This year’s Oscars saw the Coen Brothers receive their sixth screenwriting nomination for Bridge of Spies. It was a solid effort, mostly remarkable for being the first time in 30 years that someone else has directed one of their works and it not being a major letdown. But then again, Spielberg could turn just about anything into a Best Picture contender by his reputation alone.

The first attempt by the Coen Brothers handling just the screenplay credits was for Sam Raimi’s 1985 film Crimewave, which limped out on a limited release 30 years ago. Critics were not impressed. Vincent Canby of the New York Times tried to be nice, but couldn’t help noting that it was “not funny” and “dimly humorless”—and no-one went to see it. The film made just over $5,000 against its modest $2.5 million budget. (For comparison, the highest grossing film of 1986, Top Gun, made around $386 million versus a $15 million budget).

So now that Crimewave is three decades old, how does it stand up over time? I approached Crimewave aware of its reputation but hoping that it would play better now that we’re attuned to the Coen’s sense of humour. Unfortunately, it hasn’t aged well. All early Raimi movies have the same cartoony aesthetic, but Crimewave looks particularly cheesy, as if shot on left over sets from Police Squad. It has received some retrospective turd-polishing in certain circles—Slant Magazine awarded it four out of five stars, the same rating they gave The Big Lebowski.

Back in 1985, Crimewave must have sounded like a good idea at the time. Raimi was still hot after his debut (now cult classic) The Evil Dead, and Blood Simple announced the Coen’s as a remarkably precocious writing-producing-directing duo. Sometimes match-ups that look good on paper turn out to be stinkers—see the putrid chemistry vacuum of Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie in The Tourist.

Raimi’s hyperactive visual style would seem a great match for the Coen’s stylized dialogue, and some of the former’s directorial pizzazz bled over into the Coen’s earlier work. Yet the combination also failed in the Coen’s highest profile flop, The Hudsucker Proxy, where Raimi co-wrote and served as Second Unit Director. Tellingly, the Coen’s were working on the script for Hudsucker while Crimewave was in production, and both films share DNA with Raising Arizona at the zanier end of the Coen’s screenwriting spectrum. All three are postmodern spins on old Hollywood movies of the ’30s and ’40s that the Brothers love so much.

Crimewave starts well enough. Like Hudsucker, we meet our protagonist just as he is apparently about to meet his demise—Victor Ajax (Reed Birney) is a typical Coen-esque schlub dragged from his cell for a midnight date with the electric chair. Meanwhile, a carload of nuns race through the silent city streets to the rescue. Via flashback, we find out what led Victor to his perilous state. Ajax was once a regular joe installing security cameras for the Trend-Odegard security company. One partner—Mr. Trend—employs some repulsive contract killers to whack the other, Mr. Odegard. Through a series of woefully unfunny scenes Ajax falls in love with a femme fatale, butts heads with his love rival Renaldo (Bruce Campbell, a frequent Raimi associate), and ends up taking the fall for a series of murders committed by the unhinged exterminators.

Coen aficionados should enjoy some of the characters in Crimewave. The hitmen are the first in a series of big man-little man combos that would serve them so well, from John Goodman and William Forsythe in Raising Arizona to Goodman and Steve Buscemi in The Big Lebowski. This links in with a less appealing Coen trope, that of fat men screaming, hollering and shouting, which they like to work into any movie when they get the chance.

Otherwise, it’s a pretty juvenile and ugly exercise, and the pace of the film suffers from the studio’s intervention. Raimi was denied the final cut, and the editing is at odds with the director’s usual dynamism—even at a trim 83 minutes it plods terribly. Scenes drag on forever because the editing is so slack, exposing the weakness of the script. The screenplay is the real villain of the piece, with barely enough dialogue to get the characters from point A to B in a scene. It feels like a rough draft dashed off to set up the story’s structure, and got made into a movie by accident before the Coen’s could revise.

If it played faster they might have gotten away with the “jokes”, which are about as sophisticated as Stan and Ollie getting their hats mixed up. An example is a character walking into a broom closet instead of his apartment…that’s it, that’s the joke. These gags have whiskers on them, as someone in Hudsucker might say.

The only truly enjoyable part of the film is Bruce Campbell, making the most of slim pickings. Campbell was still a few years away from becoming a B-movie idol, but delivers the lines with his typical cult hero drollery. Raimi wanted Campbell for the lead, but the studio insisted on someone more “Hollywood”, resulting in the baffling casting of Birney as Ajax. He’s a completely insipid screen presence and the action grinds even further to a halt as he bumbles through his scenes. It’s the film equivalent of watching a stand up act die onstage.

After Crimewave flopped, Raimi retreated to his cabin in the woods to create Evil Dead II, one of the greatest sequels of all time. He would pare back his Loony Toon instincts to make his best film to date, A Simple Plan, and also helm one of the most emotionally satisfying superhero adaptations, Spiderman 2. Of course, the Coen’s career as filmmakers grew immensely over time, though it’s fascinating how they stuck to their guns with the same vein of wackiness in their next feature, Raising Arizona.

Crimewave is perhaps best remembered as a cautionary tale, carrying the whiff of hubris from three young filmmakers who perhaps felt they were too cool to fail. Careers have been ruined by less, and we can be thankful that Raimi and the Coen’s managed to survive after the unwatchable mess of this collaboration.

Although 2016 is not even halfway done, one of the year’s most affecting powerhouse performances has been making a quiet rumble in limited markets after hitting last year’s festival circuit. There are many confounding elements to unpack in Jia Zhangke’s Mountains May Depart, whether it be its framing methods or its extended prologue, but Zhao Tao’s masterful performance is what makes the film a momentous achievement for Zhangke’s career. Starting last year at Cannes, audiences have been immediately enthralled by the youthful and perky dance instructor who lights up the first sequence of Mountains May Depart. Where other actors would reduce Shen Tao, the character who happens to be named after the actress, to a charming simplicity, Zhao makes her character her own and embraces a whole range of characterizations and flaws that a woman would encounter in 25 tumultuous years of life.

Shen’s evolution through the film is visible through the three distinct acts that encompass Mountains May Depart. Her character grows in the short time spans that are presented as obstacles are thrown in front of her, but her maturation is increasingly visible in 1999, 2014 and 2025. Many characters affect Shen’s life through the years, but she commands the story and the screen. Despite Mountains May Depart’s point-of-view being omniscient, it lives through the eyes of Shen, and the film excels when the focus is on her. Zhao molds Shen into a fully fleshed out human with complex traits that follow her whole life while displaying a childlike wonderment, maternal jealousy, and sweet sentimentally in each respective time period.

In the first act, Zhao portrays Shen with an ingenuity and innocence. She is introduced with Liangzhi, portrayed by Jing Dong Liang, but she quickly hops over to Jinsheng, portrayed by Yi Zhang. Shen balances the two men in her life selfishly, picking between which one has more to offer her. Yet, because Zhao is such a master actress, Shen never comes off as unpleasant or less than endearing. In fact, this selfishness, which is present throughout the film, only paints her as more relatable and grounded.

Zhao plays Shen with a lot of reservation in the first act, whether it be about choosing a man or the way she takes in her surroundings. This reservation results in a quiet performance, full of nuances and gestures. Even as the two men have conversations, it is hard for one to take their eyes off of Shen—her eyes twinkle, her mouth twitches, her face engages. The performance is even realized in the tiniest moments, like when Shen softly hears a Cantonese song and is deeply affected by it. In many ways, Zhao diminishes Shen’s age. She represents youthfulness and abandonment, willing to live her own life no matter what comes her way.

In the second act, Shen is noticeably older and more demure, but her life is even more uncertain. Shen’s life takes a left turn between the two time periods, leaving her matured in both life experience and presence. At the opening of the second act, Zhao is often found with a soft smile that alludes to a deeper feeling of discontent.

It is the relationship with her son Dollar which really drives home the duality of Zhao’s performance. Zhao is given a chance to be more emotive in the second act since her sans souci attitude is replaced with grief. As the act progresses, Zhao opens herself up to hit the highs and lows of an emotionally susceptible woman, stuck between motherhood and daughterhood. Until Dollar becomes more involved in the story, Zhao always plays Shen as someone comfortable in her own skin, but she struggles as someone else takes a stronger grasp on her life. Zhao juggles a complicated combination of being a tyrannical matriarch and a tender mother. In the end, her care for Dollar is well portrayed, but it is as complex as her character.

In its third act, Mountains May Depart breaks away from Shen and Zhao to focus on Dollar and his father Liangzhi’s life in Australia in 2015. The last forty minutes are almost universally deemed the most turbulent part of the film due to the Zhangke and the actor’s unfamiliarity with the English language. More bothersome though is the absence of Shen, who didn’t experience the redemption her character deserved. Shen returns in the epilogue, which pays homage to the most tender moments of the film. Zhao illuminates the epilogue with a graciousness and subtlety, and Shen comes off naturally more aged, capable and refined, despite Zhao staying the same. The last scene doesn’t say much, but ties the film together with nostalgia and hope, and leaves room for the viewers to contemplate the timeless iridescences of Zhao’s performance.

Mountains May Depart is now out in limited theatrical release from Kino Lorber in the US and Films We Like in Canada. For a slightly different take, click here to read Michael Nazarewycz’s review of the film.

Cinema has had a rather ambivalent attitude towards rabbits. For every Thumper or Roger Rabbit, there’s at least five manifestations of the creepy little buggers capable of freaking an audience out. In celebration of the Easter Holidays, here’s a list of the scariest, most intimidating and blood-thirsty rabbits in movie history.

1. Rabbits in Night of the Lepus

Giant creatures running amok is a common staple of sci-fi horror, and it tends to work best when the monster is something that people already find disgusting or terrifying. Creepy-crawlies are especially effective in these types of movies. Making something bigger doesn’t necessarily make it scarier, and if the subject is relatively benign in the first place, the effect is comical—see Tomatoes, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, or Daryl Hannah. Rabbits fall into the latter category, and Janet “I was in Psycho once” Leigh and DeForest “Spock’s Mate” Kelley face off against genetically modified, flesh-gnawing bunnies in this notorious sci-fi stinker. The makers unwisely chose to ignore the humour present in Russell Braddon’s source novel, The Night of the Angry Rabbit, playing it deliriously straight-faced.

As later films in this list will show, rabbits really can be scary. However, opening the hutch and filming a bunch of nibbly cottontails hopping around a miniature town set with ketchup on their fur just doesn’t cut it. A must see for connoisseurs of bad movies.

2. Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog in Monty Python and the Holy Grail

A few years after the Night of the Lepus debacle, the Monty Python boys got it right with their killer rabbit, a fluffy white bunny capable of taking out an entire phalanx of errant knights.

3. March Hare in Dreamchild

The ’80s was a golden period of creativity for Jim Henson’s Creature Shop, providing memorably grotesque characters in fantasy classics like The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth. They also provided the sinister muppets for Dreamchild, a sensitive and little-seen tale of the elderly Alice Liddell, the inspiration for Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.

She’s off to America to pick up an honorary degree on the centenary of Carroll’s birth, and as her journey progresses, she hallucinates about the iconic characters that have haunted her whole life.

Alice has been adapted dozens of times, but few films capture the essence of John Tenniel’s indelible illustrations as well as Dreamchild. The denizens of Wonderland are a forlorn menagerie, castaways on a literary desert island from far-flung shores as diverse as nursery rhymes (Humpty Dumpty) and heraldry (The Gryphon). The film’s most memorable scene is the Mad Hatter’s tea party, featuring a mangy, insane rendition of the March Hare. Kids should stick to Disney.

4. Jack, Suzie and Jane in Rabbits

David Lynch explores his love of ’50s kitsch in this deeply bizarre “sitcom”, featuring three anthropomorphised rabbits on a shadowy, single set. Their activities are accompanied by an incongruous tinned laugh track, as the characters flatly delivering their lines completely out of order. The most disturbing aspect of this avant garde headfuck is the otherworldly stillness of the rabbits—while many strange things occur, nothing quite matches the stifling horror of the opening scene. One rabbit silently irons clothes while another sits motionless on the sofa, looking out at the audience. Brown trousers time, for no quantifiable reason.

5. Rabbit-Man in Sexy Beast

Jonathan Glazer’s quirky, sun-drenched gangster flick is memorable for many reasons, not least Sir Ben Kingsley’s demented turn as potty-mouthed nutjob Don Logan (he drops the C-bomb 21 times in the movie, but it feels more like 200). It’s disturbing enough seeing retired bank robber Gal (Ray Winstone) in a pair of budgie-smugglers, yet even that pales in comparison to the hellish Rabbit Man that stalks his nightmares. With a bearing of infinite malice, the creature rides into frame on a donkey, wielding an uzi.

6. Frank in Donnie Darko

There are few more unsettling images in 21st century cinema than Frank, Donnie Darko’s mysterious guide in Richard Kelly’s time-addled mindbender. It’s just a guy in a mask, but there’s something about the mask and his silent demeanour that chills you to the bone. Could it be the twisted ears, the vacant eyes, or the ghoulishly grinning buck teeth? Or all of the above? The Frank mask feels so unnaturally perverse that he unnerves you every moment that he’s on the screen.

7. General Woundwort in Watership Down

One of the most traumatic experiences growing up in ’80s Britain was exposure to Watership Down. It was perhaps the most mis-certified films of all time, declared “suitable for all ages” by the usually stringent BBFC. This resulted in a whole generation scarred for life by scenes of a rabbit warren ploughed over in rivers of blood, rabbits choking to death in snares, rabbits ripped to shreds by vicious dogs, and one of cinema’s greatest bogeymen—or bogeyrabbits—General Woundwort. The graphic violence stands in stark counterpoint to the idyllic watercolour backdrops and Art Garfunkel on the soundtrack.

Woundwort is a wonderful screen villain, the despotic leader of the shadowy Efrafra warren, pursuing the heroes across the gently rolling landscape in their search for a safe haven. With his milky blind eye and growling countenance, he’s a curious mix of Churchill’s indefatigable bluster and Hitler’s insidious dogmatism. When he launches into his final showdown with a ferocious farm dog, we believe that he stands at least half a chance.

On March 18th, Jeff Nichols’ Midnight Special hits theaters. The film, which follows a boy with supernatural abilities getting hunted down by various groups eager to study or exploit him, is a major departure from the rest of Nichols’ filmography. With Shotgun Stories, Take Shelter, and Mud, Nichols showed an interest in small, modest-scaled dramas about internal (Take Shelter) and external (Shotgun Stories) battles in the Southern United States. Now, Nichols has elevated himself to a different, bigger stage: Midnight Special is a full-on, big-budget (compared to his earlier films, that is) sci-fi that has already received comparisons to Steven Spielberg’s work.

Nichols is far from the first director to make a film outside their perceived wheelhouse, and in anticipation of Midnight Special’s release, we decided to come up with our favorite examples of directors who made a successful shift into new, exciting territory. Read our eleven picks below, and let us know if you agree, disagree, or think we’re missing any directors who deserve to be on this list.

Favorite Directorial Left Turns

Babe: Pig in the City (George Miller)

Although respectable, George Miller’s post-Mad Max fare—such as The Witches of Eastwick and Lorenzo’s Oil—hardly built on the promise of his influential post-apocalyptic trilogy. In the mid-nineties, Miller’s career took an abrupt change of direction, co-writing and producing the surprise Best Picture nominee Babe (losing out to the far inferior Braveheart). The talking pig was a huge success, and a few years later Miller directed the sequel.

Babe: Pig in the City is far darker in tone than the cozy, bucolic original. Miller pulls out all the stops, creating a trippy atmosphere for his menagerie of chatty creatures, including mice, chimps, pelicans and Mickey Rooney. Ostensibly a family film, it has the bug-eyed intensity of his Nightmare at 20,000 Feet segment in Twilight Zone: The Movie and the baroque imagination of Mad Max: Fury Road. Miller’s lengthy excursion into family film continued with the hit Happy Feet and its sequel, featuring CGI dancing penguins. And just when the scorched landscape of “Mad” Max Rockatansky seemed a distant memory, Miller took another turn onto Fury Road. [Lee]

Bernie (Richard Linklater)

Richard Linklater has always been partial to his home state of Texas, but in his 2011 flick, Bernie, Linklater embraced the east Texas legend of Marjorie “Marge” Nugent’s murder. Linklater’s career is marked with a variety of genres from relatable dramas such as Boyhood and the Before Trilogy to airy comedies like Dazed and Confused, but Bernie served as his only venture into a crime-driven black comedy. Yet, Linklater’s expertise in the understanding of the human condition is manifested in his sympathetic portrayal of Bernie and the often insufferable Marge. Bernie combines many of the elements that make Linklater’s films so beloved, but the presentation is wildly unique. The film combines mockumentary with documentary and comedy with drama in a way that is coherent and captivating. And while Bernie stands out from the rest of Linklater’s work, the quirks present in Bernie are exaggerations of quirks from the rest of Linklater’s filmography, and that is what makes the film such a treat. It’s a departure from the Linklater status quo, but it also represents an artistic evolution and a love letter to rural Texas. [Tanner]

The Big Short (Adam McKay)

The ’60s had the Rat Pack, the ’80s had the Brat Pack, and the ’00s have the Frat Pack, with the likes of Will Ferrell, Vince Vaughn, and Steve Carell in its ranks. One of the key architects of the Frat Pack oeuvre is Adam McKay, writer/director of the Anchorman films, Step Brothers, Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, and The Other Guys. You see the pattern. Going off this previous directorial resume, McKay’s doesn’t suggest very much depth. But with his latest effort, The Big Short, he detours from the usual big-laughs-from-little-substance path and takes on material as dense as one can get for a major motion picture: the bursting of the US housing market bubble, and subsequent global economic crisis, that occurred in the mid-2000s. It’s dry, complicated stuff that is plagued by its own jargon-riddled language. McKay (who also co-wrote) presents his smartest humor to date, but also makes the material easy to understand, keeping the film moving at a brisk pace and making brilliant creative decisions—such as fourth wall-breaking and pop-up tutorials conducted by surprise celebrity cameos. The Big Short earned the accolades it received during awards season, and McKay has earned a spot on the list of directors to pay attention to for more than just silly comedies. [Michael]

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Alfonso Cuarón)

Alfonso Cuarón wasn’t necessarily a stranger to children’s film when he took on the third Harry Potter franchise film, nor to Warner Brothers. He’d directed 1995’s A Little Princess, also a darker toned tale of a child orphan making their way in the world. So while Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban may not have felt like a left turn for him, for those who think of Y Tu Mamá También when they hear his name, the jump from a horny coming-of-age road trip film to a beloved magical series was jolting. But it isn’t really if one thinks about it. Picking up where Chris Columbus left off in the first two films, Cuarón picked the perfect film of the series to take on. This is where Harry’s journey gets remarkably dark, with his family’s past and secrets he was formerly too young to grasp finally get revealed. He has to choose to face the threats that heretofore came looking for him, AND turn 13. Scary stuff. Cuarón gave the film much needed relevancy, having characters wear modern clothing and letting them interact more with the non-magical world. He gave the Harry Potter series the backbone it lacked and a magic that felt more enticing, simultaneously pleasing book fans and pulling in those who’d previously written the series off as kid stuff. Cuarón knows how to get hearts pumping (Gravity) and feelings flowing (Children of Men), and his approach was a huge success for what is now among the top five film franchises in history. [Ananda]

Hugo (Martin Scorsese)

Roger Ebert opened his review of Martin Scorsese’s 2011 film with the line, “Hugo is unlike any other film Martin Scorsese has ever made.” As a director who’s known for his gritty gangster films (Goodfellas, The Departed, Gangs of New York), Scorsese threw a curveball at audiences by making a big-budget family film. In his extensive filmography, the director has only made a handful of PG-rated films, and none (that I can recall) featuring young children as lead characters. But the main reason why Hugo marked such a huge departure for Scorsese was that it was filmed in 3D, a medium often thought to be gimmicky, especially for a filmmaker who is such a strong advocate for preserving traditional film. But it’s easy to see why he made Hugo considering it’s a love letter to cinema, featuring storylines involving early pioneers of film like Georges Melies and the Lumiere brothers. Scorsese shows how those directors experimented with special effects during the early years of film, and it suddenly dawns on you why he decided to make Hugo in 3D. And to top it off, he adds a great message about the importance of preserving film. It’s rare that a filmmaker can make a film like this; one that’s so close to their heart, so much different than their previous work, and yet be easily accessible to every age group. Hugo is that film. [Dustin]

Li’l Quinquin (Bruno Dumont)

Early on in his career, Bruno Dumont was labelled as an enfant terrible for several reasons: showing unsimulated sex scenes in his films, using sudden, brutal violence, a rigid form that can drive people mad or put them to sleep, and an ability to generate provocative questions about hot button issues like religion and spirituality. Since 2011, after his underrated Hors Satan flopped with critics and audiences, he underwent a bit of a change. His follow-up, Camille Claudel 1915, starred Juliette Binoche, a surprise given his preference to work with unprofessional actors. But it wasn’t until 2014 that Dumont would make his biggest shift yet with Li’l Quinquin, a TV miniseries about detectives trying to find a serial killer in the French countryside. The series marks Dumont’s first attempt at making an outright comedy, and it works like gangbusters (some sequences in here are so unhinged it’s impossible not to choke from laughter). But the biggest surprise of all was that Li’l Quinquin turned out to be Dumont’s biggest success to date, smashing TV rating records in France and getting renewed for a second season. While it’s a definitely left turn for the director, it’s the furthest thing from a compromise, and Quinquin will hopefully mark the beginning of a new, more exciting phase in Dumont’s career. [C.J.]

Spring Breakers (Harmony Korine)

Before the release of the star-studded and fluidly structured Spring Breakers, Harmony Korine wasn’t well-known to general audiences. His filmography had been comprised of works like the deeply strange Gummo, the minimalist but bigger-budgeted Mr. Lonely and the chaotic, dadaist Trash Humpers. Korine wouldn’t go on to direct another film until almost half a decade later, and when he would, he wouldn’t be returning to execute Spring Breakers with the deceptively simple formal qualities of his previous three features. Instead, he hired Benoit Debie (primarily known for his collaborations with Gaspar Noé) as his cinematographer, gathered composer Cliff Martinez and popular dubstep artist Skrillex to work on the score, and cast household celebrities such as James Franco, Selena Gomez, Vanessa Hudgens & Ashley Benson to co-star alongside his wife, Rachel Korine. The end result is a pure sensory overload, constituted by a rich color palette, a free-flowing camera and editing style, and some of the sharpest social commentary to emerge from the American film scene in years, if not decades. [Eli]

The Straight Story (David Lynch)

David Lynch has cemented himself as one of the most idiosyncratic filmmakers of our time, tainting our eyeballs with visions of severed ears in the grass, people-sized rabbits doing chores, and Dennis Hopper spitting and spluttering like a loon. Lynch’s films are about as weird as they come, but when asked, the director called his G-rated 1999 heartland drama The Straight Story his “most experimental film.” While it sounds strange at first listen, in the context of the nightmarish sprawl that is his larger oeuvre, the assertation rings loud and true. Nearly every aspect of the film is antithetic to the core concepts of his other works: instead of smashing Americana to pieces, he celebrates it; rather than delivering shocks of violence and sex, the movie is squeaky clean and has no artsy tricks up its sleeve. Richard Farnsworth, in his Oscar-nominated final performance, plays Alvin Straight, an aging man who travels 320 miles from Iowa to Wisconsin on his John Deere (only in Lynchian context is this part bit considered “not weird”) to see his dying brother. Lynch’s broodiness is eschewed here, his visual flair instead working in support of a sweeping road story of love and devotion set along the cornfields and foothills of the good ol’ U.S. of A. Surprisingly, the film has Lynch’s fingerprints all over it despite the conventional tone and narrative. For a one-time affair, the wavy-haired madman plays it straight, and it works astonishingly well. [Bernard]

The Wind Rises (Hayao Miyazaki)

Hayao Miyazaki, the creator of films such as Spirited Away and My Neighbour Totoro, is best known for his beautiful depictions of fantasy and ability to bring imaginary worlds to life on screen. Therefore, The Wind Rises comes as an unusual project from the Japanese animator, acting as a realistic piece of fiction whilst enfolding historical events into its narrative. It’s a fictional biography of Jiro Horikoshi, the designer of the Japanese Zero fighter plane in World War II, and yet it focuses mostly on Jiro’s dreams of flying, rather than the grim realities of his creations. From its terrifying rendering of the Great Kanto earthquake in 1923 to its frequent references to Japan’s involvement in the Second World War, the film is never unaware of its exact place in history. However, The Wind Rises never allows this history to overshadow its message about inventions and possibilities. All the more interesting is the film’s place as Miyazaki’s final feature film, inevitably creating a parallel between himself and the young Jiro, both of whom are artists at their core; men with creative aspirations, but whose works are bound to be consumed in ways they did not intend. Reviews suggest that The Wind Rises is not critical enough of a man who designed machines for war, and yet Miyazaki’s films—often considered children’s tales—have always had a moral message. It seems his final film is a reminder that, once a creation leaves its author’s hands, its fate is as much our responsibility as it is theirs. [Pavi]

The Wrestler (Darren Aronofsky)

Prior to 2008, Darren Aronofsky had established a consistently heady, kaleidoscopic aesthetic in his work. From the Lynchian surrealism of Pi to the hyperkinetic chaos and visceral impact of Requiem for a Dream to the ambitious, centuries-spanning spiritual epic that was The Fountain, one might’ve thought they had him pegged down as a filmmaker. However, while The Wrestler certainly carries a few subtle hallmarks of Aronofsky’s style and thematic interests, it’s a more stripped-down, genuinely gritty picture than anything the director has attempted before (or since).

A tale of has-beens and former glory is concentrated in the figure of Randy “the Ram” Robinson, a once-famous professional wrestler who has fallen into obscurity. He lives in a trailer, works a menial, unfulfilling job and only finds consolation in his small-time weekend wrestling gigs or in the sympathetic arms of a similarly broken-down stripper. Such a familiar type of story is imbued with refreshing nuance by Mickey Rourke’s unflinching, honest performance and Aronofsky’s neorealist approach. If there was any doubt that the director could make a film expressing unglamorous realities and raw human truths without the stimulation of technical dazzle and flamboyant flourishes, this movie surely puts those concerns to rest. Despite it being a bit of an anomaly in Aronofsky’s career, The Wrestler might just be his greatest work to date. [Byron]

X-Men (Bryan Singer)

Since Jeff Nichols’ latest studio venture has inspired this feature, I’ve chosen another all-American director, who was also in his mid-30s when he made the quantum leap from small scales and modest budgets by hitting the sci-fi switch. Bryan Singer’s big break came with cult classic crime thriller The Usual Suspects in 1995 where an award-winning screenplay and unforgettable performances bolstered the director’s work enough for 20th Century Fox to have a meeting about it. The character-driven student-teacher Stephen King drama Apt Pupil came next in 1998, but Fox had reportedly already approached Singer for X-Men. He turned it down, made Apt Pupil instead, was courted again—this time by good friend Tom DeSanto—only to finally sign on and set the course for the modern film age of superhero dominance we’re currently (suffering) in.

For the first time in his career, Singer worked with special effects, a budget of $75 million, and in the Sci-Fi sandbox where comic book fandom reigns. And boy did he make it work. It’s near-impossible to measure the magnitude of the aftershock this movie created, after grossing over $200 million at the box-office. Hugh Jackman became a star, studios realized that comic book property was a gold mine they could finally tap into, and Singer made such a triumphantly left turn from chamber dramas to splashy blockbusters, he’s never hard to turn right again. By no means the best superhero film, X-Men is still a perfectly entertaining spectacle that turned its director into one of the best comic book helmers working today. I very much doubt Nichols will make the same impact. [Nik]

When examining two artists’ work, writers rarely consider jumping across the media barrier to study themes and trends in art as a whole. Artistry isn’t limited to one form of multimedia, and auteurism can be examined between novelists, filmmakers, musicians, and/or playwrights. After listening to Kanye West’s The Life of Pablo and watching Terrence Malick’s Knight of Cups, I couldn’t help noticing similarities in the static energy of both projects, whose many moving parts turned into commotion. Although Malick and West’s creative processes are worlds apart, their evolution as artists can be seen as parallel as they explore spirituality, perfection and challenge the notions of art itself in their polarizing careers. But when comparing their recent output, it seems that they have taken one step beyond the apex of their highest artistic potential. The Life of Pablo and Knight of Cups are problematic works due to how involved they are in their own space, whether it be Malick’s cold, dreamy world or West’s personal heaven—empty of consequences. Both projects present a false sense of grandeur that falls apart on the principle of a weak foundation.

The titles of both The Life of Pablo and Knight of Cups allude to conceptually grand pieces doused in imagery and inspiration. After many assumed that West’s album was alluding to Pablo Picasso or Pablo Escobar, it was a bit of a surprise when West hinted that the titular Pablo may be St. Paul the Apostle. Yet, despite what the album promises, The Life of Pablo gives very little insight into the life of any Pablo, whether it be Picasso, Escobar, the Apostle or an alter-ego of West. In fact, the album meanders from track to track in a shallow and sometimes chaotic way. My first concern when listening to the much tighter 10-track album that premiered at Madison Square Garden was that Pablo wasn’t conceptually innovative unlike Yeezus or My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. That concern is even more grounded in the final album, which includes a lot of songs that feel like bonus tracks.

Knight of Cups central idea is much clearer, but not necessarily better in execution. Malick uses tarot card readings to characterize and split his film into chapters. The Knight of Cups tarot card comes from the “Minor Arcana” deck; when the card is upright it represents opportunities, changes, and new romances, but when the card is turned downward it represents recklessness and a person who has trouble distinguishing right from wrong. Knight of Cups follows Rick as he attempts to flip his attributes while meeting other individuals who represent different cards from the deck. Each of the first seven chapters, all named after a card in the Major Arcana deck, show Rick meandering between romantic flings and family members before finding his inner peace. His turmoil is cleared in the eighth chapter, called “Freedom.” Here, the tarot card concept comes to an abrupt halt—“Freedom” isn’t even a tarot card, yet many of the unused cards could’ve represented the same ideas of Malick’s final chapter. Ultimately, Malick captures the ideas of the cards as superficially as West creates a “Life” for any of his titular “Pablos.” Both works are sprawling and sometimes random, but they’re missing a central, cohesive idea. Though the works never hit a conceptual grandeur, they aren’t thoughtless and have some conceptual ingenuity.

When Knight of Cups and The Life of Pablo reach their thematic potential, they often focus on the same things: spirituality and a quest for perfection or redemption. These are some of the same themes that Malick and Kanye have tackled throughout their careers.

Malick’s work has always been upheld with inspiration from spirituality and religion. The Tree of Life is the epitome of his theological questioning, but To The Wonder and Knight of Cups also examine religion in their exploration of men lost in the worlds they inhabit. Knight of Cups’ spirituality and mystery doesn’t always lend itself to Christianity, but its opening lines come from The Pilgrim’s Progress, a Christian allegory written in 1678 by John Bunyan.

West isn’t unfamiliar to large productions sampling from a multitude of sources; speeches, sermons, and classic songs show up in some form or another throughout The Life of Pablo, along with dozens of other samples. The Life is Pablo’s opening track is “Ultralight Beam,” the most holistic and singular song of the album, which borrows from an Instagram post of a little girl saying, “We don’t want no devils in the house, God.” These words, which open the album, are unexpected from a rap album or a Kanye West album, but they mark a message that is revisited multiple times on The Life of Pablo. “Ultralight Beam” continues in a spiritual direction and, at times, nearly breaks into full gospel, whether it’s because of lyrical content or an actual gospel choir.

In relation to spirituality, West and Malick also explore a divinity in their own characters or personas. In the rap community, West is sometimes viewed as a god. This maybe indicates why The Life of Pablo features an enormous amount of other performers—work from his “disciples.” And while West has stated he’s a Christian, it’s a statement that comes with controversy after tracks like “Jesus Walks” and his album Yeezus, where West often paints himself as a false profit.

On the other hand, Malick takes no claim to be a god among men, but a theme throughout his work is a quest for perfection. This could manifest in striving for a perfect marriage in To The Wonder; a perfect walk with God in The Tree of Life; or Rick’s journey for divinity in Hollywood while finding redemption in Knight of Cups. At Malick’s best, his characters are human and their wonderings are relatable, but this theme of perfection actually provides ammunition to his detractors. Christian Bale wandering through Los Angeles meeting with countless women is, understandably, seen as pretentious and not insightful to the real everyman. Ben Affleck searching for true love through Rachel McAdams or Olga Kurylenko amid airy whispers in To The Wonder comes off as equally shallow and disengaged.

The Life of Pablo and Knight of Cups are hugely spiritual works, albeit in hugely different ways. West’s inward spiritual examination is more on the nose and ironic than Malick’s, yet it is clear that West and Malick take inspiration from a theistic entity—presumably a Christian one—that drives them into exploring divinity or the futility of perfection, respectively. As strong as these ideas were in previous Malick and West joints, it is hard for me to perceive their recent outputs as anything but slight.

Once upon a time, I wasn’t just a casual fan of West and Malick’s work, but their latest offerings have left me questioning their visions and career trajectories. My biggest complaints about their latest work actually relate back to the way the artists react with their audiences when they aren’t behind a camera or a microphone.

Malick’s dissociation from the public eye is evident in his most detached work yet. With Knight of Cups, Malick has lost the touch and understanding of the human condition that actually drove his earlier works. Instead of capturing a relatable story with real characters, Knight of Cups meanders and searches, but the exploration is never more than a surface deep perspective of an uninteresting man.

On the other hand, The Life of Pablo is an album of the moment that’s caught up in the zeitgeist. This is as much of reflection of West’s inward interests as it is a reflection of his every (unfiltered) thought. At times, The Life of Pablo becomes a misaligned musical rant that throws too many half-fleshed out ideas in the form of samples and guests instead of coherence and quality. The album, at its worst, could be compared to West’s twitter persona—scatterbrained, both musically and lyrically.

The Life of Pablo and Knight of Cups both reach moments of grandeur, but these moments only point to a greatness that is usually absent throughout the rest of their works. My initial response to The Life of Pablo was mixed, and as I continue to listen to the album I find it more problematic (but that still hasn’t stopped me from listening). Inversely, my only viewing of Knight of Cups was a chore that left me bored and irritated, but I find myself thinking about it more often than I anticipated.

At the heart of both works is a problem with auteurism. I have previously mentioned that both pieces serve as the strongest sense of vision from the artist, but this vision doesn’t translate into a language most audiences can understand or necessarily want to hear. Yet, on the other side of the spectrum, auteurism bolsters the careers of West and Malick, driving the creativity in both of their recent outputs. The Life of Pablo and Knight of Cups don’t work due to a lack of effort; Malick and West’s visions get lost on a large portion of their intended audience because they are too consumed in their own art.

With the award season officially over (and Leo finally has that Oscar), we’re now settling into the doldrums of the early season fare. And what better way to dirty up your palate than a couple of back-to-back Gerard Butler stinkers, Gods of Egypt and London Has Fallen?

But I must make a confession: Gerard Butler is one of my guilty pleasures. He’s an intelligent man who has a reputation for appearing in terrible movies, most of which have a nasty, insalubrious edge to them. Compared to the other classically handsome, well-dressed leading men that largely populate multiplexes these days, Butler is a bit rougher. His glowering appearance gives him a disreputable air onscreen, often portraying an unreconstructed ladies’ man, so macho that he will start a take clean shaven and finish it fully bearded.

His saving grace is that he flings himself wholeheartedly at any role, and is usually the best part of any dross that he’s starring in. Having blown his law career as a younger man, he chanced his arm at acting and is now headlining big, dumb Hollywood blockbusters. He makes no apology for that, which is his most endearing quality. He gives the impression of a man, now unencumbered by normal life, living the dream for all the geeks out there who ever fancied themselves as a movie star.

Let’s take a look at some of Butler’s greatest…ugh…hits.

1. Phantom of the Opera (Joel Schumacher, 2004)

This hot-and-heavy adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s stage musical megahit is a nostalgia piece, blasting you back into the ’80s from the first cheesy guitar riff of the title tune. The film looks like a bordello bedroom, with Schumacher lavishly spending much of the film’s substantial budget on gaudy costumes and extravagant set pieces. That’s a good thing, and frankly I think all films should include a falling chandelier.

Butler plays LeRoux’s Phantom as a murderous stalker, looking like he genuinely can’t wait to get his big hairy hands all over co-star Emmy Rossum’s supple young body. Under the lascivious direction of Schumacher, the starlet gives as good as she gets, giving Butler both barrels of a “let’s get it on” stare in most of their scenes. She also wears lots of frocks that fall down at the shoulder whenever she gets excited.

2. 300 (Zack Snyder, 2007)

Butler’s major breakthrough and most iconic performance came in Zack Snyder’s highly stylized interpretation of Frank Miller’s comic. He plays King Leonidas, a fierce Greek warrior who leads the legendary 300 Spartan troops into battle against the vast invading army of a decadent Persian pervert. 300 is infamously homoerotic, and Butler’s the straightest thing on the screen. He channels Brian Blessed as the noble king, maintaining his dignity despite spending much of the film dressed in red underpants. If your eyes can take the artifice of Snyder’s vision, it’s a true spectacle, and nothing can undermine the rousing nature of the old myth.

3. P.S. I Love You (Richard LaGravenese, 2007)

Another big hit for Butler in this club-footed and contrived chick flick. Butler play Gerry, an Oirish fella married to Holly (Hilary Swank). After Gerry dies suddenly, Holly is guided by a series of letters penned by her deceased hubby before his untimely departure, encouraging her to start living again.

Part of Holly’s journey takes her to Gerry’s homeland, shot like a Guinness commercial. Her potential new love interests include an Irish pub singer who looks creepily like Butler, and a mentally unbalanced Harry Connick Jr. This is queasy, unintelligible guff.

4. The Ugly Truth (Robert Luketic, 2009)

The pitch for this gravely misconceived rom-com could be: what if a man who hates women falls for a woman who hates herself? Butler plays Mike, the misogynist host of a crass relationship TV show for guys. His shtick is a little like a blue collar version of T.J. Mackie from Magnolia, without the good writing. He ends up butting heads and eventually bumping uglies with his new producer, Abby (Katherine Heigl), a shrieking, neurotic, self-hating woman-child. Despite her initial gag-reflex at Mike’s antics, she can’t help falling for his masculine “charms”. Together, they’re the most unappealing romantic pairing since Fred and Rosemary West.

5. Gamer (Mark Neveldine & Brian Taylor, 2009)

Although almost universally panned by critics, Gamer has a lot going for it. It’s a slick, brutal piece of business, combining elements of The Running Man and The Last Starfighter, imagining an all too plausible dystopia where people play video games using real-life avatars.

Butler plays Kable, a death row inmate controlled by a kid in an ultraviolent Call of Duty-esque shoot em up, which is televised to huge, baying audiences. Kable’s wife is trapped in a Sims-like game called Society, where closet rapists get to play out their most craven desires with living, breathing sprites from behind their semen-and-Dorito-dust encrusted keyboards.

Butler’s Kable is a typical Butler-esque action hero: a wronged man seeking retribution by murdering lots of people in a grisly fashion.

6. Law Abiding Citizen (F Gary Gray, 2009)

A throwback to the hackneyed Nineties trope of a criminal mastermind pulling the strings from behind bars. The moral centre of this gratuitously violent thriller feels a little off—Butler’s architect Clyde Shelton should be the protagonist, having witnessed his wife and daughter’s murder at the hands of two scuzzy home invaders. Thanks to a convoluted and far-fetched script, Law Abiding Citizen manages to turn him into a sadistic maniac orchestrating a series of gruesome murders from his cell.

7. Olympus Has Fallen (Antoine Fuqua, 2013)

Cruel, humorless and xenophobic, Olympus Has Fallen is a despicable piece of Right Wing trash. The dastardly North Koreans take over the White House in a spectacular bloodbath, holding Aaron Eckhart’s snivelling President hostage. The crux of the villain’s plan is that Americans won’t be able to tell evil North Koreans apart from kindly South Koreans. Bloody foreigners, all look alike!

Luckily, Butler’s special agent Mike Banning is on hand to save the day, with his penchant for stabbing people in the head. The whole film has a morbid fascination with massive head trauma, with countless skulls popped. Banning even tells the lead baddie to keep one bullet for himself, because otherwise Banning’s going to knife him in the brain. Perhaps that’s the best thing for him, because surely any terrorist ready to take time out from an all-out assault on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to shoot up the stars and stripes must truly hate freedom, and deserves a length of cold steel driven into his cranium.

During a Screenwriters Lab at the Sun Valley Film Festival, Mark Duplass was introduced to the stage by a moderator as (what Variety calls) a hyphenated individual: Writer-Director-Actor-Producer. Mark’s story begins as many filmmaker’s do—grabbing his parent’s video camera and “fooling” around with his brother, Jay. Eventually, they shot what Mark calls a “Five Dollar Short,” called This is John, and submitted to festivals. The film was well received, so the two brothers went on to make their first feature, The Puffy Chair, which premiered at the 2005 Sundance Film Festival, and the rest is history.

Or is it…

Mark Duplass exists—no, thrives—in a realm many indie filmmakers dream to be: making the movies he wants to do (often with his inner-circle of friends). People respect him for it. More importantly (though some in the indie world may disagree) he makes good money doing it. What is the secret? How does he succeed where so many fail? While luck and abilities certainly play in, the real answer is economics and Mark’s ability to make films frequently and on the cheap.

Many filmmakers who grew to fame in the 90’s have been forced to adapt to the model Mark was brought up under. There is a strong parallel between Mark and Edward Burns (The Brothers McMullen, Saving Private Ryan). Ed Burns rose as an indie writer-director-writer-producer. He had huge hits in McMullen and She’s The One. He went on to act in studio films—however, production woes forced Ed to make a jump from $3 million films to the world of $125,000 nano-budgets; the world Mark grew up in. Both—after mastering this low budget field—now produce and star in their own network TV shows.

Ed was able to adapt—realizing that if a film can be made on the cheap, but maintain its quality in story and character, there is a stronger likelihood of walking away with a few dollars in the bank and a body of work to be proud of. Afterall, if a film only earns $600,000 on iTunes, but only cost $150,000 to make, that’s about as close to a home run as you can get (as opposed to a $3 million earning $600,000 and suddenly careers are on the line).

This is by no means a new approach. It’s the Roger Corman model, and has allowed Roger to produce over 300 films in his career—with nearly every single one turning a profit. A track record that is almost unheard of in the studio/low budget realm ($1.5-$10 million), but thrives in the micro-budget world.

But in the world of nickel and dime filmmaking, the million dollar question remains: “How do I do it?”

Here are some excerpts (paraphrased and reworded) from Mark’s talk at Sun Valley. You can hear the entirety of his 50-minute talk at the bottom or listen to it here.

#1 Write. Write Anything. Just Write.

We all have that idea in our minds that is sure to be the next big thing. It’s big though, and bound to be expensive. If you are a first time filmmaker (or even a veteran), how can one possibly attain the funding and crew to bring the idea to life? After all, a wartime drama on the new frontier of Mars can’t be made for money in the piggy bank without looking like a poorly executed homage to Ed Wood.

Mark’s solution is to JUST WRITE. Just write it! Get it out and on paper. Give it life—understand what it looks like—and then put it away and write the version of the story that can be shot in your friend’s mom’s kitchen. The root of any story is character, followed closely by conflict. If you understand these two elements within your writing then the story can be produced anywhere. Make it real—make it YOU. Setting is a luxury you can work towards later, but there is a reason Shakespeare can exist anywhere: from the moors of England, to the African safari, to the halls of an American high school; it’s because the characters and conflicts are strong and timeless (and he wrote it instead of thinking about it).

#2 Practice is Cheap

It’s scary to think the words you write can only be tested when executed. Words on a page are very different from words on a screen. Mark’s advice for getting started is to find a scene from your life—something personal that you respond to—and write it. Real moments play out, and provide a means to invest yourself into the words. Write a 3 or 4-minute scene and shoot it on your phone. Show the scene to people you trust for feedback. If it sucks, it’s fine because it cost nothing to do and you are not out anything. Take your notes from the scene, rewrite for the notes, and shoot it again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Practice will never make perfect (there’s no such thing as a perfect film), but it will always may you better. Eventually, understanding how to write for the screen (sometimes known as screenwriting) will come as second nature once you have the chance to see the words performed as often as possible.

#3 Short film or Feature?

Again, this is a matter of economics. Do you have $5 or $10,000? These were the numbers most often referenced by Mark. We live in a world of incredible technology, which truly puts the tools back into the hands of the artists. You can make a film on your phone (or a very good camera for a couple hundred bucks). The road to longevity in this field is through finding a way to stay profitable (which making money is strangely similar to not losing money). If you are going to do a short, don’t spend a lot of money on it. Use the short as an opportunity to hone your storytelling skills.

This is a very bold statement: $10,000 isn’t that hard to get. That can be covered by a credit card, or by borrowing/begging from people you know (or not buying a cup of coffee every day for 5.4 years). IF/WHEN you are able to get that 10 thousand, do a feature, because you can easily earn it back through transactional VOD outlets. A 10k feature will also showcase your abilities as a storyteller and filmmaker much more than a 10k short, plus it offers you the ability to earn it back.

#4 Get Good People

$10,000 for a feature? Really? Yes. The secret to anything—especially film—is to surround yourself with good people. Mark runs in a very tight group. He works with his brother, his wife, his friends. He works with people who believe and support him, and who also strive to do good. Having people like this onboard with you will make a $10,000 feature very do-able.

Another great solution is profit sharing. When the people you work with have a vested interest in the project, they are more willing to be working on the cheap. It is also the right thing to do. Many of Mark’s film have cost peanuts to produce and no one got rich making them; however, when the returns came in and the crew was able to share the profits they all made more than they would have had they been paid a standard wage. When this happens, they will also gladly return for the second round.

Beware of empty promises, though. There is no guarantee in this business, which is why a profit-share model can really only function within a collaborative group of friends—friends who are happy to work together even if the film never sees a dime.

#5 The Cost of Throw Pillows

Mark is a funny guy. So funny he’s a professional at it. He is also very sincere and knows drama. In his talk, Mark shares a story about working with studios. One blessing to making a film for no money is that you have more freedom. The more that is at risk, the more people will work to mitigate that risk, including requesting prettier throw pillows.

On the set of Cyrus, a studio film, costs of production were significantly higher than Mark’s earlier productions. As costs climb, producers understand their need to sell the film. Some producers believed the key to selling Cyrus would be to make it look “prettier” for the trailers. The discussion came around to the throw pillows in a scene, and producers pressured Mark to reshoot for the throw pillows. In a world (no pun intended) where a detail like throw pillows take precedence over performance and scene execution, an independent director and writer is bound to lose their cool. This is the cost of doing business with the studio and playing with other people’s money, which may be reason enough to happily put the “blockbuster in your mind” on the back-burner in favor of that $10,000 feature where throw pillows can live in the trash can.

The point, understand why you want to write and make films. Knowing this of yourself will make the journey much easier.

For filmmakers, Mark is the older brother some hope to be. He is killing it, and is very fortunate to be working under his own terms. He has come a long way and has even further left to go, but at the end of the day—and I take liberty speaking for Mark—if it meant having to bow down to throw pillows, he would still be just as happy stressing out over an answering machine greeting while his brother hits record on their parents video camera.

Mark Duplass Talks Indie Filmmaking

One of the highlights of last year’s Sundance Film Festival, Robert Eggers‘ 17th-century folk horror flick The Witch is now scaring the pants off audiences during its theatrical run. The film falls into the subgenre Folk Horror, a largely British off-shoot of the horror genre exploring the urban inhabitant’s unease about the countryside, where spiteful and superstitious bumpkins are still in the thrall of demonic forces.

The most interesting aspect of Folk Horror is that the existence of the supernatural—whether it’s God, the Devil, or anything in between—is largely beside the point. What matters is whether the human characters believe, and how they behave having accepted or rejected the notion of something beyond our earthly plane. If The Witch made you question the therapeutic benefits of long walks in the woods, you may also take interest in these folk horror classics.

