of the show airing people were overanalysing what that guy on the bus with the sandwich meant. But they were going about it the wrong way from where I was sitting, a sentiment that was backed up the following week when some questioned why the show wasn’t dealing with Brian Tyree Henry’s Paper Boi being involved in a shooting. Theories about what would happen to Paper Boi were thrown back and forth, about the guy who shouted “Worldstar”, about which gun was actually fired, but again people missed the point. By calling it Twin Peaks with rappers, Glover indicated that while the show may at first appear to be concerned with a murder, both care about all of the other goings-on so much more.

As a result, the show can be elastic, whatever Donald Glover and his friends who helped write and direct wanted the show to be about that particular week. Sometimes this meant we’d follow the character played by Glover, Earn, in his struggle to stay on his feet, at others it could be about Season MVP Darius (Keith Stanfield) going to a gun range and finding out he couldn’t shoot a target of a dog, while others could shoot human targets. It could be about a fake talk show or Zazie Beetz’s Van as she works out how to pass a drug test. Deftly funny in one moment, morose in another, sly social commentary throughout, nobody can truly know what Atlanta will be week to week and that’s exciting beyond belief.

1. The Americans

The Americans is a show that can pull of a time skip in the eighth episode of it’s season and keep going without missing a beat. That’s enough reason to consider this TV’s best show, but at the same time, there’s so many other nuances which provide further proof. Focused on Philip (Matthew Rhys) and Elizabeth Jennings (Keri Russell), two Soviet agents in Washington, who have to contend with their KGB missions in addition to staying on top of their responsibilities as a family with their two kids, Paige (Holly Taylor) and Henry (Keidrich Sellati), the former of which has been roped into the un-American activities of the Jennings.

From Joe Weisberg and Joel Fields, it tells the story of a family caught in the push and pull of American life and continues to get better and better each and every year. Themes are deftly layered within the writing and direction – note the voyeuristic camera in the season premiere showing what it’s like to be out the outside looking in or vice versa, which makes a return in the final shot of the season, the show provides shocks from week to week in how it effortlessly pulls off a plot twist or how it sets up what becomes perceived as a Chekhov’s Gun, only to brush it aside, having snuck else by you while you were distracted. Right now we know that there are 23 episode of The Americans still to come. Right now I can’t tell you with any certainty what’s going to happen in those. What I can tell you right now is that it’s one of the finest shows being made today and already deserves a place in the pantheon.


For anyone wondering which shows didn’t get included in this conversation then for your reading pleasure:

Worth Watching: 11.22.63, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, X-Files S10E03 ‘Scully and Mulder Meet the Were-Monster’, The 100, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, The Good Place, Supergirl, Easy, Take My Wife, Stranger Things, High Maintenance, Black-ish and Black Mirror S03E04 ‘San Junipero’

Toes the Line: Divorce

Misfires: Star Wars Rebels, Archer, The Flash, Mr. Robot, The Expanse, the rest of Black Mirror S3, The Night of, The Get Down, Vice Principals, Bloodline, Arrow

Real Disappointments: Daredevil, Luke Cage, The X-Files S10, Legends of Tomorrow, Westworld, The Walking Dead, Sherlock, Vinyl, UnReal, Flaked



Phoebe Waller-Bridge has produced one of the most intriguing pieces of work from this year. Developed from a one act play she performed at the 2013 Edinburgh Fringe, the show is an exploration of a woman’s life in modern-day London who we’ll only know as Fleabag. Along the way we come into contact with family and friends. The show establishes itself as something special early on, opening on Waller-Bridge talking to us about the response to a guy coming over, when he arrives at the house she switches between their conversation and snarky offshoots for us. This in itself gives away that this was once a play, where the stage allows the characters to relay information directly to the audience in the form of monologues or soliloquies. The show is both open, dealing with all manner of sexual content as you’ll see from the opening few minutes, and simultaneously closed off as certain pieces of the narrative have been withheld purposely. When all of the cards are finally laid out on the table, your perception of the character of Fleabag changes. Then it goes a step further, your perception of Fleabag, the show, changes.


