My Thoughts on the 92nd Academy Awards

So it's awards season once more, a time of wondering how many movies these voters actually watched. There is a very cynical way of looking at awards shows, but the truth is they encourage a discussion and are fun as hell to follow, and with the Oscars upon us once more, I'd like to weigh in with what I make of the soon to be winners and losers of the 92nd Academy Awards. On the whole, it's a stronger lineup than last year (I like every single nominee I've seen more than Green Book), and every category contains something genuinely interesting, and is still largely representative of some of the year's biggest films. Wait, NOTHING for Hustlers? Seriously? Yeah, female-helmed films are still being almost totally snubbed, and that's still both infuriating and absolutely ridiculous, but apart from that, it's hard to point out any massive issues with this year's nominees. Maybe it's not the definitive lineup in any of these categories- there are definitely some I'd swap out- but it's hardly bad, and there's a lot to talk about here, so let's get into it! Quick note, I'm note really gonna focus on the technical awards so much- it's not something I feel educated enough to comment on

So first up there's the nine nominees for best picture, and before I get into this it's worth noting that I haven't seen Parasite, but from everything I've heard, it definitely deserves its nomination. Not sure how good its chances of winning actually are, given the Academy's bias towards English language films, but it's awesome to see it nominated nonetheless. I'm a huge Bong Joon-Ho fan, and seeing him get so much recognition at so many awards ceremonies has been a real treat. Again, its the one nominee here that I can't actually speak for, but it very much looks like something I'd enjoy, and I'm really happy to see a filmmaker with such a unique, effective style finally get recognised for how great he is

If I'm being honest, Ford v Ferrari's nomination is definitely a surprise. I liked the film an awful lot, and its mix of quiet, sturdy drama and roaring race sequences was undoubtedly fantastic, but the fact that it was kind of disappearing at most of these ceremonies makes its best picture nomination kind of unexpected. It definitely feels like something that would have been nominated in the 70s, and the "they don't make 'em like that anymore" narrative is definitely a strong one for awards season. I mean, there's no reason it shouldn't be up, it's bolstered by earnest, powerful performances and contains some incredible action sequences, but it just seems to lack the cultural pull that the other nominees have. As much as I loved it, it didn't make the same kind of splash that the others did, so the fact that it got this kind of recognition is kind of awesome. I loved Ford v Ferrari, and thought is chances of winning are pretty much nil, knowing that they remembered to nominate it for best picture still feels pretty nice

The Irishman's nomination is a no-brainer, right? I mean any Scorsese film is going to get some kind of recognition anyway, but the heft of The Irishman, from its literally legendary cast to its weighty subject matter, meant that a best picture nomination was a sure thing. It'd be so great for this to win, if only because we probably won't get something like this for some time. Add to that the sheer proficiency of it, both in Scorsese's measured direction and those notorious de-ageing effects, and you've got what could be a strong contender for best picture. Even if it's kind of familiar territory for Scorsese, the weight of it and the impact of it, mean that, even if it doesn't revinvent the wheel, it does redefine it, delivering a recognisable gangster film in a way that reminds us why the genre is such a staple to begin with. Not to mention that cast, with some absolute legends that are bound to attract some Oscar heat, and you've got what could be a very likely shot at the big one. I love The Irishman, and if it did win, I'd be so damn happy, because it's one of the king's very best, and its slow burning, sobering meditation on sin and ageing is definitely worth celebrating

Jojo Rabbit is my favourite film of 2019, and even if it has no hope of winning best picture, at all, even just seeing it nominated is a real joy. Taika Waititi's style really is one of a kind, and his absolute command of the tone here means that this maybe his best ever, with a message that's really worth celebrating. The earnestness and the creativity of Jojo mean that its nomination here feels like the Academy recognising something that really feels significant, and different, and exciting. I know not everyone loves it, and that will definitely work against it here (although check out the next one), but honestly, a film like this is not the sort of thing that the Academy would ever give its top prize to anyway, so that's alright. Just the fact that they're celebrating a film that delivers such an important message in such a creative way is great in itself.

Joker is by far my least favourite of these nominees. Its award success isn't surprising, considering Joaquin Phoenix's incredible performance (which he's rightfully being lauded for), but I just don't think there's anything remarkable enough about this film to make it worth celebrating in this way. I can't see it winning Best Picture, for a host of reasons (the controversy, the competition, hell even the genre might hold it back), and I know its only nominated because of its lead performance. There's no way that he's not winning Best Actor, but I'll get to that later. The fact that this is the most nominated film is a little strange to me, because, although it's far from bad, it's also not half as good as most of the movies that missed the cut. I don't know, between its general average-ness and the grim, cynical tone, it just doesn't feel worth celebrating as a film. I know the reason why it's up for Best Picture, but it's definitely one of the least deserving nominees for me

Little Women feels like the safe option this year; everyone likes it, it hasn't attracted any major criticism for anything, and it's based on a treasured, familiar piece of literature. That's not a bad thing though, because it's fantastic, with a strong personality and a clever way of spreading its message. Being the safest choice isn't always a bad thing, and it's great to see Greta Gerwig's savvy take on this story being recognised. Its warm, wholesome, instantly accessible vibe makes it a strong contender, and I don't think anyone would be massively upset if it did win. Gerwig's followup to Lady Bird is seeing her on similarly awards-favoured form, and although Lady Bird wasn't exactly my tempo, Little Women very much is, and just to have just a cheerful, sweet, intelligent film recognised in this way is great, and if it did win, I'd be very happy indeed

I love seeing Noah Baumbach being recognised for Marriage Story, even if the film itself is far from being a favourite of mine. Much like Joker, I think it's the performances that are attracting the bulk of the heat, yet the script is sharp here and the drama is well realised enough to make it a Best Picture nominee that is at the least understandable. Its forensic, Bergman-esque approach to its story is undeniably great, and even if I didn't 100% gel with it, I love that it's nominated, because it is one of the more impressive nominees. Between this and The Irishman, it's great to see Netlfix establishing themselves as a distributor who can have this kind of awards success, something that would be almost unimaginable a few years ago. So yeah, I'm happy for Marriage Story. It's probably not going to win, but it's recognition is a good way of celebrating a routinely snubbed filmmaker

1917 is far and away one of the frontrunners for Best Picture, and.... well... yeah. It's technically the best one of the bunch, and the experience it provides is a really persuasive argument for the big-screen experience. It's not my favourite of the nominees (or even my favourite nominee set during a war), but it is such an impressive piece of work, and calling it the objective best film of the year isn't too much of a stretch. Its chances are very strong, and Mendes has the magic touch when it comes to the Oscars anyway (dude won BP with his freaking debut), so I wouldn't be surprised if Blake and Schofield come bounding across no man's land with the top prize of the night. The long-take thing has led some to dismiss it as a pure experiment, but I don't know, I think it's more than that, and right now, it seems like one of the most likely films to win, along with....

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is maybe my top prediction. Hollywood loves stories about Hollywood, and the Academy like Tarantino, so the signs are all there. This is my favourite nominee after Jojo, and seeing it win would be kind of amazing. This is Tarantino's warmest film yet, such a clear-eyed but obviously passionate take on the movie industry that contains his best writing since Inglourious Basterds. It's also got THAT cast, who give it enough star wattage to get him back out of the not-very-Oscarsy-niche that The Hateful Eight found itself in. Its nomination, like most of these, is not a surprise, but this one in particular feels right, and could mark the first BP win for a director who, love him or loath him, has reshaped both indie and mainstream cinema and redefined big-screen cool as we know it

So that's the Best Picture lineup. Ford v. Ferrari is a definite surprise, but apart from that, I can't really call this unexpected. There are omissions of course; Uncut Gems, Us, Hustlers, Ad Astra, Knives Out, A Hidden Life and The Farewell in particular all feel like they could have been up there as well but just about fell short. There's a sense here that the Academy are embracing different films a little bit more every year, particularly in recognising Jojo and Parasite, both of which are films that lie firmly outside of that typical "Oscar Movie" stereotype. There aren't too many that seem out of place, just Joker which is still a better performance than it is a whole film. Even in recognising stalwarts like Scorsese, Tarantino and Mendes, it feels like a celebration of the work moreso than the director. It's also great to see Greta Gerwig be two-for-two with her films getting Best Picture nominations now, as well as Noah Baumbach finally getting a look in for what is possibly his best script ever. My ranking looks something like this:

8. Joker
7. Marriage Story
6. Little Women
5. Ford v. Ferrari
4. 1917
3. The Irishman
2. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood
1. Jojo Rabbit

So now let's move onto the acting awards, starting with Best Actor. And again, it's exactly what you'd expect. Banderas, DiCaprio, Phoenix, Pryce and Driver. I haven't seen Pain and Glory yet (although I like Almodóvar a lot), but I've heard Antonio Banderas is fantastic in it. Leo gives maybe my favourite performance of the bunch here as Once Upon a Time's Rick Dalton, all washed-up, over-the-top pettiness, while also embodying an era of unsung acting heroes. The fact that he's probably going to lose is also very Rick Dalton. His isn't the best performance nominated, it's just the character I had the most fun spending time with. It is going to go to Joaquin Phoenix though, the one thing about Joker that was undoubtedly fantastic. He's undeniably great, maybe not my favourite performance here (largely due to the context of the film it's in), but I'm a big Phoenix fan, and watching him get his recognition on the night is going to be great. I think Jonathon Pryce's nomination is great as well, especially because, well, it's Jonathon Pryce and he's amazing (#ThePryceIsRight). His Pope Francis is excellent, perfectly capturing the man and his mannerisms, and doing so in five different languages. He gives what I think is the best performance of this lineup, quiet and sensitive and uncannily like the person he's portraying. I generally think it's too easy to give actors performances for becoming real people (although the Oscars eat that stuff up), but in this case, I think there's something more, something that Pryce brings to his portrayal that goes well beyond a caricature. Adam Driver is also great in Marriage Story, capturing both the big and small moments with aplomb, acing the tiny moments of emotional nuance as well as those big outbursts of heartbreak and rage. He won't win it, but it's still one of the standout performances in his endlessly impressive, somehow ever-improving career