1. Night of the Demon

It’s fitting that the first film on this list is an adaptation of an M.R. James story, Casting the Runes, since the Cambridge scholar often used common folk horror themes in his tales—typically featuring a privileged city dweller visiting the countryside of his own volition, and through curiosity, greed, or sense of duty becoming embroiled in supernatural goings-on.

In Jacques Tourneur’s masterful adaptation, the protagonist becomes American psychologist Dr. John Holden (Dana Andrews), who flies into England to expose Dr. Julian Karswell (Niall MacGuiness), an eminent occultist and suspected head of a satanic cult. Thin-skinned and erudite, Karswell’s method of dispatching with skeptics is to surreptitiously pass them a runic inscription. If the victim can’t pass on the curse, a demon will appear to claim them.

Night of the Demon is pure class. Pacy, witty, intelligent and spooky, the film would be arguably scarier if producer Hal E. Chester had respected the director’s wishes to leave the Demon to the viewer’s imagination. A journeyman director, Tourneur had already proven his ability to generate chills via the power of suggestion in his earlier classic, Cat People. Yet the suspense the film generates make us both fear and look forward to a rewatch.

2. The Witches

In her last film role, former Oscar winner Joan Fontaine plays Gwen Mayfield, a school teacher recuperating after a run-in with a witch doctor in Africa. She gets back in the saddle by taking a new post in a sleepy English village—surely nothing can go wrong there, right?

Campy, quaint and dated, The Witches is about as scary as Hocus Pocus, but is worth a watch for folk horror completists. It effectively pinpoints the traditional start of the cycle, and is an interesting precursor to The Wicker Man (perhaps the most popular Folk Horror film), with the protagonist’s journey covering similar beats—a village in the grip of a powerful cult leader, action taking place in broad daylight, and an accumulation of sinister detail building towards a demented final act.

3. Whistle and I’ll Come to You & A Warning to the Curious

The works of M.R. James were adapted by the BBC in a sequence of one-off TV productions; Whistle and I’ll Come to You in the late Sixties and A Warning to the Curious in the early Seventies. Both use East Anglia’s geographical desolate coast to create a chilling backdrop of isolation and threat. These excellent adaptations are acutely eerie, following two solitary academics out to the seaside, where they uncover ancient relics that release ghostly figures who relentlessly pursue them.

4. The Devil Rides Out

This dapper adaptation of Dennis Wheatley’s novel finds Christopher Lee in a rare heroic role as Nicholas the Duc de Richleau. Here the Duke rescues a friend from a satanic cult, led by the dastardly Charles Gray. The Devil Rides Out rattles along at the pace of a Fu Manchu adventure, and while it’s a slight stretch to label it as folk horror—especially as the rural aspect is largely absent—Gray’s omnipotent cult leader shares similarities with the other well-educated, wealthy, manipulative and deadly demagogues of the genre.

5. The Witchfinder General

Legendary ham Vincent Price gives his finest and most restrained performance as the despicable Matthew Hopkins, self-appointed Witchfinder General, who orchestrated the execution of hundreds of women condemned as witches in order to line his pockets. The possible existence of witchcraft doesn’t matter in Reeves’ bleak and depressing vision of one man’s avarice, and its themes are as relevant today as they ever were—a man in a position of authority plays on the prejudices and fears of the ignorant to generate hatred towards a minority, milking the hysteria for personal gain. Sound like anyone you’ve seen in the news lately?

6. The Blood on Satan’s Claw

This grim, rural nightmare is a beautiful slice of occultist schlock. Set in early 18th century England, a local yokel unearths the decimated corpse of the Devil, unleashing an escalating series of violent events throughout the local community.

It turns that out the Devil is using the parish’s youngsters to grow new skin, fur and body parts for himself, excised from the host by the diabolic nymph Angel (Linda Hayden) in orgiastic ceremonies involving mutilation, rape, and murder. The film provides a twist on the usual Folk Horror standards, with the stern patriarch of the film acting as a positive force, seeking to rid his neighbourhood of evil for the good of the community rather than lining his own pockets.

7. The Wicker Man

The Wicker Man was poorly received on its initial release, but it has grown in stature over the years to become a cult masterpiece. It’s a classic battle of ideologies, as the humourless, virginal Christian policeman Howie (Edward Woodward) ventures to a remote Scottish island to investigate the disappearance of a young girl. His inquiries are thwarted at every turn by the cheerfully unhelpful locals, living in a Paganistic idyll overseen by the louche Lord Summerisle (Christopher Lee).

8. Picnic at Hanging Rock

There are few true examples of folk horror from beyond Britain’s shores, and the vast expanses of the Australian outback are a stark contrast to the usual bucolic locations found in the genre. Weir’s ethereal, stunningly beautiful oddity is a mystery without a solution, following a group of school girls who explore the titular outcrop one lazy afternoon before vanishing without a trace.

While no cause for the disappearance is given, the strange rumbling sounds on the soundtrack during the girls’ exploration suggests that their burgeoning sexuality has awoken a primeval force within the rock itself.

9. The Blair Witch Project

The Blair Witch Project works as a folk horror because it plays on the unease of city slickers out in the sticks, and remains ambivalent about whether the witch exists or not. It plays on the primal fear of being lost in the woods, and the real horror is the breakdown of civilities between the group as hunger, cold, and terror sets in.

There’s a sense that the three documentary filmmakers investigating a gruesome legend bring their misfortune upon themselves—they went looking for the witch and not the other way around. The found footage format puts us right in there with the protagonists, fearfully peering into the dark to see if something’s lurking in the trees.

10. Kill List

Ben Wheatley’s best movie to date is a dangerous mash up of nihilistic gangster tropes and cabalistic horror. The easy soundbite is Get Carter meets The Wicker Man, and while Kill List is a worthy successor to both cultural touchstones, it’s also something more unsettling and elusive. It’s a folk horror in reverse, as the esoteric machinations of a strange cult worm their way into the brittle status quo of a career hitman, restlessly ensconced in his home before his best friend approaches him with the usual “one last job.” The depth and perversity of the cult’s transgressions is never made clear, and the viewer is drawn into an ethical Bermuda Triangle—weird things are happening, and your moral compass spins wildly without ever finding a place to lock on to.

It’s almost Oscar time again, and I’ve followed the Academy Awards for long enough now to know that they don’t always represent the quality and scope of the year’s best movies. Yet, there’s something about the award season’s glitziest bash that turns me into the film buff equivalent of a WWE fan, who knows deep down that the fighting isn’t actually real, but can’t help going mental when the contenders start hurling themselves from the top turnbuckle.

In anticipation of the 88th Academy Awards nominations, here’s a list of Oscar’s worst and weirdest oversights in the Best Picture category.

10 Films That Should’ve Won Best Picture

#10. Pan’s Labyrinth

Dark-hued, dangerous and melancholy, Guillermo del Toro’s visionary fairytale grows in stature year by year, already looking like one of the films of the young century. It is a deeply textured masterwork, creating a fully realised reality and alternative reality for its young heroine Ofelia (Ivana Baquero), who seeks refuge from the horrors of post-civil war Spain in a fantasy world, only to find it as dark and violent as real life.

Evoking the primal, ancient morality tales of old rather than the sanitized hokum of Disney, it strikes a resonant chord in our deepest wishes and fears. It was probably a bit too obscure for voters—foreign language films rarely get much recognition in the Best Picture category, although lightweight fare such as Il Postino has made a showing in modern times. Martin Scorsese’s The Departed took Best Pic, and it had the misfortune to go up against the excellent The Lives of Others in the Best Foreign Language Film category. I’m sure time will separate Pan’s Labyrinth from both movies significantly.

#9. Pulp Fiction

Quentin Tarantino’s burst of pure cinema is arguably the most influential film of the past twenty-five years. It changed the way people made, wrote and thought about movies ever since. Two decades later, QT is an auteur who can make whatever he wants, please the critics (most of the time), and pack out theatres across the world. Hell, he could even adapt his grocery list for the screen and it would still be a hit.

Pulp Fiction was the perfect blend of attitude, style, music, dialogue, set pieces, dance moves, top shelf performances, and sheer, balls-out bravado. It was sensational, and struck at exactly the right time.

#8. Field of Dreams

The 62nd Awards were arguably the nadir for Oscar, with the twee Driving Miss Daisy beating a strong field including Born on the Forth of July, Dead Poet’s Society, My Left Foot, and my pick, Field of Dreams to Best Picture.

You don’t need to be a baseball fan to be enchanted by this tale of Iowa farmer Ray Kinsella (Kevin Costner), compelled by ghostly voices to build a baseball diamond over his crops. Told straight and featuring Costner at his most disarming and sincere, it’s a wonderful piece of modern myth-making. It’s a film about nostalgia and regret, but also an optimistic, magic hour celebration of the dreamer in all of us.

#7. The Killing Fields

Losing to Milos Forman’s grandiose, gaudy and rather campy Amadeus, Roland Joffe’s The Killing Fields is an impassioned yet sensitive depiction of the apocalyptic Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia. It’s centred on the relationship between two journalists, American Sydney Schanberg (Sam Waterson) and Cambodian Dith Pran (Dr. Haing S Ngor) caught amid the brutal regime change.

Working from a grown up screenplay by Bruce Robinson (Withnail & I), Joffe captures the chaos and turmoil of those years in great detail, with escalating panic as the US ditches its Cambodian allies. Schanberg is reluctantly forced to follow suit, leaving Pran to fend for himself in Year Zero. Ngor’s dignified, resolute performance is humbling—a first-time actor, he survived the ordeal in real life before making it to the States in 1980.

#6. Raging Bull / The Elephant Man

Take your pick, either film would have been a worthier winner than Robert Redford’s Ordinary People, which no one has seen since it took the Best Picture trophy at the 53rd awards. Both biopics shot in wondrous black and white, Scorsese and David Lynch’s films examine opposite ends of the human spectrum—Robert De Niro’s repugnant, self-destructive Middleweight Champ Jake La Motta, and John Hurt’s gentle and intelligent John Merrick, trapped inside a hideously deformed body.

Raging Bull is brutal and depressing, The Elephant Man ethereal and heartbreaking. Both have become modern masterpieces.

#5. The Exorcist

William Friedkin’s iconic horror has lost some of its shock value over the years, and I think it is all the better for it. Once you’re over all the head-spinning and spider-walking, you can concentrate on the story itself, and it always amazes me each time I see it how positive the film is. The Exorcist is a good movie in the purest sense of the word, and I think that you can draw encouragement from it no matter what your theological standpoint.

If you’re a person of faith, it makes great propaganda for the church, showing the Devil as crude and debased, while God’s humble servants selflessly lay down their lives to save a possessed little girl. If you’re agnostic, you can be buoyed by the sheer decency of the human characters in the film. If a bomb goes off in a public place, there are always people who run towards the explosion, disregarding their own safety in the hope of saving others.

That’s what the characters in The Exorcist are like, especially old and dispirited Father Merrin (Max von Sydow) and young and doubting Father Karras (Jason Miller)—on blind faith they ride to the rescue with no evidence that God has their backs. Despite its diabolical reputation, I find The Exorcist such an incredibly uplifting film.

#4. Dr. Strangelove, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

Like Alfred Hitchcock, Stanley Kubrick didn’t get much love from the Academy—between them, they won a grand total of zero awards for Best Director. 2001: A Space Odyssey wasn’t even nominated for Best Picture, but I’m listing Dr. Strangelove because I absolutely hate the film that beat it, George Cukor’s smug, shrieking My Fair Lady. (Interesting side note: Audrey Hepburn sported one of two dodgy Cockney accents in the Best Pic category that year, along with Dick Van Dyke’s chimney sweep in Mary Poppins.)

Perhaps coming a little too soon after the Cuban Missile Crisis, Strangelove‘s acerbic satire has become synonymous with the insanity of war. Comedy madman Peter Seller’s three performances are rightly celebrated, but it is the supporting trio of Sterling Hayden, Slim Pickens and George C Scott that really stick with you, ultra believable as crazed military men deliriously willing to push the world over the brink of mutually assured destruction to get one over on the Ruskies. Kubrick observes all this madness with a sardonic, deadpan gaze, and the film concludes with one of the most terrifyingly beautiful scenes of all time – the end of the world set to Dame Vera Lynn’s We’ll Meet Again.

#3. Vertigo

No popular filmmaker quite flaunted his kinks and fetishes on the screen quite as obsessively as the Portly Pervert (aka Master of Suspense) Alfred Hitchcock. Vertigo, his most personal vision, was met with a mixed reaction by critics and making little impact at the Oscars, only picking up a couple of technical awards.

These days we’re all amateur psychologists, so I think the modern audience is better positioned to appreciate Hitchcock’s masterpiece. It’s the eerie, twisted tale of a detective ruthlessly shaping a shop girl into the object of his obsessions, an icy blonde (what else in Hitchcock?) that he couldn’t prevent committing suicide because of his fear of heights. James Stewart is magnificent, tainting his good guy image to queasy effect.

#2. The Third Man

Orson Welles already had the greatest film of all time under his belt (Citizen Kane), and a few years later he gave us the greatest movie entrance of all time in Carol Reed’s funny, thrilling and fatalistic The Third Man. We follow Joseph Cotten’s gullible pulp novelist through the noirish, expressionistic underworld of post-war Vienna in search of his old best friend Harry Lime (Welles), wanted by the authorities for peddling dodgy penicillin. Anton Karas’s fabulous zither theme perfectly captures the tone of the film, managing to be jaunty and slightly sinister at the same time. A thing of joy.

#1. Citizen Kane

Although regarded as a cornerstone of modern cinema, Orson Welles’s masterpiece lost out on Outstanding Motion Picture to a film well-regarded but little-seen these days, How Green Was My Valley. Maybe it isn’t so difficult to see why – the Oscars have always been a popularity contest, and I think you need to be a bit of a cinephile to get the most out of Citizen Kane. The film is like Charles Foster Kane’s Xanadu, a magnificent, chilly mausoleum to its creator’s limitless talent, ambition and vanity. A miraculous piece of film making, but there’s little warmth within.

Also worth mentioning is another losing Best Pic nominee at the 1942 ceremony, a tight, atmospheric detective thriller called The Maltese Falcon. While small in scope, it crystallised our notion of noir, and its influence can be seen in movies as diverse as Chinatown, Blade Runner and Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

Now that the 2016 Berlin Film Festival has officially come to a close, and I’ve had a full day to get my bearings (get it?), it’s time I ran down the Top 5 films I’ve seen at the festival. Now, it would’ve been more than 5 had I not felt too disappointed (Midnight Special) or indifferent (Soy Nero) towards many of the films I saw (some of which were so horrendous and inconsequential, they didn’t even call for coverage)—but these are things you cannot predict when it comes to festivals. Especially one like the Berlinale, which has such a wide range of selections for its competition titles.

Read below for my 5 favorite films from the 66th edition of the Berlinale. They’re all quite different from each other, but every one is highly recommend for when you’re in a specific kind of mood for a specific kind of movie night. Unfortunately, many things went against me in Berlin and prevented me from watching the eventual big winners like Fire At Sea (Golden Bear), Death In Sarajevo (Jury Prize) and United States of Love (Silver Bear for Screenplay), but that doesn’t mean the films below are any less deserving of recognition and praise.

Favorite 5 Films of the 2016 Berlin Film Festival

#5. War On Everyone

Sandwiched between philosophical quips that give the film its few injections of thoughtfulness, John Michael McDonagh’s War On Everyone is mainly filtered through a scandalous, satirical and borderline psychedelic vision of American police work. Skarsgard and Pena make the unlikely central duo in this bad-cop-worse-cop buddy comedy work with such a generous dose of hilarity and raunchiness that you’ll easily forgive the film its naive moments and predictability. It’s so unabashedly anti-PC that it’s definitely not recommended for the sensitive souls out there. But that’s part of the appeal. [Review]

#4. Being 17

Andre Techine’s spirited film about two teenage boys in a French mountain countryside town is brimming with raw, untethered emotion and naturalistic performances. So much so that you’ll end up understanding Damien (Kacey Mottet Klein) and Tom (Corentin Fila) through so many scenes where a darting glance speaks the loudest. Flowing like an evergreen waterfall, Being 17 captures teenagehood on the precipice – and only falters near the end, but by then your heart won’t care that much. [Review]

#3. Zero Days

It’s a bit funny that I caught the two films above and Alex Gibney’s Zero Days on my very last day of movies in Berlin. It’s like the festival took pity on me for drudging through the pain of watching Creepy or almost being struck by angina pectoris while watching Lav Diaz’ 8-hour mega-epic (more on that at the end). In any case, Gibney’s Zero Days is a must-watch documentary by everyone interested in understanding just how far our world has advanced. Michael Mann’s Blackhat was pummeled by critics, but it’s getting a bit of a boost with a recent director’s cut – and will surely be looked at more closely once Zero Days hits public theatres. Cyber warfare is now, and countries need to start talking about it. [Review]

#2. A Quiet Passion

Terence Davies’ soft, luscious, and impossibly refined biopic of Emily Dickinson should appease lovers of exquisite shot composition and immaculate sense of character depth. Davies’ camera glides through the Dickinson household, while Cynthia Nixon, Jennifer Ehle, and the rest of the dazzling ensemble dive into Davies’ treasure chest of a screenplay in search of gold. They keep finding it in almost every scene, and thanks to Florian Hoffmeister’s blindingly beautiful cinematography, the audience feels the glow right on their skin. Aside from a couple of slips, A Quiet Passion enthralled me and I was a bit shell-shocked from how closely I felt to this woman, this American introverted poet from the 1800s felt more real to me than most of the characters I’ve seen on the screen in Berlin. [Review]

#1. Things To Come

All due respect to Davies, but nothing, and no one, felt more real than Mia Hansen-Love’s Things To Come and Isabelle Huppert’s Nathalie. It’s hard to fathom how a young director like Hansen-Love can show so much maturity, poise, control, and life experience while still in her early 30s; inspiring what will very likely be one of the most tender and memorable roles for the iconic French actress. Watching Nathalie go through the motions of losing touch with modern school system, letting go of her husband and kids who have moved on, trying to connect with today’s youth, and hopelessly falling in love with a cat ended up being the very best cinematic experience I’ve had at the festival, and indeed, the year so far. What makes it all the more special is that it was the very first film I saw at the Berlinale. [Review]

The Albert Bauer Honorable Mention

Lav Diaz’ new film goes against the conventional grain so much, you can almost feel the granulation forming on your skin as you sit there watching it. With a colossal running time of 485 minutes (nothing Lav Diaz fans will be too surprised about), A Lullaby To The Sorrowful Mystery is made of static shots of various characters lamenting, musing, longing, confessing, discussing, sharing, divulging, singing, listening, and crying over the intolerable cruelty suffered by the Filippino people under an oppressive Spanish rule. It’s absolutely stunning, with the greatest production design and cinematography (well, Crosscurrent might slightly have the edge in cinematography, but they’re milliseconds away from each other) I’ve seen at the festival, but the indulgence is, at too many moments, insufferable.

The Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Film Comment Selects Series runs from February 17 – 24 in New York City. Two of our writers, C.J. Prince and Michael Nazarewycz, got to preview some of the films playing in the series. First up is C.J., who took a look at some of the new films playing in this year’s series.

C.J.: If you’re a die-hard cinephile, you should already know about New York City’s Film Society of Lincoln Center. With plenty of series and festivals every year like New Directors/New Films and the New York Film Festival, FSLC combines mainstream, classic and experimental cinema into one big, unending celebration of great filmmaking.

So when Film Comment, the official publication of the Lincoln Center, put together their 16^th edition of the Film Comment Selects series, we wanted to see what they had to offer. Gathering a mix of new works hot off the festival circuit and older, underseen titles, the series unites through themes of discovery and rediscovery.

Opening the series is Terence Davies’ Sunset Song, which had its World Premiere last year at the Toronto International Film Festival. A passion project for Davies, the film is an adaptation of Lewis Grassic Gibbon’s novel about young Scottish farm girl Chris Guthrie (Agyness Deyn) as she tries to find independence and happiness in the early 1900s. For some reason Davies doesn’t get a lot of respect from the major fests (rumor has it that this film, along with the underrated The Deep Blue Sea, were flat out rejected by both Cannes and Venice), which seems baffling considering this is the same man behind The Long Day Closes and Distant Voices, Still Lives. Sunset Song doesn’t reach the same highs as those two films, keeping its focus on the source material’s sweeping narrative rather than providing the kinds of sublime moments Davies specializes in, but the film has a cumulative strength that’s undeniable. It’s less of a character study and more of a representation of how desires and ambitions can fall victim to forces beyond our control, whether it’s abusive family members (a subject Davies knows how to portray better than anyone else) or a war breaking out. It’s a reminder of how we can only define ourselves to a certain degree, and Davies expresses this message with just the right amount of humility and grace.

Even if one can’t go along with Davies’ style in Sunset Song, there’s still an earnestness with his approach that’s admirable. I can’t say the same for Benoit Jacquot’s The Diary of a Chambermaid, a piece of French prestige that sleepwalks through its adaptation of Octave Mirbeau’s novel. This is the third time Mirbeau’s story has been translated to the screen, with Jean Renoir and Luis Bunuel making their own versions in the past, and despite having seen neither of those versions (something I’m not proud of), Jacquot’s adaptation still feels pointless. Léa Seydoux plays Celestine, a chambermaid who gets hired on at a house in the French countryside. She’s a smart, beautiful woman who knows it, spending most of her time bitterly lamenting both her job and social status. Seydoux continues to show why she’s become such a revered actress in a short time, and Clotilde Mollet gives a great performance as her cruel master, but the screenplay is a total mess. Flashbacks to Celestine’s previous jobs attempt to flesh out her character when it actually paints her as erratic, veering between sensitive caretaker (in a strange sequence with other up-and-coming French actor Vincent Lacoste) and resentful grump. These sorts of sudden, inexplicable shifts happen across the film, with the most baffling one being Celestine’s crush on her brooding, anti-Semitic co-worker (Vincent Lindon). With Jacquot making no effort to provide any sense of coherency, it’s hard to give a single shit about Diary of a Chambermaid’s narrative. The abrupt, unsatisfying conclusion feels more like everyone just gave up, preferring to go take a nap rather than try and make an actual ending.

From one French “It Girl” to another, Philippe Grandrieux’s Malgré la Nuit (the English title is Despite the Night, but I prefer the original) stars Ariane Labed, who co-starred with Seydoux in Yorgos Lanthimos’ The Lobster. Possibly the most extreme film in this year’s line-up, Grandrieux takes a look at extreme emotions through two people living in Paris: Lenz (Kristian Marr), returning from England to look for a woman named Madeleine, and Hélène (Labed), a nurse who strikes up an intense relationship with Lenz during his search. Beyond its disturbing subject matter (involving an underground club specializing in sex, torture and murder), Malgré la nuit gets under the skin through its strange formal choices, whether it’s shrouding scenes in darkness—most exchanges look like they’re happening in an underground cavern rather than a room—or shooting close-ups with artificial lights that turn faces into overexposed blobs of light. Grandrieux operates through cinema’s ability to portray subjectivity and emotions rather than its ability to tell a story, so while the narrative may be flimsy, it takes a backseat to the film’s ability to provide a visceral knockout to the senses.

Of course, this being FSLC, the series wouldn’t be complete without some titles that will leave viewers completely baffled. Take, for example, Marco Bellochio’s Blood of my Blood, which premiered at Venice and Toronto last year to a small yet vocal chorus of raves. It starts in the 17th century with Federico (Pier Giorgio Bellocchio) arriving at the convent his priest brother resided at before killing himself. His brother had an affair with the nun Sister Benedetta (Lidiya Liberman), and in order to ensure his brother gets a proper burial, he must help prove that Benedetta is influenced by Satan (since that would prove that the suicide was an involuntary act and not a sin). This is all well and good until Bellochio abruptly ends this story halfway through, flashing forward to the same convent in present day where an old man named Count Basta (Roberto Herlitzka) resides. And oh yeah, Count Basta might be a vampire. How do these two storylines link together? It’s a question I can’t really answer after one viewing, and I’m sure most people will find themselves in the same boat. It’s a bemusing experience, although not everyone will feel like it’s worth the effort to try and understand what exactly might be going on in Bellochio’s head.

But, at the very least, I can say something about Bellochio’s film. Trying to talk about Andrzej Żuławski’s Cosmos is something that eludes me, and I’ll be perfectly fine admitting that a large amount of it probably went over my head. Adapted from Witold Gombrowicz’s novel, the film is Żuławski’s first feature film in over 15 years, and from frame one it feels like he’s unleashing all the pent-up strangeness he’s been accumulating over the years. Law student Witold (Jonathan Genet) escapes to a guest house where he befriends fellow guest Fuchs (Johan Libereau) and falls for the owner’s daughter (Victoria Guerra). At the same time, Witold’s discovery of a block of wood and a dead sparrow, both strung up by wire near the property, inspires him and Fuchs to figure out who’s responsible. All I can say about Cosmos is that it’s just one weird experience that, no matter how maddening it may get, never slows down for a second. It’s just unfortunate that Żuławski’s quirks start paying off far too late into the picture, with a final act and ending(s) that inspire laughter just by its sheer audacity. Fans of Possession, Żuławski’s cult classic, should not expect anything similar here, even though both films could be classified as unforgettable whatsits.

There are plenty more intriguing titles from recent years playing the series that I wish I could have gotten to see, like the essay Notfilm, a look into the making of Samuel Beckett and Buster Keaton’s avant-garde short Film (which screens with Notfilm). Also playing are Venice prize winner No One’s Child, Hirokazu Kore-Eda’s 2015 Cannes competition entry Our Little Sister, Aleksei German Jr.’s Under Electric Clouds, and the US premiere of 2012 Iranian film The Paternal House. But Film Comment has much more going on than a showcase of recent festival fare. Michael Nazarewycz took a peek at some of the archival titles playing this year, starting with Ray Davies’ Return to Waterloo.

Michael: The Kinks, formed in 1963 by brothers Ray and Dave Davies, were a British rock band that had critical success early (1964’s You Really Got Me) and late (1983’s Come Dancing) in their musical careers. On the heels of the success of Come Dancing, with its music video rich in bittersweet themes of melancholy and regret, Ray Davies clearly had more to get off his chest creatively and thematically. He did so, partially at the expense of an already strained relationship with his brother Dave, by focusing his artistic attention on directing a musical film. The result, along with an accompanying soundtrack of mostly new music written by Ray, was 1984’s Return to Waterloo.

In the film, veteran British character actor Kenneth Colley plays a man simply known as The Traveller. The Traveller is an otherwise unassuming businessman…until it’s revealed he might be a wanted serial rapist. He follows a blonde into the tube and, as he takes his train ride, his mind harkens to many different things, including thoughts of his recently-estranged daughter and his disenchanted wife, as well as his opinions of present-day youth and memories of a more promising career in his younger days.

Return to Waterloo marks the cinematic debut of writer/director Ray Davies and, with the exception of a few subsequent documentaries, it’s his only filmmaking effort. That’s a shame. Davies’ musical drama, while not perfect, is a wonderful blend of melancholy, music, and mystery, and it proves that the musician had greater artistic scope than just penning and recording hit records. His approach is bold; rather than create a linear narrative and tell a traditional story, Davies plays fast and loose with The Traveller’s timeline and his sense of reality. The character clearly exists in the now, but as he encounters people in his travels, those people trigger thoughts and images that slip in and out of reality, dancing a line between things that happened in the past and things he imagines are happening now. The creative approach, which ultimately relies on the viewer to do some heavier-than-usual lifting, works more often than it doesn’t, and at a lean and energetic 58 minutes, it’s a great time. Tthe film also marks the second onscreen appearance of a young Tim Roth, as well as an early entry in the career of legendary cinematographer Roger Deakins.

Film Comment has also chosen to screen a pair of Charles Bronson films at their Selects festival. Bronson, who began acting in the early 1950s, appeared in a collection of films that would go on to become classics, including John Sturges’s The Magnificent Seven and The Great Escape. In the 1970s, Bronson rocketed to superstardom, anchored by a star turn in Michael Winner’s vigilante classic Death Wish. Late in his career, Bronson was one of the biggest stars in the Cannon Films stable, appearing in a collection of ’80s action flicks for the notorious production company. But hidden among these famous films are two lesser-known entries from the action legend.

First is Tom Gries’ Breakout, from 1975. In the film, Robert Duvall plays Jay Wagner, a man wrongly imprisoned in Mexico for a murder he didn’t commit. The murder and incarceration were orchestrated by Wagner’s corrupt grandfather-in-law (played by John Huston). Wagner’s wife, played by frequent Bronson co-star and real-life spouse Jill Ireland, hires bush pilot Nick Colton (Bronson) to break her husband out of jail. Action ensues.

As a film, Breakout isn’t very good. While it allows Bronson to be a little less serious than the brooding characters he’s better known for, the plot is an utter mess and the rescue attempts (there are several) are nothing more than a string of haplessly assembled action pieces that only serve to illustrate what a terrible rescuer Colton is (as is his sidekick of sorts, played by Randy Quaid). Still, the film is notable and worth checking out for a couple of things. It’s loosely based on the book The 10-Second Jailbreak, which itself is based on actual events. The film is part of the Bronson canon, and one not usually mentioned in the same breath as the others, so Bronson completists should rejoice. It has quite a cast, as well as quite the producing team in Irwin Winkler and Robert Chartoff, the Oscar-winners behind the entire Rocky franchise (including 2015’s Creed). Most interestingly, though, Breakout is one of the titles bandied about when there are discussions about the “first summer blockbuster.” While Steven Spielberg’s Jaws is widely regarded to hold that distinction because of its wide release and its success, other films, including this one, had wide releases just as big.

The other Bronson film selected by Film Comment is an excellent choice, one that is part of the overlooked European portion of the actor’s career. Starting with Sergio Leone’s Once Upon a Time in the West  and ending with his return to the US as the star of The Mechanic, Bronson made about a dozen films in Europe including the 1970 film Rider on the Rain, which won the Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film. The French film is a sleek, slick Hitchcockian thriller, although the name of its femme fatale is more Bond than Hitch: Mélancolie Mau.

Played by Marlène Jobert, Mélancolie is a lonely woman in a loveless marriage living in a lifeless seaside town. One day, while her husband is somewhere else in the world in his role as an airline pilot (and philanderer), a creepy-looking man (Marc Mazza) with a red bag gets off a bus. The man makes incidental eye contact with Mélancolie. Later that day, when she is trying on clothes in a shop, the stranger leers at her through the outside window as she stands exposed in her underwear and stockings. That night, the stranger breaks into her home and rapes her. He doesn’t leave. Before he can repeat his act, there is a struggle that eventually affords Mélancolie the opportunity to shoot and kill him, but rather than report it to police, she dumps the body into the sea and keeps the incident a secret.

The next day at a wedding, Mélancolie meets American Harry Dobbs (Bronson), a man who not only knows what she did but knows a lot of the circumstances surrounding it. Still, despite his prodding, she refuses to confess to her actions, and what follows is a tingling game of cat-and-mouse that showcases Mélancolie’s resolve and Dobbs’s downright misogyny. Of course things devolve from there.

Director René Clément certainly gets his Hitchcock on for this film. While Mélancolie is not your typical Hitchcock blonde, the redhead is no less icy and no less mysterious. Of questionable character, too, is Dobbs, whose knowledge of the facts and pursuit of the truth suggest hero, but whose methods suggest anti-hero at best. A beautiful resort, sexual energy to spare, and a slowly unraveling mystery make Rider on the Rain a compelling and, at times, unsettling watch in ways reminiscent of Hitchcock, but perhaps with more dazzling visuals and brutal realism (the rape scene is harrowing). Jobert is truly the star of the picture, but Bronson is excellent, with his perpetual cat-who-ate-the-canary grin beneath his signature mustache. The two couldn’t be more different than each other, yet their onscreen chemistry is excellent.

In addition to these fun catalogue titles, Film Comment’s lineup boasts several other classics, including a trio of films from Andrzej Żuławski to accompany Cosmos. That trio consists of a pair of 1972 horror films, The Devil and The Third Part of the Night, and the 1988 sci-fi/fantasy On the Silver Globe. Closing night offers a Chantal Akerman tribute with the screening of her 1986 musical Golden Eighties.

Cinema is rich with partnerships seemingly born of some benevolent movie-loving God; Laurel and Hardy, Leone and Morricone, Scorsese and De Niro. Cantankerous Englishman Michael Powell and softly spoken Hungarian Emeric Pressburger forged such an alliance under the banner named The Archers, a maverick filmmaking team responsible for some of the most wondrous and idiosyncratic works in British cinema. Their films are a very English fantasia, imbuing the typical stiff-upper-lip of the period with an artistic fervour uncommon in English movies. By combining sweeping romance, technical virtuosity and wit, Powell and Pressburger create pure cinematic beauty. Listed in order of accessibility, here are five essential Powell and Pressburger movies to watch.

Five Essential Powell and Pressburger Movies

#1. A Matter of Life and Death (1946)

David Niven stars as Peter Carter, a dashing squadron leader who bails out of his stricken Lancaster bomber without a parachute. He awakens on a desolate Kent beach, completely unharmed. He goes on to fall in love with June (Kim Hunter), the American radio operator who talked him through what should have been his last few minutes on earth. Turns out Peter’s miraculous survival is due to a clerical error in Heaven (although the word “Heaven” is scrupulously avoided in the script), and the celestial pencil-pushers dispatch an emissary to bring him back from the brink of life…

A Matter of Life and Death is one of Powell and Pressburger’s warmest and wittiest pictures, and the pair are clearly having fun with all the visual effects at their disposal. The film inverts the famous switch of palette in The Wizard of Oz, presenting the fantasy world in stark monochrome and the earthly plane in vivid Technicolour, an effect still capable of drawing a gasp. It’s eye-popping, from Jack Cardiff’s luscious cinematography to Alfred Junge’s awesome set design. The imagery remains influential, from the vision of an amusingly bureaucratic heaven to the vast stairway between the two worlds.

For all the eye candy on display, the film remains grounded due to the delightful chemistry between Niven and Hunter, and the ever-welcome presence of Roger Livesey as the charming doctor who believes Peter’s visions could be the result of a brain injury.

#2. Black Narcissus (1947)

If Troma had made Black Narcissus, it would be called Maniac Nuns in Heat. Structurally it is the most conventional of Powell and Pressburger’s key films, resembling a modern psycho-thriller. Deborah Kerr headlines as Sister Superior Clodagh, a nun charged with setting up a school and hospital for the natives deep in the Himalayas. The location is Mopu, an ancient palace that once housed the local ruler’s harem.

Black Narcissus is thick with lush exoticism, and the film builds to a throbbing, murderous crescendo. It’s quite simply the sexiest movie ever made where the nuns keep their clothes on.

Powell and Pressburger’s production team do an amazing job of turning Pinewood Studios, in the sleepy home counties of England, into the exotic mountain retreat. Some of the images on display here are forever. I can’t wait for a 3D release of Black Narcissus on the Occulus Rift—I’ll walk hand in hand with Sister Clodagh across the windswept courtyards of Mopu until I forget to eat, shower and sleep.

#3. The Red Shoes (1948)

Lermontov: Why do you want to dance?

Vicky: Why do you want to live?

Moira Shearer is absolutely radiant as a talented but untested ballerina who falls under the spell of the shadowy impressario Lermontov (Anton Walbrook), and the answer to both questions is—because there is no choice. Often considered the filmmaker’s masterpiece in a gallery of masterpieces, The Red Shoes is an impassioned examination of the artistic temperament. Vicky dances because she absolutely has to, which creates a tragic parallel to her role in The Red Shoes ballet, where a cursed pair of slippers force the heroine to dance until she dies of exhaustion.

While The Red Shoes may be a bit niche, set in the rarefied atmosphere of ballet, most should identify with its themes. Furthermore, the bravura 15-minute ballet sequence is one of the finest things ever committed to film.

#4. The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)

Winston Churchill tried to stop the production of this film because he felt it would damage morale during the war effort. Although it lightly satirizes the old guard of the British military hierarchy, he missed the point. The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp takes a step back from the immediate horrors of WWII to lament the passing of an era of gentlemanly warfare, and perpetuates the myth of the English as sporting and morally superior in their conflicts. This is a little difficult to swallow from a modern perspective—the massacre of Jallianwala Bagh, Bloody Sunday and the sinking of the Belgrano are just a few examples of how we haven’t always punched above the belt.

Politics aside, the film is deeply magnanimous about the friendship between English military man Clive Candy (Roger Livesey) and his lifelong German friend Theo Kretschmar-Schuldorff (Anton Walbrook). Their bromance begins after a duel for the honour of each man’s country, survives The Great War, and deep into World War II.

Few films chart the trajectory of a man’s life with such poignancy. At the best part of three hours long, it doesn’t feel a minute too long, thanks to the gracious presence of Livesey and the dignified Walbrook. The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp was Powell and Pressburger’s second collaboration, and their first in the luxurious technicolour that would become the hallmark of their most beloved productions.

#5. A Canterbury Tale (1944)

Beguiling and elusive, A Canterbury Tale is perhaps Powell and Pressburger’s most enigmatic work. All of their great films are uniquely their own thing, but this more than any of the others defies standard categorisation. Like The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, it presents (a longer) chapter of WWII as an overall narrative of the British Isles. This was a brave stance given that this vision Englishness was in grave danger of extinction if the Allies lost.

Instead of conforming to a genre, A Canterbury Tale is more interested in tracing a line between the modern world and the pilgrims of Geoffrey Chaucer’s era. The theme is delicately observed, creating a sense of profound historical resonance. The villain is also a guardian of a certain English way of life, and while the bittersweet finale feels deeply spiritual, it is not a religious film.

Valentine’s Day is coming up, and whether you’re miserable about being single or anxious about not pissing off your significant other with a bad display of affection, there are few better ways to spend the day than watching a film. And rather than go down the romantic route with our staff feature for the month, we decided to take a more cynical approach to Valentine’s Day. We asked our writers a simple question: “What’s the worst possible movie you could watch on Valentine’s Day?”

Below are our 14 picks, which range from legitimately bad attempts at romance to films so tragic and heartbreaking that watching them on a day dedicated to love makes it all the more painful. Let us know what you think of our selections, and be sure to tell us what you think people should steer clear of come the 14th.

14 Worst Films to Watch on Valentine’s Day

6 Years

Hannah Fidell’s 6 Years takes a much more realistic approach to the typical young love story. Set six years after a young couple started dating, the film chronicles Mel (Taissa Farmiga) and Dan’s (Ben Rosenfield) first significant rough patch when post-college opportunities begin to drag them in opposite directions. Naturalistic performances from Farmiga and Rosenfield make the characters of Mel and Dan come to life, and their trials and tribulations are even more tragically relatable as a result. As Mel and Dan take into account what they truly want out of life, it’s virtually impossible not to see the parallels in your own life. Even if your relationship is on the up and up, the film cuts excruciatingly deep; it’s the kind of film that will cause you to question your own relationship. Similarly, if you’re still playing the field, there are enough cute moments in 6 Years to remind you of just how single you are—and that your chance of finding “the one” is getting slimmer with every passing day. It’s a wonderful film, thick with emotion, but there are few surefire ways to ruin a Valentine’s Day than by giving this movie a spin. [Blair]

50 First Dates

This isn’t an obvious one to stay away from, what with it being a bonafide romantic comedy, so consider this a public service announcement to steer clear. The cute premise may make you think this is an acceptable option for Valentine’s Day: a womanizing veterinarian, Henry (played by Adam Sandler), meets Lucy (Drew Barrymore) in a diner. She agrees to see him again the next day in the same spot but come tomorrow she has no recollection of ever having met him. Turns out this cutie has short-term amnesia and her horrible family has been pretending it’s the same day for a year, making her none the wiser to her mental condition. Henry decides to date her anyway—weird—and eventually, her family loops her in on her mental condition. The film ends with Lucy waking up one morning to watch a video explaining that she and Henry are married and have a daughter. Where to begin? First, there’s the uncertain continuous consent in a relationship where one person has to simply accept the word of the other because they’re incapable of truly understanding what they have agreed to on a daily basis. Then, there’s the uber creepy prospect of a man who would be attracted to a woman who could never form a sincere bond with him or have shared memories. Talk about getting to play the ultimate puppeteer. In fact, almost this exact premise has been used in the psychological thriller Before I Go to Sleep with Nicole Kidman, who plays a woman with short-term memory loss who thinks her husband may be lying to her about their past. Putting aside that, as far as romantic comedies go, this one isn’t even entertaining, please have more respect for love and the sanctity of relationships this Valentine’s Day to even consider watching this truly disturbing film. [Ananda]

Away From Her

Sarah Polley has only directed three films to date, but she’s quickly established herself as a filmmaker interested in exploring how strong relationships can crack, crumble and transform into something entirely new, whether it’s a young married couple (Take This Waltz) or Polley herself (Stories We Tell). And while any one of Polley’s three films could easily fit on this list, it’s her directorial debut Away From Her that leaves the biggest emotional impact. Adapted from a short story by Alice Munro, the film follows a couple when the wife (Julie Christie) begins suffering from Alzheimer’s, leaving her husband (Gordon Pinsent) and checking herself into a nursing home so he won’t have to see her deteriorate. It’s a devastating set-up made even more heart-wrenching by what follows: Christie’s character, unable to remember her husband anymore, falls in love with another man, and her true love has no option but to go along with it. The fact that Pinsent and Christie’s relationship is so romantic is what gives the film a tragic edge over other stories portraying a dissolving marriage; the only foes here are time and genetics, and Polley’s graceful yet unflinching look at how they ravage one couple’s love means romantics should avoid this film come Valentine’s Day. [C.J.]

Blue Valentine

For every instance of poetic, genuine romance in Blue Valentine, there’s a moment of crushing heartbreak. What initially starts as a boy-meets-girl love story quickly devolves into a dual-timeline that juxtaposes the highs and lows of Dean Pereira’s (Ryan Gosling) and Cynthia “Cindy” Heller’s (Michelle Williams) marriage.

What makes Blue Valentine particularly unnerving for couples is the sincerity in its depictions of the lovely highs in a relationship. It isn’t a story about people who don’t have the ability to fall in love. In fact, it’s a statement of vulnerability, and the film depicts the two leads as romantics whose relationship falls apart despite them doing everything they can to save it. It’s a film to put away on Valentine’s Day due to its brutally honest depiction of falling in and out of love. Blue Valentine is an exercise on the fragility of love best reserved for a night alone rather than a date night. [Tanner]

Fifty Shades of Grey

Some holidays (St. Patrick’s Day, New Year’s Eve) give people the excuse to go a little crazy at the bar, while Valentine’s Day give people the excuse to go a little crazy in the bedroom. With some help from Cupid, February 14th becomes a day when otherwise conservative denizens of rural America remind each other you can’t spell Boardroom Dads and Soccer Moms without BD & SM. So what better mainstream film to kick off a night of chips, dips, chains, and whips than Sam Taylor-Johnson’s Fifty Shades of Grey, adapted from the E.L. James mommy-porn novel of the same name, right? Wrong. More than anything else—more than cards, chocolates, feathers, or fuzzy handcuffs—Valentine’s Day relies on the chemistry between its lovers, and Fifty Shades of Grey is so devoid of chemistry between its leads, it might do more marital harm than good. All of the secret room shenanigans aside, Dakota Johnson (as Anastasia Steele) and Jamie Dornan (as Christian Grey) have the chemistry of two people on a bad blind date, albeit one that lasts for weeks. Despite the film’s kinky trappings, there isn’t a moment when the couple displays any sense of anything more than sharing scenes and reciting lines for 125 wasted minutes that could be better spent on the most romantic night of the year. That which was meant to spark a fire instead drenches any sense of boudoir bawdiness in the cinematic equivalent of a cold shower. [Michael]

Force Majeure

Most men like to think that in a life threatening situation, they’ll be cool-headed and strong enough to deal with it. The truth is, instinct’s a funny thing, and you simply don’t know how you’ll behave in a crisis until it actually happens—most people will run away from an explosion, while others are compelled to run towards it. In Ruben Östlund’s provocative Force Majeure, Tomas (Johannes Bah Kuhnke) flees when a controlled avalanche appears to be heading towards the hotel ski resort, leaving his wife and kids behind to fend for themselves. But the avalanche stops short of the hotel, and no-one is harmed. Tomas’s instinctive reaction has irreparable consequences on how he is perceived by his wife and children, and the rest of the movie forensically examines the fallout from his moment of cowardice.

Force Majeure is a tough takedown of masculinity. Glacial, discomforting, and insinuating, the film provokes uncomfortable questions of familial commitment and trite gender roles. Unless your relationship is on solid ground, avoid this film on Valentine’s Day. Or be sure to avoid champagne on ice, because you might end up with the bottle cracked over your head as a pre-emptive strike against future indiscretions. [Lee]

Like Crazy

The poster for this film does it a tremendous injustice, making the film seem like a sappy, romantic tale of young love. Yes, Like Crazy is driven by young love, but this love is stretched across the world and infuriatingly kept that way for most of the movie. Jacob (Anton Yelchin) and Anna (Felicity Jones) fall in love while British student Anna studies abroad in America, and she cannot resist ignoring her visa expiration for a few more months of blissful love. It’s hard to pick out exactly what it is, but this couple has an astounding quality that keeps you coming back to their side no matter what happens. But even as we are charmed by the disarming honesty of this film, we eventually realize that director Drake Doremus knows how to break our hearts as well as he knows how to make us fall in love. [Pavi]

Melancholia

Lars von Trier’s Melancholia is a great film, certainly one of the controversial filmmaker’s best and most accessible. Its accessibility is relative, though, as its bleak look at the end of the world is much more depressing than melancholic. The reason why it fits this list is the film’s first half, an extended wedding sequence between young lovers that falls apart in a swirl of depression, adultery and apocalypse. Melancholia opens their relationship with the couple having difficulty getting to the beautiful wedding location because their stretch limo can’t make the windy turns—it’s a scene that could be directly out of a silly rom-com and feels like it given the tone to come. Even without the bride’s crippling mental illness, the wedding sequence is full of wedding day nightmares, including cold and catty relatives and an overly active wedding planner. Kirsten Dunst and Alexander Skarsgård play the newlyweds fated to fail and both deliver fantastically awkward performances impossible for romance. If you haven’t seen Melancholia, you absolutely should; it’s a beautiful and dark film, but you might want to skip it with the one you love. [Aaron]

The One I Love

Looks can be deceptive. The One I Love might play like a mumblecore/Twilight Zone mash-up by way of Charlie Kaufman, but beneath its amusing, quirky surface and eccentric sci-fi twist lies a biting commentary on the fallacy of romantic idealism. Director Charlie McDowell’s debut finds a couple going through a rough patch. Punctuated by a recent incident, it’s apparent from the first scene that Sophie (Elizabeth Moss) and Ethan (Mark Duplass) are on the brink of separation. Their last-ditch solution? A getaway to a beautiful and remote location in the California countryside. The place puts a kind of spell on them at first, as they revert to the spontaneity and tenderness of their early dating days. But an unexpected turn of events forces each of them to confront the expectations they invest in one another. The fantasy of the “soul mate” or the “knight in shining armor” is approached with caution and the message ultimately concerns learning to accept your significant other, but The One I Love is hardly optimistic about the chances of that happening. For all its playfulness, the film maintains a thread of brutal honesty on the topics of trust, delusion, and disappointment that would surely spoil any date night. [Byron]

The Puffy Chair

Most rom-coms you’ll be watching this Valentine’s Day offer a neatly packaged love story between two impossibly beautiful lovers who end up falling madly in love and live happily ever after. But the Duplass’ brothers brilliant debut The Puffy Chair doesn’t play by those rules. This indie gem trades the fantasy romance stuff for a naturalistic, slice-of-life story that shows how actual relationships work (hint: most of the time they don’t). During a cross-country road trip, the relationship between Josh and Emily (played by real-life husband and wife Mark Duplass and Katie Aselton) gets put to the test. The result is a brutally honest display of the pressures of marriage, the frustrations of being under-appreciated, and the difficulties of growing apart from your partner. There’s also an excellent message in the film about how we should trust our own instincts rather than look for signs from the universe for advice. Few films offer such a genuine, unglamorous view of love and heartbreak like the one shown in The Puffy Chair. And because the finale will leave you in tears, Valentine’s Day is the only excusable day to pass on The Puffy Chair. [Dustin]

Shame

You might think that a movie about sex, starring Michael Fassbender and featuring Michael Fassbender’s penis, would be just the one for your Valentine’s date night. No one could really blame you for thinking this (regardless of whom you’re trying to woo), and for interpreting the title Shame as a sarcastic way to describe a crazy, sexy, adventure. But you’d be dead wrong (and very lonely by the end of the night). The very anti-sarcastic Steve McQueen directs Fassbender in an absolutely harrowing character study of a man dangerously addicted to sex and losing his humanity in the process. There is cinematic brilliance in terms of scene composition, performance, and story structure, but—no matter what the lead actor or the subject matter might suggest—very little actual romance.