And if you want two other recommendations then try  Crashing and The Night Manager.

I considered doing ten episodes for both Best Half Hour and Best Hour Long Shows, but after looking over my list for both, I think it would better to discuss the


from this year all together because there’s no reason to segregate the two formats. Also I’m going to try and keep these short and punchy so I don’t try to write a thesis of the episodes. So cracking swiftly on:

10. Person of Interest S05 E04 – 6,741

After some time away, Shaw gets reunited in an episode which spotlights her relationship to the various members of the team, primarily Amy Acker’s Root. It’s heartfelt, smart and doesn’t pull any punches when it comes to the episode’s conclusion. Playing with the idea of being in control, 6,741 is directly linked to the core ideas of Person of Interest and makes for the standout episode of the season.

9. You’re the Worst S03 E06 – The Last Sunday Funday

Having written about this in the form of a recap, I’ll be brief. Edgar’s journey within this episode is cathartic, the fireworks scene is a piece of art and the episode would still rank on the list if it was solely focused on this. Instead it layers this in with a scavenger hunt for the core four that keeps the laughs flowing thick and fast.


8. Fleabag S01 E04 – Episode 4

Fleabag and her sister, Claire, take to the country for a female-only, silent retreat. It doesn’t stay silent for long, and over the course of the retreat, Fleabag is brought back into connection with characters from earlier in the season, following up on ideas seeded and treated as throwaway jokes prior. This in itself highlights the extent of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s talent as a writer as she’s able to return to something and give it a renewed focus, while also continuing ideas that have persisted through the series like the sisterly relationship.

7. Horace and Pete S01E03 – Episode 3

I don’t really want to discuss this one beyond surface details, because I feel it should be up to each viewer to discover this one for themselves. What I will say is that opening with a nine minute monologue performed by Laurie Metcalfe sets the stage for a tour-de-force performance from everyone involved as you sit, transfixed by the story.

6. The Girlfriend Experience S01E09 – Blindsided

This is where the show becomes a thriller as Christine’s work as an escort is outed. In an instant everyone seems to be talking about her and her actions. Both her clients and bosses are concerned with the information they learn. In essence, her sex and her having sex are turned against her in a power play which takes the ruthless undercurrent the show has had thus far and brings it to the forefront for the third act as everything starts to crumble.

5. The People vs. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story S01E06 – Marcia, Marcia, Marcia

Like many episodes on this list, Marcia, Marcia, Marcia provides a spotlight on one particular character – in this case Marcia Clark played by Sarah Paulson. This episode is very much an examination of her experience over the course of the trial, showing how her work on the case begins to invade her home life, not to mention how difficult the trial is to contend with. It’s the show’s finest hour, which says a lot considering this is also a season that contains the episode ‘The Race Card’  and functions as a summation of the series, noting how OJ’s trial was messed up from the get-go and got progressively worse as it dragged on.

4. Bojack Horseman S03 E04 – Fish Out of Water

Bojack’s version of Hollywoo has always been one filled with character. Part of this is down to the cast’s stellar voice performances, but it’s also due to the eye-popping visuals and visual comedy that lines the boulevards. The third season’s fourth episode transports Bojack, the character underwater, while retaining the visual qualities of Bojack, the show. An exploration of loneliness in a world sans communication, Bojack is able to find a physical connection between him and a baby seahorse which takes him through a variety of locations, including a hotel and a taffy factory. Building to one of the show’s best punchlines, the silence that builds to it is perhaps the most affecting moments of the show thus far as it questions what can we say when we don’t know how to?

3. You’re the Worst S03 E05 – Twenty-Two

Again I’ve written about this in a recap. Much like Season 2’s ‘LCD Soundsystem’ Stephen Falk writes and directs an episode focused intently on one character getting to the heart of their issues. Last season it was Gretchen, now it’s Edgar as he copes with a PTSD episode. Featuring some expert framing, subversion of scenes we’d already witnessed the week before and the air of that scene from The Hurt Locker where Jeremy Renner’s character is buying groceries, this is a respectful, but illuminating piece of television.