Of course there are snubs. De Niro in The Irishman is the big one, probably ignored because of how chillingly quiet his performance is. He very rarely emotes in the film, which would turn a lot of awards-voters off, and yet it's that exact lack of loud, expressive feeling that makes him so good. Better than all of the nominees, in fact. It's pretty stupid that he was snubbed because he's not giving a bravura, emotive performance, but hey, it's not who does the best acting, but who does the most acting, right? Another big snub is Adam Sandler in Uncut Gems, who is also better than these nominees. He's big and loud, but with huge reservoirs of substance, channelling the natural chaos of his comic persona into a chaotic turn as the most disastrous person ever. He never feels like he's overacting or going at it too hard, even if that's probably what he's doing to be honest. He's giving 100% a hundred percent of the time, and if that could have been tiring in the hands of anyone else, Sandler pulls it off nicely as the most strangely likeable character in a film last year. And finally, Roman Griffin Davis in Jojo Rabbit, who gives an excellent performance that's all the more impressive because it's his first acting. It's a shame, but not a surprise; the Oscars rarely recognise good performances in comedies (see also: Daniel Craig in Knives Out, who, even if he didn't give the best performance, definitely had the best accent). Same goes for Eddie Murphy's riotous comeback in Dolemite is My Name, which is funny and nuanced and just about the best he's been in.... maybe ever?

Best Actress is a bit of a tricky one, in that, although I haven't seen Harriet or Bombshell, none of these really standout as better than the others. Renée Zellweger will definitely win for Judy, which she's very good in, but again it's another case of an actor becoming a real person in a film that just feels like it was made for awards. It's a total repeat of Bohemian Rhapsody last year: a good performance in a lacklustre film that will get recognition because the Oscars love a good likeness. And yeah, she's very good in Judy (which is not a good film), but rarely does she rise above just doing a Judy Garland impression, which is probably more down to the script being so surface level and plain, but still, I find it weird that this is what's sweeping this year. It's great to see Saoirse Ronan nominated again (especially because she's incredible in Little Women), because her turn as Jo is so assured and nuanced. She brings something new to an old story with a performance that's infused with a thoroughly modern magic. Scarlett Johansson is very good in Marriage Story, again perfectly balancing big-n'-small moments of emotion. She's particularly good at controlling the level of emotion in her voice, which is a small thing but a noticeable one. It's a little detail but it makes the difference, and it's to the credit of Johansson that this isn't even the best performance she's nominated for this year

Obviously, there's snubs here too. Awkwafina in The Farewell is a big one, especially because of the love she got at the Golden Globes. Actually, seeing that film get completely ignored at the Oscars has been a particular shock, but seeing its ace lead get totally snubbed is especially ridiculous. The same goes for Lupita Nyong'o in Us, who gives not one but two unbelievable performances. Sadly, that's not a surprise, given that the Oscars are totally blind when it comes to horror. Which brings me to my favourite performance in a 2019 film, Florence Pugh's performance in Midsommar, who gives such a demandingly emotional turn, so intense and engaged and empathetic that even just watching her is utterly draining. It's one of the most emotionally involved performances I've ever seen, and just like Toni Collette in Hereditary, is further proof that, although Ari Aster is directing the best performances in modern horror, his films still get routinely snubbed because they're somehow not "real films". I don't know, I just don't think this kind of elitism is healthy in film awards. And that's seen with comedies again, like Thomasin McKenzie in Jojo Rabbit and Ana de Armas in Knives Out. McKenzie's snub is particularly frustrating because after not being nominated for her insanely fantastic performance in Leave No Trace, she's being ignored again for her wonderful performance in Taika Waititi's incredible, irreverent satire. As for Ana de Armas, she's the heart and soul of Knives Out, and her presence is what elevates that film from being really good to being excellent

Supporting Actor is again not hugely surprising. I haven't seen A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood yet (nor do I know anything about Mr Rogers), but I've heard Tom Hanks embodies the man he's playing really well. The weakest link here is Anthony Hopkins in The Two Popes, who's fine, if kind of just playing a weird, broadly-drawn caricature of Pope Benedict. It's probably the weakest nominated performance I've seen actually, so weirdly just doing an impression of someone that you forget how good Hopkins can be at his best. He stumbles his way through the film, giving a performance that is ultimately just alright. Pacino and Pesci are definitely going to split the vote here, but I'm still really happy to see them both nominated. Pesci's quietly chilling performance is a great departure from the loudmouthed gangsters he's known for playing, and even if his chances aren't great, it's still awesome to see him get recognised. Pacino gives maybe the best performance in this category, bringing bravado to his turn as Jimmy Hoffa, stubborn and difficult and an absolute force of nature when he gets going. His rousing shout of "Where are we gonna go but UP!" is one of my favourite line deliveries of 2019, but even in the quiet moments, he absolutely sells it here. But yeah, the Oscar is absolutely Brad Pitt's. Which is fair enough. I love Cliff Booth, and I think he's the best thing in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, and I think Pitt gives a charismatic, breezy performance that makes the considerable run time absolutely speed by. I'm just happy that he's finally going to be recognised after almost three decades of varied, consistently interesting performances

And yeah, there's oversights. I didn't love Waves (really liked it though!), but I thought that Sterling K. Brown was fantastic, a strong, initially domineering but progressively vulnerable presence, and the way he gradually strips back these layers was fantastic. There's also Chris Evans in Knives Out, who's so delightfully dickish, and gives such a wonderful showcase of what he can do post-MCU. Watching him cut loose like this is just so damn entertaining, another reminder that the Oscars NEED to recognise great comedy performances more. There's also Ray Liotta and Alan Alda in Marriage Story, both giving small but crucial performances that squeeze in so much brilliance in such a short span of time.

Supporting Actress is kind of great this year. Okay yeah, I haven't seen Richard Jewell or Bombshell so I can't comment on Kathy Bates or Margot Robbie, but the three I have seen are all fantastic. Laura Dern is the front runner here, and yeah, she's kind of great, especially nailing how her character expertly alternates between faux-warm and absolute viciousness. I'll be honest, great as Dern is, the fact that she's sweeping is kind of surprising for me, because I actually think that the other two performances I've seen are better, but still, this is top-tier work from Dern, and it is great to see her get her due. It's also great to see Florence Pugh get some recognition for Little Women, which she is absolutely ace in, and getting a nomination seems like the perfect way to cap off the Year of the Pugh. But it's Scarlett Johansson who gives my favourite performance of this lineup in Jojo Rabbit. At the end of the day, her performance is just a mother trying to save her son, and the amount of love and humour that she just exudes here is crazy. The amount of defiant compassion in this performance is awe inspiring, and she is absolutely the heart and soul of Jojo Rabbit

And of course, they've left some cracking performances out. Most obvious is J-Lo in the absolutely ace Hustlers, who gives this bravura turn, tough and tender, cunning and caring, hard but so, so human. She really should be nominated. Actually, let me try again. She should probably win. She's unbelievable in Hustlers and the fact that she's not nominated is crazy to me. And then there's Taylor Russell in Waves, who is without a doubt the best thing in it. Without giving too much away about Waves, the shift in perspective from Kelvin Harrison Jr. to her is great, and it's in the second half that it really gets good, and so much of that is down to Russell's incredibly empathetic performance. And then there's Octavia Spencer in Luce, and Naomi Harris in Luce, and kind of everything else in Luce, it's a great film that found itself completely ignored. Spencer and Harris in particular give fantastic turns, both acing concern and worry in two very different ways. And guys, watch Luce. And hey, what about Laura Dern in Little Women? Yeah she's up for Marriage Story, but guys. Guys. She's just as good (maybe a little better), as the infinitely warm matriarch of the March clan.

So, that's the acting categories, what about direction? Yeah, it's a good lineup. I mean, it (once again) completely ignores all of the female-helmed films that came out in 2019 (Little Women, of course, but also Hustlers, Atlantics, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood, Booksmart, The Farewell, Honey Boy and a boatload of others). But aside from that, it's not a bad lineup. Scorsese and Tarantino were givens, but hey, they did make some of their best work in 2019, with films that feel like culminations of their respective careers. The work they did on The Irishman and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood instantly ranks among their best, and both of these films were year defining releases, so seeing them get recognised as such is only fitting. Oh, and speaking of 2019-defining, why is Todd Philips nominated for Joker? It's not even that I don't like the film, it's that his direction is not, in any way, remarkable. It's way too imitation Scorsese for me, and not in the way that something like Hustlers, where it's tipping its cap to Goodfellas. No, Joker is a skin-deep take on Taxi Driver and The King of Comedy, and there is nothing that Todd Philips does to make it feel any different. Sam Mendes is probably going to win it anyway, and... yeah. 1917 is a masterclass of filmmaking, so that makes sense. His flowing construction of the action is so rhythmic and enthralling, using the technical aspects to ground the emotion, making what could have felt like an experiment suddenly feel thrilling and human, and real. And then of course, I can't comment on Bong Joon-Ho with Parasite, but from what I've heard he's definitely worthy, and if his work there is as good as his other stuff, he very much deserves the nod

So now for the screenplay awards.. For original, there's Knives Out, Marriage Story, 1917, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and Parasite. No wrong answers here. Rian Johnson subverts the hell out of the murder mystery in Knives Out, relishing in the thrill of storytelling while delivering some of the best dialogue of the year ("A donut hole in a donut's hole"), Baumbach mines the messiness of divorce with some of the most painful dialogue of the year ("I never really came alive for myself. I was only feeding his aliveness"), Sam Mendes aces a screenplay that prioritises action over dialogue but makes sure to make every sentence that is spoken resonate ("I didn't think it would be this"), and Tarantino explores himself and his own relationship with cinema in one of the year's most endlessly quotable films ("When you come to the end of the line, with a buddy who is more than a brother and a little less than a wife, getting blind drunk together is really the only way to say farewell"). It's a good lineup for sure. 