In fact, this is the kind of movie that you watch in order to stop dating and re-evaluate your life choices when it comes to romance, sex, and/or your other half. It’s like McQueen took the dictionary definition of a dashing leading man from a generic rom-com and turned him into a complex, dark, psychological case study so as to depict the dangers of addiction. So, yeah. Happy Valentine’s! [Nik]

Sleepwalk With Me

Standup comic Mike Birbiglia’s ultra-charming debut Sleepwalk With Me may not appear to be a decidedly unromantic film from its synopsis—a semi-fictional biopic chronicling the comedian’s rise in the world of stand-up while struggling with rapid eye movement behavior disorder, a severe form of sleepwalking. At some point by the end of the story’s 2nd act, however, Sleepwalk With Me turns from a cute story about a non-committal boyfriend into an anti-romantic statement on the dangers of stasis. After moving in with his girlfriend (Lauren Ambrose) of 8 years, the fictional Mike Pandamiglio finds that the pressure around him to get married has made his sleepwalking worse. Birbiglia’s story is smarter than other films about a “good person in the wrong relationship” because it frames Mike’s girlfriend Abby as a genuinely sweet character. She’s not some shrill busybody or a stifling presence. By pushing himself outside of comfort zones, Sleepwalk With Me’s Mike is able to achieve his comedy dreams and escape a comfortable but unsatisfying relationship. [Zach]

The Squid and the Whale

There aren’t many things less romantic than divorce. The idea of dissolving a sworn and eternal bond of love and companionship is a pretty horrifying prospect for anyone. Thus, it’s probably for the best that one not punish themselves by watching Noah Baumbach’s blackly comedic semi-autobiographical film, The Squid and the Whale, this Valentine’s Day. The film, set in 1986 Brooklyn, follows two boys, Walt (played by Jesse Eisenberg in a role presumably meant to represent Baumbach himself) and Frank Berkman (Owen Kline), as they come to terms with the separation of their parents, Joan (Laura Linney) and Bernard (Jeff Daniels), both deeply self-involved writers. The most disturbing aspect of Baumbach’s film is how scarily accurate its depiction of the dysfunctional family dynamic is. But beneath the melancholic surface level subject matter of parental separation, The Squid and the Whale tackles a multitude of unsettling topics such as pseudo-intellectualism, narcissism and the ways in which one generation can have an almost effortlessly negative effect on the next. It’s a comedy so dark that many might hesitate to deem it humorous, and quite possibly the quintessential film to avoid on February 14th. [Eli]

Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!

Look—there’s a small chance that you and your Valentine’s Day date could, should you choose to watch it (despite my impassioned warning not to), be romantically inspired or even turned on by Pedro Almodóvar’s Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!. I’m not here to judge anybody (you naughty, naughty bastards). But if you consider a movie about a former porn star who falls in love with her violent, psychiatric-patient kidnapper (who’s headbutted, gagged and handcuffed her and lashed her to his bed) to be perfect V-Day viewing, I’m guessing you’ve had more than your fair share of bat-shit crazy date stories. Just a hunch. I happen to love the movie (it’s harbors one of Antonio Banderas’ best performances) and even think the ending is pretty sweet, but for Valentine’s day, the rapey vibes and Stockholm-syndrome mind fuckery make it way too intense for lovebirds looking to have a romantic stay-at-home movie night. Halloween, however, is another story… [Bernard]

In just a matter of days, the first major European festival will be opening its doors for the 66th time. That’s right (or, stimmt); it’s Berlinale time again and I’m flustered, delighted, honored, and absolutely beside myself to be covering the festival on the ground for Way Too Indie. It’ll be my first time around The Grey City, a first in discovering all the venues and screening rooms that look like they’re located all over the map (i.e., Berlin’s public transportation system shall be discovered as well) and my very first Berlinale! Together with my WTI cohort C.J. (who will be helping me out remotely with some reviews), I’ve gone through the extensive selections and hand-picked 10 films that, to me, sound like the hottest tickets in town during the 10 days of the fest.

Of the major-event films that I’m 100% missing, Joel and Ethan Coen’s Hail, Caesar! is the glaring standout. It’s all good, though, since Bernard has already reviewed it for you guys (and it sounds bloody fantastic). Other than that, I’ll be bouncing around press and public screenings, spilling coffee all over my notebook(s), and writing a mix of capsuled and full-length reviews. If I can squeeze in an interview or two, I most certainly will.

For those interested to see how I go about covering film festivals, jolt your memory with my Cannes 2014 coverage. Other than that, I will let the films do the talking as far as this year’s handsome-looking slate for Berlinale is concerned. Oh, I will just mention one last thing that makes this year’s Berlinale extra special: the venerable Meryl Streep will be handling Jury President duties for the first time in her legendary career. That’s pretty wunderbar no? OK, while I try to restrain myself from fitting German phrases and words into every sentence from now until February 20th, get set to start predicting who takes home the esteemed Golden Bear!

Berlin 2016: 10 Most Anticipated Films

Being 17

France has always played a prominent role in world cinema as a country with one of the richest cinematic histories out there. Now, at Berlinale, seasoned and beloved post-New Wave French auteur André Téchiné will unveil his latest and, hopefully, give us all another future French classic. His elegiac cinema hit a major peak in 1994 with the fantastic Wild Reeds, but he’s been quite prolific in the 21st century as well, working with acting heavyweights (Catherine Deneuve on more than one occasion) and directing the compelling multi-narrative AIDS drama The Witnesses in 2007. Being 17, a story about teenage tension between two boys forced to live together, is more than just a little promising as it feels like Téchiné is just about ready to peak again.

The Commune

The Carrey Mulligan film adaptation of Far From the Maddening Crowd was supposed to be Thomas Vinterberg’s big break into international directorial superstardom. At least, that’s what many of us within the film commune figured. The end result was shaky, to say the least, which is why I’ve recharged my anticipation batteries for the Dane’s next project set to compete for the Golden Bear. The Commune brings Vinterberg back to Denmark, zeroing in on a tight-knit self-appointed community where dark secrets no doubt bubble up to the surface (the kind that made the director’s previous stand-out efforts The Hunt and Festen inherently captivating). Featuring what look like riveting turns by a couple of Festen alumni in Ulrich Thomsen and Trine Dyrholm, The Commune has all the makings of the Vinterberg we know and love.

Creepy

When a director makes one of your favourite films of all-time, you can allow them some leeway. That’s been the case with me and Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s films ever since I watched Kairo, his apocalyptic horror film that scared the ever living hell out of me. Since then, the quality of his output has taken a slow downward trajectory, with 2008’s Tokyo Sonata marking the last time he made a truly great film. Yet after getting let down once again in 2015 with the interminable Journey to the Shore, I will do my self-imposed duty and watch Creepy whenever it comes my way. Why? The fact that Creepy sees Kurosawa returning to more genre-based fare helps a lot, considering his thrillers tend to hit more than they miss (see the aforementioned Kairo along with Cure and Retribution). From what I know, Creepy is an adaptation from a novel centering around a detective investigating the disappearance of a family while dealing with his potentially dangerous new neighbours. Could this be a return to form for Kurosawa? Potentially. But going by his last several films, all signs point to this one being a dud. I’ll still anticipate and watch, of course; loyalty is the price auteurists have to pay. [C.J.]

Elixir

“A magical or medicinal potion,” is the first dictionary-definition of elixir that pops up, which is—interestingly enough—a spot-on description of how I feel about Russian cinema as of late. With recent gems from Andrey Zvyagintsev (Leviathan), Yuriy Bykov (The Fool), and a posthumous masterwork from Aleksey German (Hard to be a God), Russia is on a bit of tear. All this translates to me not needing much to get riled up when I see that a brand-new Russian philosophic mind-boggler will have its premiere in Berlin. Daniil Zinchenko’s Elixir promises to be a narrative-bending parable with striking visuals (a forest is featured prominently, and the film camera has had an age-long love affair with forests) about a group of people, seemingly suspended from any time or physical space, searching for the elixir of immortality. Expect biblical metaphors, contemporary parallels, and at least one metric ton of deeply cerebral food-for-thought. Mmm.

A Lullaby to the Sorrowful Mystery

Lav Diaz’s films tend to avoid making their way into major festival competitions, usually getting relegated to sidebars or competing in fests more willing to showcase his lengthy, slow-moving works (looking at you, Locarno). So it came as a shock, and further proof of Berlin’s status as one of the top film festivals in the world, when they announced Diaz’s eight-hour A Lullaby to the Sorrowful Mystery would play in the festival’s main competition. A brief synopsis of the film explains that it’s about the search for the body of Andres Bonifacio—described as “the Father of the Philippine Revolution”—but if this is anything like Diaz’s other films (which, based on everything we’ve seen and read so far, it is), Lullaby will have much more going on within it than what its plot suggests. A project that’s taken Diaz years to make, Lullaby looks like yet another immersive, political and contemplative work from the Filipino master. [C.J.]

Midnight Special

Speculations over when exactly Jeff Nichols’ first real big-budget studio film would premiere have been growing over the past few years. Many of us pegged 2015 as the year we’d see Midnight Special, a film that puts a father-son relationship at its epicentre, and gives it a nice (supernatural?) twist when the dad discovers his son has special gifts and they go on the run. Thankfully, the wait is over! The 66th Berlinale gets the honours of world premiering what is, for many, the most anticipated title of the festival. Watching Nichols grow out of his indie roots (Shotgun Stories, Take Shelter) and tackle an all-too common motif with his lyrical script and silky-smooth direction has us pumped and giddy. Helping Nichols tell his story is de-facto awesome Michael Shannon (may these two never stop working together), Kirsten Dunst, Joel Edgerton and the red-hot Adam Driver.

A Quiet Passion

Feels like it was only yesterday when Terence Davies’ gorgeous Sunset Song premiered at TIFF. A skip and a hop and we’re in for another brand-new Davies treat at the Berlinale (not competing though, curiously, but rather as the clear-stand out of the Special Gala). A Quiet Passion features Cynthia Nixon (who, if all goes well, will be consolidating a career boost after her searing turn in last year’s James White) in the role of beloved American poet Emily Dickinson. She was an introverted, philosophical, and wholly unconventional woman and artist, something that Davies reportedly uses to tie into the nature and movements of her poems. Even half as majestic as it sounds and it’s already special. To top off the excitement, the virtuoso director is re-teaming with his Deep Blue Sea DP Florian Hoffmeister, and working with the criminally underrated Jennifer Ehle (she plays Emily’s sister and confidante, Vinnie). Excited is an understatement.

Soy Nero

The subject of immigration and refugee hopes is going to be looming like an ominous, topical, cloud over the 66th Berlinale (get up from under that rock if you don’t know why). While many films will be tackling this hot-button subject, I’m betting all of my chips on Iranian-born, British-bred, Parisian-based Rafi Pitts to broach the subject in the most profound way. A regular at the Berlin festival, Pitts is back this year with his latest displacement drama, Soy Nero. It’s about a young Mexican man dreaming of becoming a US citizen and unusually finding himself in a Middle Eastern warzone fighting for his green card (and a clean conscience, presumably). As a regular who’s never won the coveted Bear, early rumblings suggest that it could be Pitts’ time. A multi-cultural examination of national identity handled by the kind of pedigree that Pitts boasts would’ve had me planted in my seat, regardless.

Things to Come

Mia-Hansen Løve follows up her excellent Eden by teaming up with French acting legend Isabelle Huppert to tell a story about a liberated woman who attempts to put her philosophies into practice. How do you read that and not get excited? Jumping a few decades from the youths of the Parisian clubbing scene circa 1991, the gifted director will be applying her mature sensibilities to mature characters for the first time in a while, which is going to be fascinating to watch even if Huppert wasn’t in the lead. Luckily, having someone with the screen dominance of France’s greatest actress (yeah, I said it) in the mix is the mouth-watering cherry on top. Full of promise to be one of the highlights of the year, let alone the festival, L’ Avenir (a.k.a. Things To Come) is a certified must-see.

War On Everyone

If you’ve seen either of John Michael McDonagh’s two Brendan Gleeson-starring films, Cavalry (2014) and The Guard (2011), then you know why I’m licking my chops at the idea of his next one. War On Everyone sees McDonagh expanding in more ways that one; his cast is younger (led by Alexander Skarsgård and Michael Peña, featuring up-and-comers Caleb Landry Jones and Theo James) and the setting is some miles away from his familiar Ireland. New Mexico to be exact, where we’ll follow two corrupt cops and their corrupt run-ins with local crime lords. All that laced with McDonogh’s caustic humor, sensitive direction, and pensive moral afterthoughts? Yes please.

But that’s not all!

Film festivals are an organizer’s worst nightmare; they are full of unexpected chaotic and frustrating variables. In other words, I’ll do everything possible to catch the above 10 films, but there’s always a chance that I’ll miss one or two.

But the finicky nature of the schedule leaves room for a number of other surprises. Like Eldorado XXI by Salomé Lamas, which promises breathtaking panoramic visuals and an hour-long static shot (who doesn’t love those?) of mine workers going through their day-to-days, and Boris Sans Beatrice from one of the more interesting LGBT art house directors out there, Denis Côte. This one sees the Canadian director veering toward psychological thriller territory and competing for Gold. Joining him in competition is the star-studded Alone in Berlin, featuring a pair of thesps in Emma Thomson and Brendan Gleeson circa 1940s Germany. And while we’re on star-power, I’ve certainly got my eye on Genius, with Colin Firth, Jude Law, Laura Linney (she’s back!) and Guy Pearce, set around an editorial house in 1920s New York.

We’re not going to be losing our indie focus too much, though. Eugene Greene’s The Son of Joseph, Danis Tanovic’s Death in Sarajevo, Ivo M. Ferreira’s Letters From War and Petr Kazda and Tomas Weinreb’s I, Olga Hepnarova are blinking on my radar and brimming with potential. I’ll be making every effort to catch them.

On a final note, I have to mention Susanne Bier’s The Night Manager. It’s a miniseries, co-produced by heavyweights AMC and BBC, featuring Tom Hiddleston and Olivia always-brilliant Colman, and based on a John Le Carré novel. Excuse me while I roll up my tongue off the floor. The first two episodes are set to premiere in the Special section of the festival, it’s scheduled at a tricky time, but I’ll do everything in my power to get in. Might need crutches by then, but that’s never stopped me before.

Watch this space for Way Too Indie’s coverage of what looks to be another fabulous edition of Berlinale! See you in a few days. Till then, Auf Wiedersehen!

The Best Foreign Language Film category, whether it’s at the Oscars or any other awards show, always poses a strange question: how can you whittle the entire non-English speaking world down to five titles? When you compare this to the eight English-language nominees for Best Picture, it seems like an unfair balance. Now, granted, the Best Picture category isn’t limited to just English-language productions, but you’d be crazy to suggest that foreign productions have the same shot at getting a Best Picture nod as something like The Revenant or Brooklyn (past foreign language nominees like Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon and Amour are exceptions to the norm).

Even stranger is the method of selecting the nominees, which requires countries to submit only one film for consideration in the category. That means France, a country that consistently puts out some of the best cinema in the world every year, can only pick one film to represent their country in the category. But even then, the selected film needs to have a theatrical release within a specific time frame in their home country in order to truly qualify for the category. Those rules can get frustrating for some foreign language films, and the idea of contorting a release in one’s own home country just for the possibility of one award nomination thousands of miles away isn’t exactly an appealing one: in 2013, the French distributor of Blue is the Warmest Colour refused to change their release strategy, meaning one of the most buzzed about films of that year didn’t even qualify for the only category it had a shot of getting nominated in.

The point of all of this is that, like everything else at the Oscars, politics abound, and these nominees need to be taken with a big grain of salt. These five films are hardly representative of the best world cinema has to offer, but they’re far from being the worst either. This year, the Foreign Language category provided one big, welcome surprise: the nomination of Theeb, director Naji Abu Nowar’s film about a young member of a Bedouin tribe who gets caught up in the war taking place far from his community. I saw Theeb back at its New Directors/New Films screening and came away pleasantly surprised at its assuredness, especially coming from a first-time director. The fact that Theeb got a theatrical release in the US was great news on its own; its Oscar nomination should hopefully turn more people on to a great film that deserves to be seen (Theeb is currently out in limited theatrical release from Film Movement).

From the surprising to the not-so-surprising, it shouldn’t come as a shock that Hungary’s Son of Saul received a nomination in this category. It premiered at Cannes in 2015, where it scored the Grand Prix along with a nice distribution deal from Sony Pictures Classics. That, combined with the fact that it’s a Holocaust film, solidified Son of Saul’s appearance here, since at least one foreign language nominee must deal with the Holocaust in some way, shape or form. Critics and audiences have been over the moon for Son of Saul since its Cannes debut, but I came away disappointed after seeing it. Director Laszlo Nemes and cinematographer Matyas Erdely show off their formal skills with the film’s precise construction, using shallow focus and long takes to “immerse” viewers into the horrors of surviving Auschwitz, but it only calls attention to the film’s own technical achievements. And combining a form that’s all about showing itself off with one of mankind’s greatest tragedies makes for a pairing that’s ugly for all the wrong reasons. It’s disappointing to see that, in a year with so many strong films both nominated and eligible for the category, the award will wind up going to Son of Saul, whose bland, digestible form of “difficult” cinema makes its win more about people congratulating their own broadened cinematic horizons than celebrating the best nominee (Son of Saul is currently out in limited theatrical release from Sony Pictures Classics).

That brings me to Mustang, Deniz Gamze Erguven’s film which France submitted this year over Jacques Audiard’s Dheepan, a film most assumed would have been selected given its Palme d’Or win last year. It’s a choice only people who haven’t seen Mustang might find surprising, since those who have seen Mustang know it’s a legitimately great film through and through. Following five orphaned sisters living in a tiny Turkish village, the film portrays the girls’ struggles to fight back against old cultural, religious and patriarchal standards as they’re married off one-by-one in arranged ceremonies. The film may get a little too contrived as it goes along, but it’s impossible to deny that Erguven has crafted one powerful story of a fight for independence and freedom from the old, archaic ways of the past. Mustang has a small but fervent following since its US release in late 2015, and because of that, it might be the only film with a shot at taking the trophy away from Son of Saul (Mustang is currently out in limited theatrical release from Cohen Media Group).

For a nominee like Ciro Guerra’s Embrace of the Serpent, it should just be happy that it got nominated in the first place, as it’s probably too “out there” for people to consider choosing as the winner. Taking place between two periods of time, Guerra shows a shaman living deep in the Amazon as he helps two different scientists try to find a rare plant within the jungle. Embrace has its fair share of gorgeous cinematography, but like last year’s winner Ida it’s hard to find much to enjoy beyond its aesthetics. Unlike Son of Saul, Guerra’s form feels sincere in its attempts to pay respect to the location and cultures he profiles, but other than its pointed look at the devastating effects of colonialism the film comes across as Herzog-lite (Embrace of the Serpent will come out in limited theatrical release on Friday, February 17^th from Oscilloscope Pictures).

Finally, Tobias Lindholm’s A War is a fine follow-up to A Hijacking, which suffered an unfortunate case of timing when it came out around the same time as Paul Greengrass’ Captain Phillips. Taking place in Afghanistan, Lindholm focuses on a Danish army commander who winds up getting accused of a war crime after making a rash decision during a firefight. Denmark is no stranger to impressive yet overly manipulated drama—see previous Oscar nominee The Hunt, which Lindholm co-wrote—and A War is more of the same, showcasing a complex and nuanced situation with the efficiency of a procedural. Fans of this form of storytelling will find plenty to like here, while those who bristle at the staidness should stay far away. Lindholm continues to show he’s an excellent dramatist, and no matter what A War’s chances of winning might be, it’s difficult to argue against its presence in this category.

In addition to screening two feature films, the Film Society of Lincoln Center’s series ‘Friends With Benefits: An Anthology of Four New American Filmmakers’ includes a baker’s dozen of short films divided into four Short Programs. To find out more about the series visit the ‘Friends With Benefits’ website.

The Film Society of Lincoln Center has made filmmaker Gabriel Abrantes its focus for the shorts programs in the ‘Friend With Benefits’ series. Of the 13 films on the slate, divided across four programs, Abrantes directs or co-directs all but one (he also wrote all of them and appears in most), and the collection represents nearly his entire body of work. Seeing them as a collective over a short period of time makes two things abundantly clear about the auteur.

His fearlessness and his unwillingness to be contained by any specific set of creative guidelines are undeniable. His topics include Shakespearean works and the war in Iraq; the themes he tackles include incest, race relations, and global warming; and the storytelling styles he employs range from an ancient Greek comedy set in present-day Haiti to the exploration of a young man’s psyche by way of reality TV. Each of his films is as unique as those before it and after.

However, the fearlessness on the one side of the Abrantes coin shares an arrogance on the other. The filmmaker’s quest to display his intellectual superiority and prove his work is capital-A art comes with a cost: most of his films are difficult to consume and at times can be patience-testing. His topics, while intellectual, are dense, and his filmmaking style, rather than compensating for his dry material, instead complements it (at best) or compounds it (at worst). This is most evident in his scripts and how he directs his actors to deliver their lines. His dialogue is often vague or veiled, with long pauses between and throughout, and lines are routinely delivered in bored, listless monotones devoid of emotion.

Abrante’s performers—himself included—don’t act their parts so much as they deliver his message, and he has them do so in a way that their delivery of that message won’t upstage the message itself. This requires—almost demands—the viewer to have existing knowledge of the subjects he tackles so as to best understand the message he’s sending.

Program 1: Dreams, Drones, and Dactyls

This program contains three of Abrantes’s most recent works.  They are the most humorous of his films and, collectively, the most accessible to a wider audience.

Taprobana

Portugal’s greatest poet, Luís Vaz de Camões is the subject of this 16th-century comedy. The poet lives a life on the lam from Portuguese authorities with his lover, Dinamene. The two engage in extreme drug-fueled hedonism (coprophilia alert) until he is captured. At the end of his life, he finds himself somewhere between heaven and hell, with the choice available of where he would like to finally reside. The hallucination of Petrarch is the highlight here.

Freud and Friends

About as close to mainstream comedy as the filmmaker gets, Abrantes stars as a man who is the test subject of a scientific breakthrough that allows people’s dreams to be seen on TV. When his scientist girlfriend sees that he dreams of her sister and that he envisions his own mother emanating from a fart, paradise finds trouble. Abrantes fully commits to his reality TV approach to the film, keeping it at 30 minutes and including two very funny commercials.

Ennui Ennui

This near-screwball comedy focuses on a representative from France attempting to negotiate disarmament with an Afghani warlord. Through a well-structured series of events, the rep’s daughter, who is along for the trip, is mistaken for the warlord’s daughter and captured. Also, President Obama carries on father/daughter-like conversations with a drone flying over Afghanistan.

Program 2: Slow Learners

Five of Abrantes’s earliest works, mostly with collaborators, are collected here. It’s interesting to see how his production values have improved as he has achieved greater critical success, and yet his creative weaknesses have not.

Olympia I & II

Both co-written with and co-starring Katie Widloski, Abrantes’s first two films (presented here as one film in two parts) draw inspiration from and breathes life into Manet’s painting “Olympia.” In the first part, Widloski is the supple courtesan who is the object of her offscreen brother’s desire. The second part bends genders and challenges race as it makes Abrantes the subject and Widloski as the maid, albeit in overt blackface. These two films set the stage for what will be recurring themes and appearances of incest, race, and nudity throughout Abrantes’s oeuvre.

Visionary Iraq

This early entry was co-written with, co-directed by, and co-stars Fort Buchanan‘s Benjamin Crotty, who plays one-half of a pair of siblings readying to depart for the Iraq war. Playing his adopted Angolan sister is Abrantes, in heavy brown face. The siblings (yes, who are sleeping with each other) learn shortly before they deploy that their father is profiting from the war. While in Iraq, the siblings are faced with a moral dilemma.

Too Many Daddies, Mommies, and Babies

After failing to save the Amazon from ultimate ruin, a pair scientists in a same-sex relationship decide to return home and start a family using the egg of one of the scientist’s sisters and the uterus of a surrogate mother. This is an interesting look at the effects of man on nature, and how nature still has all of the power.

Liberdade

Opening with a young man stealing Viagra at gunpoint in an Angolan pharmacy, this sweeping story of love, crime, and racial tension, ultimately told in flashback from co-writers/directors Abrantes and Crotty, is one of the most “Hollywood” things the auteur has done, and it showcases his broader creative potential. The filmmakers also make great use of a slowed-down version of Paul Simon’s “Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes” (featuring Ladysmith Black Mambazo), as well as Frank Sinatra’s “Very Good Year.” This is a must-see.

Baby Back Costa Rica

More music video than short film, this 5-minute effort, which would have played better alongside Palaces of Pity (in Program 3), features three teen girls on a ride home to their awaiting swimming pool. During the ride, they discuss, among other things, pizza and Judaism.

Program 3: Friends for Eternity

Only two films are part of this Program, but they make up over 80 minutes of runtime and spotlight the first two collaborations between Abrantes and Daniel Schmidt (The Unity of All Things).

Palaces of Pity (Palacios de Pena)

This coming-of-age story focuses on two present-day teen girls—cousins who are being played against each other by their wealthy, dying grandmother. The matriarch will give her fortune to only one of the girls. When she passes away, legalities create a situation where one of the girls must voluntarily renounce her claim to the fortune…or involuntarily do so (at the hands of the other, of course). At 58 minutes, it has all the trappings of a full-length feature but is encumbered by the filmmakers’ indulgence to inject a 13-minute dream sequence set in medieval times.

A History of Mutual Respect

Abrantes and Schmidt costar as friends on a rainforest journey. Schmidt is in pursuit of clean, pure sex, while Abrantes is waiting for the right person. When the object of both their desires appears, their friendship is (eventually) forever changed. This film opens with lingering shots of a waterfall accompanied by the recorded wisdom of Nina Simone.

Program 4: Three Adaptations

This collection of shorts have ties to long-ago days.

The Island is Enchanted with You (La Isla está Encantada con Ustedes)

This opening short of the final program, and the only one that doesn’t feature work by Abrantes, comes from Alexander Carver and Daniel Schmidt, the filmmaking duo behind The Unity of All Things. Instead of science, though, this film delves into history; specifically, it looks at the history of Puerto Rico. Flirting with timelines ranging from present day to pre-Colonial days, and employing a variety of filmmaking elements (the island pulses with light when it talks, years on the timeline are represented by miniature headless CGI people, there’s a full music video at one point), this is a clever and captivating short where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Ornithes (Zwazo)

Returning to Abrantes, this short transplants Aristophanes’ 414BC play The Birds into modern-day Haiti. With dialogue spoken in Haitian Creole and Attic Greek, the film features colorful costuming and the wonderful line, as uttered by a local driving a car following a bird riding a horse (while the backing track to the remix of L’il Wayne’s 6 Foot 7 Foot beats in the background), “My problem is that the director thinks we can still have a Dionysian collective trance induced by polyphonic hexameters or comic dactyls in Attic Greek. It’s plain foolish.”

Fratelli

The final short of the final program, co-written and co-directed by Abrantes and Alexandre Melo, is a retelling of the prologue of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew. This isn’t the only connection to classic literature found here, though. Using some original costumes used in the 1972 film The Canterbury Tales, the filmmakers give an artistic nod to both Geoffrey Chaucer and Italian filmmaker Pier Paolo Pasolini.

Joel Hodgson, creator of Mystery Science Theater 3000, once said in an interview about the show’s humor that the right people will get the joke.  His message was that while not everyone will understand everything, there will always be someone who will understand something. Such is the case of the works of Gabriel Abrantes—not every film will be for everyone, but each film will be for someone.

As the 2016 Sundance Film Festival comes to a close and the 50,000 people from the press, industry, and general public head back home, it’s time to reflect on the films from this year’s lineup. Talk to anyone on the streets and they’ll tell you there were two major buzz titles.

The first one received the bad kind of buzz after numerous Twitter reports claiming there were a flood walkouts for the Daniel’s “farting corpse movie” Swiss Amry Man. While the film will certainly divide audiences (it made my list of top films), the screening I went to actually probably had fewer walkouts then you usually see. But easily the most hyped up movie at Sundance this year was Nate Parker’s The Birth of a Nation. The film went on to win both the grand jury prize and audience award, a trend started 3 years ago with Fruitvale Station, then Whiplash, and then last year’s Me and Earl and the Dying Girl. And before The Birth of a Nation dominated the talk of the town, Manchester By the Sea starring Casey Affleck, Michelle Williams, and Kyle Chandler was the hot ticket.

Overall, I’d say it was a solid lineup with the number of good films outweighing the bad, however, those looking for a masterpiece probably didn’t find one. For all of our reactions to what we saw at Sundance, check out our entire Sundance 2016 coverage.

Way Too Indie’s 10 Best Sundance 2016 Films

#10. Swiss Army Man

Synopsis: Hank, a hopeless man stranded in the wild, discovers a mysterious dead body. Together the two embark on an epic journey to get home. As Hank realizes the body is the key to his survival, this once suicidal man is forced to convince a dead body that life is worth living.

#9. Joshy

Synopsis: Josh treats what would have been his bachelor party as an opportunity to reconnect with his friends.
Read Our Joshy Review

#8. Little Men

Synopsis: When 13-year-old Jake’s grandfather dies, his family moves back into their old Brooklyn home. There, Jake befriends Tony, whose single Chilean mother runs the shop downstairs. As their friendship deepens, however, their families are driven apart by a battle over rent, and the boys respond with a vow of silence.

#7. The Birth of a Nation

Synopsis: Set against the antebellum South, this story follows Nat Turner, a literate slave and preacher whose financially strained owner, Samuel Turner, accepts an offer to use Nat’s preaching to subdue unruly slaves. After witnessing countless atrocities against fellow slaves, Nat devises a plan to lead his people to freedom.
Read Our The Birth of a Nation Review

#6. The Eagle Huntress

Synopsis: Step aside, Daenerys and Katniss—Aisholpan is a real-life role model on an epic journey in a faraway world. Follow this 13-year-old nomadic Mongolian girl as she battles to become the first female to hunt with a golden eagle in 2,000 years of maledominated history.
Read Our The Eagle Huntress Review

#5. The Intervention

Synopsis: A weekend getaway for four couples takes a sharp turn when one of the couples discovers the entire trip was orchestrated to host an intervention on their marriage.
Read Our The Intervention Review

#4. Green Room

Synopsis: This wickedly fun horror-thriller tells a story about the owner of a neo-Nazi club who squares off against an unsuspecting but resilient young punk band after they witness a horrific act of violence.
Read Our Green Room Review

#3. Operation Avalanche

Synopsis: In 1967, four undercover CIA agents were sent to NASA posing as a documentary film crew. What they discovered led to one of the biggest conspiracies in American history.
Read Our Operation Avalanche Review

#2. Maggie’s Plan

Synopsis: A young woman’s determination to have a child catapults her into a nervy love triangle with a heart-throb academic and his eccentric critical-theorist wife.
Read Our Maggie’s Plan Review

#1. Manchester by the Sea

Synopsis: After his older brother passes away, Lee Chandler is forced to return home to care for his 16-year-old nephew. There he is compelled to deal with a tragic past that separated him from his family and the community where he was born and raised.
Read Our Manchester by the Sea Review

One of the great trademarks of Oscar-nominated shorts (in any category) is the diversity of the nominees. That diversity reflects not only in the countries represented but also the languages and themes of each film. The 2016 Oscar-nominated Live Action Shorts are no different.

Ave Maria (directed by Basil Kalil)

Five nuns based on the West Bank of Palestine have their dinner—and their vow of silence—disrupted when an Israeli man crashes his car into their statue of the Virgin Mary. Khalil’s delightfully funny short is rich with juxtaposition, not only of faith but also of family.

Day One (directed by Henry Hughes)

The title of Hughes’ effective war-based drama refers to the first day on the job for Feda (Layla Alizada), a US Army interpreter stationed with a unit in Afghanistan. When that unit arrests a bomb maker at his home, their routine mission becomes anything but when the bomb maker’s wife goes into labor. Religious rule forbids a male doctor from touching the mother, so Feda must deliver the baby. Alizada shines in the role.

Everything Will Be Okay (directed by Patrick Vollrath)

In this family drama, a divorced father picks up his 8-year-old daughter for what appears to be a routine weekend. But as the day unfolds the day becomes anything but routine, and the young child knows it. The fist half of Vollrath’s film unfolds with great tension but loses a little steam once it makes its big reveal.

Shok (directed by Jamie Donoughue)

Based on true events, Donoughue’s film begins in the present day when a man finds an old, beat-up bicycle on the road. This triggers memories of two Albanian boys, best friends Petrit (Lum Veseli) and Oki (Andi Bajgora), living in Serbia during the Kosovo War. Petrit makes some bad decisions and brings Oki down with him. The drama lacks tension in the early stages but it closes strong with a stunning ending.

Stutterer (directed by Benjamin Cleary)

Matthew Needham plays Greenwood, a typographer with a stutter so crippling, he has taken to learn sign language to communicate. He has carried on a six-month online romance with Ellie (Chloe Pirrie), and when she suggests they finally meet in person, Greenwood goes into a panic. Cleary’s drama, while the least intense of the nominees, is the most intimate and accessible. Credit must also be given to the film’s sound editor, Gustaf Jackson. Greenwood’s thoughts are audible to the viewer and spoken perfectly in his head, creating a need for Jackson to overlay a lot of competing (and panicked) dialogue; it’s surgical-like editing.

If I had an Academy vote, I would place mine for Day One. I really liked Ave Maria, and it’s the most entertaining of the five films, but the sustained intensity of the on-the-job war drama, coupled with Alizada’s performance, makes it the winner for me.

I saw an interview with Bear Grylls recently where the adventurer praised The Revenant’s realism, saying it accurately depicts a grim struggle for survival in an inhospitable landscape. He liked it so much that he went straight to a travel agent afterwards, booking a nice winter break for himself and the family in the frozen wilderness of Canada where The Revenant was shot.

Everyone seems to have an opinion on the movie, including ridiculous ones like a histrionic piece in The Guardian calling The Revenant “pain porn” and drawing a comparison to ISIS. All news is good news for “Team Revenant” in the run-up to the Oscars, and all those column inches about bear rape and liver eating will surely keep it fresh in everyone’s minds right up to the ceremony.

I don’t really understand why some people are getting so hot under the collar about the film. While the content is gruesome and often brutal, the stylistic choices made by Alejandro Iñárritu keeps the action at a removed distance, even when the camera is shoved up someone’s nose. We’re never given the opportunity to get to know the characters, so we just sit there, observing Hugh Glass’ ordeal with cool detachment, waiting for him to get his revenge so we can all go home. Mel Gibson got the job done about an hour less in Payback, and it was a bit more fun.

DiCaprio and Co. keep talking about what an arduous location shoot it was, which leads me to my main beef with the movie: Iñárritu puts his cast and crew through hell for the sake of authenticity, but makes so many flashy choices that keep drawing our attention to the artifice of the piece. Here are five of them.

1. Long, Long, Long, Masturbatory Takes

Iñárritu and Lubezki are up to their Birdman tricks again, filming long sequences of The Revenant in elaborate takes. The film’s opening set piece is immense, a stupendous tracking shot through the mayhem of an Indian raid on Leo’s fur trapper camp. It’s a little too perfect, as the camera glides clinically through the bloodbath, taking the time to pan and tilt at just the right moment to capture people getting their heads caved in.

Some call this immersive; I call it showboating. It’s like watching a demo reel for a hyper-realistic first-person shooter, and the technique calls attention to the whereabouts of the camera rather than making it disappear. The trouble with long takes is that it goes against the usual visual rhythm we expect in a film, so when the cut doesn’t come, it makes us more conscious of the director’s decision not to cut. Because of this, I’m spending more time admiring the craft than getting involved in the action.

By comparison, look at George Miller’s virtually invisible direction in Mad Max: Fury Road. There are no such flourishes from him. Miller’s only interested in orchestrating his team in service of the story, and that is far more immersive. Iñárritu’s choice of long takes serves his ego rather than the story.

2. Stuff-on-Lens Syndrome

Another thing some people find “immersive” that I find a bit too video game-like is stuff getting splattered all over the lens. It worked in Saving Private Ryan because it felt like some ultra-intrepid film crew was documenting the battle. It doesn’t make sense in The Revenant. Cameras didn’t exist back then, so what is getting spattered with blood, water and misted up by Leo’s breath? The viewer’s eyeballs? It just brings attention to the fourth wall, and once you do that, it makes the viewer conscious of that transparent barrier between them and the action.

3. Ridiculous Dream Sequences

You know when someone at work starts telling you about a dream they had last night, and you take it as an opportunity to think about something else? Dream sequences in movies almost always have that effect on me. Because they’re dreams, the director can throw any old nonsense in there, or use it to fill in some back story that decent writing could have covered in dialogue. We didn’t need a dream sequence in Jaws to show Quint’s harrowing experience on the USS Indianapolis.

The Revenant gives us some very repetitive dream sequences to show us what happened to Leo’s dead wife. It’s pretty hackneyed, and it gets comical when she starts floating around above him like a possessed Sigourney Weaver in Ghostbusters.

4. Tom Hardy’s Accent

Hardy’s talent as an actor is undeniable, but he’s a very odd duck. In interviews, he looks like he’d rather be wringing the life out of the interviewer with his bare hands than answering their banal questions. And Hardy goes through accents like Inspector Clouseau goes through costumes and silly wigs. The Peter Sellers comparison is apt because one has to wonder—does Tom Hardy need to hide behind these crazy voices the same way Sellers needed to with his characters?

Hardy picked up a Supporting Actor nomination for this year’s Oscars, and he certainly immerses himself in the role of Leo’s nemesis John Fitzgerald. As a Brit, he could have chosen any kind of American accent. Instead, he chose the most outlandish, impenetrable accent he could muster, basing it on Tom Berenger in Platoon. It struck me as such an ostentatious acting choice that every time he spoke it took me out of the movie—like Iñárritu’s directorial choices, the accent feels too much like self-indulgence.

5. “What the hell are you looking at?”

Having spent a couple of hours getting splashed, splattered and breathed on, the fourth wall is finally shattered when Leo peers right down the lens at us in The Revenant’s final frames.

It’s reminiscent of 12 Years a Slave‘s most sanctimonious moment when Solomon Northrup casts a challenging gaze into the camera. That movie spends about an hour showing us that slavery is a bad thing, then Brad Pitt shows up to tell Michael Fassbender that slavery is a bad thing. Then Northrup looks straight out of the movie at us, as if to say, “Shame on you, don’t you know slavery is a bad thing?” Well, no shit, it’s only been abolished for a hundred and fifty years or so.

At the end of The Revenant, Leo fixes us with a similar meaningful gaze, although his message seems to be more universal.”Mankind…bunch of assholes, huh?”

With characters ranging from a bear to a young Hindu boy, themes ranging from familial loss to the Soviet space program, and animation styles ranging from CGI to pencil-and-paper, the field of nominees for the 2016 Best Animated Short Oscar offers something for every taste. And regardless of your preference, there’s something for everyone in this year’s shorts.

Bear Story (directed by Gabriel Osorio Varga)

The most touching of all five nominees, Bear Story shows a bear telling his story about the fate of his family. The CGI animation of the bear is perfectly fine, but it’s magnificent when the bear presents his tale via something akin to a mechanical nickelodeon. There’s also an overt animal rights message here too.

Prologue (directed by Richard Williams)

Animation veteran Williams, a three-time Oscar winner, returns with a tale of a battle between Spartans and Athenians. There is not plot, per se; it’s simply about a battle of opposing forces. The animation—old-school pencil-on-paper work—is gorgeous.

Sanjay’s Super Team (directed by Sanjay Patel)

This animated short was inspired by director Patel’s own youth. Sanjay, a young Hindu boy, is made to pray with his father but he yearns to return to the superhero cartoon he was just watching. His meditation turns into a daydream, where the Hindu gods he worships are actually superheroes. Pixar is back with another wonderful short rich in theme and intended much more for adults than for children (despite it being screened before The Good Dinosaur in 2015).

We Can’t Live Without Cosmos (directed by Konstantin Bronzit)

Titled ы не можем жить без космоса in its native Russian, this film tells the tale of best friends and aspiring cosmonauts facing the rigors of space training. Bronzit wonderfully blends the joy of youthful dreams, the desire to bring those dreams to life, and the psychological effects when those dreams don’t go quite as planned (This film is also part of the 17th Annual Animation Show of Shows. Our review of that can be found here).

World of Tomorrow (directed by Don Hertzfeldt)

This hysterical film, illustrated crudely and presented with unbridled vision, is about a little girl who is visited by a future version of herself. That future version offers lessons in history (past and future), life, love, birth, and death. And quantum physics (This film is also part of the 17th Annual Animation Show of Shows. Our review of that can be found here).

If I had an Academy vote, it would be a tough choice, but I would have to go with We Can’t Live Without Cosmos.  Sanjay’s Super Team is wonderful for its diversity and a welcome return to form for Pixar (remember Lava?). As for World of Tomorrow, it pulls off quite the stunt of being both dense and hilarious.  But as entire packages go, from story to execution, We Can’t Live Without Cosmos delivers better than its fellow nominees.

With respect to all short filmmakers, documentary short films are the most challenging to execute. Sure, animated shorts may require the added dimension of art, and both animated and live action shorts may require the adoption of a traditional three-act structure in a greatly condensed form. But neither animation nor live action shorts bear any burden of proof. There aren’t facts to present, histories to tell, or cases to make. Documentary shorts have those facets. Documentary shorts also come with mandatory moments that must be made to fit within the condensed narrative, and they do not enjoy the luxury of creative fictional exits. These are challenges greater than any of those faced by other types of short films. This year’s slate of Oscar nominees is no exception to those challenges.

Body Team 12 (directed by David Darg)

For many, if not most, the Ebola virus is something far away, something we only read about in the news. In his impactful and efficient documentary, Darg brings viewers through the screen, drops them into Liberia, and puts them on a harrowing ride-along with the members of Body Team 12. This team, part of the Liberian Red Cross, has the difficult task of removing the bodies of those who have succumbed to the virus. The film pays particular attention to the sole female member of the team, Garmai Sumo. This may be the shortest short of the bunch, but it uses every second of that time to solid effect.

Chau, Beyond the Lines (directed by Courtney Marsh)

The subject of this documentary is Chau, a teenager living at the Lang Hao Binh Agent Orange Camp in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. The camp is special in that it caters only to those children who have been born with physical handicaps as a result of Agent Orange used during the Vietnam War. Unlike the other members of the camp, Chau has aspirations to become a professional artist and clothing designer. This means he has to leave the confines of the camp and make it on his own. The ravaging effects of Agent Orange on the collection of children make this film difficult to watch at times, and oddly, once Chau is on his own, the film slows.

Claude Lanzmann: Spectres of the Shoah (directed by Adam Benzine)

Shoah is generally regarded as the greatest film about the Holocaust ever committed to celluloid. Clocking in at more than 9 hours, Shoah took 12 years to produce, five of which were spent editing the 200+ hours of footage. Benzine’s documentary, a reflective one on the masterpiece, is part history lesson, part film studies course, part behind-the-scenes feature, and part biography of Shoah‘s creator, Claude Lanzmann. While loaded with interesting information, the biggest challenge this Oscar-nominated short faces is doing justice to its subject. To capture anything of substance about or related to a 9-hour epic, and to do so in only 40 minutes, is a tall order. Benzine touches only a little on as many points as possible.

A Girl in the River: The Price of Forgiveness (directed by Sharmeen Obaid-Chinoy)

The subject of this unbelievable documentary is a young Pakistani woman who survived an attempted honor killing. This practice is, at least anecdotally according to Obaid-Chinoy’s film, a growing trend in Pakistan and one that Pakistani courts are actually tolerating. The survivor of an attempt and the focal point of this film, Saba Maqsood, made a decision her family took issue with, so her father and uncle took matters into their own hands. Saba survived, creating a dynamic of guilt and forgiveness that doesn’t accompany most instances like these. This documentary is spellbinding from the first frame, capturing Saba’s personal struggles, her family’s defiance, and the complexity’s of a culture that allows such awful behavior.

Last Day of Freedom (directed by Dee Hibbert-Jones and Nomi Talisman)

While each of the nominated docs are personal in their own ways, this film feels more personal that the others, thanks largely in part to how it is presented. Bill is the narrator of the story about his brother, Manny, and the lifelong struggles Manny faced including illiteracy, several tours in Vietnam, PTSD, and finally a date with the executioner for a murder he committed. The fact that Bill narrates gives the film emotional heft, but it’s the animated presentation accompanying the story that serves as a double-edged sword. It offers an engaging visual style, and as effective as it may be, ultimately it’s one artist’s interpretations of another person’s words. Stick around for the closing title cards—they’re chilling.

If I had an Academy vote, I would cast it for A Girl in the River without hesitation. It combines excellent technical execution, a riveting tale, a protagonist to root for, and the most shocking of subject matters, particularly in the 21st century. It also bears the distinction of being the only doc of the five I want to re-watch, which is a good barometer for me.

This year, instead of filling out that annual Oscar ballot for your office pool—which, lets face it, is always won by the person who never watches any of the movies—you should convince your co-workers to fill out an Independent Spirit Awards ballot. Your office will be the hippest on the block, and with my guide of winner predictions, you’ll finally be able to beat Henry from accounting. Plus, watching the Spirit Awards is infinitely more entertaining than the Academy Awards due to its layed back atmosphere and unstuffy attitude. In addition to my predictions below, I detail my reasoning for each category winner and also who to watch out for as a potential sleeper.

You can catch the Independent Spirit Awards live on IFC on Saturday, February 27, 2016 at 2:00 PM PT and see how accurate these predictions hold up.

2016 Independent Spirit Award Predictions

(Predicted winners are highlighted in red bolded font)

Anomalisa
Beasts of No Nation
Carol
Spotlight
Tangerine

Sean Baker – Tangerine
Cary Joji Fukunaga – Beasts of No Nation
Todd Haynes – Carol
Charlie Kaufman & Duke Johnson – Anomalisa
Tom McCarthy – Spotlight
David Robert Mitchell – It Follows

Charlie Kaufman – Anomalisa
Donald Margulies – The End of the Tour
Phyllis Nagy – Carol
Tom McCarthy & Josh Singer – Spotlight
S. Craig Zahler – Bone Tomahawk

Christopher Abbott – James White
Abraham Attah – Beasts of No Nation
Ben Mendelsohn – Mississippi Grind
Jason Segel – The End of the Tour
Koudous Seihon – Mediterranea

Cate Blanchett – Carol
Brie Larson – Room
Rooney Mara – Carol
Bel Powley – The Diary of a Teenage Girl
Kitana Kiki Rodriguez- Tangerine

Kevin Corrigan – Results
Paul Dano – Love & Mercy
Idris Elba – Beasts of No Nation
Richard Jenkins – Bone Tomahawk
Michael Shannon – 99 Homes

Robin Bartlett – H.
Marin Ireland – Glass Chin
Jennifer Jason Leigh – Anomalisa
Cynthia Nixon – James White
Mya Taylor – Tangerine

The Diary of a Teenage Girl
James White
Manos Sucia
Mediterranea
Songs My Brothers Taught Me

Jesse Andrews – Me and Earl and the Dying Girl
Jonas Carpignano – Mediterranea
Emma Donoghue – Room
Marielle Heller – The Diary of a Teenage Girl
John Magary, Russell Harbaugh, Myna Josep – The Mend

Cary Joji Fukunaga – Beasts of No Nation
Ed Lachman – Carol
Joshua James Richards – Songs My Brothers Taught Me
Michael Gioulakis – It Follows
Reed Morano – Meadowland

Embrace of the Serpent
Girlhood
Mustang
A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence
Son of Saul

Best of Enemies
Heart of a Dog
The Look of Silence
Meru
The Russian Woodpecker
(T)ERROR

Beasts of No Nation
Heaven Knows What
It Follows
Room
Spotlight

Advantageous
Christmas, Again
Heaven Knows What
Krisha
Out of My Hand

From the National Board of Review to the recent handing out of the Golden Globes, the 2016 Oscar season has been nothing short of unpredictable. Yet, when the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced their nominations in the early morning of Thursday, January 14th, there were few shocks or notable omissions, except for the exclusion of critical darling Carol and its director Todd Haynes.