2. Atlanta S01E07 – B.A.N

I mentioned this episode before. It sees Paper Boi appear on a fictional talkshow, Montague, to discuss transphobia and masculinity. Rather than treating it as something where we stay with Paper Boi the entire time, it’s treated as an episode of Montague combining these discussions with out of the studio segments and a variety of fake adverts. A damning critique of society that will take more than one watch to understand exactly what you think of it, but that’s not an issue. As one of the year’s most captivating episodes, it would be disappointing if rewatching didn’t yield a richer understanding of everything the creative talent involved were trying to put forward.

1. The Americans S04 E08 – The Magic of David Copperfield V:
The Statue of Liberty Disappears

Losing a character is always hard. When it comes to The Americans it should be expected really, but as a result of the high body count, we, as viewers, brace for the kill. So when The Americans says goodbye to a character in silence and without killing them it stands out. The cold open of this episode does exactly that and it’s a truly impressive sequence, but Joe Weisberg and Joel Fields (as well as everyone else involved) aren’t content to just do this, the episode continues to surprise you and eventually comes to the time-skip. Thanks to this, there’s an overlapping of sorts as Season Four essentially comes to a close in this moment and it skips over the pieces on the board being shuffled around. This economical approach shows that Weisberg and Fields respect the length of stories and let them play out with the appropriate amount of focus. Keri Russell may have the most eye-popping scene thanks to her ocular vein being particularly present during her outburst  as Holly Taylor’s Paige, but Matthew Rhys gets his moment in the c0ld open as he, and the show say goodbye to a character. As viewers we don’t necessarily know for sure if we’ll ever see the character again, but for Rhys playing Philip Jennings, he seems to have come to terms with this farewell knowing it’s easier to expect he won’t see them again rather than hope that one day he will.

Our final TV Award is the


an award that no-one wants to win. But somebody has to, especially after a year like this when there were multiple shows that missed the mark (for me).

So getting the contenders out of the way: Flash for cannibalising the arc from Season One, only retelling it less effectively, Daredevil for having a horribly unfocused season which may have made me dislike Season One, Agent Carter for losing something in the coast-to-coast move and Mr. Robot for admittedly giving it everything and throwing everything to see what stuck, but sadly not a lot did.

Which means that UnREAL Season Two is our victor, and us the viewers, certainly the losers having to endure what was a dark, twisted and manipulative show in Season One, seemingly forget what made it so good in order to move towards shocking events for ratings. What may have seemed like a possible intention of the creators in keeping with reality TV became down right offensive and shockingly awful with the season’s sixth episode ‘Casualty’ which when suggests it’s going  to deal with the very real problem of a black man being shot by a cop in a traffic spot, only to then move away from this to focus on Rachel’s grief. It’s simply a horribly mismanaged narrative that stands out in a year when Atlanta had a fake cereal advert which dealt with the idea with far more nuance is such a brief pocket of time.



In the post-Serial podcast age, you need to do more to stand out and Homecoming does so by functioning as a radio play for the modern era, with stars like Amy Sedaris, Oscar Isaac and David Schwimmer, and top notch production values to boot. I’ll say nothing about plot, but it’s a harrowingly thought provoking thing to behold and with only six episodes released (at the time of writing), it’s a perfect afternoon’s worth of entertainment.



This category is here, not because I’m going to make the claim that I’m a music expert, but because I haven’t had an opportunity to shill Carly Rae Jepsen’s E.MO.TION Side B in a while.

‘But what about Lemonade?’ I hear you cry. Well yes, Lemonade is absolutely incredible and probably Beyonce’s finest work, but being honest I haven’t listened to it a second time. I haven’t even straight up listened to it once. And that’s because I think it’s designed as an audio/visual presentation over being a straight up LP/album/music lingo that I don’t know.

