So what did it really feel like to go to the flicks in 2014?

A master Scandinavian absurdist took the gold Lion in Venice while, back in February, a similarly metalled Bear took an unexpected trip from Berlin to China. Boyhood was the bookies favourite for that particular gong, and it now looks odds on for Oscar glory too, but if March 2015 turns out to be the story of Linklater's 12 Year's a Boy, this year's razzle dazzle was all Steve McQueen and his 12 Years a Slave. Indeed, while somewhat unexpected turns were taken elsewere, the BIG, "important"- and truly quite brilliant- American thing still won the Academy Award while out on the French coast, the long, difficult European thing (Nuri Bilge Ceylan's Winter Sleep) still won the Palme d'Or.

It was a year when the dream factory churned out the sequels, remakes and prequels at an oddly interim level as the green beads of sweat began to form for its endlessly lucrative 2015. And yet despite all that talk of Justice leagues, expanded universes and Michael Bay, the real story of the multiplexes came, quite bizarrely, from the left of field. Guardians of the Galaxy (Decent), 22 Jump Street (Good) and The LEGO Movie (Great) let Hollywood show us that it was in on the joke, but a Tom Cruise Sci-fi styled Groundhog Day and a stupid-smart thrill ride from Luc Besson offered even greater escape than these. For the most part though it all seemed quite familiar and, far too often, tediously self aware. But then, like a great big gravitational shift, along came Christopher Nolan, Hans Zimmer and their mighty Interstellar to pummel us into our seats. To paraphrase the great David Thomson, cinema simply says: Look at this, isn't it amazing? Isn't it beautiful? Nothing else this year seemed to ask these questions so loud (and I mean LOUD) and clear.

It was a year when reality often offered more urgency and thrills than fiction. Documentary land introduced us to the defiant nationalism of Viacheslav Fetisov, the courage and charm of the American Samoan football team, the staggering integrity of Edward Snowden and what lies behind the curtain of Johannes Vermeer. Great twists were taken in Wes Anderson and Kelly Reichhardt's careers while It Felt Like Love, The Guest, Blue Ruin, Nightcrawler and Coherence proved that there's still fresh blood in American indie too. In other lands a young Polish woman named Ida listened to John Coltrane; a Russian man named Nikolay experienced the book of job; but then a rumble rumble rumble and a dook dook dook for something or other called the Babadook. We reeled with David Cronenberg and rallied with the Dardennes before Alice Rohrwacher, and her quiet Tuscan farm, gently let us reminisce on childhood and life. 

It was a year of North Korean hacking and Nymphomania; of Foxcatcher Farms and Budapest Hotels. Edward Snowden broke rank; Spike Jonze broke hearts; Jack O'Connell broke heads; Miles Teller broke sticks. Jonze, Besson and Glazer helped Scarjo rise from the ashes while Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Robin Williams and Lauren Becall tragically returned to theirs...

So another year of the unexpected and the business-as-usual. And yet, like a fool, what struck me more than anything was just 8 quick shots and 90 seconds long. A scurrying little droid, a dessert plain, and the greatest opening chord in cinema history. 

Happy New year y'all, and thanks for all the reads. x 

2015 is coming, those twin suns loom...

The Nespressos are going cold, the Pellegrino's gone flat and the culinary puns are running increasingly dry as we reach the end of the 67th Cannes Film Festival. On paper it might have lacked the same oomph as last year's big name ballot but the selection this year has still left us thrilled and serene. It's been a competition which had a lot to say about money but which still found space for more organic fare, not to mention a 3D head scratcher from one Jean Luc Godard. So with the Palme d'Or ceremony just hours away lets attempt a quick punt at what should/could/will win and of course, far more importantly, our very own top 5.

Le Top 5

Honourable mention: Leviathan

Had we a touch more time to digest it, this marvelously crafted take on the book of job would most certainly have crept up the list. Strange, staggering and often darkly funny, Andrei Zvyagintsev (good luck with that) threw a late spanner in the works for most critics, and just maybe for the Jury too...



5. Whiplash

J.K. Simmons and Miles Teller go to war in a university jazz band for Damien Chazelle's Sundance conquering debut. The film is explosive. The ovation was too. A full review here.



4. Two Days, One Night

The Dardennes delivered a wonderfully tight story of a woman who is given a week to canvas her colleagues to ask they forego their bonuses so that she can keep her job. The brothers from Belgium are already two times winners here and while we doubt we'll be seeing a third for now, Marion Cotillard is surely a lock for her shrunken, brave lead role. Full review here.



3. Red Army

Gabe Polsky's defiantly nationalist documentary on the Soviet Union's Red Army hockey team might just be one of the most rousing, impassioned sport films to ever hit the screen. Polsky (a player himself of Russian descent) understands the politics of his subject but, far more importantly, the great beauty of their play too. The funny and charming maverick Vyacheslav Fetisov, the film's main focus, has a comet named after him. What more do you need to hear?



2. Foxcatcher

Bennet Miller not only made it three in row with his bleak, brilliant Foxcatcher but, with that great eye for the affluent American psyche, managed to improve on everything too. We expect awards tonight and many more come February. Full review here.



1. The Wonders

Oh the incomparable pleasure of the festival unknown. This writer entered the Salle Debussy with no knowledge of director Alice Rohrwacher, nor expectations of what her new film would bring, but left feeling transcendental and just plain old alive. An unexpected and devastating delight. Full-blooded, gushing review here.

L'Awards

Palme d'Or

Will: A near impossible call but twenty five year old Xavier Dolan's Mommy might just be ballsy enough to stand out from the crowd.