When the announcements started, the legion of Carol fans were given the chance to rest easy as it scored all of its expected nominations: cinematography, costumes, screenplay, score, best supporting actress and best actress. Yet, when surprise nominee Lenny Abrahamson was announced in Best Director and Carol was nowhere to be seen in Best Picture, it looked like a typical case of Oscar voters favoring the middlebrow over the high brow.

Not too long ago, pundits and insiders thought that Carol could surprise and win Best Picture after critical praise and an extensive stint on the festival circuit. Despite missing an important Producer’s Guild nomination, Carol was overperforming at many Oscar precursors, scoring a slew of nominations at the Golden Globes, BAFTAs and BFCA Awards. Going into the morning of the 14th, it finally looked like one of America’s greatest auteurs working today could get support from The Academy, but why did the nominations come up short?

In a year with many female-driven projects as possible contenders, most were predicting at least one of these films to miss out on Oscar morning. Historically, The Academy, which features an alarming number of older, white men, have favored male-led films. In fact, of last year’s eight Best Picture nominees, every single film focused on the life of a male. So, for many, having films like Mad Max: Fury Road, Brooklyn, Room, and Carol in contention indicated a step forward for the Oscars. Yet, aside from Carol, all of these films embrace the plight of the male condition. Even though Mad Max: Fury Road is unflinchingly feminist in its commentary, the audience split was still heavily skewed in favor of the male. Brooklyn devolves into a typical love-triangle story with its leading men representing a woman torn between her family home in Ireland and new home in America. And even though Room tackles a woman’s struggle with media perception, it’s the son of Brie Larson’s character that ends up rescuing her from depression.

Carol never shies away from being a film about women and their strength in a time of repression. Carol and Therese are perceived as classy, intelligent and demure, whereas their male suitors are presented as bullish oafs. Before romance even begins to bud between Therese and Carol, the Todd Haynes film is already at a disadvantage in The Academy by displaying women as interesting and independent, especially at the expense of their men.

As diminutive as classifying Carol as a lesbian romance may be, at the heart of the film is the blossoming love between Carol and Therese. It’s easy to point to the 2006 Oscar ceremony, where Crash won Best Picture over projected favorite Brokeback Mountain, to create a narrative for The Academy’s aversion for homosexual films and performances, but in the past decade a handful of men portraying gay figures have been nominated or awarded. On the other hand, actresses portraying lesbians have had a much harder time breaking through, and it is especially hard when the characters are “just” lesbians rather than transgender, bisexual or queer. The films these women star in often have an even harder time scoring picture nominations.

In recent years, the only film driven by a lesbian couple to be nominated for Best Picture is The Kids Are All Right, a dramedy with a meaty supporting role by a well-respected male actor. In fact, The Kids Are All Right isn’t like Carol at all—it is a conservative film The Academy could have an easier time embracing. Its relative lightness paints a lesbian partnership as something less serious than a straight relationship, whereas Carol illustrates the heavy struggles of lesbians in the middle of the 20th century with dire conviction. By principle, The Kids Are All Right diminishes the family that the lesbian couple has made by putting a man in the middle of it—something The Academy members can get behind.

But the single biggest travesty of this year’s Oscar season might be Todd Haynes missing a Best Director nomination. Haynes has always been treasured by crowds of more refined taste, evident by his many directing mentions from critics’ groups in New York City and Los Angeles, but Carol had him primed for an academic breakout. Haynes’ work in Carol is marked with his usual excellence, manifested in every performance and the fully realized 1950s time period. In recent years, the directing branch has made left-field or highbrow choices compared to the Directors Guild or other committees; meditative and “artsy” films such as Amour and The Tree of Life have garnered nominations for auteurs Michael Haneke and Terrence Malick, respectively. Yet Todd Haynes, who has been making acclaimed films for more than two decades, missed a nomination for his most accessible film to date. Despite his huge influence in the important New Queer Cinema movement, he won’t be joining the ranks of the few openly gay directors to receive an Oscar nomination.

Perhaps Carol’s Oscar problems aren’t exclusive to its production in front of the camera. For the first time since 2008, The Weinstein Company missed out on a Best Picture nod after having two of the biggest front runners at the start of the season. The Weinstein Company has had a tumultuous year after laying off a few dozen staff members, along with box office flops like Burnt. TWC toned down its usual campaigning techniques and perhaps, due to this, not enough Academy members were properly convinced. But Carol has been campaigning for itself ever since its Cannes premiere. It deserved to be a film that could rest easily on its accolades and prestige.

Ultimately, Carol has ended up being The Academy’s biggest Best Picture oversight of the 21st century. Even though The Dark Knight‘s snub in 2009 signaled a need for an expanded picture category to give more genre films a chance, its support was exclusively guilds based, and the lack of picture or director nominations were all but determined after it missed those at BAFTA and the Golden Globes. Carol‘s snub is much more indicative of Hollywood and the AMPAS’ greatest aversions, whether that be the highbrow cinema, gay filmmakers, or women’s sexuality.

It’s January, the Oscar nominations are out there and everyone’s giving their two cents about Hollywood race/gender bias, complaining that their favorite movie didn’t get enough attention, and praying to the golden-statue gods that Leonardo DiCaprio finally nabs that elusive award he’s been chasing since he was five years old or something.

2015 was a fascinating year in film. But to be real, it’s exhausting getting pelted left and right on social media with people’s thoughts on the Oscars and their grievances with this past year in film. What’s more, we’re in a veritable dead zone at the movies right now, with little of significance (all due respect) hitting theaters in these last winter months. What better to do, then, than to look beyond awards season and run down our most anticipated movies of 2016?

From arthouse to mega multiplex, there are pictures in the works that we can’t wait to feast our eyes on. Cinephile favorites Rodrigo García, Jeff Nichols, Whit Stillman, the Coens, and Kenneth Lonergan are all ready to blow us away again with their latest offerings, while Disney looks to have another banner year with two Marvel films and a Star Wars spinoff waiting in the wings. Beloved veterans Martin Scorsese and Richard Linklater are back with a pair of ensemble pieces while up and coming rookies Damien Chazelle and Ana Lily Amirpour return to prove their breakout hits were just the beginning of their long and fruitful careers.

So, while everyone else continues to moan about Oscar racial bias while simultaneously butchering Alejandro González Iñárritu’s name, join us as we look forward to what should be a spectacular year in film.

Way Too Indie’s Most Anticipated Films of 2016

31

Rob Zombie is one of the most polarizing genre filmmakers working today, with equal amounts of people believing his films to be brilliant art or tasteless filth. His latest film, 31, has received lots of hype leading up to its Sundance premiere due to an MPAA controversy. If there’s anything we’ve learned from Zombie’s past features, it’s that he’s completely unafraid of going too far in regards to grim violence. His breakout film, The Devil’s Rejects, is an exercise in brutality that also includes some unexpected moments that are genuinely sweet and endearing. According to the director, 31 features a similar tone to the aforementioned film, which is definitely a positive thing. Set on Halloween night in the 1970s, the film finds a group of psychotic clowns capturing unsuspecting people and forcing them to play deadly carnival games. While this could be perceived as cheesy, Zombie’s history of going completely balls to the wall with everything leaves little doubt that 31 will be genuinely unsettling. [Blair]

Assassin’s Creed

Game players across the globe have long been eagerly awaiting Justin Kurzel’s adaptation of the popular action-adventure series, Assassin’s Creed. And seeing as it’s one of my most anticipated films of 2016, you’d think that I’m a die-hard fan of the game as well. Surprisingly, I’ve never played it (despite always having had an interest in doing so), and thus my excitement to check out Kurzel’s adaptation doesn’t stem from adoration of the original source material. More so, it stems from my love of the cast and crew at the helm of the project. Assassin’s Creed is co-written by Michael Lesslie, one of the co-writers of Kurzel’s brilliant adaptation of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, from last year. It’s shot by Adam Arkapaw (also Macbeth, True Detective, Top of the Lake, Lore, The Snowtown Murders, Animal Kingdom), undoubtedly one of the world’s finest working cinematographers. And lastly, the film stars Michael Fassbender and Marion Cotillard who, with Macbeth, already proved what a dual force they can be on screen. It’s hard not to expect greatness from this immensely talented group of individuals’ next cinematic output. [Eli]

The Bad Batch

Ana Lily Amirpour made a huge impression on the indie world a couple years ago with her directorial debut of A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, even landing on our list of the Best Foreign Films of 2014. With her upcoming film The Bad Batch, Amirpour scores big name actors Jim Carrey and Keanu Reeves (though the extent of their roles is unknown at this time) along with Diego Luna and Suki Waterhouse to star in a film described as a cannibal love story set in a post-apocalyptic Texas wasteland. We can only hope Amirpour offers another highly stylized genre mashup like she did in her first effort, and capitalizes on the extraordinary talent she’s been blessed with here. While there hasn’t been an official release date announced yet, we’d expect The Bad Batch to premiere on the festival circuit later this year. [Dustin]

Bad Santa 2

Comedies are often funniest when they make you laugh in a very particular, unique way that may not be for everyone, but is just right for you. 2003’s Bad Santa was that kind of movie for me, with its irreverent, dark, disgusting sense of humor still making me laugh hysterically over a decade after I first watched it. In its (true) sequel, Bad Santa 2, Billy Bob Thornton reprises his role as scummy small-time crook/mall Santa Willie Stokes as Mean Girls director Mark Waters sits at the helm. Joining Thornton onscreen are Tony Cox (reprising his role as Willie’s partner in crime, Marcus), Christina Hendricks, Kathy Bates and the returning Brett Kelly as pudgy Santa admirer Thurman Merman. Principal photography for the film commenced just recently, and with Zoolander 2 on deck this year as well, I’m beginning to have high school flashbacks of spilling my popcorn at my multiplex from laughing so hard. [Bernard]

Captain America: Civil War

With Ant-Man, the Marvel Cinematic Universe concluded “Phase 2” of its ongoing celluloid superhero saga. In that time, heroes have been born, friendships have been forged, and Avengers have been assembled. Those first two phases of films—12 pictures in all—have led to the kickoff of Phase 3: Captain America: Civil War. This is a film that will pit hero against hero and probably disassemble The Avengers as we know them today, as the US government wants superheroes to register their powers; not every hero thinks they should, creating a philosophical divide and both sides are digging in. There hasn’t been a film in the MCU franchise with this much at stake. It not only marks the beginning of the end for some characters and storylines, it also marks the beginning of the beginning for others, making the film a critical point along a dynamic timeline that Marvel has projected into 2019. To add a twist, Civil War marks only the third time an MCU director has helmed a sequel of his previous film. Jon Favreau, director of what once was best of the MCU, Iron Man, directed Iron Man 2 to disastrous creative results. Joss Whedon, who directed the film that toppled Iron Man as the best—The Avengers—directed that film’s sequel, Avengers: Age of Ultron; his results weren’t much better than Favreau’s. That pattern now continues. Brothers Anthony and Joe Russo return from helming Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the MCU film I strongly believe tops them all, to direct this one. Will the superhero sophomore jinx sting the Russos like those before them? I hope not, and I can’t wait to find out. [Michael]

Cosmos

The fact that Andrzej Zulawski has returned to feature filmmaking after a fifteen-year hiatus should be a cause for celebration. Like many of the Polish auteurs, from Kieslowski to Polanski, Zulawski’s images are always striking. His Cronenberg-esque English-language horror film, Possession, is among the best of its kind, brimming with terror and excitement. But it’s possible Cosmos, with its suggestively panoptic title, could be something more ambitious. Perhaps it will be more comparable to Zulawski’s unfinished opus, On the Silver Globe, as the plot also seems relatively abstract. Regardless, the film is shaping up to be quite the triumph. It premiered in August of last year at the Locarno International Film Festival to rave reviews, so it would appear the great director has not lost his footing. [Cameron]

Doctor Strange

I don’t know much about Doctor Strange, but what I do know points to possibly Marvel Studios’ strangest (yeah, OK, pun intended) film so far. Benedict Cumberbatch as an intergalactic crime-fighting magician? I’m down with that. The film’s director has also piqued my interested, as Scott Derrickson could bring a dark edge to that could-be goofy one-sentence description. Derrickson is one of the best filmmakers working today in mainstream horror, even if I was greatly disappointed by his last film, Deliver Us from Evil. Marvel has had a rocky history with directors with a vision, though I think this narrative is a little overplayed considering what we see on screen—the pre- and non-Avengers films have always had a bit of the filmmaker’s character in there, so I expect Derrickson’s style to show on screen. Along with Cumberbatch, Doctor Strange will also feature Rachel McAdams, Chiwetel Ejiofor as Baron Mordo (that has to be the villain, right?), Mads Mikkelsen, and Tilda Swinton as something called “The Ancient One.” If Doctor Strange turns out to be as crazy and scary as I hope, it might be Marvel’s new torch holder. [Aaron]

Demolition

Fresh off the successes of his recent films Dallas Buyers Club and Wild, Jean-Marc Vallée’s next directorial effort, Demolition, looks like more character-driven brilliance from the filmmaker. Starring the perpetually under-appreciated Jake Gyllenhaal, the film follows an investment banker who attempts to rebuild his life after the unexpected death of his wife. With a fantastic director, a fantastic lead, and a fantastic supporting cast—featuring the likes of Naomi Watts and Chris Cooper—there is a lot to get excited about when it comes to Demolition’s upcoming release. While having a great cast and crew doesn’t always result in a great movie, it certainly stacks the odds in favor of such, which is a justifiable cause for excitement. If the film can elicit the same kind of raw, human emotion that Vallée’s previous works have, we’re all going to be in for a treat when Demolition arrives in theaters this April. [Blair]

Elle

A cyberthriller starring Isabelle Hupert from genius provocateur, Paul Verhoeven? That’s not a logline I need to hear twice. Verhoeven is chiefly remembered for his ability to pull off social commentary through science fiction better than just about anyone else in the game. He skewered the noxious politics of Robert Heinlin’s military-approved novel, Starship Troopers, by adapting it in such a way that its virtues are mocked as opposed to upheld, resulting in one of the best anti-propaganda films of the past few decades. Prior to this, he exploded with the smash hit, RoboCop, a blockbuster about a corrupt company that seeks to saturate an impoverished Detroit with its state-of-the-art technology to profit through monopolized gentrification. But even before this, before the name Verhoeven was familiar to American audiences, he was churning out pulpy, Hitchcockian erotic thrillers that were supremely stylized and vigorously entertaining. With Elle, a film that sounds so Hitchcockian it’s a wonder Brian De Palma isn’t directing it. [Cameron]

Everybody Wants Some

Following up his critically acclaimed masterpiece Boyhood, Richard Linklater heads back into familiar territory with a slacker comedy that has cult status written all over it. His upcoming film Everybody Wants Some follows a group of college baseball players in the early ’80s who embark on a wild weekend of freedom and unsupervised adulthood. Fans of his ’70s inspired high school stoner classic Dazed and Confused will undoubtedly notice similarities. That’s by design as Linklater’s newest film is a self-proclaimed “spiritual sequel” to the fan favorite Dazed, containing the same setup of boys chasing girls, drinking, and pot smoking, only a decade later. The former film introduced us to little-known actors who later became superstars (Matthew McConaughey and Milla Jovovich) so there’s a chance the same could happen with the young cast here as well (Blake Jenner, Zoey Deutch, Ryan Guzman, Tyler Hoechlin, Wyatt Russell). Everybody Wants Some is slated to premiere at SXSW this year as the opening night film. [Dustin]

Ghostbusters

2016 appears to be going for some sort of record for Most Franchise Films distributed in a year. Almost every weekend sees some next installment of whomever your favorite superhero is (Batman, Superman, X-Men, and Captain America will all be hanging out in 2016), or the next star war or trek, and don’t get me started on nostalgia-produced installations such as Independence Day: Resurgence, Zoolander 2, Finding Dory, and Bridget Jones’s Baby. Straight old remakes are more rare, as they should be when the originals are so perfect. So while no one is likely hankering for another Jungle Book, Pete’s Dragon, or Jumanji—though they are going to get them anyway—there is one remake we can get genuinely excited about this year: Ghostbusters. Re-imagining the 1984 classic with female leads (especially one made up of today’s funniest women: Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy, Kate McKinnon, and Leslie Jones), directed by a man who not only makes hilarious films but seems to innately understand the unique humor women afford to film, Paul Feig, is not only a great indicator that Hollywood might finally be wising up that we need less Get Hard and more Spy and Bridesmaids. Sure the film is banking on people’s love for the original, but I’m betting the fresh perspective secures it as a success on its own and further proof the world wants to see ladies save the day while Chris Hemsworth plays the secretary. How’s that for role reversal? [Ananda]

Hail, Caesar!

Hail, Caesar! is as close to a “blind buy” as it comes to a most anticipated list simply because it’s the Coen brothers (True Grit, Inside Llewyn Davis). I’ll admit that I was a little wary when I first heard the film was being released in early February—but again, it’s the Coen brothers. Sure, the Coens have their fair share of misses, and Hail, Caesar! seems much more in the comic vein of their less successful films. Given what we’ve seen in the trailers for the film, at worst it seems like a fun and disposable film. The cast is spectacular: Clooney, Brolin, Tatum, Swinton, Johansson, Fiennes, Hill, McDormand—I could make an art-house Expendables joke which is even more apt as Dolph Lundgren is also in the film. Hail, Caesar! may not be on the same plane as the Coens’ recent run (last three films nominated for Best Picture), but I’m ready for a sharp, very fun, nostalgic madcap run through the Golden Age of Hollywood that only they could provide. [Aaron]

La La Land

Though it wasn’t quite his debut, Whiplash allowed filmmaker Damien Chazelle to emerge in a big way in 2014. At the time of the movie’s release, the common refrain concerning Chazelle’s high school past as a jazz drummer was that it helped him to imbue his movie—about a musician—with a sense of musicality and rhythm. His cuts, perfectly timed with the diegetic soundtrack, made the journey of a song cinematic. Which is why it’s no surprise that the writer/director’s follow-up to his Oscar-winning second movie is a full-on musical. La La Land (set for release July 15th) reunites Crazy, Stupid, Love co-stars/charm machines Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone with Rosemarie DeWitt, John Legend and Whiplash standout J.K. Simmons in supporting roles. Set in modern day Los Angeles, the upcoming film features Gosling as a jazz pianist that falls for an aspiring actress, and from the first look, an old-fashioned tone seems evident. In an era where the majority of big movie musicals are stodgy adaptations of Broadway shows, Chazelle—who turns 31 years old January 19th—is poised to bring some vitality to a genre desperately in search of some. [Zach]

Last Days in the Desert

I’ve always been fascinated by experimental takes on Biblical tales. The source material is literally ancient, so it’s highly refreshing whenever a filmmaker decides to approach it unconventionally, unafraid to deviate from the consensus understandings of the deeply subjective text. Last Days in the Desert appears to be just such a film. The story centers on Jesus’s 40 days of fasting and prayer in the desert; a hazy period of isolation and temptation. It’s the kind of wide-open premise that is ripe for abstract, contemplative filmmaking. But there’s an extra angle of intrigue in the casting of Ewan McGregor as both Jesus and Satan. Perceived whitewashing aside, the double role is a really cool choice, and I’m eager to see what it means for the film’s ideas and what it brings out of McGregor. Also, Rodrigo García directs the first feature script he’s written since the underseen gem, Mother and Child (2009). Last Days in the Desert appears to be a bit of a departure as far as style and subject matter goes, but here’s hoping it represents an invigorating new turn in the director’s career. [Byron]

Love & Friendship

Back in 2011, Whit Stillman fans were ecstatic to see him return to filmmaking after a 13-year hiatus with Damsels in Distress. Luckily, the wait for his next film won’t be nearly that long, with Sundance announcing that his latest feature Love & Friendship will premiere at the festival. This time Stillman has changed gears, adapting a Jane Austen novella taking place in the late 18th century about a widow trying to find husbands for herself and her daughter. It’s new territory for Stillman, although his skill for skewering yuppies and the upper class in his earlier works makes the prospect of him tackling an elegant period piece all the more appealing. But the most exciting part has to be its cast, which stars Chloe Sevigny and Kate Beckinsale, making Love & Friendship a Last Days of Disco mini-reunion we never knew we needed. [C.J.]

Manchester by the Sea

This year’s Sundance lineup came as a surprise compared to previous years, with a lot of big American indie directors unveiling their latest works. And while we can’t wait for the likes of Kelly Reichardt and Todd Solondz to premiere their newest films, it’s Kenneth Lonergan’s Manchester by the Sea that has us most excited. His last film Margaret took over six years to get released due to legal troubles (a long saga well worth looking into), but the film was a bonafide masterpiece, a grand American epic that never got a proper chance to shine. Yet despite committing offenses that would throw most people in director jail for life, Lonergan has returned with a brand new feature about an uncle (Casey Affleck) having to take care of his teenage nephew after his brother dies. It sounds like a return to the low-key, humanist material of You Can Count on Me, and if Lonergan can make something half as good as that we’re in for something truly special. [C.J.]

Midnight Special

Of all the movies on the horizon in 2016, none are more tantalizing to this writer than Jeff Nichols’ Midnight Special. The Take Shelter and Mud director reunites with a surging Michael Shannon to tell the story of a father (Shannon) protecting his young son, Alton (Jaeden Lieberher), from a government task force and a scary religious sect as they race to a secret location. Why all the fuss over one boy? Turns out, Alton’s got special powers (and some freaky glowing eyes) which makes him a big-time target for evil scientists and god-fearing madmen. In Take Shelter we saw Nichols and Shannon examine the nature of paranoia in a fascinating way, but with an added sci-fi element and a thriller pursuit narrative, Midnight Special opens up a world of possibility for the actor-director team. [Bernard]

The Nice Guys

I’m a child of the ‘80s. As such, I was there for the birth of Lethal Weapon. The 1987 Richard Donner film, easily the best buddy cop film made (before and since), was written by Shane Black. It was his first screenplay. While nothing he’s done since can top that, everything he’s done has been a helluva good time. That includes his two directorial efforts, 2005’s Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and 2013’s Iron Man 3 (both of which he also wrote). Thanks to the cult popularity of the former, the box office success of the latter, and the critical acclaim of both, Black is back behind the camera (and the keyboard) with The Nice Guys. The film, starring heavy-hitters Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling, has its leads playing private eyes in 1970s Los Angeles, investigating the suicide of a porn star. If the trailer is any indication, Black’s crackling dialogue will be just one of the highlights of this crime thriller, and surely other Black-isms (humor, Christmas, kidnapping, kids in peril, etc.) will be on full display as well. [Michael]

Passengers

So we don’t have a ton to go off of when it comes to Passengers, but what I do know not only piques my interest but gives me reason to believe this could be one of the most unique, interesting, and entertaining films that comes out in 2016—a year I continue to bemoan as already looking formulaic and franchised to the hilt. What we know: The Imitation Game director Morten Tyldum is directing, Chris Pratt and Jennifer Lawrence are starring (I mean, how hot are they right now?!), and Jon Spaihts wrote the script. As the man most likely responsible for the better parts of Prometheus, Spaihts as writer means the sci-fi elements of this labeled “Epic Sci-Fi Romance” are apt to be pretty solid and Tyldum has proven his directing acumen aplenty. The film’s story follows Chris Pratt’s character, Jim, awakening 60 years early on a spaceship transporting cryogenically frozen passengers on a 90-year journey to a new colony. Rather than face a lonely life and death by himself, he decides to wake up another passenger, Jennifer Lawrence’s Aurora. The Sleeping Beauty reference is cute, the premise sounds both funny and strange, and with unconventional romances like Her captivating audiences recently, this may be a great idiosyncratic and original watch. [Ananda]

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story

As a massive Star Wars fan, I’m not sure any 2016 title captures my curiosity more than this one. I say “curiosity” rather than outright “anticipation” because I don’t know at all what to expect. We’re even more in the dark than we were with The Force Awakens. Aside from the animated film that played like an extended pilot for the Clone Wars television show, the franchise has never ventured outside the core episodes on the big screen. The prospect of leaving the Skywalkers behind and exploring new territory through a series of anthology stories is an exciting one and Rogue One will be the first test of that concept. I’ve always wanted to see a Star Wars movie take on the perspective of the soldiers and spies on the ground and this film’s Wild Bunch-style premise presents plenty of intriguing possibilities. An outstanding and diverse cast, coupled with an inspired choice of director in Gareth Edwards (Godzilla, Monsters), makes the project all the more enticing. [Byron]

Silence

Silence is one of those projects that get kicked around for years, taking different forms on its path to production. Martin Scorsese’s interest in the story dates back over 20 years, and previous attempts to produce the movie included names like Daniel Day-Lewis and Ken Watanabe among casting. Repeated delays even lead to one of the film’s producers suing Scorsese in 2012 for repeatedly putting off the movie in favor of films like The Departed and Hugo. Complicated productions can overshadow a film’s release, however, in the case of new material from the director of Raging Bull and Goodfellas (how do you pick two?) the potential for excellence always remains high. Silence stars Liam Neeson and Andrew Garfield—who lost 40 pounds and grew some magnificent facial hair for the part—as well as Star Wars: The Force Awakens standout Adam Driver. Set in the 17th century, the film tells the story of Jesuit priests who face persecution in Japan for spreading the teaching of Christianity. Scorsese’s work tends to be elevated by his personal connections to a story, and the legendary filmmaker’s Catholic roots will hopefully provide an entry point for one of his longest gestating projects. [Zach]

The Witch

It’s easy to refrain from getting too worked up over films from first-time directors, especially those featuring casts of little knowns, because there isn’t much to root one’s anticipation in. Robert Eggers’ The Witch is indeed a directorial debut featuring a cast of little knowns, but isn’t in any way, shape, or form a film that I’m having an easy time waiting for. Admittedly, I have a soft spot for the horror genre, but based on the film’s unforgettably tense and borderline-gothic trailer, it seems like it will be an atypical genre flick: relying less on sudden shocks and more on an atmosphere of dread and uncertainty to affect its viewers. Furthermore, the Sundance debut of The Witch rewarded Eggers with the high honor of their Best Director prize. It’s refreshing to see a filmmaker emerge on the horror scene with a film so strong that its reception, thus far, has been almost universally positive. Without even having seen it, this directorial debut has already strengthened my faith in the future of the horror genre, as well as providing my spooky side with something to keenly await in the coming year. [Eli]

The British New Wave of the ’60s had a profound impact on British culture. The films of that period focused on the ordinary lives of disaffected anti-heroes against a realistic, working-class backdrop—typically shot in stark black and white with terse dialogue in heavy regional accents. The themes and aesthetic are still visible in today’s film, TV, music, literature and art.

Here are five essential British New Wave movies, listed in order of accessibility.

#1. Saturday Night and Sunday Morning

(Karel Reisz, 1960)

Arthur Seaton (Albert Finney) is the quintessential angry young man, working long hard hours at the factory so he can live a little at the weekends. Enjoying himself usually means ten pints of stout, a packet of fags, and a quick knee-trembler in the bushes around the back of the social club. He views the world with utter contempt, and is determined not to end up like his parents, “dead from the neck up.”

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning is surly and cynical. The film is ripe with vicious, polemical dialogue from screenwriter Alan Sillitoe, who adapted his own novel for the screen. Viewers only familiar with Finney’s cosy work in films like Big Fish and Skyfall will be in for a pleasant shock—he’s absolutely mesmerizing here. It’s also a beautiful film to look at. Shot in sooty black and white by the brilliant Freddie Francis—cinematographer on classics such as The Innocents and The Elephant Man.

#2. The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner

(Tony Richardson, 1962)

Writer Sillitoe is at it again, this time crafting a compelling and intimate tale of rebellious youth and class warfare from his own short story. Tom Courtenay is outstanding as Colin Smith, a petty criminal from a tough working-class background who ends up in borstal after robbing a bakery. Told largely in flashback during our protagonist’s early morning runs, Smith’s final act of self-defeating rebellion is magnificent, with a montage cut with the precision of Keyser Soze’s final reveal in The Usual Suspects.

#3. This Sporting Life

(Lindsay Anderson, 1963)

Hellraiser Richard Harris turned in his finest performance in This Sporting Life. The actor’s volatile charisma was a great fit for the lustful, brutish Frank Machin—a coal miner-turned-rugby league player, whose talent is matched only by his violent streak. Off the field, Machin engages in a tempestuous, ill-fated relationship with his recently widowed landlady.

Anderson directs with panache, employing an aggressive flashback structure. His matchday scenes still rank among the best ever filmed, making egg-chasing look raw, immediate and gladiatorial.

#4. A Taste of Honey

(Tony Richardson, 1961)

Controversial at the time for its depiction of interracial sexual relationships and homosexuality, A Taste of Honey makes a refreshing watch today as a story told from a woman’s perspective in a time of deep-seated sexism. Breezy and tender, the film is about a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl, Jo (Rita Tushingham), who spent her childhood trailing around from one grubby bedsit to the next with her boozy, irresponsible mother Helen (Dora Bryan, stealing just about every scene she’s in.) Left high and dry when her mum marries her fancy man, Jo ends up pregnant by a black sailor, and lodging with a gay student when her beau goes back to sea.

Tushingham makes a brilliant screen debut as Jo, stranded on the wrong side of just about every social and economic barrier of the era. It’s a deeply empathetic, unsentimental performance, making Jo embattled but never a victim.

#5. Billy Liar

(John Schlesinger, 1963)

Billy Liar makes just about every list of British New Wave movies, and for good reason! The film is regarded as the punctuation mark before British film moved into a different era, specifically the “Swinging London” movies (Darling, Alfie and Blow Up).

Tom Courtenay stars as Billy Fisher, a childish pathological liar who seeks refuge from his humdrum existence in an elaborate fantasy world. There’s little to connect him with the other anti-heroes of the period besides his existential angst. That’s because Fisher comes from a comfortable middle-class background and works a steady job at a funeral directors.

Billy Liar is required watching for anyone interested in the evolution of British cinema.

I’ve spent the last several weeks of December doing what almost everyone who writes about film does at the end of the year: compiling, ranking and showing off lists. The only thing is that, for almost every list I put together, everything on it needed to have a public release in 2015. That means every film needed distribution of some sort, disqualifying anything that might not be accessible or lucky enough to score some sort of availability outside of film festivals.

That’s why, like for 2014, I’ve decided to compile another list of great films that don’t have a US distributor. For some of these films, it might not be surprising to see that buyers aren’t clamoring for them (a perception that has nothing to do with the film’s quality); other titles are more surprising in that they still don’t have distribution, given their accessibility and/or accolades. Either way, all of the films on this list deserve the chance of being seen beyond the festival circuit, and hopefully with enough interest or demand that might happen for a good number of these titles. Last year, over half of the films profiled on our 2014 undistributed feature wound up getting distributed; here’s hoping that amount winds up being higher for these 15 films.

Best Undistributed Films of 2015

The Academy of Muses

José Luis Guerín (sort of) returns to narrative filmmaking eight years after his masterpiece In the City of Sylvia, creating an entrancing and dense work done on a micro budget. Starting out as a documentary, Guerín films lectures held by Italian Philology professor Raffaele Pinto (playing himself) about poetry and the role of the female muse as inspiration for male artists. The opening act can feel like a tidal wave of concepts and ideas, but Guerín eventually settles down once he brings in a narrative involving Pinto using several of his students as muses. Shooting on cheap DV with no cinematographer, Guerín pulls off images just as evocative as the ones in Sylvia, once again using reflective surfaces to portray emotions and sensations that could never be summed up properly with words. It’s a film that crackles with energy from beginning to end, and yet another example of great small-scale filmmaking.

Update: Grasshopper Film has acquired US distribution rights for The Academy of Muses.

The Ardennes

Trailer

Robin Pront’s directorial debut surprised me back when I saw it at TIFF, as its familiar story of a love triangle between two criminal brothers (one reformed, one just out of jail) and the woman between them sounded all too familiar. But The Ardennes is both sophisticated in its approach and more thematically rich than one would expect, focusing on its characters trying to move on from their past sins by working their way above the poverty line. That gives The Ardennes a powerful and tragic edge, acknowledging how much social, political and systematic factors can muddle the distinctions between good and evil. Combined with great performances from its three leads (especially Veerle Baetens, who works wonders with what could have been a thankless role) and a gut punch of an ending, it’s surprising that The Ardennes is still awaiting US distribution.

Update: Film Movement has acquired US distribution rights for The Ardennes.

The Brand New Testament

Trailer

In Jaco Van Dormael’s The Brand New Testament, God (Benoît Poelvoorde) is a mean old drunk who spends his days creating disasters, diversions and annoyances on his computer to toy with humanity. He locks his wife (Yolande Moreau) and 10-year-old daughter Ea (Pili Groyne) in his apartment, worried that if they get out they’ll end up like his son. But Ea rebels against him, leaking out everyone’s date of death before escaping to Brussels in the hopes of recruiting six new apostles. It’s a strange film to say the least, with a premise viewers will have to accept as is if they want to enjoy it. Luckily, Van Dormael is intensely committed to seeing his vision through, and the film is bursting with so many weird ideas it’s easy to get won over by its energetic style. It’s a light, humourous attempt by Van Dormael to confront some of the bigger questions involving existence, and probably the cutest act of blasphemy you’ll ever see.

Update: Music Box Films has acquired US distribution rights for The Brand New Testament.

Despite the Night

After being rejected by the major festivals, Philippe Grandrieux’s Despite the Night (Malgré la nuit) finally unveiled itself at Montreal’s Festival du nouveau cinéma in the fall of 2015, marking another disappointing treatment of one of the most interesting and consistent filmmakers working today. Grandrieux is a director more interested in the dark and insidious, finding unsettling ways to push the boundaries of cinema into new territory, and Despite the Night is more of the same. Lenz (Kristian Marr) returns to Paris searching for a woman from his past, and in the process he enters an intense, destructive relationship with Hélène (Ariane Labed), a disturbed nurse still grieving the loss of her son. Grandrieux has made what might be his most accessible film to date, although that’s not saying much considering narrative has never been of too much interest in his works (it’s best to just surrender to Grandrieux’s intense aesthetics). Few filmmakers are willing to venture into the darkness; Grandrieux dives in headfirst, leaving it up to viewers if they want to dive in alongside him.

El Movimiento

Trailer

“1835. Argentina. Anarchy. Plague.” That title card sets the stage for Benjamin Naishtat’s El Movimiento, which quickly establishes its chaotic world by opening with a man getting his head blown off by a cannon at point blank range. From there, the film settles into following Señor (a fantastic Pablo Cedrón) and his two lackeys as they travel the desert, convincing people to join what Señor calls “The Movement” in hopes of unifying the country. Naishtat never bothers delving into what Señor’s movement exactly is (and Señor’s talks are nothing more than vague statements delivered with intensity), a choice that puts the focus more on the quest for power and dominance than ideology. People familiar with Argentina’s history and politics will certainly get more out of El Movimiento, but those unfamiliar should find plenty to enjoy whether it’s the gorgeous black and white cinematography, Pedro Irusta’s aggressive score, or Naishtat’s ability to create such an engrossing sense of time and place over a brief 65-minute runtime.

Happy Hour

Trailer

With the distinction between cinema and television getting blurrier by the day, and binge watching becoming more common, along comes Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s 317-minute Happy Hour to show the unique pleasures cinema can bring when duration isn’t a restriction. The film follows four women in their 30s, close friends who discover one of them has been trying to divorce her husband for over a year. The woman’s decision to leave her husband, followed by her vanishing from the film altogether, throws the other three women’s lives into turmoil over their own relationships. Hamaguchi lets his film breathe considerably, dedicating large chunks of time to sequences like an art event all four women participate in, a hangout at a bar or a getaway to a resort, and by doing so takes full advantage of his runtime to provide a level of depth rarely seen in film or television. All four women transform considerably by the time Happy Hour’s credits start to roll, and Hamaguchi gives his characters enough time and care to make their changes deeply felt and all the more resonant.

How Heavy This Hammer

Review

My heritage may make me biased, but 2015 was a good year for Canadian cinema (case in point: at least 3 films on this list are from the Great White North). And while a good amount of Canadian films blew me away last year, it was Kazik Radwanski’s How Heavy This Hammer that left me feeling excited for what the future might bring. Erwin (Erwin van Cotthem), a family man who spends most of his time playing computer games, makes a drastic shift in his life when he suddenly decides to leave his wife, yet finds himself in the same rut as before. Radwanski shoots almost entirely with handheld cameras and in extreme close-up, giving the film have a claustrophobic mood that emphasizes its protagonist’s feelings of being trapped that’s extremely effective. But Radwanski’s greatest skill here is his ability to get inside Erwin’s head without being judgmental, leaving viewers to make up their mind how to feel about him. Seeing something this formally interesting and empathetic come out of Canada only makes me hopeful that this is only the beginning of something much bigger for Canadian cinema.

Invention

Review
Clip

First off: kudos to Soda Pictures, who acquired both Canadian and UK rights to Mark Lewis’ Invention, a film that I never thought would get distribution of any kind considering it’s almost entirely silent. Other than a small piano number opening the film and a Fuck Buttons song used in the conclusion, Invention plays out with no sound whatsoever as Lewis’ camera swoops through three locations: Toronto, Sao Paolo and The Louvre in Paris. The film’s complex shots—using cranes, pans, zooms, tilts and just about every other possible type of camera movement—constantly redefines each space with every passing second, putting an emphasis on how cinema can influence our own perception. Taken on their own, Lewis’ shots are incredible works (the film is actually an anthology of a dozen films by Lewis), but Invention’s real power comes from the way it elegantly reminds viewers of how powerful of a tool cinema can be.

The Missing Girl

Review
Trailer

A US indie about one of life’s “late bloomers” isn’t exactly unheard of (Sundance has made an industry of these kinds of films), but A.D. Calvo’s The Missing Girl is a shining example of how much good execution can make even the most familiar material feel fresh again. The film starts out as a mystery: comic book store owner Mort (Robert Longstreet) hires a new employee (Alexia Rasmussen), only for her to disappear shortly after someone connected to an old missing persons case moves back into town. Calvo, with the help of an incredible performance by Longstreet, sets things up to look like Mort taking on the role of amateur detective before deliberately abandoning all feelings of mystery in the film’s second half. It’s a surprising move that pays off well, letting the film’s terrific sense of character take over while making Mort’s character arc much more impacting. With no distribution deal announced as of this time, I hope that someone will come along to help make this hidden gem no longer stay hidden.

One Floor Below

Trailer

Radu Muntean’s follow-up to Tuesday After Christmas finds the Romanian director—one of the members of Romania’s “new wave” of cinema—dealing with material similar to Ruben Ostlund’s films (or, for a more specific comparison, Michael Haneke’s Code Unknown). Patrascu (Teodor Corban) overhears an argument between a man and woman in the apartment below his, eavesdropping until the man in the argument catches him listening in. Hours later, the woman from the argument is found murdered but Patrascu doesn’t tell the police about what he heard, and soon the man who caught him starts taking an interest in Patrascu. Muntean’s interests lie strictly with Patrascu and not the circumstances surrounding the murder, preferring to delve into how Patrascu, a successful businessman used to exercising control over everything in his life, deals with getting thrown into a situation where he no longer has the upper hand. It’s a slow boiler that’s hard not to get caught up in, with Muntean’s long, elaborately choreographed takes—a high-wire act in itself—feeding into Patrascu’s attempts to navigate the sticky situation he’s put himself in.

The Other Side

Trailer

After completing his Texas Trilogy, Roberto Minervini moves into darker and more political territory with The Other Side. It continues Minervini’s unique blend of documentary and fiction developed in his earlier films, except this time he’s moved from Texas to rural Louisiana, looking at two groups located on the furthest edges of society. The film’s first half dedicates itself to Mark and Lisa, a couple trapped by their drug addictions, before switching over to a militia group preparing itself for what they think is an impending war with the government. It’s impossible to tell between what’s real or staged, and Minervini’s camera remains unflinching in its observation of some of the uglier aspects of both lifestyles. Yet The Other Side always shows a care and understanding towards its subjects/characters, with Minervini exploring the context behind their intense dislike of their government rather than pitying or dismissing them based on their situation. It’s a perspective that, in a time when political divisions get stronger and more abrasive with each passing day, feels more necessary than ever.

Update: Film Movement has acquired North American distribution rights for The Other Side.

Our Loved Ones

Review
Interview

When talking about Anne Émond’s Our Loved Ones, the word ambition springs to mind immediately. For her second feature, Émond creates a multigenerational family story dealing with grief, loss, fatherhood, depression and mental illness among many other big themes, nailing almost all of them with a grace and honesty even some well-established filmmakers might envy. Opening with the suicide of a family’s patriarch, the film hones in on eldest son David (Maxim Gaudette) over the years as he gets married and has two children. It’s only later on in the film that Émond’s elliptical and deceptively undramatic approach pays off, as David begins suffering from the same feelings of melancholy that led to his father’s death. Émond’s portrayal of depression is remarkable in its precision, and when the narrative transitions from David to his daughter Laurence in the film’s final act, Our Loved Ones feels like a true epic done on a human scale. Our Loved Ones’ subject matter will be a tough sell to most audiences, but it’s a powerful experience viewers should have the chance to see for themselves.

Paulina

Winner of the top prize at Cannes’ Critics’ Week in 2015, Santiago Mitre’s Paulina is only further proof of how Argentina has a knack for producing some seriously good directors. Paulina (Dolores Fonzi), a lawyer with a promising career, throws it all away when she decides to finally pursue her passion, moving away to teach high school students in one of the poorer parts of the country. Not too long after starting her job, a group of men (some of whom include her own students) beat and rape her as she travels home one night after visiting a friend. It’s a grim set-up that turns into something more frustrating and complicated as Paulina decides to keep teaching, baffling and infuriating everyone around her. Revealing any more of the story’s twists and turns would be a disservice to what Mitre has crafted, turning Paulina from a captivating drama into a fascinating look at what happens when personal interests clash with ideological ones. Forzi, along with Oscar Martinez (playing her father), both give great performances that help steer the film away from feeling too provocative or contrived.

Tag

Review
Trailer

Only one of six (!) films Sion Sono made in 2015, Tag should prove to be a delight for fans of the director’s gonzo works like Why Don’t You Play in Hell? or Tokyo Tribe. Anyone familiar with Tag already (it won several awards at Montreal’s Fantasia Film Festival) should know about its opening sequence already, a kind of deranged remake of The Happening that’s more surprising and entertaining than anything M. Night Shyamalan has done in more than a decade. After that, Sono just keeps the strangeness coming at full force, as the film’s lead transforms into three different women while avoiding death at every turn, whether it’s from gun-toting teachers, malevolent gusts of wind or pig men. Sono, a master when it comes to pacing, never slows things down for a second, and his ability to throw out as many insane ideas he can think of means it’s impossible to guess what will happen from one second to the next. Hopefully, Tag will be the first feature of Sono’s six from last year to score US distribution, and help further expose Western audiences to one of the most prolific and singular directors in the world right now.

Uncertain

Review
Trailer

Uncertain fell off people’s radars after winning an award at Tribeca in 2015, a shame considering it was one of the best documentaries of last year. The title comes from the town directors Ewan McNicol and Anna Sandilands profile, a small city with a population of 94 sitting on the border between Louisiana and Texas. The film profiles three men ranging from 21 to 74, all of whom have their own present hardships or tumultuous pasts primarily dealing with addiction. At the same time, the film periodically looks at a crisis happening in the town when an invasive weed spreads throughout the local lake, wreaking havoc on the ecosystem and threatening to end people’s ability to fish for food and income. McNicol and Sandilands tie together both the aquatic weed’s stranglehold on the town with the vices and conditions of its three subjects, creating a metaphor so perfectly intertwined with the film’s themes it gives Uncertain’s final moments—a brief glimmer of hope amid a grim reality—an emotional resonance that lasts long after the credits roll.

2015 confirmed that the years of movie stars carrying huge box office weight are behind us more than ever. Stars and starlets who heralded huge hits in the past were in some of the biggest flops of 2015; Bill Murray with Rock the Kasbah, Sandra Bullock with Our Brand is Crisis, Hugh Jackman with Pan and Chappie, and Bradley Cooper with Aloha and Burnt. Yet Hollywood works in circles, so someone is bound to rise from the ashes to become a true “movie star”.

In 2014, Chris Pratt became the talk of the town after a giant year with Guardians of the Galaxy and The Lego Movie. He even had a pretty good 2015 starring in Jurassic World. Yet, Pratt doesn’t have all of the characteristics of the Golden Age of Hollywood’s leading men and women. His expressive charisma and good looks don’t completely compensate for his limited range. It’s hard for him to carry a film without strong assistance from a supporting cast, which was noticeable in Guardians of the Galaxy but was more obvious after playing second fiddle to Bryce Dallas Howard in Jurassic World.

Jurassic World movie stars Chris Pratt and Bryce Dallas Howard

Furthermore, Pratt’s mark has never actually been tested; nothing has been sold on his image alone. The Marvel, Jurassic Park, and even Lego brands all have a built-in fan base that assures their films from being box office failures. In fact, many of Marvel’s biggest actors have proven to disappoint outside of the franchise: Chris Evans hasn’t led a non-Marvel film to a gross over $60 million; Robert Downey Jr.’s biggest hits have all been franchise films; Chris Hemsworth has had many leading endeavors tank. Marvel hasn’t historically made any bonafide box office stars; why would Chris Pratt be different?

But another talent has been awoken and he has been thrown into the center of the public’s eye: Oscar Isaac. In Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Isaac’s Poe Dameron isn’t as utilized as heavily as Finn and Rey, but the part does draw resemblance to the introduction of Harrison Ford’s Han Solo in A New Hope. The two are both cocky, sharp-witted pilots who play the magnetic, charming sidekick. What Isaac has in The Force Awakens that Ford didn’t in A New Hope is experience and a tangible acting prowess.

Oscar Isaac as Poe Dameron in Star Wars: The Force Awakens

While A New Hope was essentially Ford’s acting debut, Isaac already has many acting roles under his belt showing his versatility and range. His first leading performance as Llewyn Davis in the Coen Brothers’ Inside Llewyn Davis earned him critical praise and more than a dozen Best Actor mentions. In 2014, he received accolades for his leading performance in A Most Violent Year. And his most impressive box office turn was from this year, Ex Machina, which boasts many critical mentions and award traction.

These indies are obviously in the little leagues when it comes to box office and public visibility, but with The Force Awakens, Oscar Isaac will now become a household name. On top of red carpet events and press conferences, Isaac has been making the rounds on talk shows displaying his confidence and personality. His real life persona is a dashing combination of Pratt’s goofiness and Tom Cruise’s charm, but his talent and scope arguably exceeds them both. Add in his musical talent, and Isaac becomes a double threat that is easy for the public to latch on to.