But back to Carly. Last year, the song Boy Problems from E.MO.TION proved that she’s Cyndi Lauper reincarnated to make pop better for all of us and the vibe that can be gleamed from that song (and there are even hints of it in her 2012 album Kiss) is ever present in Side B. It contains some of the songs she chose not include on the original album (and she had like 200+ to choose from, so I’m looking forward to sides C-Z, he said crossing his fingers) and they fit the dynamic that she cemented back in 2015. How many other artists do you know that you could make a song about heading out to the Store and never coming back without it being a poor Robin Sparkles parody? This is to say nothing about Fever or Cry which could have become summer hits, if only people hadn’t written her off after I Really Like You.

Other contenders that struck me this year include Childish Gambino’s Awaken, My Love! and Tegan and Sara’s Love You To Death. Anyways, enough about me pretending that I can talk about music for an extended duration of time without reaching the point where he’s looking for Almost Famous quotes to alter.



2016 was also the year that I made a point to read more prose as well (No, it wasn’t just to seem academic now I’m at uni, you’ll realise when you see my number 2 pick). Like with music, I’m not going to try and claim that I’m well aware of everything that came out this year, and these stood head and shoulders above everything, but out of the ones I read (Star Wars novels, I admit it, they were mainly Star Wars novels), these three are certainly worth your time.

3. TV (The Book): Two Experts Pick the Greatest American TV Shows of All Time – Alan Sepinwall and Matt Zoller Seitz

You may have guessed from the list of shows above that I am heavily invested in the medium and I like to think that I’ve consumed a lot of TV, but it’s nothing in comparison to how much revolutionary critics Alan Sepinwall and Matt Zoller Seitz have watched. Having been writing about TV since the 90’s, this is perhaps a summation of what their careers have been leading up to – an encyclopedia on the best of the best. While some may be steered away by the long title, taking it to be obtuse academia, you should know that shouldn’t be a concern as both Sepinwall and Seitz’s writing styles are highly accessible.

TV (The Book) is something which can be given to anyone; regardless of if they’re in the trenches when it comes to PeakTV or if they just watch what takes their fancy week to week. It’s an expert discussion on TV, past and present, looking back past the current Golden Age and avoids just being a list that someone could post on a WordPress blog as it delves into what criticism should be, explaining why shows deserve to be on the list. In addition, there’s material on shows currently airing (and thus unable to be included within the Top 100) as well as the shows which the pair desired to discuss, but couldn’t put on the list. These elements all add up to create what could and should be used as a defining text for the medium.

2. Star Wars: Bloodline – Claudia Grey

I said I’d read primarily Star Wars novels so this shouldn’t come as a surprise. Earlier in the year, I caught up with the Star Wars canon and so I read Lost Stars, also from Grey and that’s a phenomenal novel which takes a star-crossed lovers narrative and spreads it wide across the stars and through the era of the Empire. Once I read that, I was on board for what ever she was going to write next for the Star Wars canon and I expected a high quality novel in Bloodline, but I didn’t expect that Bloodline would not only exceed my expectations this much. Bloodline follows Leia, five years before the events of The Force Awakens, as she works to keep the senate together as secrets, both personal and political are laid bare.

Leia has always been a character who’s had moments in which she’s shined, but they’ve also been within the confines of an ensemble group. Here she gets the spotlight (primarily) to herself. The central narrative keeps pushing along, but Grey is content to take her foot of the gas for a beat in order to deal with smaller, more character focused moments. This allows the book to retain a sense of steady momentum, but also give you something to think about when you’re waiting for the next active question about the conspiracy to be answered. If you need more convincing then you should know that this book turned what I thought I knew about the sequel trilogy on its head, I’m literally back at the drawing board now trying to assemble the pieces we have. This is what’s most special about the book – the way it effortlessly slides into the canon, there are callbacks to a character from the Clone Wars and it provides some set-up for the political situation come Force Awakens, all of which go to show that the Story Group at Lucasfilms have a plan, it’s not as clear cut as one could assume after watching Force Awakens and this could very easily be the central pillar from which all future revelations can be traced back to.