As for adapted, I've seen all of the movies, but haven't read any of the source materials. Still, as scripts go, these are (almost) all crackers. I mean yeah, I'll get it out of the way, Joker's the weak link, so strangely written and so uncomfortable, and not in the way it wants to be ("They think that we'll just sit there and take it, like good little boys! That we won't werewolf and go wild!"). Who says stuff like that? The hell does that even mean? Jojo Rabbit sees Taika Waititi make an existing story his own, with sharp, consistently hilarious dialogue ("Definitely not a good time to be a Nazi"). It's so tonally assured, bouncing between hilarity and heartbreak, imbued with the kind of sincerity that is uniquely Waititi. Little Women is exactly what an adaptation of a classic novel should be, maintaining the spirit of the original text while also taking a modern approach, not reinventing Louisa May-Alcott's novel so much as applying its themes to now and exploring why they still matter. The dialogue is crisp, full of warmth and deftly written ("You will be bored of him in two years and we will be interesting forever"). And then there's The Irishman, in which Martin Scorsese takes the Jimmy Hoffa story, approaches it from a different angle, and makes it feel like the film his career has been leading up to since Goodfellas. I love how low-key the dialogue is, how snappy and sharp it is without feeling flashy, although there is still a cracking wit to the script ("Whenever anybody says they're a little concerned, they're very concerned"). And then there's The Two Popes, which is fine. Funnier than I thought it'd be, but still very much a typical Oscar script ("When no one is to blame, everyone is to blame")

For best International Film, I still haven't seen any of the nominees. Interesting to see a documentary nominated with Honeyland, though. This is probably going to go to Parasite, which seems fair enough. I have heard good things about Pain and Glory, Les Misérables and Corpus Christie, even if none of them have a chance of beating Parasite. From what I can see, it's a strong enough category, though the omission of Portrait of a Lady on Fire seems strange, because it is getting so much acclaim

My thoughts on Best Documentary are similarly narrow. I haven't seen American Factory, Honeyland, The Edge of Democracy or The Cave, but I have seen Waad Al-Kateab's wonderful, heartbreaking, deeply moving For Sama. If that won, it'd be fantastic, because it's such a human look at the stories that are never told, honing in on the people trying to live their lives in times of conflict. It's an astonishing piece of work that everyone should see, and to see it nominated is awesome. I am slightly disappointed that the absolutely bonkers Hail Satan? isn't recognised, because that's one wild ride, silly, irreverent and ultimately really thought-provoking. It's a strange subject matter delightfully realised, and if it missed you, do watch it. It's definitely worth your time

Animated Feature is a fascinating category this year. How to Train Your Dragon 3 aside, there's some really good stuff here. And it's not that Dreamworks' trilogy closer is bad- it's definitely one of the best looking animated films of last year- but it's just so forgettable and honestly quite dull. The Lego Movie 2 would have been a better shout if you ask me. Still, Toy Story 4 is a strong contender, Pixar back firing on all cylinders to deliver the film that nobody wanted but everyone needed. The Oscars love Pixar (like everyone else), so a win here wouldn't be unexpected or undeserved, but what excites me here is the three other nominees. Missing Link was an unremarkable story paired with some unbelievably gorgeous stop-motion, and as a feat of animation, it's as impressive as anything Laika's ever done. Its Globe win was an unexpected delight, and seeing it take home the Oscar would be a great win for a routinely snubbed studio. And then there are my two favourites. I Lost My Body is gorgeous, combining silent-cinema charm with eye-wateringly beautiful animation, and I'm over the moon that it got nominated. Same for Klaus, which was one of my biggest surprises of last year, wonderfully animated and utterly delightful, probably the best looking of this lineup. It's one of the coolest Christmas films I've ever seen, and either it or I Lost My Body would be my ideal winners here

So yeah, the Oscars lineup this year is alright. There are some nominations I really agree with, some a little less so, but still, I think mostly it's okay. What will actually win on the night remains to be seen, but one thing's for sure: it's going to be an incredibly interesting watch

My Thoughts on 1917

So 1917 is out, and it's something that's intrigued me for a while, because I really like Sam Mendes as a director, whether he's delivering caustically funny insights on suburbia in American Beauty, a sobering take on the life of a gangster in Road to Perdition or a total reinvigoration of Bond in Skyfall, or even in Spectre, which, and I know it's not the popular opinion, I really enjoyed, and love the opening long-shot, which isn't surprising because I'm a fan of them, and love when a continuous shot can continue to tell a story without cuts and totally amplify the sense of immersion, and that's relevant to 1917, because there's been a lot of hype for a while about this film being in one long take, or two long takes, and completely telling this story- about two young soldiers (played by George MacKay and Dean-Charles Chapman) in the First World War, desperately running across no-man's land to deliver a message to call off an attack and save sixteen hundred soldiers, including the brother of Chapman's Blake- in one continuous, real-time shot was a bold, interesting move, one that, if done well, would undoubtedly be a technical marvel, and between Mendes' capability as a director and the god-amongst-cameramen that is Roger Deakins, it definitely seemed plausible, but of course, it's difficult to do something in one go, and the thing about 1917 is that it's not one single shot, and because Mendes didn't do it in one, I won't either.

This film could have been an impressive but empty technical exercise, but it's to the credit of Mendes, Deakins and the gang that it really, really isn't. 1917 is pure immersive cinema, bringing history to life in a way that's full-blooded and intricate by replacing fussy details or heavy contextual exposition with a lifespan shortening recreation of the experience of the First World War. If I'm being honest, this is an issue I had with Dunkirk, which played its timeline shenanigans in such a smug, overly clever way that just completely took me out of the whole thing. Nolan's film is undoubtedly impressive, but it lacks that immersion factor, with every moment of genuine engagement spoiled with a timeline hop, cutting to an out-of-sequence moment of action that breaks up the relentless pace that a story like that should have. 1917 rejects this from the start, immediately placing us in the boots of George MacKay's Schofield. The whole faux two-shots thing isn't just technical flashiness; you're with Schofield every moment he's conscious, not watching his experience of the war from a distance so much as pushing through it alongside him in palpable terror. If that flashy, technically flawless duo of "long-shots" may seem overly smart of artsy, Mendes is sure to ratchet up the tension enough to fully justify their use, from the terrified plains of no-man's-land to the horrifying discoveries in an underground bunker and everything that follows (which won't be spoiled here)

Mendes forgoes an abundance of dialogue, proving that sometimes action does speak louder than words, but amid the spectacle is a genuine, historically rooted horror, something that drives the film. True, the race-against-time plot is compelling and tense and absolutely thrilling, but what makes 1917 work is its immediate grounding in the annals of history, placing itself firmly in the pantheon of WW1 cinema alongside some of the very best, even if it lacks the meaty subtext of something like Paths of Glory. Plot isn't this film's top priority, but that's hardly an issue. One slight problem comes in the form of the famous faces that litter the battlefield, so deliberately spaced out that they feel almost obligatory after a while; feeling required where they should feel earned. Don't get me wrong, they're stellar, especially Andrew Scott's world weary lieutenant and Richard Madden's spoilerific soldier, but the distribution of their appearances feels almost like a distraction at times, breaking up the otherwise flowing thrills of the film. It's the one fly in the ointment here, the one issue with and otherwise utterly fabulous piece of work

Sam Mendes has created a true war epic with 1917, fullblooded and visceral and technically peerless. Any worry that this is a pure technical exercise is quickly dispelled by the fact that he so evidently cares about the story that's unfolding. It isn't "the one-shot film", because apart from not actually being one shot (something that doesn't affect the experience at all), it makes that a crucial part of the film's style, central to making it work as well as it does. This something only confirmed on a rewatch, where it becomes obvious that the beating heart of Mendes' film is its sense of real-time, that utter immersion that completely confirms cinema's ability to bring history to life. If it lacks nuance or subtext, then that's okay because that's not what it's doing. It is an in the moment experience, a fleshed out snapshot of the First World War that rejects distance or objectivity, using its technical panache to emphasise rather than distract. 1917 is, to use an annoying expression, pure cinema, every aspect of the production working in tandem to create blissful, technically flawless, heart-stoppingly emotional, utterly stunning spectacle that reminds us why we tell these stories in the first place. It is bracing, thrilling cinema that immortalises the stories we don't know about the events we do. It's a war epic that's not likely to be forgotten anytime soon