A pondering Oscar Isaac in Ex Machina

Even though Poe Dameron seems underutilized in The Force Awakens, it’s worth noting that Han Solo’s presence is much more noteworthy in the next two installments of The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. With all signs pointing to a derivative series and some characters out of the way, Isaac’s Poe could have much more to do in the next episode. Furthermore, The Force Awakens is only the beginning of Isaac’s blockbuster reign; he is playing the titular villain in the upcoming X-Men film.

With a strong platter of future releases, Oscar Isaac has the potential to latch on to Hollywood and leave a lasting impact. The Star Wars series has started and killed many acting careers, especially Hayden Christensen and Mark Hamill who struggled to brand themselves outside of the series. But Isaac isn’t like these two; he has already proven himself to be strong enough in his past endeavors to outlast the curse. After his franchise contracts run up, he will be one of the most in-demand actors in Hollywood. His possibilities will be endless.

The introduction of this collection of shorts makes it clear that the calibre of animation forthcoming is formidable. Of the 3,000+ entries submitted for consideration, only 11 were selected to be included. Calling this international collection “elite” is an understatement. But something else makes these short films, whose creators employ animation techniques ranging from hand drawings to stop-motion and from paint on glass to CGI, even more special than that. This is the first Animation Show of Shows collection to be screened publicly. Ron Diamond, founder of Acme Filmworks and curator of the Animation Show of Shows for all 16 years of its history, decided to take the 17th annual event on something of a global tour.

Previously, the presentation had been confined to animation studios, festivals, and other exclusive venues. Now, lovers of animation, short films, and movies in general, will have the chance to experience these gems on the big screen. In addition to the short films, four of the artists are spotlighted in “documentary portraits.” The 11 shorts and 4 portraits run as one 97-minute program.

For more info on the films and screening details check out www.animationshowofshows.com.

The Story of Percival Pilts

Leading off the program is Australia’s 8-minute stop-motion film from Janette Goodey & John Lewis. A young boy named Percival uses pair of stilts and vows never to touch the ground again. The narration cadence invoke memories of Seuss, and what looks like something that might be only light fun offers an interesting perspective on tolerance. This is a delightful film to start with.

Tant de Forets

From Geoffrey Godet and Burcu Sankur of France comes a 3-minute film bursting with color and smoothly animated with sharp lines and crisp, distinctive shapes. The tale is based on the poetry of Jacques Prévert and points to the irony of how newspapers report the warnings of deforestation while simultaneously plundering forests to make paper.

Snowfall

Ireland’s Conor Whelan packs an emotional punch in his 4-minute motion graphics entry. A lonely man makes a decision to go to a friend’s party and while there, falls for someone. That someone doesn’t fall for him. It’s both beautiful and heartbreaking. Following the short, Whelan is the focus of the first documentary portrait.

The Ballad of Holland Island House

Created by Lynn Tomlinson from the United States, this short is the most visually striking and uniquely presented of the collection. The style Tomlinson employs is clay painting animation, and the texture of the imagery is so rich you can almost feel it. As for the story, it’s the history of an old house on a sinking island in the Chesapeake, presented as a five-minute folk ballad sung by the house itself.

Behind the Trees

The short with perhaps the most clever origins comes from the United States and Amanda Palmer and Avi Ofer. Palmer, who got into the habit of making notes about what her husband, writer Neil Gaiman, said in his sleep, was paperless one night so she dictated her exchange with her sleeping spouse. The result was a funny narrative, so she decided to set it to animation. It works wonderfully (and in less than three minutes).

We Can’t Live Without Cosmos

Russian animator Konstantin Bronzit, who was nominated for a Best Animated Short Film Oscar at the 2009 Academy Awards for Lavatory Lovestory, returns with a story about best friends who are aspiring cosmonauts facing the rigors of training for space travel. Their story unexpectedly changes from lighthearted fun to poignant reflection and does so to great effect, never wasting a second of its 16-minute runtime. Bronzit is the subject of the second documentary portrait.

Messages Dans L’Air

France and Switzerland combine to present Csabel Favez’s six-minute short, which is set in a world made of paper. The film balances a few unique relationships: a woman and her cat, her cat and the neighbor’s goldfish, the goldfish and its owner (a boxer), and the boxer and the woman. A message-offering bird adds a unique dimension to this already multifaceted tale.

Stripy

Babak Nekooei & Behnoud Nekooei create a unique entry for Iran. Set to Brahms’s “Hungarian Dances No. 5” and taking place in a dull grey factory, this film does an excellent job illustrating how art cannot be tamed and will not be monetized by commerce. The Nekooeis are the subjects of the third documentary portrait that follows their four-minute film.

Ascension

A terrific team of students from France—Thomas Bourdis, Colin Laubry, Martin de Coudenhove, Caroline Domergue, and Florian Vecchione—collaborate on this CGI film about a pair of mountain climbers who attempting to place a statue of the Virgin Mary atop the highest mountain they can find. The attempt and the results are not as planned for the climbers, but very funny for the viewers. The graphics work here is top-notch.

Love in the Time of March Madness

Another pair of countries—this time the United States and Australia—team-up to present Melissa Johnson and Robertino Zambrano’s terrific nine-minute B&W entry. The film is autobiographical for Johnson. It deals with how she managed her uncommon build at such a young age (she was six-foot-four and 127 pounds … in the 8th grade). She went on to make basketball her life until she years for something more. While not the laugh-out-loud funniest entry in the program, it certainly has the most wicked sense of humor. The fourth and final documentary portrait features Johnson.

World of Tomorrow

The program closer—and a film deserving of the closing spot—hails from the United States. It’s Don Hertzfeld’s hysterical 17-minute film about a little girl who is visited by … well, she’s visited by what can correctly be described a future version of herself. That future version offers lessons (lessons that the child can’t understand anyway) in history, life, love, birth, death, and quantum physics. The film has already snatched over two dozen awards and is presently on the Oscar nominee shortlist for Best Animated Short Film.

The 17th Annual Animation Show of Shows is a triumph and worth seeking out. Screening details and information about the films can be found at www.animationshowofshows.com.

Bumbling, overstuffed, and set in the middle-class fantasy world of Richard Curtis, Love Actually is an uneven ensemble romantic comedy that frequently appears on lists of the top Christmas movies. It had me suckered for a long time, even landing on my own list of favorite Christmas movies—but then I stopped to give the film some more thought.

It’s a very easy film not to think about. It slips down so easily, built on the stammering charms of Hugh Grant and Colin Firth, and the jolly-hockey sticks enthusiasm of Emma Thompson. It has a great cast of established actors as well as up-and-coming ones, a twinkly Christmas setting, and an upbeat pop soundtrack. The problem is, the film doesn’t hold up to any scrutiny—it’s a terrible Christmas movie, and has some pretty cynical things to say about relationships. For a film that could also be described as a chick flick, it also has a rather repellent attitude towards women.

Many Christmas films follow a basic template—the protagonist (usually male) needs to overcome either a spiritual or physical challenge, otherwise Christmas is off. Die Hard‘s John McLane (Bruce Willis) overcomes a physical challenge, before reuniting with his wife and kids. Bad Santa‘s Willie T Soke (Billy Bob Thornton) may be an alcoholic, safe-cracking store santa, but even he encounters a Scrooge-like change of heart, and finds redemption in his highly dysfunctional but loving surrogate family.

But if you carefully examine the storylines in Love Actually, you’ll realise that it’s almost a counter-Christmas movie. Christmas is a time for giving and for family, whereas in Love Actually it’s a time for ignoring your family and chasing girls half your age. For most in men in the film, their only challenge is a personal one of self-gratification.

First, there’s dishy Prime Minister David (Grant), who instantly falls in love with Natalie (Martine McCutcheon), the film’s token working class person. They seal the deal with a cheeky snog backstage at David’s niece and nephew’s nativity play. But David isn’t there for the performance—it’s just sheer chance, and he has an awkward moment with his sister Karen (Thompson), who mistakenly thinks her brother’s there for the children. Fat chance, he’s just chasing a girl.

Then there’s Jamie (Firth), who buggers off to France after his wife cheats on him, only to fall for his Portuguese maid Aurélia (Lucia Moniz). He’s a bit sniffy towards her at first, and they don’t speak a word of each other’s language. But as soon as he catches sight of her in bra and panties, he’s head over heels. He ditches his family on Christmas Eve so he can fly back and declare his love to her.

Of all Love Actually‘s stories, the only one that follows a traditional Christmas movie arc is the one with Billy Mack (Bill Nighy). He’s the first character we meet after Hugh Grant’s touchy-feely opening monologue, a washed up rock and roller shamelessly aiming for one last shot at the big time, with a drossy cover of “Love is All Around”. Curtis can’t stop referencing the song in the first few minutes of Love Actually, since it was Wet Wet Wet’s mega-hit from Four Weddings and a Funeral. The twist is, it’s now called “Christmas is All Around”, and there’s fun to be had from the way Nighy shoehorns in those extra couple of syllables on the chorus.

Despite the best efforts of Nighy, Love Actually fails as a Christmas movie. It doesn’t really resemble one in terms of structure, and it has such a selfish message at heart. The film is also very cynical about relationships and women. Although billed as the “ultimate romantic comedy”, Curtis takes a strange stance on relationships in this film. On one hand, he’s all googly eyed and innocent, smitten with the idea of love at first sight; on the other he’s like Buddy Love, lascivious and skirt-chasing.

I have no problem accepting the notion of “love at first sight” in films. I was totally on board when Michael Corleone was hit by the thunderbolt in The Godfather, falling instantly in love with Apollonia. Don’t even get me started on Leo DiCaprio and Claire Daines doing their coochy-coo faces through the fish tank in Romeo and Juliet—loved it.

Love Actually seems to suggest that the moment you turn your back, your partner will be hopping into bed with someone else. This fate befalls Jamie, cuckolded by his wife, and Harry (Alan Rickman) and Karen’s marriage is clearly damaged by Harry’s ill-advised flirtation with Mia (Heike Makatsch). Even hunky, handsome Chiwetel Ejiofor isn’t immune. Having just married the gorgeous Juliet (Keira Knightley), he isn’t aware that his Best Man Mark (Andrew Lincoln) is hopelessly in love with her, and spent their whole wedding obsessively filming close ups of her smiling face. If that wasn’t enough, he shows up on their doorstep on Christmas Eve, posing as carol singers and declaring his love to her with some cue cards, in the manner of Dylan’s “Subterranean Homesick Blues”.

Juliet’s actions in this segment are pretty despicable, which brings us to the subject of how women are portrayed in Love Actually. Most barely register as characters. Many are either prizes to be won, floozies, or too over-the-hill to be attractive anymore. Things are way rosier if you’re a bloke in Love Actually. If your wife cheats on you, dies, or gets a bit old and knackered, don’t worry because there’s always some young bit of crumpet waiting around the corner for you. And while there is a long-standing tradition in Hollywood where older men play opposite young, attractive actresses in films, but Love Actually really pushes the envelope. Alan Rickman and Heike Makatsch, Hugh Grant and Martine McCutcheon, Colin Firth and Lucia Moniz, Liam Neeson and Claudia Schiffer—all these match ups felt highly implausible.

The objectification of women is most evident in the film’s most risible storyline, that of Colin (Kris Marshall), a hollow-eyed creep who’s poison with the ladies. He treats himself to a ticket to Milwaukee because he’s heard American birds get turned on by an English accent. Of course, in the world of Love Actually, he’s able to rock up in a dive bar and stumble upon a trio of hotties instantly seduced by the way he speaks. A foursome follows, soon to be a quintet when Denise Richards gets back home.

All this goes against what we normally expect from Christmas movies, which usually reinforce the virtues of self-sacrifice, open-mindedness and the pleasures of family life. While there is nothing wrong with skirting genre expectations, Love Actually is filled with bogus Christmas cheer. In fact it preaches the opposite—screw your family, chase the girl, and look after your own best interests.

If over the holidays the doorbell rings and your significant other tells you that it’s carol singers, maybe go see for yourself. Just in case…

It’s easy to look back over the past 12 months and try to find a common thread, a trend or recurring idea that can make sense of the mass of films unloaded for public viewing. Everyone loves a good narrative, and in a world where chaos reigns, it’s nice to see some order. Indeed, look at the list of our 20 films below and you can see similarities pop up all over: stories of struggles both internal and external, whether it’s fighting the patriarchy of the past, present and postapocalyptic future, facing down the most powerful institutions in the world or the narrative of history itself, escaping captors, making it through wars both sensical and nonsensical, trying to just pay the bills or unshackling oneself from the past. They all share a common bond of people trying their damnedest to succeed, overcome and survive.

But this theme doesn’t apply to every film here, nor does it apply to everything that came out in 2015. Our list also has films that melted our minds, dragged us through the mud, awed us with their grace, and entertained us with their pure, visceral delights. Summing up the year through a neatly packaged narrative is nice, but it’s also far from a true representation of what cinema brings. It’s a messy, chaotic world of movies, and when we put together a list like this the real unifying aspect is their high quality.

From the big, daunting universe of cinema in 2015, Way Too Indie is proud to present what we think are the 20 best films of the year.

Way Too Indie’s 20 Best Films of 2015

#20. Room

In Lenny Abrahamson’s Room, there are no limits to love. A film as simple as it is emotionally sweeping, there are few films released this year that evoked such a visceral emotional response from its audience. The film is an exhilarating thriller portraying a modern nightmare of captivity—a scenario that never ceases to grip the public’s attention when it pops up in the news—but is entirely focused on the will of the human spirit, and the ways we not only survive in such heinous situations but thrive. In the story of Ma (Brie Larson, a career-best performance), and the world she builds for her five-year-old son Jack (Jacob Tremblay, also mesmerizing) within the walls of a tiny room, we are given an example of the purest sort of love. One of sacrifice, fierceness, and audacity. By seeing the universe through the eyes of a small child—a universe at first only four walls wide and then suddenly much, much larger—it’s impossible not to form a renewed appreciation for the simple things in life. But more than that, it’s impossible to walk away from Room and not find oneself profoundly introspective about what it means to actively live and actively love. [Ananda]

#19. Steve Jobs

Somehow, Steve Jobs became persona non grata this fall. Between the box office performance, the fatigue surrounding the subject matter and the behind the scenes issues exposed by the Sony leak, nothing seemed to go quite right for the film. Do not be mistaken, though: Steve Jobs should not be missed. It’s a biopic with an utterly unique structure and breakneck pace. Aaron Sorkin’s script commands the spotlight even more than Michael Fassbender’s stirring performance. The three-day approach proves effective as Sorkin intelligently navigates the inherent limitations, managing to capture the essence and scope of one highly influential man’s life. His conversations are verbally balletic, never ceasing to surprise in their wit, but never stooping to overly showy, self-serving writerly panache. Steve Jobs is a whirlwind of a film, exploding with thunderous brio and making its piercing impact with the ink-dipped arrowhead of a skilled writer’s pen. Its imperfections don’t change the fact that it’s a landmark in biographical filmmaking. [Byron]

#18. Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem

In Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem, Ronit Elkabetz stars as the title character, a woman seeking a divorce from her husband. It sounds simple enough, but the Amsalems are Israeli, and in Israel there is no such thing as a civil marriage; all marriages are granted by Orthodox rabbis in a religious ceremony. Ergo, all marriages must be dissolved the same way. That means the husband give his full consent for a marriage to be dissolved. If he doesn’t want it, she doesn’t get it, and Viviane’s husband doesn’t want a divorce. This turns the film into a fascinating courtroom drama, but not in the traditional sense; rather, it becomes a drama that takes place almost entirely in a courtroom, with the occasional scene occurring in an adjacent waiting room. This gives the film contrasting feelings of intimacy and claustrophobia. Elkabetz is superb as Amsalem, conveying the frustration of a woman trapped in an unhappy marriage and finds herself trapped again, this time in a system that stacks the deck against women and all but ignores them in the process. [Michael]

#17. Hard to Be a God

Rarely have I seen a film’s atmosphere so gorgeously and meticulously realized to the extent of Aleksei German’s final masterwork. Hard to Be a God follows a civilization of men and their out-of-sorts, peculiarly human god. They represent man as a whole, embodying his struggle through the early stages of primality. When do we leave behind beasts and garner the right to call ourselves men? More pressingly, do we ever, or have we been kidding ourselves for the last few thousand years? Hard to Be a God works so well chiefly because it cements itself into a primal world, one dominated by sludge, blood, and shit, so unbelievably well. Furthermore, in lieu of the film’s obvious rejection of sentiment, it is intriguing how it integrates the idea of God into its narrative. It doesn’t suggest that he doesn’t exist or has neglected us, but that he is struggling alongside us and, even more frightening, that he’s just as helpless. German’s magnum opus is a rattling, maddening three-hour journey into the depths of man’s darkest sensibilities. [Cameron]

#16. The Assassin

The moving image is rarely as entrancing as it is in Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s The Assassin, the Taiwanese master’s first film in over seven years. Expensive in its design, methodical in its every graceful move, the film penetrates the mind as swiftly and silently as Shu Qi’s Nie Yinniang disposes of her first target in the picture’s opening moments. Shot on film by Ping Bin Lee and designed by Huang Wen-Yin, Hou’s regular collaborators, The Assassin has a mise-en-scene that’s second to none this year. The subtle phenomenons of nature play a vital supporting role, one in which animals and flora are treated as sharing the same atmosphere with humans. More than any other film of the year, The Assassin shines the brightest light on the unique and boundless nature of its artform. It is spellbinding in every sense of the word. [Nik]

#15. Son of Saul

Son of Saul is a wonderful debut film of filmmaker Laszlo Nemes, which tells the story of Saul (Geza Rohrig), a prisoner and Sonderkommando member at Auschwitz who his searching for a rabbi so he can give his son’s body a proper burial. The film is incredible, from Rohrig’s outstanding performance to Nemes’ fantastic direction (all the more impressive considering it’s his first feature film). But I want to pay special attention to the work of cinematographer Matyas Erdely and the team behind the sound design of the film. Erdely beautifully shoots the film in a tight 4:3 frame, often putting Saul at the center and keeping the eye focused on his actions with most of the settings around him hard to fully take in visually. This is where the sound design is key, as it forces us to imagine the horrors around Saul. Together these elements create a truly unique experience adding up to one of the most powerful films to be released this year. [Ryan]

#14. The Forbidden Room

Guy Maddin and Evan Johnson’s sensational hodgepodge of silent-movie storylines are maniacally cut up into dozens of threads, then re-assembled by two drunk, blindfolded men with a brilliant sense of humor. The Forbidden Room is unlike anything you’ll ever see. Ever, not just in 2015. Studded with stars from all over the world, from the well-known like Charlotte Rampling, Roy Dupuis, and Geraldine Chaplin, to more local faces like Louis Negin and Gregory Hlady, the film is full of greedy volcanos, aswang bananas, catchy musical numbers, delusional doctors, scorned lovers, men breathing oxygen through flapjacks, and mustaches with a life of their own. Relentless with its pacing and editing, it’s not something that’s easily recommended (it broke the record for walk-outs when it screened at Sundance earlier in the year). But, it’s on here for a reason: through the unique structure and absurdist tone lies one of the most heartfelt odes to the wonders of cinematic storytelling. [Nik]

#13. The Look of Silence

The Look of Silence is every bit the masterpiece its companion piece, The Act of Killing, was. Joshua Oppenheimer returns to the residual horror of the Indonesian genocide, this time through the eyes of a victim. An optometrist named Adi Rukun confronts his brother’s killers under the pretense of testing their failing vision, and through his careful questioning the remorseless thought process of a monster is slowly dismantled. If there is any surreal sensibility left over from Oppenheimer’s last film it is in the shadow of death that haunts an eerily quiet land teeming with ghosts crying out in vain. The “silence” of the title is all around, both in the insightfully observed environment and the empty murmurings of men submerged in denial. The capacity human beings have to rationalize and normalize wickedness is on full display, and it’s mesmerizing in a terribly morbid way. Powerful, sobering and absolutely essential. [Byron]

#12. Inside Out

Inside Out is a tearjerker, which comes as no surprise—Pixar has been making us cry like babies for two decades. That’s sort of their whole deal. What makes this particular movie so special is how impossibly elaborate it is, conceptually. To represent one cognitive experience, visually, is a feat in itself. What Pixar’s done here is visually represent dozens and dozens of cognitive experiences and made them work in concert. It’s a tender, inventive, entertaining study on human emotion that speaks to the heart despite being so brainy. It’s also unique in that someone can watch it at five years old and then again at forty and have two wildly different and yet equally profound experiences. Next year, Pixar’s engaging sequel mode again with Finding Dory, but they took a big risk with an out-there movie like Inside Out and proved that there’s no shortage of new ideas coming out of the trailblazing East Bay studio. [Bernard]

#11. Mommy

Young Canadian filmmaker Xavier Dolan came into filmic fruition when he was only nineteen with the release of I Killed My Mother. Almost seven years and five films later, one of the youngest directors in the industry has created one of the most moving films of the 21st century. Despite its 2014 premiere at Cannes, the film did not receive a proper US release until January of 2015, meaning most people didn’t get a chance to experience its profundity until this year. Mommy focuses its narrative on the widow Diane (or “Die,” for short) and her difficult son, newly discharged from a behavioral rehabilitation facility and potentially suffering from a number of psychological disorders that cause him to have angry, violent outbursts. It’s shot in the unique 1:1 aspect ratio, which at first may seem like a peculiar decision, but once you’ve fallen deep into the emotional abyss of this heartbreaking tale, you’ll understand how a stylistic choice can transform into an emotive choice within a matter of seconds. [Eli]

#10. Phoenix

Christian Petzold’s Phoenix is perhaps the best film since the post-war era that deals with the holocaust, even though it’s not as interested in dealing directly with the images and happenings of the holocaust as that statement suggests. Instead, it’s about the scars of tragedy, and how great tragedy has the terrifying power to rob individuals of their identity. The film follows Nelly, a Jew from Berlin, as she returns to her home and her husband after living through the concentration camps. We never see flashbacks of what she went through. She tells us all through the expression stained onto her reconstructed face. Floating through the frame like a ghost, Nelly attempts to piece together her past, and Phoenix is a harrowing testament to how emancipation from tragic circumstance doesn’t erase the psychological wounds said tragedy has inflicted. It also deals with the idea that friends of those affected have absolutely no idea how to respond. How does one respond to such an atrocity? Though not technically a ghost story, Phoenix registers as an emotionally draining portrait of a wandering soul knocking on the door of a world from which she’s been exiled. [Cameron]

#9. Buzzard

Accurately describing Joel Potrykus’ Buzzard is a difficult task. The film doesn’t really fit into a specific genre, and the loose storytelling structure only complicates things on that end. Still, there’s something undeniably captivating about the tale of a millennial burnout that decides to rebel against his routine life. It’s not that the film is particularly relatable—Marty, the protagonist, is the embodiment of the worst society has to offer—but Buzzard takes viewers on a journey that gets far too real at times. Marty’s frustrations with his dead-end job, the boring people around him, and his way of living have the ability to cut very, very deep. From the beginning, Potrykus views a mundane subject with a bizarre lens, and Buzzard only gets weirder and weirder as it progresses. By the conclusion, it’s apparent just how effective the film is, despite its relatively low-key nature. Unlike any film you’ve seen this year, Buzzard is strangely comedic, unexpectedly dark, and certainly worth checking out. [Blair]

#8. Beasts of No Nation

Beasts of No Nation is a special convergence of extra-textual information. Being the first major fiction feature release from streaming outfit Netflix is a big deal, especially since they clearly had aspirations for awards with its purchase. More fitting, it is the first feature film from writer-director Cary Joji Fukunaga following his incredible breakout success with the first season of True Detective. Those already following Fukunaga’s career, however, know just how talented of a storyteller he is. Beasts of No Nation is his highest effort production, an absolutely beautiful film with often intense subject matter. The film studies the rise of young boy Agu (Abraham Attah) through a rebel group of fighters in an unnamed, nondescript African country. Through the eyes of Agu their war is truly unknowable—and the film purposefully makes no effort to help the audience understand what this group is really fighting for. This can be frustrating at times, but Fukunaga is persistent in his focus on tone and the specific actions of its main character. This creates a more ethereal movement, which is all the more frightening given the film’s horrendous nature. Along with Attah, who gives a fantastic and difficult performance for a young and inexperienced actor, Idris Elba’s towering role as the rebel group’s Commandant is among the most complex characters of the year. [Aaron]

#7. The Duke of Burgundy

Love is love, and few films express that statement as strongly as Peter Strickland’s The Duke of Burgundy. Starting out as a cutesy homage to the European erotica films of the ’70s (Jess Franco fans need to run, not walk, to this movie), Strickland explores the BDSM relationship between Cynthia (Sidse Babett Knudsen) and Evelyn (Chiara D’Anna), two women whose “roles” in the relationship don’t exactly match their true selves. With cinematography, production design, and a mood that feels lifted straight out of a dark fairy tale, Strickland’s dreamlike elements work together to heighten the universal truths at his film’s center. Here is a film that understands the work and compromise that comes with a relationship, the constant push and pull between selfishness and selflessness that can threaten to tear people apart, and it’s all shown through a hazy realm that leans more on the side of fantasy than reality. Yet Strickland puts emotions at the forefront, and by doing so lets the strength of Cynthia and Evelyn’s undeniable feelings for each other overshadow the luscious world they reside in. Love stories this original and beautifully realized are so rare, we should feel lucky we even have the chance to see them. [C.J.]

#6. Sicario

After directing a slew of extraordinary films who would have thought cinematic genius Denis Villeneuve’s latest effort would be his strongest and most politically resonant film to date? Well, maybe some, but it’s going to be a daunting task for Villeneuve to keep his streak of brilliance up for much longer; if he does, he’ll be reaching the unspeakable heights of consistency only names like Kubrick and Kieslowski have attained. Sicario concentrates on an FBI agent (Emily Blunt, in a gorgeously realized performance) who pulls herself into quite the plight when she accompanies a government task force on an enigma of a mission along the United States/Mexico border. To say any more about the plot and the manner in which it unfolds would be a disservice to a film with such an airtight narrative structure and masterful pacing. It’s a socioculturally relevant thrill-ride that you’ll have to experience for yourself, but its shocking and increasingly tense nature may be too extreme for some viewers. [Eli]

#5. It Follows

What can be said about It Follows that hasn’t already been said a million times before? It’s one of the greatest horror films to come along in years and a movie that works on multiple levels, with a new discovery being made upon each new viewing. A sexually transmitted monster has all the potential in the world to come across as cheesy, tacky, and otherwise ineffective, but director David Robert Mitchell approaches the subject matter with such a level of genuineness that it’s impossible not to take seriously. Featuring excellent, naturalistic performances from its young, often inexperienced cast, there’s a subtle nature to almost everything about It Follows. From the romance to the horror and even the humor, it’s all downplayed, which makes it all the more effective in the end. Many horror movies fall apart because their characters aren’t relatable, but in the It Follows universe, teenagers behave like teenagers—not like horror movie characters—and the film is all the more impressive because of that. From top to bottom, it’s easy to see why It Follows has been so well-received by audiences and critics alike, and its theatrical success serves as a beacon of hope for the future of independent horror. [Blair]

#4. Carol

There are so many exquisitely composed elements to Todd Haynes’ achingly beautiful new movie Carol that it becomes difficult to single out the aspects that make it so great. There is Phyllis Nagy’s delicate script, adapted from the Patricia Highsmith novel The Price of Salt, which allows the film’s central romantic plot to unfold in a patient and deliberate way. There are the wonderfully ornate period sets and costumes, with bold red accents that jump off the screen thanks to Edward Lachman’s stunning cinematography. And, of course, there are the performances—not just from the always-excellent Cate Blanchett or Audrey Hepburn-esque Rooney Mara—but an earnest Sarah Paulson, a scorned Kyle Chandler, and a sleazy John Magaro, as well.

The first of Haynes’ six feature films in which he didn’t contribute to the script, Carol is the director’s most precise work to date—from its production details to the performances. While the filmmaker’s movies often focus on LGBT identity, the striking thing about the intimacy in Carol is its universality. Therese and Carol are more than women in a lesbian romance affected by the obstacles of a bygone era; they’re people stifled by the expectations placed on each of them.

As Blanchett stares across at Mara over a cocktail or a shop counter, you’ll want to lean in closer, too. The pair’s carefully chosen words tease out the affair. Watching them slowly go back-and-forth, with alluring smirks and guarded looks, is among the most entrancing pleasures in film this year, as is the sound of Cate Blanchett simply saying, “Therese.” [Zach]

#3. Ex Machina

The trio at the heart of filmmaker Alex Garland’s directorial debut, Ex Machina, represents an intricate blend of old and new. Invoking memories of past great fictional characters like Doctors Frankenstein and Moreau, Pinocchio’s creator Geppetto, and even Willie Wonka, is Nathan (Oscar Isaac), the inconceivably wealthy and immeasurably intelligent inventor of a fictional Google-like search engine. Representing the future is Ava (the spellbinding Alicia Vikander), an artificially intelligent robot created by Nathan. Caught between creator and creation is Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), a whiz of a programmer whom Nathan recruits to test Ava’s believability as an AI, but a simple man nonetheless and the pivotal completing part of this most bizarre of love triangles. As Caleb studies Ava and gradually becomes taken by her, so too does Ava study, and fall for, Caleb. Watching them both is Nathan, whose motives for recruiting Caleb become cloudier as the days pass. What first presents itself as a futuristic drama laced with themes of morality and anchored by a peculiar alpha-male (Isaac is terrific as the genius recluse), gradually becomes a riveting psychological thriller that keeps the viewer captivated and drives to a bold ending. Sci-fi noir is alive and well and is not to be missed with Ex Machina. [Michael]

#2. Spotlight

Tom McCarthy has done the unthinkable. Just one year after directing the horrific flop The Cobbler, McCarthy turns in a film that not just rinses the bad taste out of our mouths from his previous effort, it puts him in the conversation for one of the best films of the year. Spotlight is a gripping newsroom drama based on the Catholic Church’s sex abuse scandal uncovered by the Boston Globe. Though despite the grim subject matter, watching Spotlight unfold is utterly entertaining. That’s because the film keeps its foot on the acceleration for the whole ride, providing plenty of energy and tension without wasting a single moment.

Spotlight is a well-oiled machine firing on all cylinders. Not only does the electrifying pace carry the neatly arranged script, but the ensemble cast puts on a clinic on how to act as a team. It also doesn’t hurt that the cast is comprised of A-listers like Stanley Tucci, Mark Ruffalo, Michael Keaton, Liev Schreiber, and Rachel McAdams, each performing at the top of their game. Any one of them could have stolen the show by flexing their acting muscles; instead, they show discipline by working together, creating incredible chemistry and making the entire film better in the process. Without being exploitative (which would have been easy given the subject), Spotlight exceeds by focusing on the teamwork of its investigative journalism case. The film doesn’t just do a few things right, it does everything right, which is why Spotlight is one of the best procedurals in years. [Dustin]

#1. Mad Max: Fury Road

There are many things I expected from George Miller’s long-awaited next installment/reboot of his Mad Max series. I knew there would be explosions. I knew there would be cars embellished with crazy apocalyptic garnishments. I knew there would be a lot of sand. And I figured there would be a fair amount of zooming vehicles flipping and being walked on as though the laws of physics don’t apply in this futuristic world. I did not expect there to be larger themes than your garden variety hero tale. And I certainly did not expect the hero to not be Mad Max. Waiting 30 years to create the next vision of his gasoline-fueled future, Miller proves he has ungodly amounts of patience. Patience to ensure that technology would catch up with his vision, and patience to ensure that when he told his next story it would be to an audience who could fathom that even in a world of chaos, the significance of equality is fundamental to our humanity and worth fighting like hell for. Not everyone has embraced the surprising themes of Fury Road, but those tickled by just how exciting, fun, and road raging this action film is can’t help but admit that what raises it to perfection are the kick ass ladies leading the charge and the deeper issues they face. Mad Max: Fury Road closes with a quote from the future: “Where must we go…we who wander this Wasteland in search of our better selves?” Miller pushes us to consider our place and responsibility, no matter the wasteland we call home. And like his War Boys, his mouth shiny and chrome, Miller presents his film as though to say “Witness me!” Turns out an action film can be a visual extravaganza and hold itself up with a stiff backbone of ethics and morality. Witness the bar being raised. [Ananda]

The worst part about creating a Best Of list is usually what’s not on it as opposed to what does wind up getting a place. There are simply too many films to go around in a year, and therefore too many good or great films to contain in a (relatively) small list. Even if we expanded our list to 50, the same problem would remain; there will always be something that misses out.

We like to be inclusive here at Way Too Indie, so we asked our writers to pluck a movie out of their individual top tens that didn’t make the cut and write about it. Below you’ll find what comprises our honorable mentions, fantastic films whose only problem was that the collective numbers didn’t work out in their favor. These are films that, just because a ranked number isn’t beside their title, doesn’t mean they can’t enlighten, entertain or duke it out with what makes up the consensus. And while our Top 20 is only a few days away from being revealed, we hope you’ll look at these films as an extension of that list, and a further sign of just how good of a year it was for film.

Way Too Indie’s 2015 Honorable Mentions

45 Years

Imagine sharing your life with someone for nearly half a century and then, a week before you celebrate your 45th wedding anniversary, you see and feel a side to them that makes you reevaluate your whole life with that person. The basic premise of Andrew Haigh’s 45 Years is as horrifying as it is simple; laying the foundation to one of the most quietly riveting pictures of the year. Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay portray Kate and Geoff Mercer with a kind of timid eloquence that makes you feel effortlessly and unequivocally attached to them not as characters, but as people. Living, breathing, fragile people. As it’s really Kate’s journey of introspection and observation, Charlotte Rampling takes up more of the central stage. Thanks to Haigh’s gentle and delicate direction, it almost feels like we hold Kate’s hand as she goes through the motions, with Rampling evoking more through the slightest of movements, whimpers, and fleeting glances than most actors can dream about. Two single-takes—one featuring a projector and another playing out to The Platters’ “Smoke Gets In Your Eye”—bring Haigh’s direction and Rampling’s performance to peak heights, confirming (in my opinion) the film’s status among the very best of the year. [Nik]

Amy

Amy Winehouse’s life story—the rock-n-roll fable with the unhappy ending—is a familiar one. And with Amy, director Asif Kapadia taps that familiar vein, hitting all the key points in her life as a good bio-doc director should. But that’s where the routine filmmaking ends and the dazzling presentation of the singer’s story begins. Kapadia mines exhaustive video footage of Winehouse’s life, particularly her pre-fame years, so much of which was captured on camera, allowing him to do more than just present Winehouse’s life; he is able to fully immerse the viewer in it, which is most impactful in Winehouse’s more mundane moments like hanging out at home, goofing off, sleeping in a car, etc. And because it’s mostly a linear presentation, it feels like you are growing up with Winehouse. When Winehouse’s later life devolves (and devolves again), Kapadia creates a sense of recall, of looking back at small things the viewer had “lived through” with younger Winehouse, ultimately creating the realization in the viewer they are watching Winehouse spiral downwards in real-time…and there is nothing that can be done about it. [Michael]

Blackhat

One of the most unfairly maligned films by mainstream audiences this year was Michael Mann’s Blackhat. After a six year hiatus following his 2009 masterpiece, Public Enemies, Mann has made what’s likely the best of the many films to tackle our relationship to technology this decade, a film deeply rooted in the identity of the 21st century. What was once tangible, physical, has been reduced to numbers, data, code. Human characters register as tiny, endangered organisms navigating a high-tech metropolis of their own creation. When they’re introduced to one another early on in the film, they work as a team, but it’s all business. They mirror the efficiency of technology in the orchestration of their mission to subdue the titular blackhat hacker. The last third of this film shifts tonally to move toward some of the most purely expressionist filmmaking to ever come out of Hollywood. Lighting and movement no longer distinguish setting or signify plot elements, but reflect mood instead. In this segment, the digital world has collapsed in the presence of man—computer wars have become fistfights. We feel the warm blood of the injured characters. The tangibility of their flesh permeates the screen. Mann suggests that there is no way to escape the infiltrating power of computerized entities, affirming that our humanity, and our ability to connect with those around us, is all we have left. [Cameron]

Girlhood

With a catchy dance song blaring on the soundtrack, Girlhood opens on a high school football game before providing two subversive reveals: it’s an all-girls football game, and both teams celebrate together afterward, focusing on the fun of playing rather than categorizing winners and losers. It’s one of many sly, evocative and welcome twists to the coming-of-age tale about Marieme (Karidja Toure, giving one of the most underappreciated performances of the year), a teenager who doesn’t transition into adulthood so much as get thrust into it by circumstances beyond her control. Sciamma tackles themes of race, gender, identity, friendship, family and more with a kind of naturalism that’s rarely seen; these themes are simply there, embedded in the day-to-day existence and addressed accordingly. Sciamma’s understanding of this is what helps make Girlhood such a powerful, moving and relatable film, even when its ideas are filtered through the specificity of Marieme’s story. Unlike that other coming-of-age tale, which portrayed growing up as a pacified journey through the status quo (a comparison I hate to bring up, given it’s mostly a coincidence of timing and titling), Girlhood shines a light on a perspective seldom seen, a life where becoming an adult is a constant struggle for the freedom from circumstance. If we had more films like Girlhood getting made, cinema would be in a much better place. [C.J.]

James White

James White, filmmaker Josh Mond’s directorial debut, is most likely a film that will garner acclaim solely for Christopher Abbott and Cynthia Nixon’s powerhouse performances. That’s a shame because the film itself is so much more than the sum of its parts, and one of the rawest, most genuine explorations of grief and parental loss in quite some time. James White follows its titular character—a young man in his twenties attempting to deal with the loss of a father he never really knew—while learning to cope with the fact that his mother, Gail, is likely to pass soon too. Mond, for an emerging artist, has a surprisingly vast knowledge of how to direct his actors, so that viewers feel like they’re watching people live their actual lives rather than performances on a set. Cinematographer Mátyás Erdély (Son of Saul) deserves special mention as his extreme close-ups and extended behind-the-shoulder tracking shots increase the intimacy of the relationship, not just between James and his mother, but between the film’s characters and their audience as well. [Eli]

Macbeth

There are many ways that one can bring Shakespeare to the big screen. You could play it safe and strictly adhere to the original text. Alternately, you could change everything, placing a modern day filter over the plot to make Shakespeare’s already universal themes somehow more relevant. With this most recent adaptation of Macbeth, director Justin Kurzel doesn’t quite fall into either camp. He keeps the words and 11th-century setting, but rips it out of its dry “high school English” associations, creating a highly visceral experience that is overwhelming in the best way possible. A deathly pallor hangs over the thing—provided in part by a dread-filled score—and the atmosphere is intensified by a perfectly integrated hint of the supernatural. In addition to the breathtaking visuals, a great depth of feeling is brought to the table by the actors. Michael Fassbender does career-best work with his portrayal of the mad Thane of Cawdor, and as Lady Macbeth, Marion Cotillard is brilliantly icy, but also increasingly disturbed by the monster she’s helped create. While it doesn’t top Kurosawa’s adaptation of the Bard in Throne of Blood, Kurzel’s Macbeth is a formidable achievement and one hell of an experience. [Byron]

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

I’m not sure what happened to the thunderous momentum Me and Earl and the Dying Girl had following its record-breaking distribution deal and glowing reviews from its Sundance premiere, but it’s unfortunate to see its praise evaporate. Loaded with self-aware wit from screenwriter Jesse Andrews (adapting the script from his own novel), director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon crafts one of the most charming and emotional films of the year. The film skirts most teenage drama conventions by putting everything on the table up front (the title says it all, really). With outstanding performances and creative camerawork, Gomez-Rejon offers a fresh take on a familiar story. It’s no secret how the film ends, yet Me and Earl and the Dying Girl remains a tear-jerker and one of the best films that 2015 had to offer. [Dustin]

Mustang

With every new year, I see more women onscreen. More women leading films, and more female casts proving they can carry films. As half of the population, it’s still so disappointing to me how little I see my gender represented onscreen. 2015 worked hard to continue tipping the scales. Many women led us through fantastic stories, expanding the scope and variety of female-centric films. A few of those films made our Best Of list, and our honorable mentions list isn’t nearly long enough (our apologies to The Diary of a Teenage Girl, Grandma, Trainwreck, and many others) but there’s no other film out this year that I am enforcing on all that I meet: first time writer/director Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s Mustang. The story of five rural Turkish girls’ summer break and the huge transitions enforced on them because of cultural tradition and old-fashioned female subjugation. A film as wild as its name implies in its tenacity, hilarity, and thrills, Mustang manages to cast an unblinking eye on the very real way women are still being feared because of their implied sexuality and for the unfortunate sin of being born female. Ergüven shows us modern, free-spirited young women, who think and behave much the same as any teenagers in the US but endure treatment that simultaneously feels alien and yet familiar. A tale of heroes, not victims, Mustang is entertaining, heart-pounding and utterly enlightening.  [Ananda]

Queen of Earth

Alex Ross Perry received indie acclaim last year for his sophomore release Listen Up Philip, an acerbic comedy praised for its intelligent script. His follow-up, Queen of Earth, is a dramatically different film, even as its characters continue to be wholly unlikable. Here, though, the pleasures come not from Perry’s expert wordsmithing but heightened emotions, kinetic editing and the performance of its star Elisabeth Moss. The film takes place primarily at a vacation home used as a summer getaway by two longtime friends, Catherine (Moss) and Virginia (Katharine Waterson). After Catherine finds out about her boyfriend’s infidelity, her growing depression only deepens while spending time with Virginia, a fading friendship that largely continues because of their summertime tradition. Mix in Virginia’s smug boyfriend (Patrick Fugit) as a perfect foil and Catherine’s psyche completely cracks. The film’s unusual structure gives the bleak tone different levels, but Catherine’s descent goes completely dark by film’s end. Queen of Earth is more of an impressionistic look at depression than a clinical one and the results are incredibly artful and soul-punching. [Aaron]

The Revenant

Leonardo DiCaprio and Emmanuel Lubezki do career best work in The Revenant, if that’s not enough to get you insanely excited for this film then nothing will. Lubezki (who probably will and should win a third straight Oscar for his work on this film) is a big reason for the effectiveness, beautifully capturing and making you feel the harsh conditions and environments that are present. This even tops Lubezki’s stunning work from The Tree of Life. DiCaprio deserves an equal amount of praise, for an actor who just did great work in The Wolf of Wall Street using his natural charm and the public’s perception of his own crazy lifestyle to drive the performance. It’s amazing to watch him strip himself of everything that naturally works for him. This is DiCaprio at his most restrained and physical and he knocks it out of the park. Combine these two with a strong supporting cast featuring Tom Hardy and Domhnall Gleeson, and the solid direction of Alejandro Inarritu, and we have one of the better films to come out of this awards season. [Ryan]

Seymour: An Introduction

There have been a lot of under-the-radar movies in 2015 I’ve kept in my back pocket, ready to pull out at parties when people ask me what they should be watching in the theater or on their sofa. Without exception, the one I reach for first is Seymour: An Introduction, the ravishing documentary by Ethan Hawke about retired concert pianist Seymour Bernstein. It’s not just the best documentary of the year; it’s one of the best movies of the year, period. There’s almost nothing I treasure more than being able to spend time chatting with a master of their craft, and this is the filmic version of such an experience, allowing us to sit at the feet of an artist who ceaselessly gives back to the art form he loves. There’s a tinge of melancholy to the filmmaking that sends chills down your spine when you least expect it, and you can tell Hawke approached the project with utmost appreciation, respect and humility. Once you hear Bernstein’s fingers touch his vintage piano for the first time, filling the room with a glorious sound like you’ve never heard, you understand why. [Bernard]

Spring

Good genre-benders are somewhat hard to come by because they generally lean too far on one side of the spectrum, resulting in elements on the other side falling flat. Aaron Moorhead and Justin Benson’s romantic horror movie Spring is the exception—equal parts eerie and adorable, due in part to phenomenal performances from leads Lou Taylor Pucci and Nadia Hilker. Despite their abundance of shortcomings, the characters are relatable and likable, and their cursed love is emotive in all the right ways. Pucci and Hilker share a wonderful chemistry, but Moorhead and Benson make it clear that a happy ending is unlikely for the duo. As a result, the moments when things actually go as planned are joyous in a realistic, believable way. The frightening moments and phenomenal special effects are a horror fan’s dream, but the sequences are bittersweet as they mean certain danger for the protagonists. Spring is one of the most original films to come along in years, an absolute must-see piece of genre filmmaking that doesn’t play by the rules. [Blair]

Tangerine

From the moment that Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) and Alexandra (Mya Taylor) spill out of a Donut Time and onto the streets of downtown Los Angeles, Tangerine becomes an entrancing, chaotic journey about two transgender prostitutes, the pimp boyfriend who cheated on one of them, and an Armenian cab driver with a taboo indulgence. Sean Baker’s fifth feature film is bathed in orange sunlight and joyfully lurid, but the strongest element of this ultra low budget feature is its resounding empathy for all involved. Both Rodriguez and Taylor—actual transgender women—imbue their characters with raw, acutely self-aware performances that have depth and humor to them.

Baker’s intimate perspective turns a funny, trashy exploitation film into a more profound and heartfelt character study. These are characters that are exceedingly charming despite their behavior, and relatable in unexpected ways. The fact that Baker achieved all this with a movie shot on the iPhone might be the most impressive aspect to Tangerine. The movie is easily one of 2015’s most pleasant surprises. [Zach]

2015 has been an interesting year for film to say the least. Unlike years past, there haven’t been those one or two landmark films that cast a shadow on the rest of the field, no Birdman, Boyhood, The Tree of Life, or There Will Be Blood for the film critic intelligentsia and wider moviegoing audience to rally behind in unison.

The filmic pillars of the past twelve months have been not films, but actors. Towering, career-defining performances from surging newcomers and refined Hollywood mainstays alike have wowed audiences in great numbers. Some belong to the best movies of the year; others are transcendent, standing a cut above the movie that harbors them.

With respect and admiration, Way Too Indie presents what we feel were the Best Performances of 2015. Be the roles leading or supporting, male or female, these twenty performances made the biggest impression on us.