1.  Before the Fall – Noah Hawley

Sadly we didn’t get Fargo S3 this year, but we did get a project from Noah Hawley in Before the Fall, a book which he started prior to Fargo S1. The novel centers on a plane which crashes after departing Martha’s Vineyard and the people who survive, but also jumps back in time to examine each passenger’s life one by one, eventually giving way to the true cause of the crash. Instantly engaging, this structure allows Hawley to dig into backstory without the need for characters to deliver exposition in the present day in addition to providing a critique on how various sections of the media respond to disasters like this.

What startled me the most about the novel is how the synopsis that you can find on Amazon presents the inciting incident of the plane crash and who survives in very plain terms, but there’s still so much to tell. Unlike Westworld, for example, which deals heavily in backstory (and falters massively with how it melds this and the present day together), Before the Fall slowly uncovers the past to create a tightly strung narrative web. Going in depth would probably spoil it, so in summation, Hawley’s prose is as gripping as his screenwriting, goes above and beyond being a simple airport thriller thanks to the unique way in which it tells the story and will more than tide you over until 2017 which looks set to be Hawley’s best year yet.



Having a job at Newsarama means I’ve written a metric boat tonne about comics in the second half of the year (at the time of writing, I’ve filed my 50th review). This post was primarily to talk about movies and TV, so I’m going to keep this as brief as I possibly can.


3. The Flintstones

After the disappointing cancellation of Prez, Mark Russell appears to have taken all of the biting political satire he had cooked up for that series and transported it to Bedrock alongside artist Steve Pugh. Having engaged with notions of friendship, elections, the end of the world, war and marriage, the team have made this a measured, but consistently funny book.

2. Superwoman

Superwoman took me by surprise and I’m not just referring to the ending to issue 1. Out of everything I’ve sampled from DC’s Rebirth initiative, this is the series which I’ve found has responded to the core idea of the new line the most, blending the old with the new and moving forward as it does so. Regardless of if Phil Jimenez is handling both the script and pencils or if Emanuela Lupacchino is on art duties, the book has a uniformity to it, creating a modern Metropolis which is large and expansive and bolstered by the ability of both to find the heart and motion of the story, even in the dialogue heavy scenes, which are themselves expertly blocked.

1. The Omega Men

I consider Omega Men this generation’s Watchmen. It’s what spurred me to create this blog, I’ll link my endorsement below because I don’t think I can say it any better than I did there.




3. Glitterbomb

As a book that’s completely gobsmacked me in the back half of this year, I’ve felt compelled to write about the book with every chance I get. As a result I have 3 glowing reviews up at Newsarama, and I’m just going to link them here because quite frankly if they won’t convince you then I don’t know what will.




2. The Wicked + The Divine

Kieron Gillen, Jamie McKelvie, Matt Wilson and Clayton Cowles delivered one of the best summer events in the fourth arc of this pop culture examination. Bold and expressive, the team brought a conflict to a close, setting the stage for something which could go in any direction. The fifth arc, Imperial Phase includes the first instances of interiors with Kevin Wada and is one of the strongest uses of prose in comics since Watchmen. And to cap it off, the series also had a one-shot with art by Stephanie Hans which is simply divine.

1. Casanova: Acedia

We only got three issues of Matt Fraction, Gabriel Ba, Fabio Moon and Cris Peter’s opus this year, but boy howdy were they fantastic, building towards the mid point of the seven volume epic. It’s a book which fascinates me because I don’t think we’ll truly know what it’s about until long after it’s finished. Right now it appears to be a book about change, with Acedia, specifically, being about the darkness trying to pull you back in.