My Thoughts on Jojo Rabbit

I've been aware of Jojo Rabbit pretty much since it was announced, and the more I heard about it, the more it really excited me. I mean Taika Waititi? Nazi satire? Taika Waititi as Hitler in a Nazi satire? I'm in! He's one of the funniest voices in cinema, and his comedies always rate highly for me, so needless to say, I was very much anticipating Jojo Rabbit. I have to say though, I'm kind of surprised by the backlash to it. I mean with a filmmaker like this doing an idea like this, it's going to be divisive, but some of the comparisons have been kind of crazy. I mean, calling it this year's Green Book? Not even close. I can see why this film might not work for everyone, because I mean it's Taika Waititi making a film where he plays a 10 year-old boy's imaginary friend who is also Hitler, but I'll admit, I have difficulty understanding anyone who says that it's an objectively bad film. But I digress. I'm not here to argue, or to respond to this movie's critics, because if Jojo Rabbit doesn't work for you, that's cool, I get it. But this story of a Hitler obsessed kid living with his mother in the Second World War finding his worldview totally turned on its head when he finds a Jewish girl hiding in the walls of his house kind of blew me away with all the force of an accidentally detonated grenade. So much so that I just kind of want to list off all the reasons I think its amazing, because I really do. I'll give a warning when I get into spoilers, because the greatest things in this film are best experienced blind, so keep an eye out for warnings when they happen

1) The comedy

I mean it should go without saying, but this film is jam-packed with jokes. They're as spirted and irreverent as you'd expect from Taika, but what I love is that this movie always remembers what it's laughing at, and why comedy is an important tool. It's used to undermine the a regime that teaches people to hate, and to outline how ridiculous some of these ideas are. Waititi's performance as a ten-year old's imagined version of Hitler is perfectly silly, doing the Mel Brooks thing of reducing this man to his most absurd elements, completely transforming him to the most ridiculous version of himself and urging an audience to laugh at him in the hope of this kind of hate never being taken seriously enough to spread like this ever again. And if that sounds heavy, then it's not giving enough credit to how energetic and entertaining this film is with its laughs. Good physical comedy and some of the funniest dialogue of the year, it's spirited and charming and well delivered, sometimes dry, sometimes dark and usually absolutely ridiculous, with pretty much every joke hitting the mark. The amount of jokes-per-scene is crazy, and the mix of big comic setpieces and individual funny lines is excellently done. It's sharp and it's silly, sometimes providing relief from the tension and sometimes just reminding you that it's good to have a laugh. But it also knows when to stop laughing, which brings me to...

2) The tone

This is obviously a comedy, but the really impressive thing here is how Waititi brings the dramatic moments to life. With a subject matter like this, it's all about knowing when to crack jokes and when to just let the moment sit, and that's absolutely what this movie does. The jokes run all throughout the film, but by easing back and examining the real world horror and the effect of hate on an impressionable mind, Waititi is reminding us why stories about hate matter, and by using story beats that are in turns purely comedic and absolutely serious, he's telling this story in a way that feels flexible and nuanced. The heavy moments here are given the right amount of weight, and he resists undercutting that with a joke. The tone was my big issue with Thor: Ragnorok, where any remotely serious moment was subverted with comedy, to the point where it stops being surprising and starts being a complete tonal mess. It's weird, because it's something that Boy excelled at, so I worried that he was losing his touch with this kind of thing. I still don't think he was a good fit for Ragnorok, but any worry that he was becoming tone-deaf is quickly put to rest by how tonally assured Jojo is. It's straight back to the sincerity of Boy, where everything is from the perspective of this incredibly earnest kid, and because of this, the comedy and drama don't feel separate, instead feeling like they have some kind of progression, flowing together and fortifying what the film has to say.  The tone here is confident and strong, starting silly and then stopping to let the darkness resonate, and when the film reaches its homestretch, the sincerity of the whole thing pays off, making it feel genuinely optimistic and resonant

3) The cast

I mean, yeah. Is this the best cast in a Taika Waititi film? I mean probably. The whole ensemble is absolutely killing it here. Scarlett Johansson is rightly being lauded for her performance as a woman who's just trying to save her son, and in many ways is the heart and soul of the film. Sam Rockwell also brings salty, dogged charm to his beleaguered officer, a character who gets a lot of laughs but like everything else here, brings a surprising amount of soul, too. Even the minor roles here are great; for the first time ever I thought that Rebel Wilson was really funny, and Stephen Merchant does so much with his one scene, the perfect blend of humour and horror. And then of course there's Waititi himself as Hitler, or Jojo's imagined version of Hitler, expressing everything in the way a kid would. I'll get into this portrayal again in a bit, because I think there is something very clever at work here, but it's probably the best he's been in one of his own films. But if you ask me, the real highlight here is the two leads, Thomasin McKenzie and Roman Griffin Davis. I already knew McKenzie was great from Leave No Trace, but she's maybe even better here, exuding humour and humanity amid the horror. She perfectly brings to life this character who's essentially had her whole life taken away from her. Like with Leave No Trace, she brings a great amout of sensitivity to the film, and here that's combined with a really sharp, defiant humour; more proof that she's one of the best young actors at the moment. And then there's Roman Griffin Davis, who gives a performance that's so good that it's crazy to believe that he's never acted before. He's the glue that holds the film together, wide-eyed and idealistic, with the film basically taking place in his world. Crazy as this film is, the main thing that makes it work is how believable Griffin Davis is. You believe it because he does, and it's his performance that makes this absolutely wild idea seem real, and ultimately, what makes it so poignant

4. Taika Waititi's Hitler

I kind of touched on it earlier, but I think Waititi's performance deserves some focus on its own, because it really is clever. He's Hitler in the mind of a ten-year old, impulsive, irrational and utterly childish, but what's clever is how he transforms over the course of the film. He stops being a silly, funny character, changing as Jojo's viewpoint starts to change. He becomes more hostile, beginning to adopt some of Hitler's actual speech pattern, and this is another deft tonal touch, and watching him go from this magical, wonderful best-friend figure to... well Hitler, is another stroke of tonally flexible genius in a film full of them. His portryal doesn't stay light for the whole film, addressing the evil and the atrocity of Hitler and letting the role he plays change accordingly. Waititi is completely mocking him the whole way through, but just like everything else, dispenses so much gravity, laughing at Hitler while also acknowledging the poisonous way he targeted impressionable young minds. It may have seemed like The Silly Hitler Film when the trailers dropped, but it becomes clear that Waititi's skilled enough to let every aspect of this film have something that resonates, and it's in the absolutely ridiculous touches that the really important messages lie

5. The soundtrack

I like The Beatles, I like Tom Waits and I absolutely love Bowie, but this film's soundtrack goes beyond just being fun to listen to. Using I Want to Hold Your Hand to illustrate Hitler's wild, Beatles-level popularity in 1940s Germany is an early masterstroke, and the soundtrack stays strong throughout. I especially love the German version of Bowie's Heroes in the film's ending, using how upbeat the song is to elevate an already satisfying finish. And then there's Michael Giacchino's score, which is definitely one of his best, entirely telling the story through music. I especially love Jojo's Theme, with the warring influences of the military (the chanting and brass fanfare) and his mother (a gentle lullaby, full of heartfelt strings) bringing the tug-of-war of the influences at work in Jojo's world to life in musical bliss. It's a great mix of songs and score that perfectly compliment the story and everything it's saying. It does what the perfect musical accompaniment should, complimenting each moment with the occasional needledrop that gives a sharp little jab of pure cleverness. Using the pop-cultural cache of some of these soundtrack choices to emphasise the scene's meaning is one of the best things a curated soundtrack can do, and that's undoubtedly something that Jojo keeps in mind with its sonic storytelling

6. The clone joke

This is one of the funniest throwaway gags in a Taika Waititi film

7. The German Shepherd joke

This is even funnier than the last one

8. The kick (spoilers)

Okay, I swear I'm not just going to break down every single joke in this film, because I already discussed why I think it's so funny, but the moment where Hitler gets kicked out of the window is just so gloriously funny and satisfyingly ridiculous, and something that only Waititi could have carried off. Also probably the best f-bomb in a 12 rated film, and just one of most hilariously blunt jokes I've seen in a film in recent memory

9. The ending (spoilers)

Even outside of the excellent needledrop, this is an amazingly powerful ending. Waititi knows when to cut a moment with comedy but he also knows when to just let it play out, and that's exactly what he does with that final dance sequence. It's an act of joyful defiance, a celebration of choosing love over hate, and after a film that has some gut-wrenching moments and some razor sharp satirical barbs, it's just a really sweet ending. It's Waititi embracing the freedom of his young Heroes and their escape from fear and uncertainity, absolutely revelling in the pure joy of this moment, finally casting the weighty subject matter aside and just letting these kids be themselves at last

10. The optimism

All of Waititi's films are upbeat in one way or another, from Boy's unvarnished glee to What We Do in the Shadows' simple silliness, Hunt For the Wilderpeople's quirky, big-hearted cool and Thor Ragnorok's colourful, pop-infused space opera, and that sheer positivity is all over Jojo. It's a film that argues that we should choose love over hate, and if that seems simple or obvious, then that's something that the film acknowledges too, suggesting that just because something's simple doesn't mean it isn't important. It takes something that's so easy to forget, but so relevant to now, providing a film full of simple optimism that proves that a little hope never goes out of fashion. It brands itself as an anti-hate satire, but it really is, completely rejecting cruelty and prejudice and hate, arguing that the path to salvation is paved with acts of kindness. There are so many small moments of goodness in Jojo that absolutely resonate, and they're the little moments of kindness that last after the credits roll. It laughs a lot at some weighty topics, but the real point of Jojo is to remind us to love before it's too late; to be kind because not doing so would lead to self-destruction. It's a deliriously irreverent plea for people to be better to each other, with an ability to see the good in the world that's as brazenly cheerful as Amélie, and if you've spent more than a minute on my blog, you'll know that's a very good thing indeed

So there you have it, ten reasons that Jojo Rabbit kind of rocked my world. Taika Waititi has kind of outdone himself with this one, and divisive as its been, I can't deny that it's maybe become my favourite of his films. It's funny as hell, razor-sharp, bursting with heart and incredibly clever. It's a really fantastic piece of satire that urges its audience to reject hate and embrace love, bolstered by fantastic performances, genuinely powerful moments, and cardboard robot costumes. Look, I get if it doesn't work for you, but I absolutely loved this movie. Jojo Rabbit is a charming, affecting, absolutely hilarious take on the forces that teach the world to hate and the love that refuses to buckle under them. It's nothing short of wonderful, and feels like exactly what the world needs right now.