Way Too Indie’s 20 Best Performances of 2015

Christopher Abbott – James White

We’re perpetually in close proximity to Christopher Abbott in James White, in which he plays the titular party boy/mama’s boy who flirts with self-destruction as a habit. Death breathes down his neck as he copes with his father’s recent death and prepares for his terminally ill mother’s departure. Abbott is a fireball of anger, frustration, love and regret that director Josh Mond always keeps in plain view, uncomfortable as that can be sometimes. Whether it’s with his slumped-over posture or with the twitch of an eye, Abbott bares James’ soul incrementally, with subtle physical tics and tells that hint at a raging internal war he can hardly contain. This is the kind of role actors live for, and this is the kind of performance that indicates greatness. [Bernard]

Joshua Burge – Buzzard

When Buzzard begins, Joshua Burge’s protagonist Marty is trapped by apathy, and by its finale, he’s fleeing in desperation. Burge characterizes Marty as a deadpan loser, a lower class user trying to milk the system to continue fostering his unimpressive existence. But as Buzzard unfolds, we begin to question exactly why Marty does what he does. Where did his poverty come from? Is the system he abuses perhaps partially responsible for his careless mentality? Burge forces the audience to finally sympathize with Marty long after they’ve (likely) dismissed him as an insolent dweeb. He carves complexity on a face we so easily prejudge and misclassify. Buzzard is a testament to the ability shoe-string budget features have to be meaningful, and Joshua Burge is responsible for a significant amount of its success. [Cameron]

Suzanne Clément – Mommy

In Xavier Dolan’s award-winning Mommy, Suzanne Clement plays the film’s most enigmatic character, Kyla, who lives across the street from the film’s two protagonists, the behaviorally inept Steve (Antoine-Olivier Pilon) and his single mother, Diane (Anne Dorval). Kyla is a complex and potentially traumatized character who has trouble verbalizing herself, symptomatic of the pain of losing a young son, which is revealed through subtle, visual queues early on in the film. Though Clement may not receive as much screen time as Pilon or Dorval (especially during the first half of the film), her understated performance is just as resonant, and for that, she deserves immense recognition. [Eli]

Benicio Del Toro – Sicario

Benicio del Toro has shown us so many dimensions of his gift that he seldom surprises us onscreen. Likewise, he seldom disappoints—he’s one of the best character actors we’ve got. But in Sicario, he changes up his game, playing a Mexican cartel land assassin who’s intimidating in the most frighteningly peculiar way. He doesn’t just beat up his victims and hostages; he invades their space, extracting information by leaning into them with his shoulder (and, in extreme cases, his crotch). His interpretation of the classic hitman archetype is one of the most interesting I’ve seen in years, a more psychologically sick and quietly menacing killer than what we’re used to seeing at the cinema. He isn’t a death machine, but a damaged, tired man who takes no pleasure in the chase but is nevertheless driven to kill by his obsessions. We’ve seen Benicio before, but not quite like this. [Bernard]

Leonardo DiCaprio – The Revenant

In critical assessments of a performance, the lengths to which an actor physically challenges himself can often be the sole takeaway from a film; however, Leonardo DiCaprio’s work in The Revenant goes beyond simply suffering for one’s art. As the vengeance-fueled Hugh Glass, DiCaprio is a constantly compelling force. He crawls through snowbanks with bloodstained hair, strains while climbing up snowy mountainscapes, and practically foams at the mouth while tied to a stretcher during the moment where he’s betrayed. It’s an assaulting experience for both actor and audience. Yet, DiCaprio is such an emotive, vulnerable performer that he never loses sight of the human beneath the flesh wounds. In the nearly three hours of The Revenant, much of which features DiCaprio alone and engulfed by nature, you get a sense of Glass’s thought process from the little hesitations and panicked glances over his shoulders. You see it on his face and in his body language. He’s a man that is beaten and battered, but immensely strong of will. Bringing humanity to the bleakest circumstance in remote locales is among the actor’s greatest achievements in a career full of notable roles. [Zach]

Anne Dorval – Mommy

In Mommy, Anne Dorval delivers one of the best lead performances of the year as a mother struggling to care for and understand her violent son amidst the more common struggles that lower-middle class families face. It’s a performance filled with such power and honesty that it makes this heartbreaking struggle (and the even more heartbreaking moments of fleeting happiness) all the harder to swallow. And like all great performances, Dorval is able to turn on a dime with the material, like when she finds the moments of humor in Xavier Dolan’s wonderful script and nails them. Don’t let this be a performance you miss this year. [Ryan]

Michael Fassbender – Steve Jobs

How does someone step into the shoes of an icon and leave his own indelible impression? It certainly helps to be aided by the staccato rhythms of an Aaron Sorkin script, but in Steve Jobs, Michael Fassbender portrays the late Apple CEO like Silicon Valley’s Gordon Gecko—impossibly charismatic despite a ruthless streak of narcissistic tactics. As Steve Jobs, Fassbender doesn’t quite walk as much as glide from scene to scene. It’s easy to imagine a version of Sorkin’s play-like three-scene structure feeling too “start and stop” but Fassbender expertly throttles the film’s momentum like Travis Pastrana jumping dirt mounds at the X Games. Steve Jobs is an actor’s movie, but it’s Fassbender who handles the brunt of informing relationship through his actions. The magnetism of his performance both makes this movie enthralling and embodies the alluring aspects of Steve Jobs, the man. [Zach]

Nina Hoss – Phoenix

Nina Hoss’ subdued, tour-de-force performance in Christian Petzold’s post-Holocaust psychodrama Phoenix will leave viewers with their jaws firmly planted on the floor. Indeed, the final scene of Phoenix is so breathtaking and cleverly cathartic that it feels like the perfect end to a slow-burning cinematic puzzle. It’s primarily because of Hoss’ restrained performance as Nelly Lenz, the facially-disfigured and unidentifiable concentration camp survivor, that the gradual expansion of the film’s intensity works so well. And her eventual explosion, her emotional release that concludes the film, is simply one for the ages. [Eli]

Oscar Isaac – Ex Machina

While maybe not on the level of his work in A Most Violent Year or Inside Llewyn Davis, Oscar Isaac is always reliable for a good performance, and that doesn’t change here. One moment Isaac’s Nathan can be filling the audience with a sense of uneasy tension before quickly lightening the mood and filling it with laughter. Isaac brings so much charm and mystery to the role that he nearly steals the show from the wonderful Alicia Vikander. Isaac has quickly established himself as one of the better actors working today with a string of great performances; hopefully that streak will continue with his next film, another sci-fi movie called Star something or other. [Ryan]

Richard Jenkins – Bone Tomahawk

As Chicory, the old and seemingly useless town deputy, Richard Jenkins initially appears to be little more than comic relief in Bone Tomahawk. But as time goes on, and our characters make their trek to a shocking and brutal destination, Jenkins slowly but surely walks away with the film. Some credit has to go to S. Craig Zahler’s excellent screenplay, which gradually reveals a more complex character underneath Chicory’s buffoonish surface, although Jenkins’ ability to create such a genuine and sympathetic character from the page is what helps elevate Bone Tomahawk from a low-budget genre pic to a future cult classic. You can see the power of Jenkin’s performance already; despite a small release with little to no fanfare, he managed to get an Indie Spirit Award nomination, a surprising and—for those who’ve seen it—deserving pick. [C.J.]

Brie Larson – Room

The year’s most heart-wrenching film is anchored by one of 2015’s best performances. A young mother kidnapped and locked inside a shed for several years while raising her son, Joy (or “Ma”) is a tangled knot of trauma waiting to come undone. Beginning the film as a warm, protective woman doing whatever she can to shield her boy from their terrible situation, Larson often underplays the predicament. She imbues her character with the belief that if she can provide a sense of normalcy, her son might avoid permanent mental scarring. In the breathtaking moments when Larson has a raw, emotional reaction to the threat against her son, or the hope she retains for his future, her performance elevates Room to a special level of stories about family. When she collects her inevitable Oscar nomination, the broadcast may play a clip of her louder, more dynamic performance from the film’s latter half; however, Larson’s ability to balance emotional pain, world-weariness, naiveté, hopelessness and hope in one role is what makes this performance remarkable. [Zach]

Rooney Mara – Carol

The language of Carol is one communicated through gestures and expressions. Words are held back in almost every line of dialogue, so it’s up to the actors to divulge the psychology of the people they are attempting to embody. Rooney Mara, whose role in many instances is wrongly being credited as supporting, is astonishing in her ability to sculpt depth and humanity within Therese. If she’s hesitant, her hands and eyes will move a certain way. If she’s curious, her eyes will light up. Whether she is speaking or silent, we can always follow the emotional narrative occurring within Therese’s mind, and if that doesn’t speak to the caliber of her performance, I don’t know what does. [Cameron]

Elisabeth Moss – Queen of Earth

Elisabeth Moss’s performance in Queen of Earth is something out of a classic Hollywood melodrama—the kind of performance you would see from Bette Davis or Joan Crawford. From the first frame of the film (a close-up of the actress’ mascara-run face), Moss dominates the screen. Even while she is a wholly exaggerated person by the end of the film, almost animalistic, Moss leaves just enough humanity to ground herself. Director Alex Ross Perry helps give the performance the variance it needs with an out-of-time structure, jumping between past and present, showcasing the many levels of her depression. It’s the highest stakes role of the young actress’ career and she takes the opportunity by both hands, strangling it to unconsciousness. After her highly praised supporting role in Perry’s Listen Up Phillip, their follow-up together shows a fantastic working relationship and hopefully a pairing that will grow over the years. [Aaron]

Cynthia Nixon – James White

The highly underrated Cynthia Nixon provides the backbone to Josh Mond’s stunning debut feature. Nixon casts a strong shadow over the film even when she’s absent from the screen for extended periods. Her performance as a woman suffering from cancer is so fully realized that it’s almost too painful to watch (and probably will be for some). Another great element to her work here is how well she complements Christopher Abbott’s strong work in the title role, giving him so much to work off of. This is truly one of the strongest performances of the decade so far and will hopefully lead to even more equally interesting roles for Cynthia Nixon. [Ryan]

Mark Ruffalo – Spotlight

Mark Ruffalo has spun a pretty interesting career for himself. From his indie beginnings to becoming America’s favorite Hulk, Ruffalo perfectly blends a leading man’s charm with a character actor’s sensibilities. That plays well into his role as Mike Rezendes, a key member of the Boston Globe’s investigative reporting team. The film beautifully creates the team dynamic, but Ruffalo sticks out with the most dynamic emotional moments. The ticks and vocal choices may turn some off, but Rezendes is a fully-formed character. You believe his inner-struggle with the information he has uncovered and his passion for digging deeper. His scenes with Stanley Tucci, playing an attorney who possibly has incriminating evidence against a church official, are a highlight of his performance. They build an important relationship by the end of the film, but it is certainly a process, as the two veteran actors play a game of give-and-take across the film to prove themselves to each other. Above all, Ruffalo portrays the kind of journalist we wish every journalist could be—compassionate, hard working, intelligent, willing to take on the impossible story and push to find the difficult answers. This all comes out of Ruffalo’s workmanlike performance. [Aaron]

Michael Shannon – 99 Homes

When Rick Carver is first seen in 99 Homes, he’s callously insulting a man who just committed suicide moments earlier. At first glance Michael Shannon’s character appears to be a walking symbol of the heinous capitalist practices that created the housing crisis, but Shannon helps complicate things to the film’s benefit. Carver is fully aware of how immoral his actions are, but as he repeatedly points out, he’s merely playing by the same rules as everyone else. He is, much like the film’s protagonist, simply trying to survive and succeed within the system, albeit through more questionable means. It speaks to Shannon’s talents that he can take such an unlikeable character and, by portraying him as a ruthless pragmatist, turn 99 Homes into a more powerful and effective cri de coeur. [C.J.]

Kristen Stewart – Clouds of Sils Maria

The loveliest thing about Kristen Stewart’s performance in Olivier Assayas’ Clouds of Sils Maria is that it hardly feels like a performance. It feels like Kristen Stewart playing herself, only a slightly altered, slightly more cinematic version of herself named Valentine. She has such a natural presence onscreen, speaking and reacting like a normal human being while acting as the voice of reason for her boss and good friend (played by Juliette Binoche). In Clouds, Stewart is not only the most likable character, she’s also the most mysterious, albeit in a very simple way; for most of its runtime, there’s very little mystery to Valentine at all. Then, suddenly, a shift in the third act forces viewers to think about the significance of her character’s presence (in the context of the film’s themes) and, as a result, Clouds’ enigmatic nature multiplies. [Eli]

Mya Taylor – Tangerine

A lot of attention has been paid to Kitana Kiki Rodriguez’s lead performance in as Sin-Dee in Tangerine, and rightly so; it’s a brash, uncompromising and great turn from a first-time actress. But if Rodriguez is the ball of furious energy that keeps Tangerine going, then think of Mya Taylor as the film’s beating heart. Playing Alexandra, the more subdued friend of Sin-Dee, Taylor acts with a confidence and naturalism that prevents the film from veering too far off the map. Rodriguez may dominate the screen, but Taylor is the perfect, sensitive yin to her boisterous yang, and by the end it’s impossible not to recognize how vital Taylor’s performance is to the film’s success. [C.J.]

Alicia Vikander – Ex Machina

We might look back at 2015 as the year of Alicia Vikander. Overall, she had four great performances this year, including the romantic sidekick in the pulpy The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and two finely tuned dramatic turns in Testament of Youth and The Danish Girl. It’s her role as an A.I. in Alex Garland’s Ex Machina that leaves the biggest impression, though. Her role in the film is to basically prove the Turing test through a sequence of interviews with lonely programmer Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson). Ex Machina‘s wonderful character design and effects go a long way, but nothing would work without her central performance. Vikander plays Ava with a softness and fragility that makes her completely irresistible to both Caleb and viewers. Her curiosity pierces through the usual robot affectations that Vikander wears well. She has to be both human and machine, hero and villain, and convincing enough to work within the film’s plot conceit. Her ability to effortlessly manage all of these complex layers is one of the most impressive feats we’ve seen all year. [Aaron]

Kōji Yakusho – The World of Kanako

In The World of Kanako, Kōji Yakusho portrays a man living in a perpetual state of dazed anger. He drinks himself half to death and has a long list of pent-up regrets and fears that orchestrate his emotional instability. When his daughter, Kanako, goes missing, he finds a direction in which to point his abstract fury. What Yakusho gives us in bringing this character to life is a master class in expressive body acting. Twitching, howling, and never failing to interact with his environment, Yakusho pulls no punches, diving into the core of his character’s deranged headspace and demented patriarchal rage. [Cameron]

]]> http://waytooindie.com/features/20-best-performances-of-2015/feed/ 0 http://waytooindie.com/features/best-documentaries-of-2015/ http://waytooindie.com/features/best-documentaries-of-2015/#respond Tue, 15 Dec 2015 22:06:41 +0000 http://waytooindie.com/?p=42286

If there was one genre in particular that 2015 excelled in, it would be documentaries. Every year there seems to be a standout or two, but this year the documentary category is loaded with worthy competitors. We’ve compiled the very best documentaries from this year, spanning a wide range of topics from prolific musicians, the War on Drugs, mountain climbing, sleep paralysis, and societal pressures of marriage in traditional Indian culture. Some are told in unconventional ways while others explore unique subjects, but all of these films contain riveting storytelling. The following documentaries are all worth checking out if you haven’t done so already.

Way Too Indie’s Best Documentaries of 2015

Amy

I tend to feel a ping of skepticism whenever a biographical documentary is made about a deceased pop culture persona so soon after their death. It’s hard not to assume it may be exploitive or disingenuous. So I had my doubts going into Amy even knowing Asif Kapadia had already proven himself a worthy documentary filmmaker. What unfolds is perhaps unsurprising, Amy Winehouse’s fame and death being as public as they were, but Amy isn’t the story you think it will be. Instead of yet another tragic addiction-led death of a young and talented star, the film uses the personal footage taken by Amy and her friends to reveal a young woman affected less by fame and more by the ill-intentioned people around her. The same psychology and personal trauma that inspired Winehouse’s remarkable music and fueled her soulful performances is what ultimately broke her heart and led to her death. What makes this stand out as a spectacular documentary is how expertly Kapadia turns the mirror around to show that the public spotlight thrust on Winehouse, and the rather transparent extent of her personal troubles, implies an amount of guilt on her fans and the public. It calls into question larger thoughts on the impact of our habits as consumers on other people’s lives, the sort of existential provocation only the best documentaries can produce. [Ananda]

Bending Steel

You haven’t heard of Bending Steel, but lucky you: I’ve seen it, I loved it, and I’m here to tell you about it. This weird, dark, startlingly profound documentary follows Chris Schoek, a hermetic New Yorker whose dream is to become a Coney Island strongman, like those bald, bulky, mustachioed guys you’ve seen on vintage freakshow posters. Chris doesn’t fit the bill—he’s lean, soft-spoken and shrivels up in front of a crowd—but he can bend metal with his bare hands, which is pretty amazing. The film tracks his progress as he works on his technique and learns to be a true performer, but the truly special moments involve Chris confessing his distaste for human contact, a troubling trait that may have developed as a result of his tragic relationship with his cold, unsupportive parents. As chilling a character portrait as I’ve seen all year. [Bernard]

Cartel Land

If Denis Villeneuve’s Sicario offers a slick, thrilling look at the bleak and despairing world of the War on Drugs, then Matthew Heineman’s Cartel Land can act as the gritty, real-world side of the same coin. Cartel Land follows two fronts of the drug war, but from the perspective of frustrated citizens instead of government officials: Arizona Border Recon head Tim Foley, and Jose Mireles, the leader of a vigilante group who fight off cartel gangs from taking over villages. Heineman keeps his focus on Mireles for the large majority of Cartel Land, mainly because it’s a remarkable story. Heineman captures incredible footage on the ground, getting in the middle of firefights and showing the intense pressure of living in the cartel wars on a daily basis, and at the same time observes Mireles’ group getting poisoned by the same interests that ensure chaos reigns at the border. Cartel Land is riveting, dark stuff, and its uncompromising look at the drug war as an out of control nightmare is some of the most important filmmaking to come out of 2015. [C.J.]

In Jackson Heights

With age comes experience, understanding, and a widened scope of the world around you. For all the exceptional documentaries Frederick Wiseman has been making since the ’60s, there is a weighted atmosphere in his latest one that could easily mark it as his magnum opus, because of all those things that come with age (Wiseman is 85 years old, by the way). In Jackson Heights is classic in how quickly three hours pass by; a kaleidoscopic look at a neighborhood in Queens, New York that boasts a record of 167 spoken languages. Though most of what you hear is Spanish and English, there’s a colorful enough array of characters from all walks of life that make the cultural hodgepodge the main anchor of the story. In another great year for documentaries, plenty of exaggerated praise drowns out the more humble and less sensationalist of the bunch. From these, Frederick Wiseman’s big-picture-perspective on the contortion and distortion of core, constitutional, American values stands tall. By letting the community of Jackson Heights speak its collective mind, most of the time during revealingly intimate moments, we become immersed with life itself. [Nik]

Listen to Me Marlon

Amy is rightfully regarded as one of the best documentaries of the year, but there is another doc with a similar approach that shouldn’t be overlooked. Listen to Me Marlon takes the recently discovered audio recordings made by legendary actor Marlon Brando and edits them into a look at his wonderful career and troubled inner-life. It doesn’t have the same large media aims as Amy, but perhaps gets more out of its complicated subject. With only the audio recordings to guide the story, it is among the most intimate artist bio-docs ever made. Listen to Me Marlon touches on some of the most crucial moments of Brando’s life, including his early rise as a superstar actor, his infamous Oscar win for The Godfather, and the tragic loss of his grown son. Due to his personal struggles and the bizarre film choices he made late in his life, Brando’s legacy has become easy to jeer, but Listen to Me Marlon is a beautiful tribute to the artist and the man, allowing his own words to tell his story and regain his humanity. [Aaron]

The Look of Silence

Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing is a more eye-catching and artistically adventurous than his follow-up, The Look of Silence, but steep yourself in the latter’s rhythm and atmosphere for its entirety and you’ll discover a movie that will haunt you, sit on your shoulders and whisper in your ear for a long, long time. Like its predecessor, the doc is filled with the stories of those affected by the Indonesian genocide of 1965-66, both perpetrators and victims. This time, we follow a man named Adi, who lost his brother to the slaughter and conducts a string of interviews with the men who were in charge of the mass killings. The stories are as shocking as they were in The Act of Killing, with Adi’s strength, forgiveness and dignity piercing the darkness like a beacon. Most affecting of all is the presence of the dead, who we feel through Oppenheimer’s evocative camerawork, which subtly suggests the deceased are watching Adi’s every move from behind the trees. [Bernard]

Meet the Patels

Easily the funniest documentary of 2015—and possibly even the most entertaining—belongs to Geeta and Ravi Patel’s Meet the Patels. The brother and sister duo document Ravi’s difficulties of getting back into the dating world after a long-term relationship fails. But this isn’t a one-note dating documentary. The situation gets complex (and more compelling) due to the clash between Ravi’s American upbringing and his family’s firm stance on traditional Indian culture, particularly the arranged marriage part. But rather than making the film on whether dating or arranged marriage is the best way to find a partner, Ravi gives both methods a fair try, and the results are hilarious. There’s humor found throughout due to Ravi’s comedic, down-to-earth personality, making Meet the Patels charming and a breeze to watch. It also benefits from remarkable editing, by cutting down a ton of home movie footage and combining it with unique animations that periodically replace talking head interviews. The documentary made a big impression on audiences and studio exeutives as well; Fox Searchlight acquired remake rights shortly after its release, and plans to turn it into a narrative feature. [Dustin]

Meru

It was a big year for the Himalayas on film. An amazing counterpart to the big budget epic Everest is the true story of a small group of adventure-seekers who looked to be the first to scale one of the massive mountain’s more difficult peaks. Stylistically, Meru doesn’t do anything we haven’t seen before in documentaries—cinematography of the Himalayas is no longer unique, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t just as breathtaking. It does, however, expertly highlight just how amazing their adventure is and, similarly, how extraordinary it is for them to capture it on film. Perhaps I was just supremely in tune with the film, but I found myself incredibly aware of the filmmaking process throughout the film. This makes the journey all the more impressive, given the limited supplies the group brings and the extreme nature of Meru’s specific ascent strategy. And then there is the story, which is properly intense and full of incredible twists and turns. Filmmakers Jimmy Chin (who is a member of the climbing trio) and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi fill in the appropriate backstories to build the climbers as actually interesting characters—this seems simple, but so many extreme climbing films struggle to do this properly. You will root for these characters, not just for the drama of their endeavor, but because the full scope of their human journeys is compelling both on and off the mountain. [Aaron]

The Nightmare

There are scenes from Rodney Ascher’s The Nightmare that I still think about even after several months since my initial viewing. I distinctly remember a chill running down my back when explaining to a friend the subject of this film: sleep paralysis. It’s a strange and terrifying phenomenon where sleepers are unable to move or speak while demonic creatures slowly approach. Ascher has the gall to interview his subjects suffering from sleep paralysis in their own bedrooms at night, which properly sets the mood and makes listening to their stories of night terrors all the more hair-raising. And while hearing people talk about their nightmares is one thing, Ascher adds a cinematic touch by showing re-enactments of these nightmares which really brings the testimonies to life. Some of these visualizations are a bit hokey (nightmares will always be scarier in our minds than on-screen), but it’s hard to shake images like the long shadowy figure with smoldering red eyes and sharp teeth. The Nightmare is the kind of film that sits with you long after the credits roll. [Dustin]

Of Men and War

Laurent Bécue-Renard’s Of Men and War stares directly into the wounded soul of a subject that’s rarely acknowledged and never explored. The Pathway Home, a therapy centre in California, helps treat soldiers with PTSD through group therapy sessions. Bécue-Renard films these sessions while also delving into some of the soldiers’ personal lives back home, shooting with a nonintrusive style that brings Frederick Wiseman (a director also appearing on this list) to mind. The therapy sessions provide a disturbing and powerful glimpse into the minds of these men, with each soldier providing a vivid account of the memories that paralyze them. Of Men and War doesn’t offer any answers, and while it ends on a hopeful note, it’s not exactly an optimistic one. Bécue-Renard recognizes the struggle these soldiers are going through is a lifelong process, and while his film doesn’t suggest therapy and emotional honesty are a cure, it does show their importance in providing the chance to deal with the psychological obstacles these men have to face every day. [C.J.]

The Royal Road

The title of Jenni Olson’s essay film refers to El Camino Real, the former 600-mile road that traveled across the Spanish missions in California. Olson uses this road to delve into topics both historical and personal: the history of California’s formation, an ill-fated trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles to meet a crush, the power of nostalgia, and Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo, among other topics. Linking all of these seemingly disparate elements together is Olson’s personal experience and voice, narrating in a dry tone over grainy 16mm footage of California landscapes. Over its short runtime, Olson’s ruminations manage to cohere into a fascinating whole, one that’s impossible to not find relatable in some way. Unlike most recent documentaries, who seem intent on doing nothing more than dictating and informing, The Royal Road is an exception, a film that allows viewers the room to breathe and, more importantly, to think. [C.J.]

Seymour: An Introduction

Wisdom is acquired with age, and Seymour Bernstein, 85-year-old retired concert pianist-turned teacher and subject of Seymour: An Introduction, has plenty to go around. The documentary invites us to sit beside Seymour’s deep well of knowledge and philosophy, serenading us with elegant photography and a measured pace. Interviews with his adoring pupils are insightful and heartening, but nothing compares to the magic of Seymour recalling pivotal moments in his extraordinary life journey. There’s a musicality to the filmmaking that’s beautifully apropos and is doubly impressive considering the filmmaker, actor Ethan Hawke, is relatively young in his career behind the camera. This isn’t just a movie that makes you feel good; it makes you feel enlightened. [Bernard]

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Here at Way Too Indie, we have plenty of love for foreign language films. Not only do foreign films provide an easy way to travel to new lands and learn about different cultures, but they can also push boundaries, provoke new ways of thinking, and offer unique views from what we’re generally accustomed to. Some of the best films of 2015 came from places like Argentina, Israel, Spain, and Hungary. So if you’re looking to explore new boundaries and look beyond what’s available in English, be sure to check out the following list of diverse films.

Way Too Indie’s Best Foreign Films of 2015

10,000 KM

It’s hard to believe 10,000 KM was a debut feature considering how Carlos Marques-Marcet’s film is so mature and expertly crafted . Right off the bat, Marques-Marcet demonstrates his filmmaking abilities with a remarkable 20-minute take that follows a couple from room to room around their cozy Barcelona apartment. This single scene isn’t just impressive from a technical standpoint, it also provides exposition on their relationship and introduces the central conflict of the film. Just when they decide to settle down together, one partner receives a once-in-a-lifetime job opportunity in Los Angeles. But they won’t let geography put their intimate relationship on hold, especially when modern technology allows them to be just a click away from video chat, Facebook updates, and instant messaging. However, Marques-Marcet illustrates the frustrations from a lack of a physical presence, and how being digitally connected simply isn’t the same. It’s an up close and personal film, with both characters confined by the interiors of their apartments and bound by their laptop screens. 10,000 KM features a simple yet universal love story told in a bold, unapologetic, and genuine way. [Dustin]

Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem

A pressure-cooker courtroom drama for the ages, Ronit and Shlomi Elkabetz’s Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem is both a direly important film and a stunningly artful one. The story is one of frustration, frustration belonging to the eponymous Viviane, an unhappy Israeli wife desperate to be free of her marriage. The injustice is this: In Israel, divorce can only commence if the husband consents; the wife has no say. The film takes place entirely within the cold walls of the Rabbinical courtroom in which Viviane’s pleas for separation are squashed over and over again. Few films are as frustrating, and few films are as inspired. Ronit Elkabetz is transcendent as Viviane not just because she’s a great actor, but because the pain she’s expressing is same pain felt by thousands of women in Israel today, ones who can’t escape the horror when the camera stops rolling. [Bernard]

Hard to Be A God

Conceived in the 1960s, shot in the 2000s, and finally finished in 2013, Aleksei German’s magnum opus Hard to Be a God could easily claim the title of filthiest movie ever made without anyone batting an eye. German’s sci-fi adaptation takes place in the future, but the setting is a recently discovered planet that’s just like Earth, except the planet’s civilization is currently living out its pre-Renaissance era. The camera, always moving and in deep focus, captures it all with a realism and sense of immersion that few films have achieved before, making Hard to Be a God a simultaneously grueling and exhilarating experience. Not many people will be up for German’s challenge here, but those willing to roll around in the mud will find themselves awestruck at the staggering, groundbreaking vision on display. Some films are hard to shake off, but Hard to Be a God is in a class of its own; this is a movie you have to scrub off. [C.J.]

Mommy

Xavier Dolan’s emotional tale of a single mother’s struggle to raise her troublemaking teenage son is one of the most unexpectedly intense films to come along in quite some time. Utilizing a strange yet aesthetically pleasing 1:1 aspect ratio, Mommy feels contained and dangerous. The teenage boy, Steve (Antoine-Olivier Pilon), has a tendency to grow uncontrollably violent, giving the film a suspenseful aura. The bizarre nature of the mother/son relationship, led by a fantastic lead performance from Anne Dorval makes Mommy an absolute must-see and one of the best of the year. The remarkable soundtrack is merely a bonus. [Blair]

Phoenix

German filmmaker Christian Petzold and the always stunning Nina Hoss have already collaborated with one another on multiple cinematic endeavors, but it seems their developing actor-director chemistry has, at long last, culminated in a masterpiece. Petzold’s post-Holocaust psychodrama is a slow-burner focusing on the fragile and traumatized Nelly Lenz, a facially disfigured (and essentially unrecognizable) concentration camp survivor who emerges from the War as the sole survivor of her family. From there, the audience follows her on a covert journey not only to discover whether her husband—in her “previous existence”—might have given her up to the Nazis, but if so, whether she’d be able to accept that fact and readjust to the exhausting task of simply living again. Hoss’ tour de force performance is a behemoth exertion of emotionally realized acting ability, and the film concludes on a such a remarkable note that you may need a fellow viewer to help peel your jaw from the floor once the end credits start rolling (unless they, too, are stuck in the same predicament). [Eli]

The Assassin

Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s wuxia masterwork is one of the most beautiful films I’ve ever seen. Its detractors accuse it of being unbearably slow, but I found myself unable to keep up with it. Each image contains so much content to observe and digest, from the props and costumes to abstract items like the placement of shadows or the nuance of facial expressions. Shu Qi’s marvelously restrained performance anchors Hou’s limitless vision. The cinematography is unspeakably gorgeous, and some of the shots are all-timers. The artistry is so unfathomably gorgeous and immersive that, unless one is an expert at cinematic self-discipline, unpacking its narrative and how the characters precisely relate to one another will require multiple viewings. The Assassin is the only film released this year I’ve had the pleasure of watching four times, and each time the experience was equally rich, if not richer, than that first overwhelming, borderline spiritual experience in theaters. This is the kind of film that reminds me why I love cinema — its ability to transport the viewer to exotic, wondrous realms, its power to make ancient characters immediate, and it’s breathtaking ability to leave me in a state of borderline paralysis. [Cameron]

The Look of Silence

Three years ago, Joshua Oppenheimer’s The Act of Killing was a complete revelation—a cathartic, powerful documentary about a genocide told from the perspective of those who perpetrated it. When I heard about the follow-up project, called The Look of Silence, I doubted it could possibly recapture the unique quality. It’s true, The Look of Silence isn’t as big as The Act of Killing, but it is just as (if not more) visceral. The new film lacks the other-worldly personalities of the gangsters, but turning the perspective to the victims allows for Oppenheimer to tone down the style for a straight-forward emotional gut punch. The film absolutely keeps Oppenheimer’s edge, though, by bringing together the victim subjects face-to-face with the men responsible for their personal loss—this happens a few times within the film with different groups, but each play out in different and surprising ways. The Look of Silence isn’t just a supplement; it stands on its own, captures new voices in this larger story, and creates a number of incredible moments of emotional release that stand apart from the original. [Aaron]

When Marnie Was There

In 2014, people endlessly praised Studio Ghibli’s The Tale of Princess Kaguya as yet another masterpiece from the slowly dwindling company (after Hayao Miyazaki’s retirement, Ghibli announced they would be taking a bit of a break). But in my opinion, this year’s When Marnie Was There blows Kaguya and other recent Ghibli titles out of the water. Adapted from Joan G. Robinson’s novel, Marnie follows depressed adolescent Anna as she spends the summer with relatives of her adopted mother. Feeling alienated and alone, Anna’s expectations of a dismal summer change when she meets Marnie, a mysterious girl who lives in an isolated mansion right next to the sea. By Ghibli standards director Hiromasa Yonebayashi’s visual style is subdued, but it’s still stunning in its naturalistic beauty, and the film’s honest portrayal of depression is both welcome and seemingly unprecedented for a children’s movie. When Marnie Was There may not showcase the same fantastical imagery of Kaguya or classics like Spirited Away but its story, a supernatural tale of friendship that travels through time, has just as much imagination and power as the company’s best work. [C.J.]

White God

Rare is the film whose animal actors are more compelling than its human ones, but such is the case with the brutal, rousing, sharply allegorical White God, written and directed by Hungarian filmmaker Kornél Mundruczó. The beating heart of this arresting tale of doggie rebellion is the collective canine presence, dogs playing deadly, desperate revolutionaries in a more convincing, emotionally stirring manner than the throwaway fodder in most wartime period pieces. It’s hard to imagine a revenge fantasy wilder and more unique than Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds, but Mundruczó’s film is exactly that. Suspenseful, powerful, sentimental, technically honed—few moviegoing experiences were as rich in 2015. Watching the dogs rip and claw at each other for the sake of their despicable owners’ entertainment isn’t an easy thing to stomach, but through a parabolic lens, there’s a profundity to all the thrashing and gnawing, particularly when fang meets human flesh. [Bernard]

Wild Tales

A 2014 Academy Award nominee for best foreign language film, Wild Tales didn’t receive a U.S. theatrical release until early 2015. Typically, films released that early in the year don’t come up around award season—usually because films are often dumped there, but even the good ones are easy to forget over time. Wild Tales is an unforgettable exception. Made up of six independent short films, Damián Szifrón’s film packs a darkly-tuned punch, exploring revenge and retribution in a variety of situations. Each of the segments aren’t created equal (ranking them seems to be a necessary part of every review), but they bring together a similar style and tone that ties them all into a cohesive unit which builds upon it self from beginning to end. The standout piece is the opening scene, the shortest and most clearly defined by the film’s theme. From there, Wild Tales explores corrupt bureaucracy, personal slights, sexual infidelities and even more with humor and a definite dark streak. It might not have the emotional resonance of the other films on this list, but you won’t find a more entertaining one in the bunch. [Aaron]

Honorable Mentions

With a ton of exceptional foreign films to choose from, there are going to be some worth mentioning that just missed the cut. For instance, Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s emotional sister confinement film Mustang, and Jafar Panahi’s Taxi fell just a couple votes shy of making our main list. And it would be shame not to acknowledge the efforts of Céline Sciamma’s fresh coming-of-age drama Girlhood, the beautiful sensory experience of Blind, the Icelandic black comedy Of Horses and Men, and remarkable Holocaust drama Son of Saul.

Another year, another collection of unforgettable films, and another collection of unforgettable moments. Our list of unforgettable films is still on its way, but like last year we feel compelled to single out some scenes from 2015 that bowled us over and stayed in our brains. Some of these scenes are moments we cherish from our favorites this year, and others are great highlights from films that might not have been able to squeeze into our top tens. But as varied as this list may be, everything on it is another reason why we still love watching movies (even if that means watching a lot of duds). Read on to see what we loved from this year, and be sure to let us know what moments or scenes you couldn’t forget.

45 Years – The Anniversary Party

I’m a little hesitant to go into much detail on the anniversary party scene of Andrew Haigh’s 45 Years, as it is the culminating scene of this fine film, but it without a doubt deserves recognition. By the time the characters and audience have arrived at this scene, so much emotional turmoil has been quietly digested. In a typical film, this would finally boil over, acting as the ultimate breaking point that the film was literally building to from the beginning. Here, however, it becomes a beautiful and very sad interplay between its celebrated couple. Charlotte Rampling is particularly stunning here, all the way up to the film’s final shot—she has gone through so much internal struggle that you almost want her to explode, but for the actress’ better judgment, she gives the scene so much more complexity when the cracks begin to show. [Aaron]

Arabian Nights: Volume 2 – The Desolate One – The Tears of the Judge

Miguel Gomes’ Arabian Nights trilogy is filled with highlights and lowlights, but of the many stories told over the trilogy’s combined ~6.5-hour runtime, this bravura 40-minute segment in Volume 2 is by far the best part of all three films. Taking place in an outdoor courtroom, a judge (Luisa Cruz) presides over a case involving apartment tenants selling furniture belonging to their landlord. The judge declares it to be a simple case of theft, but when she decides to probe further (“to share thoughts and moralities with you all,” she explains to the crowd watching the case) she triggers a convoluted blame game. The defendants argue that their landlord is a vile person, which leads to testimony saying he abuses 911 operators, and from there genies, cows and polygamy get thrown into the mix. This is blunt, on-the-nose political filmmaking of the best kind, with Gomes increasing the absurdity of the situation at an exponential rate with each new development. It’s smart, hilarious stuff, and the story’s bookending sequences—involving the judge’s daughter losing her virginity—adds the kind of sting that turns good satire into great satire. [C.J.]

Bone Tomahawk – Meal Prep

Bone Tomahawk opens with the image of someone getting their throat slit with a dull knife, a grisly scene that helps establish writer/director S. Craig Zahler’s preference for brutal, realistic violence. But that opening won’t prepare anyone for what comes much later (almost 90 minutes later, to be precise), well after Zahler’s film has settled into a pleasantly poky groove. Our four heroes, on a trip to save their friends and loved ones from cannibalistic cave dwellers, find themselves captured by their foes, and Zahler shows what happens when one person gets selected to be the next meal. It’s a horrifying sight that’ll have viewers covering their eyes and plugging their ears (God only knows what was used to create those sound effects), and Zahler puts splatter filmmakers like Eli Roth—who tried his hand at cannibal horror this year with The Green Inferno—to shame. Just remind yourself to watch this film on an empty stomach whenever you get the chance to see it. [C.J.]

Eastern Boys – Home Invasion

The opening minutes of Robin Campillo’s Eastern Boys shows middle-aged Daniel (Olivier Rabourdin) approaching young male prostitute Marek (Kirill Emelyanov) and propositioning him for sex. Marek agrees to meet Daniel at his apartment the next day, but Daniel has no idea what he’s in for once there’s a knock at his door. Instead, almost a dozen people come pouring into his apartment one at a time, all of them part of Marek’s gang run by the charismatic and intimidating Boss (Daniil Vorobyev). It’s a surreal sequence running just over 20 minutes in length, and it’s all the more fascinating by Daniel’s unorthodox reaction to the situation; he quietly lets Boss and his underlings steal everything out of his place, and when the boys start an impromptu dance party in his living room he joins in. It’s a remarkable experience watching it all unfold, with Campillo oscillating between the intensity of the scenario (culminating in an unexpected act of violence) and how alluring it is for Daniel to be surrounded by so many objects of his desire. The rest of Eastern Boys doesn’t maintain the same quality, but Campillo has created an undeniable mini-masterpiece with this one sequence. [C.J.]

Entertainment – The Heckler

Rick Alverson, who’s quickly established himself as a master of cringe humour, creates yet another masterpiece of discomfort with this scene in Entertainment. While doing a show at a tiny bar somewhere in the California desert, The Comedian (Gregg Turkington, aka Neil Hamburger) gets interrupted by what he thinks is a heckler (Amy Seimetz, making the most of her brief screentime). But Alverson shows what Turkington’s character didn’t see: that the heckler was getting harassed by a man at the bar, her outburst directed at the man beside her and not on stage. That doesn’t stop The Comedian from tearing into her, hurling a barrage of nasty (and funny) insults her way. The sequence works so well because of the way Alverson constructs it within the familiar framework of a drama or character study; take away the context behind Seimetz’s “heckling” and the scene can look like Turkington defiantly taking down a critic. Instead it’s something much uglier, going against expectations and turning the protagonist into a villain. Alverson’s films are never easy, but that’s what makes them great. [C.J.]

The Forbidden Room – “The Final Derriere”

A musical interlude about a man’s addiction to female rumps (and the bizarre method he chooses to overcome it) would be strange in most any film, but it even stands out in Guy Maddin’s wackadoodle masterpiece The Forbidden Room. In the scene, the great Udo Kier plays a man tormented by a whip-wielding “Master Passion” (a fine cameo by Geraldine Chaplin). The song is incredibly catchy, a mix of styles just like the film, with a bit of a Beach Boys sound, a bit of Queen’s theatrics, a bit new wave and even a bit heavy metal—but it is without a doubt a singular piece, telling a singular story. It’s also an incredibly catchy tune; I’ve been humming “a little more off the top, a little more off the top” since I first watched the film. This plays beautifully off how morbid and grotesque both the song’s content and Maddin’s images are, tapping into the absurdity that The Forbidden Room wears so well. [Aaron]

Girlhood – “Diamonds”

From the outset, Céline Sciamma’s Girlhood establishes the hard conditions of its main character Marieme (Karidja Touré). She’s doing poorly at school, stuck in an abusive situation with her family, and feeling alienated. It’s only when she meets a group of three outspoken girls who eventually befriend her that she starts to feel a sense that she belongs somewhere, and Sciamma beautifully shows the precise moment when Marieme finally embraces her new identity. The girls rent out a hotel room for the night, a means of escaping their problems, and Marieme watches as her new friends sing along to Rihanna’s “Diamonds” under a blue light. Marieme sits back watching before finally joining in on the fun, and Sciamma (who lets the song play out in its entirety) lights the scene to make all four girls look like they’re glowing. It’s a touching, celebratory moment, where Sciamma gives her characters the opportunity to break free from their lives and truly be themselves, even if it’s only for a moment. [C.J.]

Mad Max: Fury Road – The Bullet Farmer’s Final Charge

Pulling a cartridge from his mouth, the villainous leader of the Wasteland’s arms faction croons: “One angry shot…for Furiosa!” Decked out in a bullet belt headdress, perched atop a golden tank tread vehicle and literally armed to the teeth, he speeds into the night. Meanwhile, our tough band of defectors and escapees struggle to pull the stalled War Rig out of the mud, their ears perking up as distant shots ring out. In a film loaded with explosive, go-for-broke chase sequences and wildly eccentric displays, the Bullet Farmer’s solo charge might be my favorite combination of both elements. The character’s blind machine gun spray (perfectly accented by an impassioned appeal to the heavens and Verdi’s booming “Dies Irae”) is a gloriously mad affair. However, the sequence is grounded by a wordless interaction between Furiosa and Max in which Furiosa uses her comrade to stabilize her rifle, making a perfect shot and shattering the Farmer’s searchlight. The foggy atmosphere and deep blue day-for-night lighting only add to scene’s deliriously intoxicating effect. [Byron]

Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation – Vienna Opera House

The Vienna Opera House sequence is the “Burj Khalifa moment” of Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation. It may not be as spectacularly white-knuckle or as death-defying in its stunt work, but for my money, it’s the biggest show-stopper in a thriller boasting several great candidates. Partially set to an emotionally stirring performance of “Nessun Dorma,” the scene offers intense hand-to-hand combat and a mysterious cat-and-mouse game. Christopher McQuarrie’s intricate direction closely details a number of moving pieces, Tom Cruise does a solid job of conveying his character’s conflicted feelings, and everything builds to an intelligent climax. It’s one of the best set pieces of the year. [Byron]

Mustang – The Soccer Game

More of a plot point than a specific scene, the events that lead to and come from the attendance of a soccer game really scores the special quality of Deniz Gamze Ergüven’s female-driven Mustang. Due to violent hooliganism, Turkish officials decide that all men will be barred from an upcoming match. This sparks soccer fan Lale to enlist her sisters (who don’t care too much for the sport) to sneak out from their small town and sheltered lives and take part. It’s really a minor part of the first act, a short sequence that could probably be the greater plot of another film, but it encapsulates the spirit of its characters so incredibly well. What’s more, it leads to a wonderful and surprising action from the girls’ aunt in what soon after becomes a very haunting and serious film. [Aaron]

Phoenix – “Speak Low”

There aren’t enough superlatives to describe the ending of Phoenix, Christian Petzold and Nina Hoss’ latest collaboration. For most of its runtime, Petzold’s film is a narratively straightforward and psychologically complex tale of disfigured Holocaust survivor Nelly (Hoss) trying to regain her old identity after receiving facial reconstruction surgery. But when Nelly finally accepts the reality of her situation and rises from the ashes, Petzold closes Nelly’s story with a breathtaking wallop. Without going into specifics (seriously, stop reading and go watch Phoenix already), Nelly sings the song “Speak Low,” and through her performance the story unravels and resolves itself in a way that inspires chills. It’s by far the best ending to any movie this year, and could easily go down as an all-timer. [C.J.]

A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence – The Third Meeting with Death

Roy Andersson’s filmmaking style makes for easy inclusion in lists like this, as his work often takes on an episodic quality. Many of the funny, poignant or disturbing scenes in A Pigeon Sat on a Branch Reflecting on Existence could make the cut, but it’s the third in the film’s opening trilogy of scenes (marked as three meetings with death) the leaves the biggest impression. The first two scenes are brief bits of physical humor: a man who collapses while struggling to uncork a bottle and a woman on her death-bed desperately clutching a handbag. These are audacious and quite funny, but the third scene adds Andersson’s incredible dryness. To set the stage: a man has died while in line at a cafeteria. While three obnoxiously stiff officials wonder aloud what they should do with the body, the nearby cashier pipes in with a question: what should she do with the food he purchased? The matter-of-fact, monotone response, thought out way too meticulously, and the reaction of the gathered crowd of diners are wonderfully characteristic examples of Andersson’s odd look at human nature. [Aaron]

Steve Jobs – John Scully vs. Steve Jobs

A showcase of a writer at the height of his powers. this scene can be classified as a verbal set piece. Just moments before taking the stage to introduce the NeXT Computer, Jobs is challenged by Apple CEO John Sculley (Jeff Daniels), about the myths surrounding why Jobs was ousted. What follows is a bravura sequence seamlessly weaving between past and present at breakneck speed. Aaron Sorkin’s dialogue is sharper and more acidic than ever, and the sequence has dips and climaxes that are more potent than most action movies. For a scene that is essentially two men standing in a room and talking, it’s overwhelmingly energetic and the performances really help viewers invest in the words being spoken. [Byron]

Wild Tales – Pasternak

Anthology films are rarely as successful as Damián Szifrón’s Wild Tales. The film’s six shorts are thematically linked, but I would argue their strongest connection is in tone, which is beautifully set by the film’s opening segment. Without giving too much away (because there is a brilliant twist in there), we open on an airplane where a man makes small talk with a beautiful woman across the aisle. They realize, through what seems like blind luck, that they have a common acquaintance—a failed composer who used the date the woman and studied under the man. You won’t believe what happens next. Once the scene ends, anyone watching Wild Tales is ready to know just how dark the film is willing to go, and just how creatively it can get there. Of all the films within the film, the opening is the most wildly enjoyable and the most successful in marrying the film’s themes with its point-of-view. Without this segment or its placement in the film, Wild Tales wouldn’t click so well as one of the best films of the year. [Aaron]

What else?

We’d be foolish not to give some sort of shout out to other terrific scenes throughout the year, like the hilarious funeral sequence in Li’l Quinquin, which had us doubled over from laughter; both the border crossing and night vision sequences in Sicario; the ending of Carol, which should get an emotional response out of even the coldest souls; the opening long take in Buzzard, a painfully funny experience much like Entertainment; the bonkers final act of Jauja; a scorching scene from The Fool where the town mayor lays into her corrupt staff; everything that happens at Mamie Claire’s house in Mistress America; the intense argument between Gerard Depardieu and Jacqueline Bissett in Welcome to New York; the tightrope sequence in The Walk, and much, much more.

As everyone at Way Too Indie scrambles together to watch and rank as many films as they can before the end of the year, we decided to spend some time knocking down and propping up some of what 2015 had to offer. The fun part about having writers with such diverse tastes is that it’s hard to find a consensus, leading to many (friendly) disagreements and arguments between people. After doing our first overrated/underrated feature last year, we had such a fun time we decided to make it a yearly tradition here on Way Too Indie.

All of our writers were tasked to pick one overrated and one underrated film, along with an explanation for their choices. Read on below, and if you happen to disagree with any of our sentiments, we’ve included a link to most of our staff’s Twitter handles where you are invited to express your outrage or agreement or let us know what we’ve overlooked.

Way Too Indie’s Most Overrated And Underrated Films Of 2015

Aaron Pinkston

Inside Out is overrated

Pixar’s first offering of 2015 has become one of the studio’s most successful films—only behind Toy Story 3 in terms of box office and with a 98% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes. I’m not going to argue that Inside Out isn’t a good film, but it simply didn’t connect with me on a personal level as it has for the public and critical audiences. Many of the film’s relative problems come with the broad nature that allows it to connect with so many. This is mostly true of its humor, which often plays for easy stereotypes even as its emotional complexity is strong. The characters inside of Riley’s head are of course broad by design, but the core relationship between Joy and Sadness aside, this isn’t the height of Pixar. Some have forecasted a heated battle against Anomalisa for animated film of the year (and that even excludes When Marnie Was There, a fantastic film that’s also in this feature), but it seems like a relative shoo-in for Inside Out, especially with the film garnering Best Picture nomination predictions for the Oscars—the new model nod for cultural transcendence in animated film.