3. The Ultimates

In the wake of Secret Wars, the Marvel Universe needs a team that’s there to handle the larger threats. Enter: The Ultimates by Al Ewing, Kenneth Rocafort, Travel Foreman Christian Ward and Dan Brown. The team, comprised of Black Panther, Captain Marvel, Miss America, Monica Rambeau and Blue Marvel, got to work turning Galactus into the Lifebringer. Since then, Ewing continues to build his cosmic saga, picking up pieces from pre-Secret Wars continuity and effortlessly navigating around events like Civil War 2. While the second arc of the series was a slight decline as a result of having to tie-in to the event, Ultimates^2 gets the series back to what it started as and it looks like the problems and wider story being told are only going to get bigger from here.

2. Black Panther

This is Ta-Neishi Coates’ first time writing comics, but he’s no stranger to them having been a fan for a large portion of his life. Now he gets the chance to work with Brian Stelfreeze, Chris Sprouse and Laura Martin to present a Wakanda in disarray. Dealing with themes presented in his book Between the World and Me, notions of afro-futurism and references to hip-hop, I’m not the most qualified person to tell you the exact nuances contained within the covers. Starting out as a slow, but steady burn, it gains traction quickly when a certain character shows up and hasn’t let up since.

1. Vision

The final chapter of Tom King’s Best Intentions trilogy (alongside Omega Men and Sheriff of Babylon), he, Gabriel Hernandez Walta, Jordie Bellaire and Clayton Cowles take the Vision, give him a family, transport him to Washington D.C. and let everything go wrong from there. What starts as an homage to the Vision and the Scarlet Witch miniseries of the 1980’s, it fast becomes a Lynchian inspired piece of suburban Americana, issue #7 delves into the Vision’s history with art by Michael Walsh. It’s the best issue in a run of 10/10’s that continually builds the tension and your expectations higher with each turn of the page.



3. Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers

I watched various iterations of the Power Rangers  as a kid, but this is the first time I’m willing to say that a Power Rangers piece of media is legitimately good. From Kyle Higgins, Hendry Prasetya, Matt Herms and Ed Dukeshire, this series is set shortly after Tommy joined the team as the Green Ranger, taking all the conflict you’d expect from this in it’s stride. A narrative which encompasses a multitude of Rangers canon with some stunning and kinetic art, I’m eager to see how this year long narrative concludes in the coming months.

2. Sheriff of Babylon

The second of Tom King’s books to deal with US Interventionism in the Middle East, taking a harsh look at the Iraq War from the perspective of a CIA officer, but also people who live there. While both The Omega Men and Vision deal with real world concepts, this grounded take on the war sets itself apart from those by explicitly dealing with the ideas. To speak of the art, Gerards is no stranger to this style of book having worked on both The Activity and The Punisher, but Sheriff features his finest work to date – it, like the general tone of the book, feels muddy in places. At the moment it’s just a 12 issue miniseries, but the pair should be back for Season 2 (and beyond) in the near future.

1. Giant Days

Esther, Susan and Daisy are students at Sheffield University. Hijinks ensue. That’s all you need to know going into John Allison, Max Sarin, Liz Fleming, Whitney Cogar and Jim Campbell’s Boom Box series. Allison has been writing webcomics for years so he knows exactly how to set up multiple laughs on a page, while also layering in enough plot to make each page necessary. Surprisingly dense, Giant Days is a book which can take even the most standard of situations for English university students and draw as much humour as possible out of them.




Westworld isn’t Worstworld, but that doesn’t mean it’s Bestworld.


To be honest with you, it’s really Meh-stworld.


The Walking Dead

So yeah, S6 Cliffhanger and S7 Premiere. I rest my case.


The one involving the McDonald’s at the tail-end of Weiner.


X-Men: Apocalypse

This wasn’t an exceptional movie by any means*, but it does have some stuff that worked (which puts it above the DC movies and Deadpool honestly) – in particular the Phoenix sequence at the end. Don’t get me wrong, there’s some atrocious stuff in here, like Magneto ripping up Auschwitz for scrap, but no movie this year (that I can think of) had a tunnel as extravagant as the one here. It takes you through centuries of history in one fluid, non-stop, except-for-the-moment-where-you-slow-to-turn-your-head-and-look tour to that magical X-locked door.