My Thoughts on Little Women

I have a confession to make about Lady Bird. Despite its placement on my top 10 films of 2017 (number 9 no less), I've found myself becoming less and less enthusiastic about it as time went by. I've found myself becoming more and more distanced from it, progressively becoming less able to enjoy its insights, and I'm not quite sure why. I definitely enjoyed it, but maybe something didn't quite resonate with it, because that level of love didn't last. So when I heard that Greta Gerwig was making an adaptation of Little Women, I was less than enthusiastic. I mean, I'm not hugely familiar with the story, and I was worried that, after Lady Bird, I wouldn't click with any of Gerwig's films on as personal a level as every one else seemed to. So yeah, safe to say I wasn't excited about this film. Not that I was expecting to hate it, because by all accounts it seemed to be a pretty prestige literary adaptation. I'm really happy about how much I really, really liked this film, and I'd go so far as to say it's what we need right now: warm, positive, PG-rated cinema that anyone can watch, understand and connect with. I think it's easy to get lost in edginess, to celebrate cynicism to the point where if something isn't being done with irony, it's somehow less. But this timeless tale of sisters in the Civil War (which I was still massively unfamiliar with as a story), proves once more that it never goes out of fashion, and a big part of why this works is its willingness to embrace the lightness of its story, to revel in its gentleness and work within that to explore what's really important.

Gerwig is working with a pre-established story, but she does a good job of ensuring that her approach feel new and exciting. It's undeniably a period piece (with some of the best costumes you're going to see all year), but the way she outlines the lives of these women and the society they're living in feels uniquely modern. It's a classic story with timely themes, and Gerwig excels because she remembers that, not trying to reinvent the wheel so much as restore it, and remind us why we need wheels in the first place. From the opening scene, it sets up two distinctly different timelines, bouncing between them to show the immediately likeable cast of characters before and after seven years of growth that feel genuine and real. There's an immediate lived-in likeability here, and within ten minutes it set up a world that I felt completely comfortable being in. I liked these characters, all of them, and I enjoyed spending time with them and following their various adventures.

A big part of that is the cast, and from what I can tell Gerwig has absolutely nailed the casting. Saoirse Ronan is ace as Jo, the headstrong, confident and immediately likeable pair of eyes through which we watch this story unfold. It's her world we're in, and Ronan's performance invites us in and makes our stay feel satisfying and enjoyable. Her brashness hides a vulnerability, and the way that's gradually revealed in a way that feels natural and genuine is maybe the film's strongest emotional nuance. Florence Pugh makes for a great Amy, again loveable right off the bat, with so much energy and charisma that it's impossible not to care about her. She's easily the most compelling character here, the one whose story is the most fun to follow, and even with the absolutely great year Pugh's had, this feels like a standout performance. She's consistently topping herself with each film she's in, and this feels like the perfect way to cap off a year that also contains excellent turns in Midsommar and Fighting With My Family. Timothée Chalamet is also fantastic as Laurie, imbuing his boy-nest-door with a really sincere feeling longing and charm. The sisters are undoubtedly at the centre of the story, but it's impossible not to feel for Laurie, and so much of that comes back to Chalamet, who brings the same kind of lovesick charm that made Call Me By Your Name absolutely sing

If those three are wonderfully strong, then it's a shame that the same kind of focus isn't given to Beth and Meg. Don't get me wrong, Emma Watson and Eliza Scanlon put in great performances, but given the film's primary focus on Jo, Amy and Laurie, they both feel like they're just kind of.... there. Beth's only real role in the film seems to be being generally meek and sick, and although that's utilised to heartbreaking effect in the third act, she also kind of feels like a plot device; making the other characters more interesting and just being defined by her sickness instead of feeling like an interesting character in spite of it. Meg is almost totally sidelined here, getting so little focus that she's kind of a hard character to talk about. Any of her defining character traits seem to be developed offscreen, and that's a real shame. In fairness, this is one of the film's only issues, and considering the characters it does focus on are handled so well, it's not too hard to forgive when another one falls by the wayside. The supporting cast is strong as well, Laura Dern and Chris Cooper in particular bringing real heart to their characters, doing what a good supporting role is supposed to do and fortifying the arcs of the leads. Cooper's magnificently warm turn gives Beth's character a little more nuance, and that kind of compensates for her general lack of development

But still, it's not a fun film to criticise, because at its best, it's got the kind of illuminating warmth that's so seldom seen in the cinema, not just now, but in general. It's so sweet, and good natured, with some timely twists that feel spiky without being a distraction. Jo's struggle to be taken seriously as a writer particularly resonates, as does Amy's discussion of marriage as an economic proposition. Those underpinnings are written into the utterly delightful world of the story in a way that's deft and clever, but it can't be understated just how lovely this is. The sense of warmth and love here is so nourishing and pleasant, and the focus on family, on units of people that share highs and lows and have so much love for each other is so, so wonderful. It really is a story of sisters, of their ups and downs, but more specifically of their bond, and that's so damn sincere, so real feeling and jam-packed with love and warmth, that it's just such a privilege to spend this film with them. I spent so much of this film grinning like an idiot, just basking in how cheerful and lovely it is. Even in its tougher moments, the focus on love and unity and sticking together in hard times is done in such a natural, genuine way, and although it's drawing from a well-known story, it really resonates. I knew nothing about the actual story of Little Women, and so when the film drifts into tearjerker territory, I was genuinely affected by it. I won't spoil it just in case you're a Little Women novice like I once was, but for something that's probably fairly well telegraphed if you know the book, the big thing that happens really does resonate, treated with gravity and sensitivity, without ever sugarcoating it. There's pain in this film, but Gerwig's smartest turn is bringing the film in a direction that never feels defined by it, instead making an argument for togetherness and growth, and that's where it becomes really good.

So yeah, a film that I was very not excited for turns out to be a little slice of joy, a piece of genuine, immediately accessible cinematic wonder that really establishes Gerwig as the real deal for me. It feels a little bit more real than Lady Bird, for me anyway. Even letting this sit, the warmth and the magic doesn't fade in the way that it did with her first film. I still smile when I think of this, because the gentle, sensitive approach the oft-told story is just so.... nice. And sometimes that's okay. It rejects the idea that cynicism makes for better cinema, instead focusing on the love of the world and making a case for why it's important. This is why this story is told so often, because it matters, and reviving it for a new generation is less an exploitation of the source material and more a reminder that love, and family are what truly matter. There's palpable joy in a secret dance on a porch, heartache in a beach-set story for an ailing sister, and glee in the return of the missing piece of a tightly-knit unit. Gerwig renders each moment with refreshing authenticity, putting a new spin on this classic in a way that's truly cinematic. It was such a delight, and it just gets better the more I think about it.

My Thoughts on Marriage Story

I'm a huge Noah Baumbach fan, and Marriage Story has been on my radar for a while now. They way Baumbach can mine a deep reservoir of personal experiences for natural comedy and deeply moving drama is stunning, and it's a relevant thing in Marriage Story, a film that's seemingly heavily informed by his own divorce. It's a film that's drawn comparisons to Woody Allen and Ingmar Bergman, and is being called his best film, and that's a hard thing to disagree with. I actually prefer The Meyerowitz Stories as a film, but at the risk of sounding pretentious, Marriage Story feels like his most emotionally accomplished movie, the one that gets under its character's skin and draws everything out and gets every emotion at its absolutely most potent level. Like Squid and the Whale or Meyerowitz Stories, this is a film of moments, but crucially, it revolves around one: the big argument scene. It's become a popular scene to celebrate or to laugh at, but I think it's the thing at the centre of Marriage Story, what the story is leading up to and what it eventually tries to recover from. I'll get into that later on, but this scene works so well because it fits so well into this film and the way it uses its drama. It's very controlled, quiet and natural and almost observational, entirely spent watching two people trying to navigate a difficult situation, attempting to avoid pain and toxicity, if nothing else than for the sake of their young son.