Focus is underrated

One of the great film trends of 2015 was the many great throw-back entertainments. While Focus may be a little flashier than Bridge of Spies and Spotlight, it too shows the pleasures of how solid a ’90s-era flick can be. The biggest appeal of the film is Will Smith, who again shows that he is a bonafide movie star in case you forgot. The actor’s natural charm is incredibly fun to watch, in full effect with terrific chemistry with co-star Margot Robbie—they are good enough together that it’s easy to forget the wide age gap between them. As for the film’s plot: the con man hijinks don’t do anything new, and some of the film’s twists aren’t too hard to see coming, but the pace is quick and there are a few excellent scenes. The anchor scene of the film, where Smith gets into a heated double-or-nothing battle with the great B.D. Wong at the Super Bowl, builds dynamically and stands on its own as one of the best scenes of the year. Like many of the ’90s films that it reminds me of, Focus will be a welcome addition to the cable movie cycle for years to come.

Ananda Dillon

Jurassic World is overrated

Immediately after viewing Jurassic World I turned to my viewing partner, a look of disgust forming on my face, to discover that she and almost everyone else in the theater were high on some sort of flashy, merchandised, nostalgia-pandered fairy dust. And apparently the rest of America (and the world) fell victim as well, as this film is the highest grossing of 2015. I admit I had hopes, not even high ones, of the film playing just the right amount on my love of the first film, on their being bigger and badder dinos, of Chris Pratt being the dinosaur-whisperer who’d steal my heart and Bryce Dallas Howard the badass chick who’d save the day. What I got was more Starbucks and Mercedes logos than my brain could even process, a chick inexplicably running through a tropical island in heels, and (the biggest offense in my mind) the sudden introduction of vindictive dinosaurs. The entire premise of the first film can be boiled down into man vs. nature (umm, life finds a way, duh) and now we’re supposed to swallow the notion of 22-years of fraternization with humans suddenly allowing for cognitive decision making on the part of these “animals”? It’s one thing for a raptor to hunt kids in a kitchen instinctually, another for them to follow Chris Pratt and crew around the park on some sort of mission. The other plot holes are so numerous I have no room to elaborate but I continue to be bewildered at how many people were so dazzled by the special effects and novelty of a new Jurassic Park film that they not only dismissed the absurdity happening in front of them but praised a film that pretty much spits on its source material. I guess Dr. Malcolm would call this the truest example of chaos theory.

Slow West is underrated

So it’s not going to make the top of anyone’s Best Westerns of 2015 list as this is surprisingly a heated year for the genre. Bone Tomahawk has gotten more buzz, The Hateful Eight is primed and ready to blow us all away (in 70 mm!), and The Revenant has star power and artistry out the wazoo. But as much as I know what to expect from those films, Slow West has to be the most surprising western of the year. Maybe it was a marketing problem or a release date mismatch but the film came and went with not nearly enough hullabaloo. Big-namer Fassbender just wasn’t enough to counter a relatively nobody director, John Maclean, and I for one had no idea just how charming the film would be or how much it would ooze eclectic humor. Watching it evoked a similar smugness as watching a Wes Anderson film with all the darkly surprising gristle of a Coen brothers film. It’s oddly romantic for a western, lost love being the driver of the action, and incredibly well performed, especially breakout Caren Pistorious who I genuinely hope to see in more films soon. It may not make Top 20 of 2015 lists, but I hope it has a sort of second coming for those who realize they shouldn’t have glossed over this one.

Cameron Morewood

Beasts of No Nation is overrated

With Beasts of No Nation, Cary Fukunaga is often more concerned with demonstrating his ability to showcase flashy visuals than he is with staying true to the heart of his story and characters. The film’s mise en scène consistently feels detached from the human beings on screen. Raids and chase sequences are depicted in crude slow motion and accompanied by awkward synth music. Idris Elba is certainly a saving grace. Many of the children in the film, including the lead (Abraham Attah), also proved to be surprisingly talented actors. With a different director who possessed a better understanding of how to respond to the material and stylized his film accordingly, Beasts of No Nation could have been something that wasn’t so easily forgotten.

Beloved Sisters is underrated

Beloved Sisters had the unfortunate fate of being intended as a December 2014 release, but being dumped off in January instead. As a result, it was either overlooked or forgotten about by many. But what filmmaker Dominik Graf gives audiences is a rich and epic melodrama, bolstered by a trio of exceptional performances and cinematography which is often classical, but occasionally off-base, deviating into territory more commonly associated with other genres. It’s also lavishly produced and wonderfully scored—its locations feel genuine and lived in, absent of CGI in its rendering of a baroque atmosphere.

Byron Bixler

Straight Outta Compton is overrated

As a big fan of old school hip-hop, Straight Outta Compton was one of my most anticipated films of the year. The genre and the artists who work within it has rarely been addressed by Hollywood, and the few times it was represented, the results were shaky at best (I’m looking at you, Notorious). But with an exciting marketing campaign and the active involvement of Ice Cube, Dr. Dre and Eazy-E’s widow, I had confidence that this might be different.

I want to make it clear that Straight Outta Compton is not a bad film—it’s just alright. F. Gary Gray’s direction is fluid, the concert and party scenes have an infectious energy, Jason Mitchell gives a breakthrough performance in an ensemble of solid turns and the needle drop moments are on point. However, the script is where I begin to scratch my head at the universal praise. It’s an ambitious sprawl of a story, but all the character relationships, ambitions and internal issues are painted out in broad strokes. The dialogue is frustratingly on the nose and low on nuance, with several moments playing out with the simplistic instincts of a TV movie of the week. I’m thrilled that Straight Outta Compton has sparked a resurgence of interest in late ’80s/early ’90s hip hop, but it could have been so much better. I can’t help but think we’re settling for less due to the film’s weak field of competitors.

When Marnie Was There is underrated

While most Studio Ghibli films open to a rapturous response, When Marnie Was There seemingly came and went without a word this summer. The only substantial discussion revolved around its status as Ghibli’s last film before taking an extended break. Perhaps this was because it lacked the overtly imaginative fantasy of Spirited Away or My Neighbor Totoro. Or maybe it’s because it wasn’t quite as distinctive in its animation or storytelling as last year’s sensation, The Tale of the Princess Kaguya. Whatever the reason, When Marnie Was There is an emotionally charged gem that soars on its sensitivity to themes of depression, abandonment and alienation. Heavy stuff for sure, but when filtered through the prism of a mysterious spectral tale, it becomes amazingly accessible to both young and old viewers. It’s a ghost story that’s tender rather than frightening and a family film that levels with its audience, refusing to pander and getting to the heart of very real childhood issues. There’s a lot to dig into here, and while it might not be top tier Ghibli, it stays true to the studio’s tradition of beautiful, smart, and universally relatable filmmaking.

Bernard Boo

Carol is overrated

Todd Haynes’ Carol is one of the most overwhelmingly beloved films of the year; on this issue, I stand a lonely outsider. Perhaps there’s some deeper beauty that’s lost on me, but I found the film to be emotionally cold and half-awake. Lifeless, even. It’s ironic for a movie so visually colorful and sublime, but that’s what makes it so irreconcilable in my head. The production and costume design are unbelievably good, and the performances by leads Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett are solid. But I could never shake the feeling that the whole movie felt like an overly studied Examination on the laws of attraction (capital “E” intended). The warmth of the production and Haynes’ directorial style too often doesn’t gel with the cerebral, structured material, an issue that consistently kept me at arms length from the story and its characters. There are a lot of amazing things going on in this movie, but I feel as if the movie needs a big hug, both to heat it up and to bring its terriffic-but-disconnected elements to a tighter state of cohesion.

The Visit is underrated

The first movies M. Night Shyamalan’s made will haunt him forever. I won’t name them here—we all know what they were and, more importantly, how goddamn good they were. Audiences have been watching his movies with arms folded and a skeptical smirk ever since, waiting for him to capture his former glory. He hasn’t, which is unfortunate, but with The Visit it feels like Shyamalan’s finally dropped that weight he’s had on his shoulders for all those years and is starting to have fun again. This selfie-generation take on Hansel and Gretel is wild, mischievous, scary, wickedly funny, and most importantly doesn’t take itself so seriously. It’s not a film that will resurrect Shyamalan’s credibility completely, but I think I’m through with using his early films as the ultimate measuring stick for his career. The Visit is one of the most entertaining horror movies of 2015, though I think the context of its filmmaker’s larger career has stifled its success.

Blair Hoyle

Avengers: Age of Ultron is overrated

It truly speaks to the generic, predictable nature of most current superhero movies that Avengers: Age of Ultron wasn’t even particularly well received. And yet it’s still overrated. Another by-the-numbers comic book adaptation that tries (and fails) to convince the audience that the indestructible characters are actually in danger, the film rarely—if ever—provides any emotional stakes. When the most entertaining moment of a high-octane superhero movie is when the characters are just kind of hanging out at a cabin, you know something has gone horribly wrong.

Project Almanac is underrated

At a time when a vast majority of found footage films follow a formulaic blueprint and execution, Dean Israelite’s Project Almanac brings something new to the table. A time travel film that doesn’t find its protagonists saving the world from a government conspiracy, Project Almanac instead focuses on high school kids doing high school things. They use their time machine to attend past music festivals, to win the lottery, and impress love interests. It’s an insanely charming film, filled with excellent performances that showcase its young cast’s comedic and dramatic acting skills. It’s energetic, exciting, and sure to elicit equal amounts of cheers and laughs.

C.J. Prince

Goodnight Mommy is overrated

Did critics get collectively hit on the head by a brick when they praised Goodnight Mommy? A torture porn dressed up in Euro arthouse clothing, Goodnight Mommy is an exercise in austere agony that uses violence as a distraction from the fact that it has nothing to say. It starts off as an intriguing story about twin brothers who think their mother—whose face is bandaged up after getting surgery—is a sinister impostor, but that’s about as interesting as things get. Eventually writers/directors Veronika Franz and Severin Fiala decide to let the boys tie their mom up and torture her to see if she’s really their mother. Franz/Fiala try to be ambiguous about whether the boys’ suspicions are justified, but in this case it’s irrelevant. If their mother turned out to be an alien/ghost/demon/<insert evil thing here>, does that make watching her lips get sliced open any less gruesome to watch? And it’s not like showing this sort of gore is an achievement in horror either; wincing at a woman screaming while someone flosses her gums until they tear apart is a natural reaction, not evidence that the people putting it on screen have any talent. Goodnight Mommy is just a vacuous torture chamber, and shouldn’t be looked at as anything more than an Eli Roth movie with a better cinematographer.

Saint Laurent is underrated

Saint Laurent is a strange case for me, since it’s a film I feel passionate about yet it’s one I can’t really defend. It’s definitely a flawed film, one that overstays its welcome and gets lost in itself plenty of times, but out of the countless movies I’ve seen this year this one still rattles in my mind from time to time. Bertrand Bonello has made what I’d be more comfortable calling a far masterpiece rather than a near masterpiece, a film that comes to life in sublime flashes while being surrounded by more plodding and mediocre parts. Besides having a terrific cast and a killer soundtrack (Bonello is flawless in this department), Saint Laurent takes a more intriguing approach to a biopic; it’s more concerned with nailing down the moods and emotions of what being Yves Saint Laurent would be like, a sort of boundless opulence that comes with holding so much talent and wealth. And when Bonello nails that aspect, Saint Laurent hits a seductive, giddy high that no other film this year comes close to matching. It’s understandable why Saint Laurent can prove to be a frustrating experience given its flaws, but that doesn’t mean it should be tossed off or derided. It’s a film that has the courage to try and (more importantly) fail, a quality that should be embraced rather than opposed.

Dustin Jansick

Mommy is overrated

I’m not sure if there were more obnoxious characters than the mother-son duo in Xavier Dolan’s Mommy. Somehow the film walked away with the Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival and caused even more people to praise the ground beneath Dolan. These characters are irritating by design: the boy (played by a hyperactive Antoine-Olivier Pilon) suffers from ADHD, causing violent outbursts like setting a fire in a school cafeteria and screaming on the top of his lungs for no apparent reason, and the mother (Anne Dorval) is equally unpleasant with her nonchalant attitude on life. Eventually, all the child-like screaming and hitting just becomes exasperating and downright insufferable. Then there’s the frustrating 1:1 aspect ratio. Dolan devotees will tell you this was an essential part of the film which leads to a some sort of epiphany. But I’m here to tell you it’s more of a gimmicky stylistic choice, paired hilariously with Oasis’ overplayed song “Wonderwall”. So while I respect Dolan as a filmmaker—I think some day he may be considered one of the greats—most of his films end up feeling like exercises in self-indulgence, and Mommy is no exception.

Wild Tales is underrated

The only logical explanation as to why more people aren’t talking about Damián Szifron’s Wild Tales this year is that they didn’t realize it counts as a 2015 release (in the U.S.) after generating so much buzz last year from its Oscar nomination for Best Foreign Language film. Szifron’s wild anthology film consists of six short tales, each with the same theme of revenge along with plenty of absurd humor. With perhaps the best opening scene of 2015, Wild Tales starts things off with the shortest of its tales: passengers on a plane quickly discover inconceivable connections with each other, realizing it’s more than just a coincidence just before the story comes to abrupt end. With each new story, Szifron finds inventive ways to up the stakes. Most involve well-mannered characters methodically planning schemes to take down the person that wronged them. Of course, their plans don’t always work out perfectly. The final chapter concludes with an outrageous scuffle when a bride finds out her husband cheated on her with one of their guests, resulting in the most ridiculous and awkward wedding reception of all time. Given its anthological nature, there’s never a dull moment in Wild Tales. What’s better than a well-told revenge tale? Six of them.

Michael Nazarewycz

It Follows is overrated

What David Robert Mitchell did with It Follows—this year’s darling of the indie horror scene—is pretty neat. The film’s conceit alone is clever enough: a shape-shifting (though frequently unseen) entity hunts a person—in slow walking, ’80s slasher style—until it catches and kills that person. But if that person sleeps with someone, the person with whom the hunted slept with becomes the new target. Complementing that is a score by Disasterpeace that invokes memories of the great John Carpenter scores of the 1980s. And Mike Gioulakis’s cinematography? To die for. And yet. For as visually great as It Follows is, the other two key points the film’s devotees cling to—the conceit and the score—are flawed and highly overvalued. The score, while wonderful on its own, is as oppressive as it is random in its application. It’s as if Mitchell isn’t sure when to use it, so he uses it when he thinks he should, which is too often. The greater sin, though, is how fast and loose the film plays with its own rules. I’m usually not one to nitpick such things, particularly in the horror genre, but the film’s premise—hell, its entire marketing campaign—is all about “The Rules”. But once the film gets deeper into the second act, Mitchell, who also wrote the screenplay, needs to cheat those rules to keep the film going. That simply doesn’t fly. It Follows is a good film, but it’s too imperfect to be as revered as it is.

Ant-Man is underrated

A pair of things have hampered a full appreciation for Ant-Man. The first is the foolish melodrama that preceded the film’s release—melodrama created by the internet when the film’s original director, Edgar Wright, left the project. The second is the film having been released after Avengers: Age of Ultron. Because The Avengers brought the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s Phase One to a close, it only seemed fitting that Ultron close Phase II and leave the fans waiting for the next major all-out Avenger-fest, Captain America: Civil War. But along comes Ant-Man, closing out Phase II and wedging itself between two event pictures. But what a wedge it is. Not only does Marvel (again) take another familiar film style—this time the ’50s sci-fi flick, cross-bred with a heist film—it makes it so much more than just another man-in-tights entry on a list. Besides the very effective scenes where Scott Lang (Paul Rudd) is miniaturized, there is a depth of character and a structure of relationship that is surprisingly impressive, and makes Lang something of a contemporary of (and dare I speculate, heir apparent to) Tony “Iron Man” Stark. Both are technically savvy, both have father/father-figure issues, and both are, in their own ways, tied to the MCU canon at a high and critical level, namely, the early days of S.H.I.E.L.D. (both also have strong women beside them). But while Tony is the “Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist,” Scott is the “Resourceful, Blue-Collar, Father-of-One Convict.” Sure, those are opposite sides of a coin, but it’s the same coin, and because of this clever and deep connection, I look forward more to the future of Ant-Man than any other MCU hero.

Nik Grozdanovic

Amy is overrated

Fame is evil. Something that most of us who’ve seen enough fiction and non-fiction films on the subject have no doubt gathered by now. Director Asif Kapadia doesn’t seem to think so, however, because that’s the just about the only message his doc Amy is sending out. Amy Whinehouse had an incredible voice; she was a naturally gifted jazz singer whose songwriting was basically diary entries broken down into poetic verses. Depending on individual closeness and knowledge of her personal demons, backstage abuses, and unfortunate circle of people, Amy will be hitting all kinds of chords. But, looked at objectively (or, as objectively as possible when judging any piece of artistic expression) we’re looking at a completely average, by-the-books, documentary that reveals very little real insight, and keeps hitting the same point over and over ad nauseam. At the time of writing this, Amy has won Best Documentary with both the LA Film Critics and New York Online Film Critics associations, making it that much more overrated. Wanna see a great documentary about a celebrity? Choose Listen To Me Marlon instead.

Crimson Peak is underrated

Guillermo del Toro might have directed his best film to date (time will tell if Pan’s Labyrinth and The Devil’s Backbone will be surpassed overall, but they certainly are on a technical level) and yet, no one’s really talking about Crimson Peak. Featuring a triplet of outstanding performances by Mia Wasikowska, Tom Hiddleston, and Jessica Chastain—the latter slipping into uncharted villainous territory like she’s been playing baddies her whole career—the film also drips volumes of atmosphere and boasts a production design to die for. With del Toro’s classic mesh of romance, horror, and seeking the beautiful in the monstrous, Crimson Peak manages to even add new layers to the director’s signature trademarks. Painted in thick Gothic brushstrokes and flowing more like a first edition Victorian novel than a 21st-century motion picture, it’s a fantastic ghost story made all the more compelling by being told mostly through resplendently old-fashioned imagery (costumes, set designs, etc.) A truly spellbinding experience that I implore everyone to seek out and get lost in.

Zachary Shevich

The Wolfpack is overrated

Coming off of The Wolfpack’s premiere at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, there was a lot of excitement around Crystal Moselle’s debut documentary as well as the lanky, longhaired clan of film geek Angulo brothers. The film took Sundance’s Best Documentary Feature award, the Angulos partnered with Vice Films to produce an experimental arts & crafts short film, and The Wolfpack received an overly positive review from me during the glow of the Tribeca Film Festival. At the time, Moselle’s discovery of a group of eccentric lo-fi filmmakers confined to a Lower East Side apartment by an abusive father was simply too compelling to ignore. Yet, their story remains an enigma—even months later. Moselle’s film raises twice as many questions and it answers. Her decisions to keep elements of the documentary and the Angulos’s timeline vague makes the liberation arch fall flat. I noted the filmmaker’s hesitation to dive deeply into her subjects in my April review of the film, but in retrospect that treatment is severely limiting. The approach denies curious viewers a fuller experience. The Wolfpack is a prime example of film’s subject matter exceeding the quality of the filmmaking around it.

Unfriended is underrated

Perhaps Unfriended wasn’t best suited for big screens. Watching it on the intimacy of a laptop monitor—the same way the film’s final girl Blaire (Shelley Hennig) experiences the action—creates an immensely chilling effect. Unfriended is a lot more than a riff about young people living their lives through technology. It’s a smart and effective thriller about a ghost that exploits the comforts of private, digital spaces that we create for ourselves online. Director Leo Gabriadze and writer Nelson Greaves ambitiously contain the entire story to a continuous shot of a glitchy computer monitor where the main character clicks through her iTunes library, her deceased friend’s Facebook photos and a group Skype chat infiltrated by the “hacker ghost.” Unfriended has the potential to rely on computer-generated gimmickry and “teen speak” but doesn’t. Gabriadze and Greaves gives each member of this friends group their own skeleton-filled closets, which allows the tension to stem from their increasingly tense dynamic. As the friends turn on one another, it shifts the attention away from an all-powerful digital demon and back to the computer users themselves. Sporadic use of some laptop-related gags (such as the diagetic soundtrack moments) punctuate an enjoyable, slightly campy horror with amusing comedic relief; however, Unfriended wastes no moment of its 83-minute runtime. Gabriadze & Greaves exhibit their mastery of elevating and deflating the stakes.

There’s no translation needed for a scream. And when someone’s being attacked with a ridiculously large knife, their nationality doesn’t make the situation any less terrifying. Not to mention other countries seem to understand that real horror isn’t about the jump-scares or extreme gore (something we’re finally seeing a little less of in recent films like Goodnight Mommy, The Babadook, and It Follows). So we had no trouble curating this list of the best foreign horror films, except maybe in limiting ourselves to only ten. This Halloween, if you thought subtitles might distract from suspense, check out any of these titles and find yourself spookily proven wrong.

10 Must Watch Foreign Horror Films For Halloween

#10. Nosferatu (1922 – Germany)

F.W. Murnau’s silent classic Nosferatu floods the mind with inky, dreamlike visions that never release their grip. The film haunts me to this day because the monster at its center isn’t treated as a movie monster at all, but a demon that lurks and stalks us from the shadows of our world. He’s embodied by German actor Max Schreck, whose performance is freaky as hell, not operatic and sexy (don’t call him Dracula). Our hero, Hutter (Alexander Granach), uncovers pieces of vampire lore via mysterious letters and occult symbols and barely evades the gangly Nosferatu himself as a wave of doom and dread rolls over us. The film’s most famous scene, involving a shocking coffin reveal, is as chilling as ever. Murnau’s film is now nearly 100 years old but is scary in a way that modern films can’t reproduce—with the absence of sound, Nosferatu‘s onscreen horrors appear all the more nightmarish, leaving a sonic vacuum in the air meant to be filled with our blood-curdling screams. [Bernard]

#9. Ringu (1998 – Japan)

Based on a novel by Kôji Suzuki (Japan’s answer to Stephen King), Ringu, from director Hideo Nakata, is a chilling film made effective by its own simplicity, both in construct and in execution. The premise, in the form of an urban legend propagated by teens, is simple: watch a certain VHS tape, die seven days later. That’s it. This simplicity of fate is what makes the tale so effective. Unlike most “something is coming for you” horror films (think everything from classics like Halloween to indie sensations like It Follows), there is no boogeyman to run away from, no executioner to plead to for mercy, no chance of dodging demise—nobody can hide from time. When the reporter (Nanako Matsushima) investigating the legend watches the tape herself, the story shifts from “What will happen next?” to “Something will happen soon,” adding to the film’s already great tension. Then, the story doubles-down in the form of the reporter’s young son happening across the tape, thus starting his own clock, that tension exponentially increases. This is what makes the film work so well. Ringu is more terror than horror, like an old-time ghost story that relies very little on visual scares, instead captivating viewers with great suspense, overwhelming atmosphere, and unsettling anticipation. [Michael]

#8. [REC] (2007 – Spain)

Before Paranormal Activity kicked off a found footage trend that we’re still going through, directors Jaume Balaguero and Paco Plaza cooked up this fun and chaotic zombie film (or is it?). Plucky reporter Angela Vidal (Manuela Velasco) is following a group of firemen working the night shift for a TV show when there’s a call about a situation at an apartment building. Angela and her cameraman follow the firemen inside, only to discover that some sort of virus is spreading through the building, turning people into crazed cannibals (similar the rage virus from 28 Days Later). By the time they realize something’s wrong the government shows up to quarantine everyone inside the building, and from there it’s a battle for survival as each tenant either gets devoured or succumbs to the disease. Balaguero and Plaza waste no time getting to the good stuff; exposition is minimal, and within 15 minutes the blood starts flowing. The cramped setting of the building, combined with the fact that the protagonists are actually trapped (and it’s worth mentioning that [REC] gets bonus points for providing a legitimate reason why the camera needs to keep rolling), makes [REC] a nail biter, and the film is brilliantly structured in the way it escalates the tension at an exponential rate. And the finale, a shocking sequence that plays out in night vision, wouldn’t feel out of place in a list of the scariest scenes of all-time. [C.J.]

#7. Kwaidan (1964 – Japan)

There’s something to be said about the power of folktales. Unlike the bulk of modern horror that draws on certain influences, but ultimately strives for a wholly new mythology, the act of bringing ancient stories to the big screen carries the potential for a far more affecting experience. It’s about sharing lessons, fears and cautionary narratives that have endured for hundreds of years and if done right, the result can be deeply resonant. Kwaidan is just such a film. Masaki Kobayashi’s three-hour anthology tells four tales from Japanese folklore united by the common thread of ghostly encounters. A poor young swordsman makes an ill-fated bid for higher social status, a woodcutter holds a promise of dubious consequences to a wintry spirit, the ghosts of a royal family request the talents of a blind musician and a writer sees a grinning face in a cup of tea. All four stories unravel at an appropriately deliberate pace set against a background of vibrant artificial scenery and highly expressive sets. Rather than being a horror film fueled by big scares, Kwaidan impresses with its subtly chilling atmosphere and its evocative rendering of a delusive, spiritually rich world. [Byron]

#6. Eyes Without A Face (1960 – France)

If ever there was any doubt that Georges Franju’s 1960 bastion of plastic surgery was a legitimate horror film, just think of the title it premiered with in the States in 1962: The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus. Of course, it’s only today’s audience who’d look at a horror cult classic like Eyes Without A Face and question its legitimacy for scares. Never forget how desensitized we’ve become over the years, but even if the film doesn’t scare us today as it surely did audiences back in the ’60s, the creeps it exudes still raise hairs on the back of the neck. Pierre Brasseur plays the mad doctor who attempts to re-create the physical beauty of his once-beautiful daughter, Charlotte (Edith Scob, mostly covered in the iconic white mask but piercing with emotions through eyes you’ll drop into and a voice that’ll break the fall). A sickly atmosphere that festers in the imagination. The triptych of psychological, emotional, and physical terror. Overarching gothic overtones. Alida Valli’s cold-blooded assistant (the Igor to Brasseur’s Dr. Frankenstein), all exterior beauty and interior grotesquerie. All these elements conspire with Franju’s taut direction and Eugen Schüfftan’s vivid cinematography to make for, arguably, the most poetic (but no less haunting) of all horror films. In my opinion, the heterograft scene stands as one of the genre’s defining moments. [Nik]

#5. I Saw The Devil (2010 – South Korea)

One of the greatest serial killer films ever made, Kim Jee-woon’s I Saw the Devil is a bonafide masterpiece. Mirroring what would happen if James Bond set his sights on Hannibal Lector, the film is a fast-paced epic that is filled with emotion and satisfying payoffs. Excellent performances from Choi Min-sik and Lee Byung-hun keep tensions high from start to finish, and some absolutely barbaric sequences of action and suspense raise the stakes in an honest and believable fashion. It’s the revenge element, though, is what truly propels I Saw the Devil to the next level. Soo-hyun (Byung-hun) is so personally invested in avenging the death of his murdered fiancée, who was killed by Kyung-chul (Min-sik), that the vengeance becomes his only motivation in life. Jee-woon and screenwriter Park Hoon-jung study the psyches of both the hero and the villain with equal interest, which makes I Saw the Devil one of the most character-driven tales of revenge ever made. [Blair]

#4. The Devil’s Backbone (2001 – Spain)

Like a little history and a whole lot of atmosphere to go with your horror? There’s no greater director more masterful at combining all of the above than Guillermo del Toro. Set during the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s, The Devil’s Backbone follows a group of orphaned boys at a home in the country. One new boy, Carlos, starts to see the ghost of a boy in the orphanages dark stone passageways and does his best to uncover what the dead boy’s story is. Like many of del Toro’s best films (Pan’s Labyrinth being another great example), the supernatural elements of this world are almost never as scary as the ill intentions of the living. Carlos and his companions must face the war-torn reality of their world while finding a way to reconcile the last wishes of the dead. Del Toro’s signature attention to eery detail—not to mention his penchant for lingering on his creepy creations allowing each horrifying detail to sink in—and his ability to craft unrelentingly evil characters are what make The Devil’s Backbone a mood-filled and satisfying ghost story. [Ananda]

#3. Diabolique (1955- France)

Diabolique is a classic of the horror genre which deserves its place alongside the likes of Psycho and The Exorcist. Gorgeously shot and incredibly tense throughout, Henri-Georges Clouzot crafts a horror film that is sure to sit with you for days. Following the story of a murder gone wrong, Christina (Vera Clouzot) and her husband’s mistress (Simone Signoret) conspire together to kill an abusive husband (Paul Meurisse), but once they do nothing is as it seems. Saying anything more about the story would spoil some of the most thrilling sequences ever put to film. It’s been said that Alfred Hitchcock lost out on the film rights to Diabolique by just a few hours, still it’s hard to imagine anyone, even the Master of Suspense himself, outdoing Clouzot here. [Ryan]

#2. Audition (1999 – Japan)

Prolific Japanese filmmaker, Takashi Miike, who is known for his transgressive social commentaries and cartoonish violence, released in 1999 what might be the most graphic and frightening film about romantic relationships ever committed to celluloid. The plot of Audition focuses on a widow by the name of Shigeharu Aoyama who, with the help of a fellow film producer, arranges a faux-audition for a non-existent movie in order to find himself a prospective bride. Unfortunately, his gaze falls upon the wrong woman. Asami Yamazaki, the seemingly harmless apple of his eye, is (to say the least) not at all who she appears to be. With Audition, Miike shows more directorial restraint than usual, which might be the film’s most commendable attribute. The majority of the runtime is spent exploring the growing intimacy between Shigeharu and Asami, interspersed with abrupt and very brief sequences hinting at something sinister developing within Asami’s psyche. It isn’t until the latter half of the third act that the film shifts gears completely and erupts into a state of unexpectedly extreme mayhem. But in order to find out the specifics of what transpires, you’ll have to experience the film for yourself—just don’t say you weren’t warned. [Eli]

#1. Let The Right One In (2008 – Sweden)

In the same year that obnoxiously popular teen vampire series kicked off (we won’t even mention its name), came a small film out of Sweden that turned the overplayed genre on its head. Beautifully shot, with a tender story and one hell of a mean streak, Tomas Alfredson’s Let the Right One In is a special film. By creating its monster in the form of a little girl, the film is able to cleverly play with many of the most traditional vampire myths—especially the role of the human servant, which is the most tragic theme of the film. Alfredson is an incredibly patient filmmaker (something that works extraordinarily well in moody horror films), knowing just how much information, thematic and visual, to show the audience. His craft shows particularly well in the breathtaking final scene, one of the best staged horror sequences of all-time. While that mainstream vampire series was capturing young audiences with sparkly skin and sexual repression, Let the Right One In showed that vampires could still be cool while actually having a complex and resonant dramatic story. And it’s actually scary. Let the Right One In also has the distinction of inspiring an above-average American remake (which can’t be said for too many other films on this list), Let Me In from Cloverfield’s Matt Reeves. [Aaron]

Another year, another Halloween, another batch of horror films coming out in theatres and festivals all over the world. Last year turned out to be a pretty interesting year for horror films, with titles like The Babadook and A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night earning high praise from both genre and non-genre fans alike. This year the field seems to have gotten stronger, and with 2015 coming close to an end, I wanted to highlight the best horror films of the year. This list may come a little early, but with only a handful of horror films coming out soon and the strength of these nine movies, I don’t think it’s too outrageous to consider these the best of 2015 (but just in case, I promise to come back and add in Krampus if it turns out to be awesome). And besides, it’s all subjective anyway. Take this as a list of 9 really good horror films from this year that any self-professed genre fan should check out as soon as they can.

Backcountry

Review
Interview with director Adam MacDonald

Adam MacDonald’s directorial debut can feel like watching the first act of Funny Games in the wilderness. After an ominous opening, Backcountry establishes that its two leads (Missy Peregrym & Jeff Roop) will meet some sort of awful fate, but MacDonald takes his sweet time to reveal how and when these characters will suffer. Unfortunately, the film’s marketing took a less mysterious approach, so one look at the poster or trailer will let people know what to expect once MacDonald finally lets loose. But it’s a fun journey getting there, and once the film goes into survival thriller mode it has its fair share of legitimately horrifying moments. Watch Backcountry and you’ll probably steer clear of the woods for a long, long time.

Availability: Currently available on DVD, Blu-Ray, and VOD.

Green Room

Review

A punk band, a room, a dead body, and a bar full of neo-Nazis. That’s all Jeremy Saulnier needs to set up his latest film, which finds the band barricading themselves in the eponymous green room once they witness a murder at the bar. The bar’s staff (including Patrick Stewart, pulling off an understated yet intimidating performance) starts launching one attack after another to kill the witnesses, and the band simply tries to survive. Saulnier’s biggest achievement here is how realistic the film feels; no one makes any stupid moves, and that makes it easy to put yourself in these characters’ shoes. It makes things unbearably tense, especially when things get violent. Even the most hardened horror fan might find themselves having a hard time handling Green Room, which is low on gore but extremely high on ruthless brutality.

Availability: A24 plans to give Green Room a wide release in early April, but expect it to pop up at different film festivals until then.

The Harvest

John McNaughton, director of the horror classic Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, returns to the genre with something very different. A surgeon (Samantha Morton) and her husband (Michael Shannon) take care of their ailing son Andy (Charlie Tahan), but the arrival of Maryann (Natasha Calis), a new neighbour around Andy’s age, causes Andy’s parents to irrationally freak out when she tries to befriend him. McNaughton and screenwriter Stephen Lancellotti have crafted a horror film that feels surprising in today’s landscape, preferring slow-building tension and character development to shocks and violence. The presence of hugely talented actors like Morton and Shannon helps too, with Morton having a ball chewing up scenery in such an unhinged role (this might be the closest thing we get to Morton starring in a Mommie Dearest remake). It’s a straightforward film, one dedicated to telling a good, entertaining story more than anything else, and on that front The Harvest is lots of fun.

Availability: Out now on Blu-Ray, DVD, VOD and Netflix Instant.

The Invitation

Karyn Kusama’s first film in 6 years (and her first indie since 2000) is one gloriously twisted treat, the kind of movie that delights in shredding your nerves one by one before it unleashes its full power. After divorcing his wife (Tammy Blanchard) and not hearing from her for several years, Will (Logan Marshall-Green) gets an invite from his ex to a party at her house. Once he arrives Kusama starts gleefully tightening the screws, slowly revealing one piece of information after another as the party’s vibe goes from awkward to “Get me the hell out of here.” Will doesn’t know if his suspicions of something sinister going on are real or fake, but Kusama makes it obvious that the situation is a ticking time bomb. And unlike a lot of films that fail to deliver when the bomb finally goes off, The Invitation’s visceral finale will have people covering their eyes and shouting at the screen in equal measure. Horror movies this exhilarating don’t come along too often.

Availability: After premiering at SXSW earlier this year, Drafthouse plans to release The Invitation in early 2016.

It Follows

Review

Just as the Sun rises in the east and sets in the west, no best horror of 2015 list is complete without David Robert Mitchell’s It Follows. By now, you’ve either seen it or know the gist: young adult Jay (Maika Monroe) has sex with a guy and contracts some sort of curse that makes a shapeshifting entity slowly but surely follow her. Only she can see it, the thing can take the form of any person (including some severely creepy people), and if it catches up to her she’s dead. I may not be as crazy about It Follows as others who are already hailing it as the next horror classic, but it’s been a long time since a US genre filmmaker came up with a concept this good, and Mitchell’s direction—using 360 degree pans to heighten the paranoia and intensity—elevates the film well beyond most low-budget horror films from this year (the distributor was so surprised by the film’s critical and financial success it decided to bypass a planned VOD release for a wide theatrical run, an unprecedented move). To put it bluntly: if you’re a horror fan and you haven’t seen It Follows yet, what’s wrong with you?

Availability: Currently available on DVD, Blu-Ray, and VOD.

The Nightmare

Review

The Nightmare might not be the scariest film on this list, but it’s certainly the one that will linger with people the longest. Rodney Ascher, the director of Room 237, sets his sights on the unique (or not-so-unique, depending on how you look at it) phenomenon of night terrors. Ascher interviews different people in America and the UK suffering from intense, vivid nightmares, but instead of delving into medical or scientific explanations, Ascher strictly focuses on each subject’s individual experience. Ascher’s re-enactments of the nightmares are lacking to say the least (think of the cheesy re-enactments from Unsolved Mysteries and you’ll get an idea), but it’s the testimonials that get under the skin. Even if the nightmares aren’t real, it certainly feels real for these people, and hearing the conviction in their voices (along with some of the downright eerie similarities between different stories) makes it easy to take their word. Ascher closes his film on a brilliant note too, suggesting that viewers might get start getting their own night terrors after watching The Nightmare. You have to give kudos to any director who can make people dread falling asleep.

Availability: Currently available on DVD, Blu-Ray, and VOD.

They Look Like People

Review
Interview with director Perry Blackshear and cast

The problem with low-budget horror is that a filmmaker’s reach can get bigger than their grasp. On the other hand, directors like Larry Fessenden or Ti West can make the most of their limited resources, proving that sometimes it doesn’t take much to freak people out. Perry Blackshear’s directorial debut They Look Like People is yet another example of taking the smart approach to a small budget. Wyatt (MacLeod Andrews) gets a phone call from someone saying that a war is coming; hideous creatures have slowly assimilated the human population Invasion of the Body Snatchers-style, and in several days they will shed their human form to take over the world. Wyatt flees to New York City in order to save Christian (Evan Dumouchel), his old (and still human) friend trying to make a life for himself. Blackshear’s film can get severely intense and unsettling, but it’s also a remarkable story about friendship, independence and the need to belong (or, at the very least, finding someone to connect with). It’s rare to see a horror film, especially a directorial debut, feel this intimate, and it’s well worth celebrating.

Availability: They Look Like People is seeking US distribution at the moment, but it’s screening at plenty of film festivals. Check out the film’s website to see if it’s screening near you.

Unfriended

Unfriended is not the first horror movie to take place entirely on a computer screen, but it’s the first film that really uses the format to do something that feels groundbreaking. On the one year anniversary of a high school student’s suicide (the result of intense bullying, both on and offline), a group of her “friends” get forced to join a Skype call from an account claiming to be the dead girl’s ghost. The classmates don’t believe it until the ghost starts picking them off one by one. Director Leo Gabriadze lets everything play out on the computer screen of main character Blaire (Shelly Hennig), and the film’s intense commitment to accuracy (no fake software here, every program Blaire uses is the same thing any average PC/Mac owner works with on a daily basis) makes it easy to get immersed. But beyond the film’s relatability (all by computer programs!), Gabriadze does an incredible job crafting a narrative entirely through watching someone browse their Macbook, and at certain points—like long stretches of silence as Blair clicks around—the film can feel downright radical in its approach. It’s a thrilling film, both as a straight up horror movie and what feels like an entirely new approach to narrative filmmaking. It’s probably the first time since Spring Breakers that a film this experimental snuck its way into thousands of theatres.

Availability: Currently available on DVD, Blu-Ray, and VOD.

We Are Still Here

I won’t lie: when I first saw Ted Geoghegan’s debut feature We Are Still Here, I wasn’t sure what to think. Yet now, months after seeing it, out of the hundreds of movies I’ve seen this year, this one hasn’t left me. Taking place in the late ’70s in New England, a couple (Barbara Crampton and Andrew Sensenig) grieving the loss of their son move into a new home. Things start going bump in the night, but this is no ordinary haunting, and soon things get wildly out of control. Part of We Are Still Here’s appeal is that Geoghegan operates on an entirely different wavelength than any other genre director in the US right now. Its slow build up and ’70s setting will draw comparisons to Ti West’s House of the Devil, but the hilarious, splatter-happy final act feels more in line with Lucio Fulci and European horrors from several decades ago. It’s a fascinating mix of influences, combined with a mythology that Geoghegan uses to increase the scale of his film without sacrificing its claustrophobic atmosphere. And it has two great performances by Barbara Crampton and Larry Fessenden, two horror legends who get nice, big roles here. It’s a fun film that, despite its clear love for retro horror, is one of the more singular genre efforts to come out this year.

Availability: Currently available on DVD, Blu-Ray, and VOD.

Honourable Mentions

Denis Villeneuve’s Sicario isn’t a horror film by any means, but it’s one of the most intense experiences I’ve had this year in a theatre. On the opposite end, The Editor and What We Do in the Shadows are absolutely hilarious (one a Giallo throwback, the other a mockumentary about vampires), but they’re comedies first and horrors second. Sion Sono’s Tag also fell into the “not horror enough” category, even though its opening act could easily fit on this list. And this year at the Toronto International Film Festival I had a fun time with anthology horror Southbound and Sean Byrne’s The Devil’s Candy, which will hopefully find their way to a screen near you in the future. Also worth mentioning: The Blaine Brothers’ Nina Forever, which should go down as one of the most demented horror films of the year.

They say you can’t judge a book by its cover. But what about movies? We’re huge fans of well-designed movie covers here at Way Too Indie, and while we wouldn’t say the design impacts our overall judgment of the film, we admit a good design may influence us to watch it in the first place. So we created a list of the 75 Greatest Movie Cover Designs of all-time, comprised of new and old titles, special edition releases, and from boutique distributors like the Criterion Collection (clearly our favorite, earning 34 spots on this list).

12 Angry Men (Criterion Collection)

Brilliant design with 12 hand-drawn portraits of the jury featured in this essential courtroom drama, each with red backgrounds except for the one in the middle, which represents Henry Fonda as the man who stands out from the group with his own opinion. [DJ]

127 Hours

It may not be immediately obvious, but the sides of the canyon form an hourglass timer and the setting sun looks like sand. Very fitting with the tagline of the film, “Every second counts.” [DJ]

A Clockwork Orange

Simply an iconic poster with minimal design that somehow makes the ’70s block font used on the title tolerable. [DJ]

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night is an eerie, experimental film, so it’s only fitting that its home video release includes eerie, experimental cover art. [BH]

Adaptation

A funny little image that hints at the madness of Charlie Kaufman and Spike Jonze’s hilarious and painful world. [RS]

Almost Famous (Special Edition)

Cameron Crowe’s magnum opus gets a fantastically ornate and fun cover for its Bootleg Cut. Have a magnifying glass handy. [NG]

Anatomy of a Murder (Criterion Collection)

The first of several Saul Bass designs on this list. This striking design is such a classic that Spike Lee essentially stole the design for his 1995 film Clockers. [DJ]

Artificial Intelligence

Using the kid from the film as the ‘i’ in Intelligence and then inversing him to form the ‘a’ in Artificial is a simple, yet clever design. [DJ]

As Above, So Below

The design fits the title of the film so perfectly. [DJ]

Being John Malkovich (Criterion Collection)

There’s more brilliance than meets the eye in this simple Criterion cover of Being John Malkovich, perfectly suiting the eccentric nuances of the film. [NG]

Bicycle Thieves (Arrow)

The shadow from the two main characters form a bicycle. Great use of…foreshadowing.[DJ]

Blade Runner (Steelbook)

The rainy spotlight shines on the origami in this gorgeous Blade Runner Blu-Ray steelbook, evoking the pulpy, mysterious mood of the classic sci-fi noir. [NG]

Blind Woman’s Curse (Arrow)

The original Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Through beautiful design, Teruo Ishii’s exploitation classic practically jumps off the cover. [NG]

Blue Is the Warmest Color

Simple but gorgeous artwork which plays off the color from the film’s title. [DJ]

Boogie Nights

Simply a beautiful retro design on the special edition release of this masterpiece. [RS]

Boyhood

The contrast from the grass provides excellent contrast for the title. Plus, it wonderfully represents the dreamlike ideology of boyhood. [DJ]

Buried (Steelbook)

This cover explains the entire premise of the film; a man buried under ground and trapped inside a box. [DJ]

The Cabin in the Woods

The cabin pictured in the design looks almost like an Rubik’s cube, hinting at the puzzling plot found in the film. [DJ]

The Complete Jacques Tati (Criterion Collection)

Might be the best on the list because it doesn’t just come with one spectacular looking design cover, it’s a collection of several beautiful illustrated covers in one package. [DJ]

The Conjuring

At first glance it looks like an ordinary horror film cover, until you notice the shadow near the bottom. [DJ]

The Dark Knight Rises (Steelbook)

The broken mask and heavy rain combine for one dramatic looking design. [DJ]

The Devil’s Backbone (Criterion Collection)

There’s very little ambiguity in Criterion’s cover design for The Devil’s Backbone. A wartime horror film dealing with the paranormal receives artwork that seamlessly bridges the gap between those two subjects. It’s impressive, to say the least. [BH]

Day For Night (Criterion Collection)

Francois Truffaut’s masterpiece is a love letter to the beautifully chaotic nature of making a movie, and Criterion’s cover art for the film perfectly encapsulates the vibe of Day for Night. [BH]

Days of Heaven (Criterion Collection)

I love how sharply in focus and imposing the house is in relation to Gere’s fuzzy appearance in the foreground. [BB]

Dogtooth

A man staring at grass infront of a fence accurately sums up the absurd censorship portrayed in the film. And after you’ve seen the film the airplane makes a lot of sense too. [DJ]

Diabolique (Criterion Collection)

A dazzling illustration of a key scene in this French thriller. The rippling water effect on the typeface is a brilliant touch. [DJ]

Dressed To Kill (Criterion Collection)

A wonderful composition equal parts suggestive and creepy, totally befitting De Palma as a master of erotic thrillers. [RS]

Drive (Steelbook)

This Steelbook cover has rad ’80s flair thanks to hot pink lettering and the neon sign looking design. [DJ]

Enemy

The Toronto skyline transposed over Jake Gyllenhaal’s head signifies the brain-teasing doppelganger story found in the film. [DJ]

Enter the Void

Bright neon colors. Overstimulated visuals. Odd angles. The cover design perfectly matches the film. [DJ]

Escape From Tomorrow

The easy to recognize drawing of a certain iconic Disney character covered in blood captures the frightening twist this film has of the “happiest place on earth”. [DJ]

Eyes Without A Face (Criterion Collection)

Those eyes!! Edith Scob’s piercing gaze is captured in haunting fashion by Criterion’s designers here, made all the more striking by its ingenious choice of white as facelessness. [NG]

Foreign Correspondent (Criterion Collection)

The vibrant Criterion cover, with its 3D-like rain and sea of murky umbrellas, elevates one of Alfred Hitchcock’s lesser-known films to must-own status. Watch the behind the curtains video for this particular design. [NG]

The Game (Criterion Collection)

A brilliant design for a film about a man brought to the edge by both temptation and the illusory structure of society finally forgets his weight and allows gravity to pull him downward. [EH]

Hard Candy

The bright red hoodie draws your focus in like a target, and the trap fits well with the cat and mouse theme in the film. [DJ]

High and Low (Criterion Collection)

Perfect use of the epicenter motif that couldn’t be paired with a better image from the film. [BB]

House (Criterion Collection)

Those eyes just don’t leave you. It’s a fiery and startling image that you can’t help but pause to take a second look at while browsing through the DVD racks. [BB]

The Human Condition (Criterion Collection)

A simple design but not one without the kind of quiet power that characterizes Kobayashi’s work. [BB]

Jaws

I was tempted to write nothing here, quite possibly the most iconic cover in all of film it pretty much speaks for itself. [RS]

Jurassic Park

The iconic logo (which is used all over in the film) helped make this design an instant classic. [DJ]

The Lobster

Technically, this is a poster design for a film that hasn’t been properly released yet, but we’re including it anyways. Fantastic use of negative space. [DJ]

Lord Of War

Nicolas Cage’s face made out of bullets is exactly what the world needs. [DJ]

Make Way For Tomorrow (Criterion Collection)

Wonderfully represents two companions forced apart by circumstances out of their control, drifting gradually but surely down separate, melancholic paths. [EH]

Medium Cool (Criterion Collection)

A tremendously striking image from the juxtaposition of its colors to the image-within-an-image design. [BB]

Melancholia (Plain Archive)

Great contrast between the sepia tone still from the film and the turquoise script lettering of the title. [DJ]

Memento (Special Edition)

Nothing fancy here. Just pure, unfiltered, genius. Presenting Memento in the form Leonard’s case file will put an insta-smile on every fan, while enticing anyone who hasn’t seen the film to peek inside and get their minds blown. [NG]

Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters (Criterion Collection)

A fittingly flamboyant explosion of color and a gorgeous application of the mirroring effect. [BB]

Moonrise Kingdom (Criterion Collection)

The latest Wes Anderson on Criterion is one of his very best films, aptly honored by one of Criterion’s most epic and intricate designs. [NG]

Network (Arrow)

A wonderful rendering of a rouge news anchor ‘telling it how it is’ on air, with the finger-pointing arm coming out of the TV set. [DJ]

Nymphomaniac (Vol. 1 and 2)

The whole marketing campagin behind the film was very on point, and so is this cover design featuring nine characters mid-orgasm. [DJ]

On The Waterfront (Criterion Collection)

This screen print looking design is splendid, especially with the inclusion of the birds, which are a major theme in the film. [DJ]

Onibaba (Eureka)

This formidable Masters Of Cinema cover, alluding to the dementia in Shindo’s classic ghost tale, does Criterion one better! [NG]

Quadrophenia (Criterion Collection)

The choice to color and arrange The Who lyrics in a way that replicates the band’s logo and circles the film’s main character is simply awesome. [BB]

The Raid (UK Steelbook)

One of the best-looking steelbook designs around, the picture on this cover of The Raid paints a thousand words of glorious violence. [NG]

Repo Man (Criterion Collection)

It makes perfect sense for a decidedly West Coast punk rock film to receive a punk rock artwork over a map of Los Angeles. It’s a bit surprising that Criterion is the distributor to make that happen, but they have done a fantastic job. [BH]

Repulsion (Criterion Collection)

This Criterion cover recalls the broken nerves and intense paranoia of Roman Polanski’s classic apartment horror in loud and disorienting whiteness. [NG]

Scanners (Criterion Collection)

Criterion’s cover design for one of Cronenberg’s most beloved films features a different kind of head explosion, but it’s extremely clever nonetheless. [BH]

Seconds (Criterion Collection)

A strange and interesting design that draws me in every time I come across it. [RS]

The Secret of the Grain (Criterion Collection)

Hands held high in the air but eyes facing the Earth and a disparity of light and darkness on either side: will the story end in glory or tragedy? [EH]

The Shining

Saul Bass designed equally amazing the yellow theatrical release poster, but the actual cover used for the home release of the film is great too. Very Kubrickian. [DJ]

Submarine

Using a white background allows the colorful text and images to really stand out. Great example of a clean design. [DJ]

The Sweet Smell of Success (Criterion Collection)

It’s rare for DVD art to double as something that could easily be hung on the wall and admired. This is one of those rarities. [BB]

Talk To Her

Like the film itself, shows a wonderful use of color and Pedro Almodovar’s great imagery. [RS]

The Thing

Never fails to capture my attention. I always end up watching the film if I stare at this cover too long, usually only takes a minute or so. [RS]

Three Colors Trilogy (Criterion Collection)

Criterion borrows one the most emblematic shots from Kieslowski’s indelible Trilogy for this spectacular mixture of red, white, and blue. [NG]

Trance

A chatoic arrangement of shapes, colors, and an image of a man screaming. As the title suggests, it puts you in a trance. [DJ]

The Tree of Life

Gorgeous snapshots of life are found throughout the film, so it’s fitting that the cover contains a bunch as well. [DJ]

Under the Skin

Scarlett Johansson’s colorful face blended in with outer space personifies her character in the film perfectly. [DJ]

The Vanishing (Criterion Collection)

Possibly the most brilliant cover I’ve ever seen, the simplistic design brilliantly reflects the painful frustration of the protagonist as the more you step away the clearer the image becomes. [RS]

Vertigo

The figures appear to be falling into the vortex of the geometrical downward spiral which symbolizes the meaning of the film’s title. And the imperfect hand lettering of Saul Bass. [DJ]

Videodrome (Criterion Collection)

Setting aside the disturbing central image, the color bars in the Criterion bar and the subtle horizontal lines running throughout make this an inspired design. [BB]

We Are Still Here

With We Are Still Here, writer-director Ted Geoghegan pays tribute to old-school Italian horror. Its brilliant cover design pays tribute to traditional haunted house films. It’s a damn-near-perfect artistic interpretation. [BH]

Wings of Desire (Criterion Collection)

An angel looks down at the world, a well-meaning voyeur, and his gaze shows a fusion of both inquisitiveness and sorrow. [EH]

World on a Wire (Criterion Collection)

An individual trapped in the center of a sideways cultural venn diagram, unsure of whether the environment surrounding him is the reality he’s used to, or merely a simulation brought forth by the incomprehensible Simulacron. [EH]

Y tu Mama Tambien (Criterion Collection)

A brilliant composition of blended images meant to look like an old photograph; slighly out of focus, large sun burst, and faded colors. A perfect summer road trip vibe. [DJ]

You’re Next

Even the pull quotes are aesthetically pleasing on the You’re Next home video cover, which is as aggressive and in-your-face as the home invasion masterpiece. [BH]

Zodiac (Director’s cut)

I’m a sucker for covers that double as pseudo-props from the movie like this Zodiac letter addressed to the San Francisco Chronicle. [RS]

Zazie dans le métro (Criterion Collection)

A clean, flat design which visually expresses the zany and cartoonish main character. [DJ]

Despite his great films and huge influence on several of today’s most celebrated directors (including Quentin Tarantino), Brian De Palma is somehow one of cinema’s most underrated filmmakers. While De Palma has had his share of misfires (Snake Eyes) to outright disasters (Bonfire of the Vanities), he’s also responsible for many great films (Scarface, Casualties of War, Dressed to Kill, The Untouchables, and Obsession to name a few).