*Maybe a case could be made that Apocalypse is this year’s Spectre, in that you can watch the first five minutes and the opening sequence, then turn it off and be alright.

So that’s it. ~7500 ~10000 words on this year’s pop culture. I thank you for reading if you’ve read all the way, if you’ve scrolled down to see how long this goes on for, only to decide you don’t have time to read this all, then ha ha, I still get the click. I guess the best way to leave this off is by saying that I don’t really know what’s going to happen to this in 2017. I have a movie that I’m in the process of plotting right now, with the intention of getting it written in late January/early February, I have my standard job over at Newsarama to do and essays for class. I’d like to return here momentarily to do reviews of movies and TV shows once they finish, any other topics that capture the zeitgeist, but I can’t promise anything. Still thanks for reading. If nothing else, then I’ll see you here in twelve months.

It’s ‘No Longer Just Us’ for Gretchen & Jimmy and Becca & Vernon in the season finale of You’re the Worst

For Lindsay and Edgar, it’s now just them.

Whether it was down to the fact that Thanksgiving is next week, or if there was conscious thought put towards grouping these final two episodes together, it was a smart choice nonetheless and because of this I think it’ll be easier to treat them as an hour long thing rather than two separate episodes.

There’s three main storylines this week, for the first half, these all adopt a similar structure in that they center around arguments. The one which is simplest to understand is probably Dorothy & Edgar’s because their relationship has been heading this way for a few weeks now. Something to appreciate about this one in particular is how neither of them are really in the wrong, granted Edgar did spend the wedding working out sketches, but I can (and will) put the blame onto Doug Benson for making him work during this time. The contrast between Edgar’s success and how hard Dorothy has worked in an attempt to be successful has been overtly telegraphed since he stumbled into his job and it’s here, that it well and truly gets to her, causing her to suggest he was hired because affirmative action, which is horrible, but it’s undoubtedly hard for her to keep being knocked down while Edgar walked into a job. And in the end, she decides to leave, it’s bittersweet because there’s still a connection there, just now they both realise it’s not a strong enough one. Within the grand schemes of the season, this is the one that’s been deadset on it’s course since the start, so it’s appropriate it comes to a head in the first half, with an epilogue of sorts in the second.

Lindsay & Paul’s plot in the episode follows a similar structure in that it falls apart within the first half and then the second half set-up their direction for Season 4. This one obviously comes to a head over Lindsay choosing to abort their baby without running it by him first. Their argument then begins to encompass everything that’s happened this season with them, initially Lindsay stabbing him was perhaps going a little overboard and at the time, I was happy that we eventually moved on. In this case, I’m fine with it coming back up because Paul gets his Ace Attorney, Phoenix Wright turning the table moment where he throws everything back in her face, including the way that their relationship began to include others (again, I’m still not using that word for election related reasons). Paul’s been one of those characters who’s mainly stayed the same over the course of the show thus far, and it wouldn’t be unfounded to brush this argument off as just something they do, considering the season started with him making an impassioned plea to get back together. However it would be unfounded after he leans in close, Lost in Translation style and tells Lindsay to lawyer up. This heel turn from Paul is ridiculously satisfying due to how he’s suffered in silence up until now (outside of talking to Vernon during the road trip) and by the second half he gets to relish in the moment, with a wardrobe change to boot. Seeing him go on the offensive is a strange phenomenon, but it’s been clear for a long time that Lindsay has been the perpetrator of many events that should have spelled the end for the two. Which makes it a real shame to see him cast out of the house at the end once Vernon & Becca arrive, while Lindsay essentially lands on her feet, despite her ineptitude when it comes to the pre-nup and negotiations.

I’m going to take this moment to focus on how Becca & Vernon fit into the finale because in the first half they allow the arguments to get some air as the six find out that Becca has had her baby, Tallulah. In an episode that kept piling on the sad beats, it’s a moment of respite and warmth. In the second half, Becca’s conversation with Lindsay highlights how quickly Lindsay chose to abort the baby, as well as how she kept it on the down-low, so much so that her own sister didn’t even find out. Vernon’s interaction with Paul demonstrates a role reversal from the road trip, considering Vernon’s now committed to staying and looking after his daughter, even if it’s partly because he doesn’t think Becca can do it by herself.