It's clear from the start that this is relationship is completely frozen over, but I think the opening of this film is so genius because it begins with two people listing the things they love about each other. There aren't any real flashbacks to life before the divorce after this, and I love that, because there's nothing that needs to be said that isn't in the first few minutes. Right off the bat, you know that these two loved each other, and you know why, and watching something that you know was once sweet but has soured is a unique kind of heartbreaking. The film excels at lowkey drama, reluctantly pitting a couple against each other and urging you not to pick a side. Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver don't even feel like they're acting, going through rage, and sadness and longing and everything else that comes with a loss of love. There are no winners or losers here, just a pair of people who want to stay amicable, who want to minimize the pain as much as possible. That this plays out so naturally makes it harder to watch. They're given great support by a vicious Ray Liotta and a hilarious Alan Alda, but the MVP here is Laura Dern, giving the best performance in the film as a divorce lawyer who is alternately warm and ruthless. It's the most actor-driven film he's made, and just watching everyone be so incredible is a treat in itself to witness

The structure is pretty much like most of his other films, episodes, scenes from a (dead) marriage, but each one contains so much sadness (the entire Halloween sequence is quietly gutting) and comedy (Merritt Weaver turns delivering bad news into an artform), that it's definitely one of his more resonant films. He's always been more about content than experimentation, and watching as he empathetically and forensically brings these details to life, imbuing each one with so much pathos and love. There's not even much of a plot, just a careful study of a divorce in moments, connected together by an overarching mosaic of emotion, a constant tone that's ebbing and flowing. Sometimes it rises up and threatens to crash into a wave, but Baumbach's skill at holding back, at keeping everything just under the surface. And that's why the climax works so well. If you look at the film's structure, there aren't scenes as such, just moments in the haze of emotional stress that Baumbach is happening to catch. None of them feel scripted, like they're part of a story or arranged in an especially important order, with the exception of the argument, the point of maximum tension, where the non-specifically chosen moments fall back into a very precisely plotted explosion.

Actually just taking this scene on its own for a minute, I can see why out of context, it'd seem silly or over-the-top, but with the two-ish hours that came before it setting up so much resentment and loathing and pain, seeing it released is a pretty distressing experience. What happens in this scene is not the point of Marriage Story- it's not a film that celebrates the emotional fallout of a divorce or relishes in two people taking potshots at each other- but it is the scene that the film hinges on. Tonally, and emotionally, the swell of emotion was building into this until it's fit to burst. I never felt like the specifics of what was happening in each moment mattered, anything that evoked the same feelings would have done, but the way each one of them adds another layer of sadness, putting so much stress on this relationship and urging it towards its breaking point is what matters. The fallout is similar, with the film trying to recover, trying to cool down, to heal. It's never something that truly leaves this film, or the two leads, when it happens

So Marriage Story is a really brilliantly constructed drama that hinges around one moment. If I had to nitpick it in terms of Baumbach's movies, it's that although I thought it was really excellently put together, an definitely his best film in terms of its direction and script, but it just didn't affect me in the same way The Meyorwitz Stories did. There's an intentional (yet incredibly reluctant) coldness to this film, and though I appreciated his deft telling of a story about two people who don't want their lives to be that cold, I definitely felt myself appreciating it, and felt a lot of the emotion in it, too, but for me, it just doesn't have the lived-in quality of his last one. That's a personal thing, but it doesn't take away from how fantastically Marriage Story breathes life into the often-portrayed-but-rarely-in-this-much-detail subject of divorce, and Baumbach's detailed study of it is absolutely made by how he's studying it. He lets everything orbit around the extreme, the massive argument that is undoubtedly a product of this emotional stress but is absolutely not indicative  of what this relationship is. It's delicate, and poignant and funny, but the real heft of the drama comes from the intensity of that moment. Not that it's the only good thing in the film, because the incredible performances, emotional rawness and the delicate ebbing and flowing of the drama make Marriage Story one of 2019's most precise and powerful dramas, one that I hugely respect and admire more than I actually enjoy. Still, I love that Baumbach is so present as a cinematic voice, and spending two hours in his dramatic observations is more than enough for me to give this a big ol' thumbs up

My Thoughts on Ford v. Ferrari

I'll get this phrase out of the way early, because otherwise it'll plague this whole review: "they don't make movies like this anymore". Ford v. Ferrari (or Le Mans '66 as it's known in Ireland and I absolutely refuse to call it) does have that old-fashioned, very 70s appeal. High star wattage, focused, lean filmmaking, and a sensible, practical approach to storytelling. I won't say that this kind of film isn't getting made at all now, but the bravura filmmaking and honest sensibility of stuff like One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Deer Hunter is largely missing on that level of quality. There's still mid-budget, relatively lowkey awards-bothering dramas being made, but too few of them are coming out in the mainstream, or putting enough emphasis on that uniquely big screen style of storytelling, or being on the same level of quality as the more experimental fare. That's a real shame too, because although film is absolutely excellent now, it still does feel like that serious, mature, high quality kind of drama is kind of absent when people talk about the best films of a given year. But James Mangold, fresh off of Logan, seemed to be set to remedy that. Did he succeed?

Well, at the risk of spoiling my verdict, yeah, he did. Ford v. Ferrari is a great blend of old-fashioned thrills and new technology, providing race sequences that thrill and electrify without sacrificing the substance. The tone is handled so well here, evoking an honest-to-goodness, old school style without feeling dated or dewy with nostalgia. The film revolves around Ford's attempt to win the 24 hours at Le Mans, particularly focusing on Matt Damon's ex-racer Carroll Shelby and Christian Bale's obsessive, intense driver Ken Miles. This is a film that nails its fundamental aspects and uses them to their fullest. I think there are two crucial components in this movie; the lead performances and the racing sequences, but both work on such a level of quality that they elevate absolutely everything else in the film and make it work. Damon and Bale are reliably fantastic, and their honest, earnest performances are really what drive this film and keep you invested. See, the film is built on one central idea: the feeling of being in that car, of racing and letting go of everything. The film weaves this into the two central arcs, and puts it front and centre of the drama and the action

Matt Damon is ace as a man who seeks to recapture the feeling, getting these great quiet moments where he exudes longing and determination. His combatting of corporate stuffiness is familiar stuff but it stills feels relevant, especially now, and particularly because this is the first Fox film being released by Disney. That kind of makes Shelby's struggles against corporate fiddling hit harder, and even if that feels a little well-worn, it's not impossible to apply the idea of a filmmaker and his creative struggles on top of this story of a man trying to do what he knows the way he knows is right in spite of the committees above him who think they know better. This part of story is done quite well, and Damon sells Shelby's earnestness, which is something that I don't think this story would have worked without. The real joy of his performance though, is those quiet moments of trying to recapture the feeling of being behind the wheel. It would have been easy for this to be a typical against-the-odds sports film, and I guess it is to an extent, but it's the small moments, the little nuances like the ones in Damon's performance that make it stand out

The standout though, is Christian Bale. His Ken Miles is a layered performance, brash Brummie bravado hiding that same yearning for the thrill of the race. He's aggressive, and stubborn, but again it's the small moments, when we see Miles as a husband and as a father, understanding the presence that racing has in his life and more importantly, what he stands to lose. There's a big question here about the responsibility of racing, and the uncontrollable urge to return to the track. There's great control in his performance, and the way he shifts between stubborn rage ("Poxy bastard door!") and quiet, vulnerability ("I can try") is another testament to how reliably impressive Bale is as an actor. I especially love his relationship with his son, who in many ways is the heart of the story, and the genuine warmth in their relationship gives the racing scenes a real feeling of something being risked

Of course, as in most films that centre around two key performances, the rest of the cast aren't quite as impressive. It's not that any of them are, kind of the opposite, they're all great, it's just that this is so undoubtedly Shelby and Miles' story that they feel somewhat underdeveloped. John Bernthal's Lee Iacocca is just so secondary that any time he's the focus, it feels like a different film. Tracy Letts' Henry Ford II also suffers from this, feeling more like an obstacle than an actual character. Caitriona Balfe gives good support as Miles' wife Mollie, but the moments between them are so warm and sweet that it kind of makes you wish she had more screentime. Again, the story isn't about these characters, so it's not even that big of an issue, but it's a small snag that I think catches the film every now and again

But then there's the other element that just makes Ford v. Ferrari sing: the racing sequences. Bolstered by the quietly muscular drama, when they happen, they are spectacular. The final race at Le Mans, roaring engines contrasted by tea drinking and corporate meddling, is as thrilling as big-screen fare gets. All of the races here are stunning, so much energy and verve and aggression. I know absolutely nothing about racing, but it's translated so well into the unique language of film that it kind of doesn't matter. This is a proper cinema experience, and what sets it apart from a lot of action scenes in big Hollywood films is how tactile it is, so focused on the feeling, on the life-or-death thrill of racing, blending that with the drama, not to distract from it, but to emphasise it, to remind you what's at stake. There's no attempting to be too clever here, or distance from what's going on, just face-on-track tension and pure, nearly euphoric aggression.

Ford v. Ferrari's racing sequences are incredible, and the performances of Damon and Bale are so good, that they make the entire film standout, not relying on them as much as identifying what works and amplifying it to its absolute peak. The balance of substance and spectacle is so sound here, so fine-tuned that it's impossible not to feel what Mangold wants you to. Going back to the start, it's nice to have this kind of movie, and it's especially interesting for Disney. I know it was in production before they acquired Fox, but given the whole vibe of it, it'd be cool to see them put out more stuff like this going forward. The film is long but given how well-plotted the drama is, and how exciting the climactic action is, that's hardly an issue, and the climax is made all the more satisfying because of how well-done the character stuff before it is. I thought it was a really fun throwback to this kind of mature, prestigious drama, with the kind of massive, heart-in-mouth action that digital effects can provide. Ford v. Ferrari is the kind of fil that strives to provide that very exciting big-screen experience that still has a lot of meat and substance to it, and I think it's absolutely successful in doing that

My Thoughts on The Irishman

Oh boy. This has been a long time coming. Martin Scorsese is one of my all-time heroes, and the fact that I'm even talking about The Irishman makes me so, so happy. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this film is even here. But it is, and my god, it's beautiful. The Irishman feels like the culmination of Scorsese's career, an absolute epic detailing the slow deterioration of the American gangster. In many ways, this is the other side of GoodFellas: a multi-decade spanning story about a man, a gang, a country and ultimately, the slow, quiet death that all of those things are doomed to. This is a quiet tragedy, spanning an entire lifetime of politics, violence and crime before a final act that is without a doubt one of the most sobering things I've seen this decade. This is absolutely, without a doubt one of Scorsese's best films, and it's just such an honour to be able to witness this. I knew very little about Jimmy Hoffa going in, apart from his involvement with the union, and the fact that nobody actually knows what happened to him.