Should: The Wonders. Try and keep up.

Could: Anything from Mr. Turner, Leviathan, Foxcatcher or Winters Sleep

Grand Prix

Will: Mr. Turner

Should: Foxcatcher. Again, keep up.

Best Actor

Will: Steve Carell (Foxcatcher)

Should: Steve Carell (Foxcatcher)

Best Actress

Will: Marion Cotillard (Two Days, One Night)

Should: Marion Cotillard (Two Days, One Night)

L'Epilogue

Phew, well that's all folks. Off to skull a few overpriced domestic beers before the award show begins. Fingers will be crossed for Alice Rohrwacher (not to mention Athletico Madrid). Apologies for saturated news feeds and, as ever, thanks for tuning in. 

As this year’s competition tips over to its second half we find a set of brothers from Belgium punting for a third Palme d’Or. They won here with Rosetta in ’99 and again with L’Enfant in 2005, now Jon Pierre & Luc Dardenne return to the croisette with Deux jours, une nuit (Two Days, One Night), a starkly contemporary piece of social realism starring Marion Cotillard.

The concept is clear and the brothers set it up fast. We open on the casual, domestic Sandra (a plainly clad and brave Marion Cotillard). It’s Friday evening, she’s helping with dinner. She takes a call to tell her that she’s just lost her job; her colleagues apparently having voted to oust her in favour of their €1000 bonuses. She’s naturally distraught but quickly gets to work to change the tide. Her mate calls to say that the vote will be redone on Monday so Sandra sets out through the gauntlet to try convince a majority of her 16 workmates to forsake the cash so that she can stay on.

The game is obviously rigged. Lacking the legal footing to fire her straight out the employers have set a trap for their workers by claiming that the company can only afford to pay for one thing or the other. We learn Sandra has taken time off for her depression. We also learn the boss is continuing to sway votes. It’s a grubby business indeed but Sandra must soldier on. She seeks empathy over pity and tries her best to keep the meds at bay, while taking modicums of strength from her friends and family.

The blame of course rests on the bean-counters upstairs, but by extracting them from the equation the Dardennes force us instead to think elsewhere. It's a draining but fascinating exercise as we are requested to try on a host of other people’s shoes. We might think it easy to say where our vote would lie but life is just never that simple.

Two Days, One Night is a tight, contained piece of work that bears all the hallmarks of its master directors. It's packed with insights on our fundamental relationship with money but is, of course a starkly humanist effort at heart. A socially conscious and defiant film that celebrates the strength we all can give and take from everyday acts of kindness.

Last night Roger Ebert’s widow took to the stage to present a documentary on her late husband’s life. In her moving speech she referenced Ebert’s synonymous mantra of Cinema as the "empathy machine". This morning in the Salle Lumiere we found that machine humming along proudly in rude health.

Oh the mountain of must see movies and my humble attempts to scale it...

Progress will be compiled at the end of each month and the films are listed in order of preference.

Blissfully Yours

Apichatpong Weerasethakul (2002)

We begin by following a young Burmese man’s efforts to gain a work permit but when the man picks up his girlfriend from a local factory Weerasethakul, in his now signature move, decides to veer the whole film off course. We’re 40 minutes on when out of nowhere a Thai version of Summer Samba plays on the radio and the opening credits roll. We attempt to regain our footing but as the couple enter the forest- an often spiritual place in the director's films- the man suddenly begins to narrate. Then everything gets sexual. It should be gratuitous but it’s not. Both wonderful and baffling, it started a fruitful relationship between the Thai director and Europe's premier film festival.

Rosetta

Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne (1999)

We meet Rosetta: a 17 year old girl with an alcoholic mother and a caravan home. Deeply ashamed of it all Rosetta wants nothing more than to find a job, have a friend and be a ‘normal person’. The Dardenne Brothers handheld shot most of the film over their young heroine’s shoulder in order to plunge the viewer in a pool of empathy. This fresh technique coupled with Émilie Dequenne’s staggering debut performance and the realist subject matter at its core affected people to such a degree that Belgium established a teenage minimum wage as a result. It also bagged the brothers their first Palme D’or.

Blow Out

Brian DePalma (1981)

Brian DePalma transports Antonioni’s Blow Up to the sultry world of 80’s New York noir for this cheeky effort. John Travolta plays a slasher movie sound guy who witnesses a car crash into a river while out recording some samples. He bravely dives in to save a young woman’s life but emerges embroiled in a political conspiracy with the only clues to solving it on his rolls of tape. DePalma often looked the brat of New American Cinema and with Blow Out he seems to be relishing in that role. Murals of America’s forefathers seem to look down disapprovingly as a “Liberty Bell Strangler” kills off women. What’s more the film’s biggest sleaze ball- and that’s saying a lot- has his final moment shot from above as he lies in the position of the crucified Christ. Class-A messin’ indeed.

Blow Up

Michelangelo Antonioni (1966)

Unlike the hyper reality of the DePalma film which succeeded it, Anotonioni’s 1966 thriller is a much slicker affair. David Hemmings plays a deep-eyed fashion photographer who believes he has witnessed a murder. He finds two lovers in a local park and proceeds to take their photo but only when the black and white grains of film are enlarged does the sinister event begin to reveal itself. Antonioni indulges in some touristy behaviour here- his vignettes of swingin’ 60s London feeling vacant at times- but the director still has bags of style. Hemmings is slick and slimy in the lead role and though it may be less playful than DePalma’s homage, Blow Up does benefit from a little nonchalance and a welcome dollop of ambiguity.