Which brings us to the Gretchen & Jimmy of it all, both still reeling from what the other put on their con list at the wedding. Gretchen’s is able to concede her point very easily, telling him that she does think he can make, his con is more deep rooted than that and takes more work for him to move beyond that. Their argument spirals through ideal mates and lands at a point where they both have to yell about what they’re dealing with. Jimmy’s still grieving, while Gretchen’s contending with something that can’t necessarily be beaten. The idea that one of them has to be okay to help out the other is a shaky one at best and it seems that Jimmy comes to realise this, reaching the conclusion that they should try, even if failure seems to be what humans do best, because there’s a chance they won’t. Being quite honest most of their plot had me in tears this week, the scenes they have are some of the most tender and heartfelt ones of the show thus far, and when Gretchen finally realises what Jimmy’s book is about, everything seems to get better for them.

This emotional catharsis then allows for the second half of the episode where everything is much improved and the pair set off for a ‘murder site’, made up by Jimmy. There’s a change in how their relationship has been shown over the past few weeks here, it’s more in line with where they were at the last Sunday Funday. After ditching the car (and the car booze), the pair run into Justina, who’s leaving town to be with her boyfriend. The therapy plotline is the one that I assumed would be the driving plotline of the series and I was kinda wrong it came to that, it certainly had a focus, but there’s also been a lot of off-screen development in how Gretchen copes with her depression. It’ll be a shame to lose Samira Wiley as she was a wonderful addition to the cast, but the way this season has developed, there’s not really an indication that she’d be necessary for Season 4.

Now like Jimmy & Gretchen, we come to the scene on the hill.  There’s certainly something to be said about how ecstatic Gretchen is about reaching the murder scene, but it’s even more delightful when she sees realises he brought her there to propose. And it’s a beautiful, tender moment which the show has gradually pushed towards, it wouldn’t be possible without this season having them both admit they loved the other. The problem with it being a gradual progression is that Gretchen pushes too far by saying they can be a family, which sends Jimmy into a spiral of confusion and leaves the hill as the fireworks fly, leading to that split-screen, which works much like last week’s did in creating even more distance between the two as well as the idea of heading into unknown territory.

Now we come to the curtain call on these recaps. As a whole I think that most, if not all of the episodes of the season worked in isolation, they were all funny and the plotting within each episode was efficient. As a whole, I think the season was a little bit too ‘everything and the kitchen sink’ which isn’t necessarily a problem in itself, a lot of shows succeed when creators are allowed to go all out, but You’re the Worst felt a little scattershot when it came to narrative cohesion. Part of this is on me, for expecting the show to lean harder on Gretchen’s therapy, but the season did shift focus quite a bit, from that to the death of Ronnie, and taking time out to spend a night in the woods with Vernon and Paul. Retrospectively that stuff came together by the end, but it almost felt as if a direction hadn’t really been decided until Ronnie’s death spelling out how the season was about family. As a result it wasn’t as tight as Season 2 was, but it was still affecting, still funny and still engaging television. Much like Bojack Season 3, if you want a point of reference.

Doing these recaps has been fun in a way. The main problem was how I didn’t anticipate my school schedule so I wasn’t aware that I wouldn’t be able to dig as deep as I would like to each and every episode purely to make sure this didn’t pull my focus away from the work I actually had to do each Thursday. As a result, I’m going to say that I won’t be doing recaps for the show (or probably any show moving forward) just because I expect even more work next semester and in the final year of my degree. But at the same time, I proved that I can commit to doing these for a season and have something to show for it, which is a positive. I think that I’ll move to doing reviews of some shows as their seasons come to end and the occasional movie review, but there are some larger pieces I want to do at some point, so perhaps I’ll aim to get one of those done a month.

To everyone who read this recap, thank you, if you read all of them thank you.