The Irishman is a pretty notable film this year, and a huge part of that is the cast. De Niro, Pacino, Pesci, Keitel, Anna Paquin, Ray Romano, Stephen Graham. Safe to say that a lineup like this is special, and they're all special in their own ways here. De Niro is sensational as Frank, who's as steely and stoic as his other tough guys, but with a tragic gravitas that I've never seen from him before. We see everything from his perspective, and watching as he comes to terms with his numbingly tragic fate. He does so much with so little, every glare saying a thousand words. The final third especially features some absolutely stunning, deeply moving acting from a man who consistently gives some of the best performances ever. Pesci is also incredible, uncharacteristically quiet but like de Niro, that's what gives him such an edge. The supporting cast also give it socks, especially Anna Paquin, who's silence is absolutely intentional and truly damning. Stephen Graham is also rounding off a great year (WATCH THE VIRTUES) as a character who's so incendiary and thrillingly unpredictable. But somehow, somehow in a cast like this, there is a standout and it's Al Pacino, the absolute first among equals as Jimmy Hoffa. He's as exuberant and full of energy as he ever has been, a firecracker of a man whose actually ambiguous fate, less so in the film, is made so tragic because he's so damn likeable.

Scorsese is also firing on all cylinders, moving very slowly and deliberately, keeping his flourishes for very specific moments. His scope is incredibly wide here, capturing everything here, the big and the small, from the forces that shape a nation all the way down to one man's horrifying journey into a quietly unremarkable fate. There's no doubt here that he's 100% in control, and the thrill here comes from the fact that it's clear that he knows exactly what he's doing. For a filmmaker of his status, that might seem obvious, and for the uninitiated, it might just seem like more of the same, but this feels monumental, even for him, maybe in a way that his other films aren't. Particularly towards the home stretch, it feels that Scorsese is reflecting on some seriously bone deep stuff, carried off in a way that's so delicate but all the more powerful because of it. The length of this film seems to be a bit of a contentious issue in certain circles, but it really is necessary, and it cannot be watched in instalments. The Irishman takes its time getting where it needs to go, using every single minute and making those decades feel like they're going by. It takes a serious level of skill to make three and a half hours feel short, especially with a tone that's as dour as this film is. The level of control on display is absolutely crazy, and it's something that could only come from Scorsese and only at this point in his career, and the fact that this movie is made in this way with this cast is absolutely unbelievable, and it's without a doubt one of the best movies of the year

So yeah, I've actually been sitting on this review for a while now, because The Irishman is overwhelming cinema, and I definitely did not absorb everything in it on the first viewing, because how the hell can you? Much like Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, it puts you in this moment in time, reflecting everything in the era in one fell swoop, and tackling what matters now by covering the past. The Irishman touches on some timeless themes and ideas, and like the best films, it balances specific and universal elements, done in a way that only Scorsese can. The Irishman is not my favourite film of the year, but it does feel like an event in the way nothing else has in 2019. It's the kind of film that comes around very, very rarely. It's long, slow, and devastatingly quiet. It's a beautiful, beautiful tragedy and simply one of the most unmissable pieces of film in 2019

My Thoughts on Joker

Oh boy. Joker's been a hot topic in the film community (and in general) for a while now. All through it's production, people have been talking about it, and in the last few weeks in particular, people have been going crazy. It wins the Golden Lion, it gets rave reviews, there's countless articles about how it's going to start violence and destroy society, it finally comes out, people love it, people hate it, and it becomes literally impossible to ignore this film. I've been sceptically excited for a while now, because I love Joaquin Phoenix and Robert de Niro, and it looked like a really interesting take on the character, but it looked like it borrowed a little bit too much from Scorsese, it looked like it was skewing a bit too edgy without understanding how to do it, and Todd Philips in general is just.... not my tempo. That and all of the buzz around this film made me realise that I really didn't know how I was going to feel about it. Honestly, I knew it could go any way for me. I could love it, I could hate it, I could really like it, or it could just.... be fine. Any way it went though, there was one thing that was undeniable: this is the film that got 2019 talking. So how did I feel about Joker? Well....

I guess I should set the scene, even though you've probably seen it from the (pretty ace) trailer. Arthur Fleck is a clown in Gotham in the early 80s who's not having the best time. He's a struggling stand-up, his mental state is fragile, he cares for his ailing mother, and he suffers from a condition that causes uncontrollable laughter in difficult situations. It doesn't help that the city he's living in is kind of going to shit. Social unrest, class division and super rats are just a few of the things plaguing the Gotham of this film. One day, however, Arthur has an encounter which.... changes things, for him and Gotham. To say anything else would be a spoiler, so I'll leave it there. I think, in general, the "we live in a SOCIETY" plot is a tricky one to get right. It's a very specific type of social commentary that can be done very wrong, and I think it's all about time, place and execution. I'll talk about the (absolutely ridiculous) buzz around this film's violence later, but one thing that I think is true is that stories about dispossessed individuals rising up to fight against an unjust society have so much potential to go wrong. Look at Taxi Driver, one of my all-time favourite films, and a big influence on Joker. It works because of its context. It looks at the dehumanising effects of war on an already deeply disturbed man who comes back to a city that turns its back on him. It works because it places itself in the context of the Vietnam war, and because it never asks the audience to sympathize with Travis too much one way or the other. It never claims to have all of the answers, and never suggests that anything that's happening is necessarily right, just that it IS happening. It's also not overly edgy, not hollowly so anyway. I mention it because not only is it the absolute best incarnation of this kind of story, but it also nails the thing that Joker is going for

Before I discuss that though, I want to clarify something: by and large, I liked this film. Did I love it? No, because it does have some issues that I can't really get around, but overall, I thought it was good, something that I wanted to get out of the way now before I dive into some of this film's problems. So what's good here? Well, Joaquin Phoenix. His Arthur Fleck is unlike any other portrayal of this character. It's a bold rejection of the idea that this character doesn't have a defined origin, and as someone who actually likes when adaptations deviate a little, I think that was a good choice. Phoenix sells Arthur's slide from persecuted clown to totally corrupted.... clown, and the way that he nails the meekness and the descent is a solid reminder that he is one of the best actors of his generation. Is this his best performance? No, but that speaks to the strength of the rest of his filmography more than anything else. Everything that comes from him in this film is great, and I'll explain what I mean by that in a minute, but for now, I think that the Oscar buzz is definitely earned, because it is an amazing performance, the perfect mainstream vessel for Phoenix's intensity. As for de Niro, he brings a lot of weight to a key supporting role that knowingly flips the dynamic from The King of Comedy. He's the Langford to Phoenix's Pupkin, and seeing him on the other side is an absolute thrill, one that yields some very rich rewards in the home stretch. Frances Conroy actually brings a fair amount to Arthur's mother as well, even if she is more of a plot device than anything. In Conroy's hands, she at least feels human, and is a relatively likeable character in this sea of amorality. And Zazie Beetz is... completely wasted as a character who kind of feels like an afterthought, but hey, Zazie Beetz! The cruel, uncaring atmosphere is certainly an effective one, and Philips' gritty approach is definitely a good decision. The world of Joker is quite unlike any other take on Gotham, mirroring the likes of Watchmen and Sin City for comic book grime. These are the things that Joker does well, crafting this really unpleasant world and filling it with wonderful turns from capable actors. The problems come in the content....

Look, I'm not going to blame this film for spreading violence, because that was an entirely media-constructed piece of fear mongering. Joker will not turn you violent, just like Fight Club, Taxi Driver and Falling Down didn't turn you violent. The idea that it would is absolutely ridiculous, as it always is. But even then, the observations that Joker makes about society are just that: observations. Todd Philips is so intent on showing you society, on displaying how awful and uncaring the world is. He's so determined to say something that he ends up saying very little. Every social comment that Joker makes is so base level, just showing what's happening and never exploring its implications, instead just saying "society, amiright?". And most of the time, no, you're not. I said it a moment ago, but these stories of the people society leaves behind rising up and enacting their version of justice have so much potential to go wrong, and although Joker doesn't make a complete mess of it, it's not as insightful as it likes to think it is. No spoilers, but I think it's biggest mistake is making Arthur's story overlap with the social upheaval in Gotham, leading to an ending that's definitely saying....something? What he's doing is wrong, but what they're doing is right, and that climaxes in a way that's not quite clear. Is it a descent or a revolution? Villainy or justice? Honestly, I don't quite know, and I'm not sure the film does either. I don't know if this is the right character to do this kind of social commentary with, because he doesn't quite work as the face of the social revolution in Gotham. I'm not saying this as some enraged fanboy who's hurt because they're going against the comics, because, in an adaptation, I care more about the actual film that comes out of those changes rather than the changes themselves, and on that level, I'm not sure it works. The relatively random context means that Arthur's status as the face of this movement never feels earned. I said that everything that comes from Phoenix is great, because he's the thing that fuels everything good about this take on the character. The script is serviceable, if a little on the nose, but the story beats and commentary don't really lend this character anything particularly good or interesting, instead relying on Phoenix's incredible turn to ensure our investment in him, which, thankfully, he does with aplomb.

I don't want this to turn into a petty comparison between a comic book film and Scorsese, especially not with the current discourse, but when I think of everything that Taxi Driver did well, it's all stuff that's largely absent from Joker. From the start, it asks us to sympathise with Arthur, which is fine. That's not an issue, and it's not something that I have any real problems with. The problem comes when we have to accept that what he's doing is right, or at the very least not wrong. What Gotham's upper classes are doing is wrong, so everything done in defiance of their prejudice must be right? Philips seems to be claiming to have answers, to know the root of these issues and their subsequent solutions, but instead of the rallying cry for the disillusioned citizens that it's clearly trying to be, it instead becomes a confused primal scream that's desperately seeking some sort of catharsis. And it definitely achieves it, but at the cost of the poignancy and sharpness that these stories possess at their best. The "we live in a society" stories have a clear moral compass. Travis Bickle commits acts of social violence. Tyler Durden was a terrorist. We know what they're doing is wrong, even when they think that they're right, and, as an audience, we're never asked to think any other way. I'm not worried about moral corruption or anything, but I do think that understanding that what these characters are doing isn't right is necessary. It's not just, but it is happening. Joker doesn't do that, and always justifies what's happening onscreen, which is where it stumbles big time. It's not going to cause any violence but it does fail as a criticism of society because that criticism is hollow. It asks us to identify with this movement, and at the apex, makes a really passionately argued point that.... something is.... happening to the people because.....society is doing.... something, and the upper classes are bad because.... society. It's all the right pieces in all the wrong places; the right method but lacking any meaningful observation. If you were to ask this film questions, it'd answer all of them with "WE LIVE IN A SOCIETY!". And I swore that I wouldn't rant....

 So, Joker is.… well it's definitely a film. The discourse on this one has been deafening, and I've been really struggling with writing this review because I don't feel particularly strongly about it one way or another. It's proving to be so divisive, prompting these really strong reactions from people. I definitely didn't love it, in case you couldn't tell from those last two paragraphs. I won't go in depth about the society stuff again, but I do think that it's the film's greatest shortcoming, which is a shame, because it's right at the forefront. So no, I'm not in the camp of thesaurus wielders that hold this film up as a masterpiece and one of the best of 2019. That said, I definitely didn't hate it either. Phoenix absolutely owns here, and again reminds me why I love him so much. And for a mainstream blockbuster, it definitely feels atypical in its approach and style. As for the Scorsese-borrowing, if you're going to take inspiration from anyone, there are definitely worse choices than the king. Is it disappointing that my reaction to this deliberately provocative film isn't especially either way? Maybe, but I still liked it. I'm still in the camp of people who say it's a good movie, even if I wouldn't call it anything better than that. As I said, whatever happens, this is the film of 2019, the one that broke through and got everyone talking, and as a cultural event, it's definitely made an impression. That impression wasn't an especially strong one on me, but hey, who am I but another critic on the internet? If you love Joker, awesome! It's always awesome to find something you think is great. If you hate Joker, well that's cool too! It's definitely got some irredeemable issues, and it's 100% understandable if you thought it was awful. Me? Well, I think it's fine, nothing more, nothing less..... and that's kind of all I have to say about that

My Thoughts on Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

Some things feel like they'll never arrive. "Quentin Tarantino's Manson Family Movie" has been on the horizon for a while now, and now that it's finally here, what do we do with ourselves? This is (apparently) his penultimate film, and now that it's here and all of the speculation is done, we now feel dreadfully close to the end of an era. Which is apt, because that's kind of what Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is about. Set in 1969, it follows a down on his luck actor and his stuntman, who's also his best/only friend. Parallel to their story is the story of Sharon Tate, who would be murdered my the followers of Charles Manson. This story has been told many times in many films, most of them shit and tasteless. Once Upon a Time does something very, very different with it. Exactly what happens won't be spoiled, but rest assured, it's a typically wild take, while also being his most purely passionate film in years

I said this film was about the end of an era, and even though it's only set over the course of four-ish days, you really feel the decline of the Old Hollywood of '69, and the impending arrival of the New Hollywood of '70 as you're watching it. Rick Dalton and his trusty stuntman Cliff Booth are definitely feeling the sting of this, with Dalton steadily heading towards total stagnation, only getting roles as "the heavy" in TV westerns. Booth, on the other hand, is pretty much Cliff's assistant, spending the day drifting around town doing various errands for him.

Right off the bat, the film's sense of time and place is easily its greatest strength. The atmosphere here is incredible, and the way Tarantino sets the tone is really something special. 1969 Hollywood is reconstructed meticulously and deliberately, with no detail left out. As a result, the stage upon which the plot plays out feels more real. It's easy to get lost in this film's depiction of Hollywood. It's a place you want to spend time in and absorb the sights and sounds of. The plot is pretty minimal here, but that's because it's not really the focus. You're essentially following these characters around Hollywood for a couple of days, and although those days are specifically chosen, the stuff that happens during them feels particularly incidental. These are just things that are happening to these people living in a town that's so rich with mythology that it almost doesn't feel real. And that proves to be interesting in itself, as the lore and mythos of old Hollywood comes to life on the screen, enveloping the viewer in such a specific experience. Tarantino has painstakingly recreated everything and made it look so easy, and the result is a town that's not only its own character, but also just a damn fun place to hang out in

It helps that the characters you're hanging out with are so interesting. Rick Dalton is a perfect portrayal of all of the actors of that time who found themselves left behind by the advent of new Hollywood, and his obselescence is something that fuels most of his plot. This allows Tarantino to paint a portrait of the unsung heroes of a transitioning industry, something that Leonardo DiCaprio brings to life wonderfully. His quest to reignite his career is something that we're right there with him on, and seeing how that develops is all the more fascinating because if how genuine it feels. True, his plot feels the most aimless, but even then it is interesting, and becomes seriously rewarding in the movie's home stretch.

Cliff Booth is far and away the best character in the film, and maybe one of my favourite Tarantino characters overall. I could honestly watch this guy wander around for hours, and although some of his plot falters (the Bruce Lee scene is pretty unnecessary), it's mostly Tarantino at the height of his powers, especially when the Cliffster wanders into Spahn Ranch, aka the Manson Family hangout. This scene is electric, powerful filmmaking, slow, unbearable and utterly thrilling. It makes use of the setting wonderfully, and is a standout scene in a film of many. Brad Pitt is amazing in this film, capturing Cliff's freewheeling antics while also nailing his devotion to Rick, without ever having that be his defining character trait. His are the eyes that '69 Hollywood are best seen through, and the casual nature of his plot let us wander around with him and take everything in, and this is where the film's scope is at its most breathtaking

The amount of attention given to Sharon Tate is something that caused controversy at Cannes. True, she doesn't have as many lines as Cliff and Rick, but having now seen the film, that's not actually something that bothers me. Her plot is a passionate tribute to the real Tate, and although she just kind of wanders around being delightful, that kind of makes her story all the more wonderful. It's obvious that Tarantino adores her, and so having all these scenes that basically play out as passionately told vignettes feels like the perfect celebration. This is not a story about Sharon Tate's murder, and it's so refreshing to have a film that just focuses on her and just wants to celebrate her. As for Margot Robbie's portrayal, it's absolutely wonderful. She's such a pleasant screen presence, and her involvement in the plot allows QT to exercise some sensitivity. The lightness of this whole storyline makes it such a pleasure to witness, and watching how it feeds into the climax is incredibly interesting, especially when Tarantino deftly swerves away from obvious bad taste in favour of something that pulses with a genuine love for a actress taken way too soon.

The actual events of the climax won't be discussed here, but just know that it's absolutely bonkers. This is Tarantino in Inglorious Basterds mode, shedding the relative restraint that he's shown with he violence for most of the film and delivering his own wildly violent, strangely funny take on tragedy. Seeing him cut loose with the bloodthirsty madness is definitely awesome, but what makes this scene work so well is the sincerity of it. Again, I won't say anything specific, but Tarantino is easily at his most genuine here, telling an alternate version of the truth that, while violent, also has a lot of love in it. The whole film had been his ode to the era, a broad love letter to the music and the movie stars, but the film is at its absolute best when it gets down to that one specific moment, because it's Tarantino speaking from the heart, and it's astonishing conclusion really feels like the reason he made it. It's such a poignant ending, one that brings everything in this epic to a perfect close

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is kind of amazing. There's a lot to talk about with this movie, and summarising my thoughts on it is pretty difficult. I've only seen it once, and I have no doubt that when I watch it again, I'll notice so much more in it. Any new release by Tarantino is a privilege to witness, and this one feels particularly special because of how much love is in it. This is a really good natured film, one that sees QT working with his best intentions. The result is a hangout movie that throbs with genuine love for a bygone era, a loving tribute to things gone way too soon, be that the studio productions of Old Hollywood, or an actress taken before she could really get started. He replaces the pain of what actually was with an idealistic and sincere what-if, and in the process, highlights the power of film to alter time and reality. This is him using cinema to heal it's most painful wounds, and if his next film really is his last one, then I really, really hope that he uses the same honesty, empathy and kindness that he brings this film to life with. It's not something he does enough, and this movie proves that it's something that he can actually do really well. This is one of the absolute best films of the year, and it leaves me eagerly awaiting whatever he's gonna do next. So yeah, it's pretty Once Upon a Time in Hollygood