In honor of the New York Film Festival premiere of Noah Baumbach and Jake Paltrow’s new documentary De Palma (read our review), which screens on October 11^th, Way Too Indie put together a list of the Top 5 Brian De Palma Films. With such a lengthy filmography and a true master of his craft, it was difficult to decide on just five of his films. So after watching the following films, be sure to check out more of his prolific catalog.

Top 5 Brian De Palma Films

#1. Blow Out (1981)

One of the greatest and most criminally under-seen films of all-time, Blow Out is a true masterpiece in every sense of the word, up there with the best of fellow new Hollywood greats like Spielberg, Scorsese, and Coppola. Featuring John Travolta’s best performance, it makes you wonder how (outside of Pulp Fiction) he has been so spectacularly wasted throughout most of his career. Pino Donaggio’s heartbreakingly beautiful score will sit with you for days after hearing it, no matter how many times you’ve heard it before. Nancy Allen is at her most charismatic, her chemistry with Travolta so rich and natural. At one point while jotting down notes for this article I simply wrote “VILMOS FUCKING ZSIGMOND”, the incredible cinematographer who is a frequent collaborator with De Palma. (Note: Zsigmond’s middle name isn’t “Fucking”, but I’ll be damned if that’s not how I pronounce it every time I watch the many ambitious photographed sequences in Blow Out.)

But the real star of the show is of course, Brian De Palma. Blow Out is the moment when it all clicked in place, all the tools and style De Palma had been toying with and perfecting over the years are on full display here. Beautiful, and in some cases groundbreaking, use of split diopters, Steadicam, split screens, and expert audio editing demonstrates his technically proficient skills. But this is also De Palma’s most mature film. Though not completely void of some of his trademark sleaze and sophomoric humor, Blow Out is a classic thriller that illustrates the frustrations of a person in post-Watergate America tired of the political cover-ups. The film also contains the most tragic, painful, and beautifully executed ending I’ve ever seen in a film.

Do yourself a favor and buy a copy of the Criterion Collection’s release of Blow Out on DVD & Blu-ray. Don’t download it, don’t wait for it on Netflix, buy the Criterion release. You won’t regret it.

#2. Carrie (1976)

Shield your eyes Kubrick super-fans, not only is this one of the strongest horror films of the ’70s, it’s also the best film adaptation of a Stephen King horror story. Don’t get me wrong, The Shining is excellent (so put down that Jack Torrance’s axe), but De Palma’s Carrie is so stylistically rich and anchored by an incredible performance from Sissy Spacek that it’s impossible to turn away from. Spacek and Piper Laurie’s Academy Award-nominated performances (along with Travolta’s stellar work in Blow Out show what a great director of actors Brian De Palma has been throughout his career. Make sure to see this right away if you haven’t already, and if you have, it’s the perfect time for a rewatch.

#3. Carlito’s Way (1993)

One of the more underrated De Palma films and certainly not as widely known as his other collaboration with Al Pacino, but Carlito’s Way is De Palma’s finest crime drama, even superior to Scarface in just about every way. Pacino is in top form here and (along with his Michael Mann collaborations) delivered some of his finest work since the ‘70s. Sean Penn heads up a strong supporting cast. Stephen Burum’s cinematography is exquisite. And David Koepp’s script brings a solid foundation that is missing from most of De Palma’s efforts in this decade.

#4. Sisters (1973)

Along with 1974’s Phantom of the Paradise, Sisters was the film that set in motion the De Palma we know today. The film demonstrated just how versatile he could be considering his earlier work on counter-culture comedies. While Sisters is rough around the edges in some areas, the talent is very clear. De Palma has always been accused of being a Hitchcock rip-off artist and it’s easy to see why when watching something like Sisters (or better yet, Dressed to Kill). But lost in that criticism is the fact that De Palma has always been experimenting and curating his own style by way of his Hitchcock influence. That experimentation is rarely more evident than it is in Sisters with its heavy use of split screens and De Palma allowing the exploitation side of him show with increasingly graphic imagery.

#5. Mission: Impossible (1996)

Still the best entry in the Mission: Impossible franchise despite lacking the thrill of high stakes stunts executed by Cruise himself (an area the last two films have excelled in). Where De Palma one-ups the others is his handling of smaller, quieter moments that create an intensity that permeates the whole film (rather than just a few minutes of insane stunts). This proved that De Palma can handle the big scenes as well, the scene where Cruise’s Ethan Hunt steals the NOC list from C.I.A. headquarters is one of the most masterfully directed sequences of his career.

One of the most interesting directors to enter the world of arthouse cinema in the past 15 years is Apichatpong Weerasethakul. Perhaps best known for winning the Palme d’Or in 2010 for Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives, “Joe” (as he is affectionately referred to by his fans in the West) has a unique type of cinema that is all his own.

Weerasethakul often shoots his films in rural Thailand, his native country, finding powerful and unsettling links between humanity and the world around us through magical realism that is typically shocking in the way it creeps onto the screen seemingly unannounced. By playing with the concepts of narrative and artifice, Weerasethakul is one of the most influential directors working today, and at 45, he seems to have a long career ahead of him.

Weerasethakul’s newest film, Cemetery of Splendour, is about a group of soldiers suffering from a mysterious sleeping sickness in a hospital. It premiered in the Un Certain Regard section at the Cannes Film Festival this year, receiving near-universal praise from critics. The film just had its North American premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival (read our review here), and will be making its US premiere at the New York Film Festival. Strand Releasing acquired US distribution rights for Cemetery of Splendour after its Cannes premiere.

Below we rank each of this auteur’s feature-length works, excluding Cemetery of Splendour.

Perhaps Weerasethakul’s only outright “bad” film, this can almost be forgotten, as Joe created it when he was having trouble raising funds for Tropical Malady, and it is the only feature in his filmography for which he is not credited as the sole writer and director. The Adventure of Iron Pussy is a parody of Thai action films, but it is unsuccessful in its satire, as the mere presence of tropes common in Thai action cinema does not make an effective parody. The critical eye toward the conventions of narrative cinema that characterizes much of Weerasethakul’s work seems to be absent, as The Adventure of Iron Pussy revels in the ridiculous elements of its genre rather than commenting on them.

Mekong Hotel is an interesting beast. The oft-cited claim that it is a docu-fiction hybrid is true, but a better description might be that it is a documentary about fiction. The film tells a fictional horror story involving zombies and cannibalism, but while doing so, it documents its own making, capturing the players as both their characters and as themselves, contextualizing the ostensibly non-diegetic score within the same space as the narrative, and showing Weerasethakul himself at times. The idea here is that, by overtly separating fiction from non-fiction, there is some inherent cacophony when attempting to weave the two together, an idea that is touched upon in a more subtle and nuanced manner in most of Weerasethakul’s other work. Mekong Hotel is less complex and developed as his masterpieces, but the concepts explored in this work are certainly interesting.

Weerasethakul’s first feature film was a documentary similar in subject matter to Mekong Hotel, as it explores the nature of storytelling and the concept of narrative. In Mysterious Object at Noon, the supernatural tale of a disabled boy and his tutor is conveyed through the “exquisite corpse” structure, in which a number of narrators each tell a small portion of the story. We experience a cinematic retelling, a staged retelling, and oral retellings by a number of different narrators, each adding their own manner of narration that changes our understanding of the story. Though it is not the most coherent of Weerasethakul’s films (deliberately so), it creates an interesting thought experiment and immediately identified the director as one worth listening to.

Winner of the Un Certain Regard Prize at the 2002 Cannes Film Festival, Blissfully Yours was Weerasethakul’s sophomore feature and the one to establish the ideas and elements that would become common throughout his filmography. It is a slow-moving yet thematically striking film that takes place in rural Thailand, using nature as a lens through which the characters learn about themselves. Nature becomes more than just a place to be in; it becomes a place to be with. The discreteness of the human body is contrasted frequently with the continuous expanse of trees and other foliage characterizing the jungle setting, allowing the film to establish a cosmos of the human body, a method of exploring one’s own sense of being through one’s surroundings. Though difficult to pierce at a first viewing, its mysteries will stick with you long after the credits roll.

Weerasethakul’s first film to play in competition at Cannes won him the Jury Prize, and for good reason: this two-segment anthology film is pure genius. The first part tells a love story between two men, while the second utilizes the same actors to tell a fairy tale of a soldier who gets lost in the forest and meets the mysterious spirit of a tiger. Though initial reviews were mixed, Tropical Malady is now celebrated as a masterpiece, earning the #8 spot on Film Comment’s decade-end critics’ poll. The tangencies and similarities that the film finds between the forbidden love of the first half and the intense mystery and strange confusion of the second are complex and conversation-starting, and while an initial reading might find the film to be rather simple, it is in this narrative simplicity where Weerasethakul’s filmography is able to make the grandest statements about the human experience.

If cinema is about dreaming, then Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives might be the ultimate film, or at least the ultimate statement on cinema, for what is more dreamlike than the remembrance of past lives? There are a number of seemingly unrelated strands in this film, each of which ostensibly represents one of Boonmee’s previous existences. It is difficult to tie these narratives together, even after having seen the film multiple times, but that is absolutely fine, for the purpose of the film is not to provide a cohesive biography of Boonmee but simply to dream, to show us the magic that can exist in the world around us and in the stories that we create. It does not force relationships between the multiple narratives, instead allowing us to formulate the relationships ourselves, engaging the viewer in the storytelling process. Though many were surprised by the film’s winning of the Palme d’Or over competition that included Another Year and Of Gods and Men, the decision has certainly gone down as one of the Cannes jury’s best in recent memory.

Weerasethakul’s best film is the only one out of his past five (including Cemetery of Splendour) to not play at Cannes, instead finding a spot in competition at the Venice Film Festival. To say too much about Syndromes and a Century would be to spoil one of the most befuddling, frustrating, maddening, and ultimately rewarding cinematic experiences of all-time. There is an unsettling feeling throughout the film not only that everything that happens has happened before and will happen again, but also that the characters are aware of this fact. The line between fiction and reality is crossed multiple times, often unnoticeably. Calling it self-aware would be a reductive and patronizing oversimplification, and calling it a fever dream ignores its calculated insanity. With Syndromes and a Century, Weerasethakul made his grandest and most complex statement on the nature of narrative while keeping it his subtlest. Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives and Tropical Malady might be the most entertaining, but Syndromes and a Century is the most mysterious and powerful of his works. Weerasethakul’s filmography seeks to unlock the full potential of cinema, and in Syndromes and a Century, he succeeds majestically.

Last year, we were lucky enough to profile TIFF’s Short Cuts Canada and Short Cuts International programmes, which compiled a huge amount of short films from seriously talented filmmakers for TIFF audiences. It was a fun feature for us to do, and we knew that, come next year, we’d do the same thing again. Now it’s 2015, and we’ve finished getting a glimpse at some of what TIFF has to offer us this year. Once again, the results are the same: an impressive and diverse group of shorts from around the world, with an especially strong showcase this year from Canadian filmmakers.

And for anyone who might be unsure about buying a ticket to one (or more) of these 11 collections of shorts, it’s worth noting that sometimes you might be one of the first people to catch a glimpse at the launch of a new filmmaker’s career. Last year, Andrew Cividino’s short Sleeping Giant played, and now his feature-length adaptation of that short is having its North American premiere at TIFF. In other words, it’s worth your time to take a look at what’s playing this year in Short Cuts and help support some terrific films. We’ve gone through each of the 11 programmes below and picked 26 of our must-sees. If any of these sound up your alley, don’t hesitate to snag yourself a ticket for the programme it’s in if tickets are still available. You won’t regret it.

The Toronto International Film Festival runs from September 10 to 20. Find out more about the Short Cuts programme and buy tickets, visit TIFF’s official website. And if you can’t make it to TIFF, you can still watch some of their shorts for only $10 through their new Short Cuts Re/mix screening experiment.

But first…

While it’s not playing in Short Cuts, it would be a huge mistake on our part if we didn’t mention Nick DenBoer and Davy Force’s short film The Chickening, which will open this year’s Midnight Madness programme. I’ve been told to stay mum about the many, many twisted surprises in store for viewers once they lay their eyes on The Chickening, and after watching it, I wouldn’t dare speak a word. What I will say is that the above picture of a chickenified Jack Nicholson should let you know that this short is some sort of unholy fusion of poultry and Stanley Kubrick’s classic, but that’s all I will say. I can’t wait for TIFF audiences to lose their minds once they experience The Chickening. [C.J.]

Now, on to the main event…

Short Cuts Programme 1

Mobilize

At less than 3 minutes, Caroline Monnet’s Mobilize covers plenty in its exhilarating montage of Indigenous people adapting to Canada’s ever-changing landscape over the years. From building a boat to travelling the lakes to building cities and navigating the 9 to 5 work week, Monnet keeps things moving at an exciting, hypnotic clip. And the soundtrack, a track by Tanya Taqaq, gives the proceedings a visceral, “adapt and survive” quality. [C.J.]

O Negative

Steven McCarthy’s moody, nearly wordless short starts with a man (McCarthy) driving his ailing girlfriend (Alyx Melone) to a cheap motel before feeding her his own blood. Yes, this is a vampire movie (sort of), but it’s a stylish and effective one that’s not afraid to get bloody (and it gets bloody). Think of this as an unofficial sequel to Let the Right One In, and you’ll start getting an idea of what O Negative is like. [C.J.]

That Dog

Musician Nick Thorburn (from bands like The Unicorns and Islands) makes his directorial debut with That Dog, and he’s assembled quite the cast for this 15 minute short. Following three people staying in the same apartment complex (Andrea Riseborough, Tim Heidecker and Michael Cera), Thorburn’s short seems plotless at first until the complex’s close quarters and awkward situations between tenants cause an unintended chain reaction. This is the sort of story that feels ripe for an expansion to a full-length feature. [C.J.]

Short Cuts Programme 2

Dragstrip

In four short minutes, co-directors Daniel Claridge and Pacho Velez construct a unique sports film that captures everything but the sport.  This is what makes it so fascinating.  With a throaty rumble of drag-car engines ever present in the background, Dragstrip is a patchwork of the faces behind the highlight reel; amateur racers and fans anticipating the next big race, but doing so with a workmanlike calm that belies the explosive excitement they’re about to be a part of.  It’s a behind-the-scenes look in plain view. [Michael]

Wellington Jr.

I didn’t see this thing coming. In her 12-minute stop-motion animated short, director and co-writer Cécile Paysant disarms viewers first with crudely designed characters (in terms of looks and physicality), then with an absence of dialogue (there are guttural sounds throughout, but no discernible language).  The theme, though, is clear: do the old man proud. A father presents his son with a gun for his birthday, and the two participate in a rite-of-passage hunting contest against other father/son teams.  Paysant perfectly captures the different disappointments felt by father and son when the son is not up to the task.  I audibly gasped at the wicked twist at the end. [Michael]

Short Cuts Programme 3

Boxing

After surviving a tragic accident, a woman (Kyra Harper) returns to her boxing class, only to find herself bombarded by one of her classmate’s (Rachel Wilson) selfishly selfless concerns for her well-being. Grayson Moore & Aiden Shipley, who worked on last year’s stunning TIFF short Running Season, return with yet another winner that has some of the best performances in the entire programme. It’s a great character-based short that builds plenty of drama out of seemingly very little, and it all culminates in a brilliant single take finale that takes full advantage of the short’s slow-building tension. [C.J.]

Bacon and God’s Wrath

Employing various media to tell his tale, director Sol Friedman introduces 90-year-old Razie, a woman who, for almost all her life, lived as a devout follower of the Jewish faith, but always wondered what a bacon and tomato sandwich might taste like.  Then “the Google” came along, opening her eyes to more than just recipes.  This 9-minute look at faith, fear, and the pragmatism of modern thinking is as timely as it is entertaining. [Michael]

Short Cuts Programme 4

World Famous Gopher Hole Museum

Sometimes documentary filmmakers hit gold, and that’s the case with Chelsea McMullan and Douglas Naylor’s profile of a gopher museum in the small town of Torrington, Alberta (population 200). The museum is nothing more than dozens of dioramas of taxidermied gophers in various parts of town, whether it’s getting their hair done at the salon or praying in church. McMullan and Naylor take what could have easily been treated as indie quirk (some of these dioramas scream Wes Anderson) and give it a somewhat ominous and somber vibe. Comparisons to Gates of Heaven will be inevitable and for good reason. [C.J.]

Beneath the Spaceship

A unique friendship between the adolescent Julie (Selma Modeer Wiking) and her adult neighbour Paul (Per Lasson) gets tested in Caroline Ingvarsson’s intriguing film. In a short amount of time, Ingvarsson lays out a nuanced relationship between the two, and the complications that abound with Julie starting to enter her teenage years. Operating as more of a slice of life than a closed narrative, Beneath the Spaceship showcases two great performances in a surprisingly complex short. [C.J.]

Portal to Hell!!!

I feel like I have to write a bit more about this short due to the tragic, unexpected loss of its star “Rowdy” Roddy Piper several weeks ago. Director Vivendo Caldinelli and writer Matt Watts have given fans of They Live what they’ve been waiting for since Carpenter’s film came out in the 80s: a chance for Piper kick ass and save the world again. Playing an exhausted superintendent of a crappy apartment building, Piper discovers that two tenants have conjured up a portal to hell in the basement in order to summon the Lovecraftian “Old Ones” (look out for a Cthulhu cameo). Simply put, Portal to Hell!!! is consistently funny, surprisingly nasty and entertaining all the way through, and watching Piper play the role of a half-assed hero is a delight. It’s sad knowing that Piper is no longer around to star in the feature-length expansion (and I have confirmation that one is in the works), but I’m just happy to have a chance to see him take on this kind of role one more time. [C.J.]

Short Cuts Programme 5

She Stoops to Conquer

Julian Richings is one of Canada’s bottomless resources in Canadian film, and a classic definition of a great character actor. So it’s nice to see his distinct look and memorable presence used so well in She Stoops to Conquer, Zack Russell’s strange and beguiling short. A talent show performer (Kayla Lorette) who dresses up as an old man for a comedy set finds her performance isn’t working with audiences, but one night after going to a club in her costume she finds the exact lookalike of her character (Richings). It’s a fun “what if” scenario about meeting one’s own doppelganger, and it’s all helped by Henry Sansom’s striking cinematography. [C.J.]

Remaining Lives

Luiza Cocora takes a hard, intimate look at the transition from life at one him to life at another in Remaining Lives. The short takes the perspective of a young Romanian girl who’s recently moved to Montreal with her mother, and over the course of the film the realization that this change isn’t a temporary one slowly settles in. It’s a subtle short with great direction that highlights the alienation and disconnect its central character feels, and an ending that will make the film linger in viewers minds well after it’s over. [C.J.]

El Adiós

Clara Roquet, the co-writer of our Must See Indie pick 10.000 KM, makes her directorial debut with this excellent look at the societal and class distinctions between a maid and the wealthy family she works for. Jenny Rios plays Rosana, a Bolivian maid preparing the house for the funeral of the family’s matriarch. But as the day goes on, and the relatives of the deceased increasingly show disrespect to Rosana, it becomes apparent that her patience has run thin. The assured direction here is great, but it’s really the fantastic and nuanced performance from Rios that makes El Adiós a highlight in the Short Cuts programme this year. [C.J.]

Short Cuts Programme 6

Nina

Making her directorial debut, Halima Elkhatabi presents a stark and honest snapshot of a teenage mother living on her own, making the choices of someone with far more maturity than she has, while still succumbing to natural teenage urges.  Nina is a girl who cannot shake the habit of making bad decisions, and while the film offers the most obvious of those as narrative bookends, it’s the choices Nina makes in between that are wonderfully subtle.  Elizabeth Tremblay Gagnon gives a strong performance in the title role. [Michael]

Short Cuts Programme 7

Never Happened

Mia Kirshner and Aaron Abrams, two great actors usually seen in supporting roles, get the chance to shine as the leads of Mark Slutsky’s wryly funny comedy. Kirshner and Abrams play co-workers on a business trip who, after a few drinks, wind up cheating on their spouses with each other. Abrams and Kirshner establish a great chemistry in (literal) seconds, and Slutsky’s narrative structure is used to great effect. But it’s in the final minutes of Never Happened where the film takes an interesting turn, one that makes it more in line with Charlie Brooker’s Black Mirror. [C.J.]

(Otto)

The filmmakers behind last year’s TIFF short A Single Life return with a bittersweet and funny story about a little girl, her imaginary friend, and a woman desperate for a child of her own. After seeing the little girl playing hide and seek with her non-existence playmate the woman, who recently found out she can’t have children of her own, steals the friend so she can raise him as her own. It’s an absurd, funny and ultimately melancholy film about finding a connection with someone, and its sincerity should win viewers over. [C.J.]

Rock the Box

This short documentary profiles Rhiannon Rozier, aka DJ Rhiannon, a woman trying to break into the male-dominated world of DJing and dance music. Katherine Monk’s smart, fascinating docu explores Rozier’s decision to ultimately use her looks and sexuality to her advantage, posing in Playboy to help further her career. Rozier, who says she was always seen as a “golden child” with straight As through university, describes her choice as liberating, but is it only helping perpetuate the same standards that hold women back from the boys club that is EDM? Rock the Box lets viewers make up their mind on that issue, but everyone can agree that Rozier is an extremely charismatic subject, a careerist who’s in complete control of what she wants. [C.J.]

Short Cuts Programme 8

The Call

In this 10-minute South African short from writer/director Zamo Mkhwanazi, Sibongiseni (Fana Mokoena) is a stoic, unemotional cab driver who one day finds himself at a multi-layered crossroads in his life.  On the surface, a fare leaves an iPhone in his cab, something he can sell for quick cash, yet he doesn’t.  Below that, there is a funeral for a colleague he isn’t sure he will attend. Deeper still, he has impregnated a prostitute (Kgomotso Matsunyane) and is no longer sure an abortion is the answer.  He is crippled by indecision. [Michael]

Short Cuts Programme 9

The Swimming Lesson

Several childhood fears—from abandonment to peer pressure to drowning—converge in Olivia Boudreau’s wonderful 10-minute directorial debut. Jasmine Lemée plays a young girl whose harried mother unceremoniously drops her off for her first swimming lesson. The child is in a new place with new faces and hoping to learn to survive in a new element, and she is doing it entirely alone. Her imagination gets the best of her in the film’s WOW moment. [Michael]

Latchkey Kids

The incredibly tight bond between two teen siblings is threatened in Elad Goldman’s mesmerizing short about love and fear of abandonment. Gur (Yoav Rotman) and his sister Daniel (Gaia Shalita Katz) move with the unison of two people who have relied on each other for years.  But when Daniel’s boyfriend becomes a regular fixture in their lives (and thus a threat to Gur), the brother feels motivated to take action to protect his sister, his environment, and his happiness.  This 22-minute Israeli short is my favorite of the programme. [Michael]

Short Cuts Programme 10

Quiet Zone

In a perfect mixture of form and content, David Bryant and Karl Lemieux’s transfixing short uses degraded film as a visual supplement for interviews with people suffering from electromagnetic hypersensitivity, a condition where people fall ill when exposed to strong telecommunications signals. These people, unable to live in society due to cell phones, TVs, radios and WiFi, seek refuge in “quiet zones,” rural areas with little to no technology. Watching the film warp, scratch, burn and dissolve adds a tactile element to what’s on-screen, representing the way the short’s subjects can physically feel the effects of something invisible to the naked eye. It’s one of the most remarkable shorts I’ve seen in the line-up this year. [C.J.]

Oslo’s Rose

Sometimes it’s better not to reveal anything about a short before you watch it. This is the case with Oslo’s Rose, a funny and brutally awkward short from Norway. Nader and his friend are sitting down in a bar trying to get out of their writer’s block when Janne, an old friend of theirs, shows up and starts chatting with them while she waits for a friend. What happens over the course of this conversation becomes a great example of cringe humour, to say the least. [C.J.]

Short Cuts Programme 11

Bird Hearts

Written and directed by Halfdan Olav Ullmann Tøndel, this 25-minute Norwegian short stars André Sørum and Stine Sørensen as Benjamin and Maya, a 20-something couple living together in relative happiness.  However, when a small dinner party turns to the subject of past sexual experiences, Maya’s story gets inside Benjamin’s head and his insecurities take a toll on their relationship.  While a little slow out of the gate, once the film reaches Maya’s story, the tension created by the frailty of Benjamin’s ego is unsettlingly palpable. [Michael]

Bam

This Canadian animated short packs as heavy a punch as its protagonist.  Written, directed, and animated by Howie Shia, Bam follows the life of a young man who struggles to control his anger issues.  He eventually turns to the sweet science of boxing to make something positive out of something negative.  Life, however, still exists outside the ring, and he learns its the most delicate of relationships that suffer most from his rage.  In five minutes, Shia captures the essence of anger at a time when too many in the world seem to suffer from too much of it. [Michael]

The Man Who Shot Hollywood

This 12-minute doc from writer/director/narrator Barry Avrich is a jam-packed love letter to the Golden Age of Hollywood, presented as a personal and touching biography of a man who lived it. Jack Pashkovsky was a Russian-Jewish immigrant who eventually headed west to Hollywood with the hopes of being a cameraman. The industry’s nepotism prevented that from happening, and thankfully so. Pashkovsky turned to still photography and captured countless Hollywood legends in hundreds of pictures he took only for himself.  Some of those never-before-seen pictures can finally be seen here and they are glorious. [Michael]

Is it even possible to whittle down TIFF’s line-up to 15? This year TIFF has 399 shorts and features playing the festival, an insane number that has us asking questions like “Why are there so many movies?” and “Why couldn’t the 400th movie be Carol?” among many others.

Every year at TIFF is an embarrassment of riches, and this year is no different, so we had a tough time narrowing our choices down to what we consider the essentials (even crueler: it’s unlikely we’ll catch all of these at the festival, meaning we’re praying some of these get released soon or get some sort of distribution deal). But we did manage to come up with a list, and it’s a varied one. There are some films we missed at festivals earlier this year, some brand spanking new ones by directors we love, a return from a master of the cinema, and one film from a newbie that looks like it could be one of the most unforgettable experiences of this year’s festival.

Read on to see our picks below, and be sure to keep reading the site for our coverage of the Toronto International Film Festival for the rest of the month.

Anomalisa

Charlie Kaufman. A name that, for those familiar with the man’s work, justifies the length of a paragraph to be all but two words on this list. Kaufman’s screenplays—Being John Malkovich, Adaptation, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind–-burst people’s notions of original comedy, with plots, settings, characters, and dialogue that turned the ordinary into the fascinatingly unique. It’s easy to get lost in Kaufman’s eccentricities, but there’s profound stuff underneath his squiggly surface (especially evident with his directorial debut Synecdoche, New York). His latest effort is a stop-motion animation feature, co-directed by Duke Johnson, with Jennifer Jason Leigh, David Thewlis, and Kaufman regular Tom Noonan providing the voice talent, about a misanthrope travelling to Cincinnati to give a keynote speech about his bestselling book on customer service. From the purportedly fantastic look of the film, to the much welcomed return of Kaufman’s sui generis imagination, everything about Anomalisa so far (including early raves from Telluride) fills this film to the gills with promise. [Nik]

Arabian Nights

Miguel Gomes has been popping his head out from the subterranean levels of arthouse since 2008’s Our Beloved Month of August, but it was his sensational and half-silent 2012 film Tabu that wrote him on the proverbial map with permanent ink. Now he’s back with what is his most ambitious effort to date, a sprawling 6-hour epic split into three volumes based on the infamous Middle Eastern and Asian stories, 1001 Nights. Going by the popular English title of the collection, Arabian Nights pushes the boundaries of narrative with its three volumes—titled The Restless One, The Desolate One, The Enchanted One respectively—and sets events in Portugal, elucidating on the country’s socioeconomic issues through allegory and Gomes’ signature vigor for cinematic storytelling. Using a mesh of satire and fantasy, fiction and non-fiction, the film has been hailed as a genuinely stirring cinematic experience in all respects since it premiered in Cannes’ Director’s Fortnight, and we are beyond excited to see it at TIFF. [Nik]

The Assassin

Gestating in development for over ten years, and scaling a mountain of budgetary hurdles all while learning to adjust to the ever-changing climate of film production, Hou Hisao-Hisen’s latest film is finally here. For a film that’s been anticipated this long, directed by a beloved legend of Taiwanese arthouse cinema, the hype for The Assassin was strained with a mix of excitement and slight trepidation before it premiered at Cannes. The film turned out to be a critical hit, and Hou was commemorated with a Best Director prize (many believed it would walk away with the Palme). This wuxia tale follows a trained killer (Shu Qi) who is forced to choose between her heart and her profession when she gets her latest assignment. Yeah, it’s a synopsis bland enough to fit the description of the worst kind of Steven Segal movie, but its plot is not why The Assassin has already been hailed as a masterpiece by many. With a master filmmaker at the helm, the film’s qualities are found in its aesthetics, mood, composition, and a refined kind of slow-burning mystery that seems to cast a spell on all who see it. Yummy. [Nik]

Baskin

After discovering Baskin’s inclusion in the Midnight Madness programme, I contacted director Can Evrenol to get a glimpse at his 2013 short film (which this film is based on). Evrenol was gracious enough to let me see his short, and the moment it ended I knew I had to catch his feature-length adaptation at TIFF. Both the short and the film have the same synopsis: a group of cops responding to a call for backup arrive at an abandoned building that turns out to be the home of some sort of horrifying dark arts ritual. By the time the cops realise they’ve stumbled into some seriously freaky, occult type stuff, all hell literally breaks loose. The short is a brief and twisted slice of fun, and Baskin looks like it’s expanding in all the right ways: gorier, nastier, and with plenty more horrifying surprises in store. Midnight Madness programmer Colin Geddes has gone on record saying that Baskin might rival the legendary premiere of Martyrs at TIFF in 2008, and based on what I’ve seen of Baskin, I’m inclined to believe he might turn out to be right. [C.J.]

Beasts of No Nation

Fresh off the enormous success of True Detective, Cary Fukunaga returns to the big screen with more critical clout than ever before. Beasts of No Nation marks the writer/director’s third feature, and it looks to be a work of greater intensity and visceral impact than either of his previous films. From a Mexican immigration drama (Sin Nombre) to a classic bildungsroman adaptation set in Victorian England (Jane Eyre), Fukunaga now takes us to an unnamed country in Africa where a young boy struck by tragedy is forced to become a child soldier in a ferocious civil war. Fukunaga’s versatility is truly impressive, and with this film carrying the added plus of Idris Elba (in what could potentially be his greatest role yet), I’d say it’s shaping up to be yet another feather in the cap of an exciting and steadily rising filmmaker. [Byron]

Black Mass

Scott Cooper is someone who hasn’t quite broken out yet as a “name director.” Crazy Heart was acknowledged for its performances and music despite being a solid character study with real directorial sensitivity, and while Out of the Furnace proved to be somewhat bland and predictable, it still contained glimmers of a filmmaker with a distinct vision. With his third film, Black Mass, Cooper is tackling something of significant scale. It’s the story of the notorious gangster Whitey Bulger, and the project boasts a killer cast. Johnny Depp arrives in heavy makeup once again, this time in a different context, and he appears to be in rare form, exuding charisma that is terrifyingly deceptive rather than merely quirky. With such a weighty subject, there’s a lot that could go wrong, but hopefully Cooper rises to the occasion and finally takes the spotlight, delivering something more like The Departed than Killing Them Softly. [Byron]

Cemetery of Splendour

Arguably the greatest arthouse filmmaker of the 21st century, Apichatpong Weerasethakul is more beloved than the spelling of his full name is hard to memorize. Every feature he’s directed—most especially Tropical Malady, Syndromes of a Century, and Palme D’Or-winner Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives—has been studied by cinephiles for their hypnotic power and spiritual sensations. His latest is titled Cemetery of Splendor, and if that’s not enticing enough (it should be), its Cannes premiere was met with the kind of plaudits worthy of Weerasethakul’s venerated oeuvre. The film follows a housewife who volunteers at a clinic where she befriends a soldier with a mysterious sleeping sickness and meets a medium who helps family members communicate with their comatose relatives. In typical Weerasethakul fashion, dreams, memory, and romance are weaved together to create a mystical viewing experience. We couldn’t be more ready for this. [Nik]

Evolution

Way back in January of this year, I picked Lucile Hadžihalilović’s Evolution as one of my most anticipated films of 2015. I figured it would premiere at Cannes, given it went into production last year, but Cannes came and went without her film appearing. I forgot about the film (partially to not disappoint myself again), so once it got announced at part of TIFF’s Vanguard programme this year I was ecstatic. Little was known about Evolution back when I first wrote about it, but now there’s a better idea of what to expect. The film centres on a ten-year-old boy living on an island with no adult males, only women and young boys like himself. The boys undergo various medical experiments, and Nicholas decides to investigate what’s going on. Rather than explain why Evolution is on my radar again, I’ll just quote its programmer Colin Geddes who told me it’s “a sublime, body horror, fairy tale mystery.” I don’t think it’s possible to hear a description like that and not get intrigued. [C.J.]

High-Rise

I won’t lie: I’ve been deliberately avoiding learning much about Ben Wheatley’s High-Rise, which is having its world premiere this year in TIFF’s competitive Platform programme. I know it has a killer cast (Tom Hiddleston, Jeremy Irons, Elisabeth Moss and Luke Evans, to name a few). I know it’s an adaptation of a J.G. Ballard novel, it involves different people living in an apartment building, and that Clint Mansell is doing the score. That’s about it. So why am I putting this down as one of my most anticipated titles of TIFF? Because Ben Wheatley is one of the more exciting names in international cinema right now, hopping between genres with ease and delivering films that are truly distinct. This looks like a return to the moodier, intense fare of Kill List along with the chamber piece quality of his terrific debut Down Terrace (which largely took place in a house). High-Rise sounds like a literal expansion for Wheatley compared to his low-budget first feature: a bigger cast, a bigger budget, a bigger location and a bigger scale. Here’s hoping Wheatley makes the most of it. [C.J.]

Mountains May Depart

To be honest, I don’t know much about Mountains May Depart, but what I do know is that Jia Zhangke’s A Touch of Sin was one of the best movies to emerge from 2013. Brutal and depressing in equal measures, the film is an anthology that presented the deeply troubled nature of modern China through powerful allegory. Jia’s follow-up seems to cover similarly ambitious ground, spanning two generations and confronting the effects of a rapidly changing societal landscape. No matter what the story details are, Mountains May Depart is a must-see purely because it places the audience in the secure hands of a great cinematic social commentator. [Byron]

Office

Want to know how much I love Johnnie To? Whenever I see the word “musical” I tend to run in the other direction, yet I’m clearing my TIFF schedule to fit in the musical Office because he’s helming it. The film marks two firsts for To, a director who’s been working for decades with an insanely prolific and consistent output; it’s his first musical, and his first film in 3D. Seeing To tackle new areas only gets me more excited, because he’s shown multiple times that he has no problem adapting any genre to his economic and quick-paced style. Based on the hit play by Sylvia Chang (who also stars in Mountains May Depart), Office sounds like a continuation of To’s recent fixation on the corporate class and the 2008 financial crisis seen in films like Don’t Go Breaking My Heart and Life Without Principle. But this time, To has recruited big names like Chang and Chow Yun-Fat, along with (what sounds like) full-blown song and dance numbers. Early word on Office has been great, and I can’t wait to see what will surely be To’s unique take on the musical. [C.J.]

Sunset Song

Suffused with rich feeling and evocative melancholia, Terence Davies’ movies are like a vintage wine that sentimentality has rendered priceless; only to be uncorked for a momentous occasion. Which is exactly what the world premiere of his latest picture, Sunset Song, already feels like. Coming off the heels of The Deep Blue Sea, probably the most underrated and misunderstood film of its year, Sunset Song is a period piece set in the cinegenic Scottish countryside of the 1930s, and based on a book by Lewis Grassic Gibon that’s been called the most important Scottish novel of the 20th century. Other than a few gorgeous-looking stills, and the announcement of the cast which includes the brilliant Peter Mullan, mum’s been the word on the details behind Davies’ adaptation. But if he sticks close to Gibbon’s story, we’ll be following the hard life of young Chris Guthrie (Agyness Deyn), a woman growing up in a dysfunctional household, on a farm in Scotland. We expect nothing less than the same refined and lyrical cinematic precision we’ve been getting from one of Britain’s most celebrated auteurs. [Nik]

Where to Invade Next?

America’s most divisive filmmaker returns with a new documentary sure to inspire an avalanche of critical blog posts, angry tweets and bitter Fox News segments. It’s been six years since Michael Moore released Capitalism: A Love Story, and little is known about his new project outside of the vague notion that it will concern the United States’ unending condition of being at war in some capacity. I’ve always been fond of Moore’s work, despite the loudness of his mouth and the dubiousness of his specific claims. For sheer entertainment value, his films are about as hilariously satirical as documentaries get, but beneath the unabashed agenda and supposed methods of misdirection lies a sobering reality demanding our immediate attention. For this reason, I can’t wait to see Where to Invade Next? and revel in the controversy it will inevitably stir up. [Byron]

The Witch

If the reactions out of Sundance earlier this year are any indication, The Witch is the latest installment in a recent string of thoughtful indie horror pictures (such as It Follows and The Babadook) vying for “instant classic” status. The film is a period piece—something far too uncommon in the genre these days—and tells the tale of 17^th century New England settlers encountering evil forces in a nearby forest while perhaps confronting their own inner demons as well. I like my horror cinema grim and ambiguous, and the film’s brilliant trailer seems to promise a gloomy tone and ominous atmosphere, along with what might be the most malevolent on-screen goat since Drag Me to Hell (although likely not as humorous). A 2016 release date pretty much guarantees a series of sold-out shows at this year’s fest, so don’t hesitate to check it out if you get the chance. [Byron]

Yakuza Apocalypse

Back in May when Yakuza Apocalypse premiered at Cannes, it sounded like Takashi Miike was back in full-force. But then again, considering his insanely prolific output (I’ve lost track of his films, there are too many), “full-force” seems to be status quo for Miike. The image above should give you an idea of what Yakuza Apocalypse might be like: insane, bonkers, all over the place, nonsensical and yet completely entertaining to watch. The film starts out with a Yakuza boss revealed to be a vampire, and soon the entire town he rules over gets converted into vampires as they try to remove threats to their way of life. And also there’s something about a fighting alien toad, the apocalypse, and whatever else Miike could think of apparently. When it comes to Miike, I don’t ask questions anymore. He’s proven himself to be an amazing director, so when I get the chance to see one of his latest films I’ll go on blind faith. Sometimes his films don’t work out for me, but other times they work spectacularly. Yakuza Apocalypse looks like it’s going to fall more into the “spectacular” category. [C.J.]

Earlier this week we celebrated Alfred Hitchcock’s birthday by ranking his films. Today we continue to celebrate the auteur’s work by listing indie films which remind us of his work. And because Hitchcock inspired so many filmmakers over the years with his innovative storytelling and crafty camera shots, we had a ton of films to choose from. The films below are the kind Hitch would have made if he were still live, or at the very least, films he would have enjoyed watching himself.

9 Indie Films That Remind Us Of Alfred Hitchcock

Tell No One

A married couple goes skinny dipping in a lake at night. After an argument, the woman swims to shore to clear her head. Suddenly, the man hears her scream and swims to shore to investigate only to be knocked unconscious by an off-screen culprit. Jump ahead eight years, and two bodies have mysteriously surfaced at the site where it’s believed the wife was murdered, reopening the case with the husband as the primary suspect. A classic cocktail of mystery, suspense and paranoia, Guillaume Canet’s Tell No One is a tense thriller with a knotty plot that harkens back to Hitch in its themes while satiating modern audiences with its brisk narrative momentum and elaborate action sequences. Francois Cluzet exudes intensity in the lead role, his frazzled charm making him a more volatile man-on-the-run than Cary Grant’s Roger O. Thornhill (North By Northwest) or Robert Donat’s Hannay (The 39 Steps), though he’s no less riveting. Like any good Hitchcock film (or any good mystery, for that matter), Tell No One always keeps you guessing and never fails to surprise, all while continuously building an emotional foundation that makes the shocker ending feel like a shotgun to the chest. [Bernard]

The Usual Suspects

Alfred Hitchcock was masterful at creating mesmerizing characters who often danced on the edge of suspicion. Sometimes mysterious, sometimes charismatic, but always fascinating, these antagonists (to call them villains is a little too much) aren’t necessarily the kind to root for, but it isn’t a bad thing they get away with what they get away with for as long as they can. More than just foils, the greats include Madeleine Elster (Vertigo), Uncle Charlie (Shadow of a Doubt), and even Lars Thorwald (Rear Window) who, in Hitch’s hands, is captivating as little more than an object of observation. The modern indie film equivalent of these delicious baddies, a character Hitchcock would have had a blast with, is Verbal Kint, from Bryan Singer’s The Usual Suspects. What makes Kint, as played by Kevin Spacey, the archetypical Hitchcock antagonist is how ordinary he seems—the most usual of the usual suspects—until he weaves a hypnotic narrative tale about five villains, three heists, and one crime lord: Keyser Söze, a man whose reputation is so fearsome, he’s more than legendary, he’s mythological. Yet from Kint’s lips to the cops’ ears floats a story told with such subtle conviction and drenched in such rich detail, every last word is believable. Or is it? This is the Hitchcockian genius of him. Kint is known to be one of those five criminals and a man who simply cannot be trusted, but his feeble physicality is disarming. This allows his hypnotic storytelling acumen to take charge (Verbal is verbal, indeed). As Hitchcock would have wanted, Kint is a character the viewer should see coming, and yet fails to do so. As for the stunning reveal at the end, it’s Hitchcockian too, and one of the greats of movie history. [Michael]

Buried

Hitch wasn’t just the master of suspense, but he was also an expert at single location filmmaking (Lifeboat, Rope, Rear Window). Rodrigo Cortés applied Hitchcockian attributes in his 2010 indie thriller Buried, where Ryan Reynolds (his best performance to date) finds himself trapped inside a coffin with only a lighter, a cell phone, and enough oxygen for 90 minutes. It’s a gripping race against the clock shot entirely in a claustrophobic setting. While it contains a super simple setup, the film is full of technical challenges. But Buried makes great use of constrained space, using careful camera framing and a sharpened sense of hearing to obtain a high level of suspense, all while opting not to show any shots outside the coffin. A less ambitious filmmaker would’ve added some flashbacks or cuts to a grieving spouse. But not Cortés. By leaving these shots out, the audience remains isolated with the character and the results are so suffocating they’ll leave you gasping for air. Hitchcock would have admired such an impressive feat. [Dustin]

Timecrimes

When one thinks of Hitchcock-inspired films, works of science fiction usually aren’t the first to come to mind. Nonetheless, Spanish filmmaker Nacho Vigalondo’s 2007 Timecrimes, proves that Hitch’s impact stretches to all corners of the contemporary cinematic realm and can even be found in the likes of foreign language time travel flicks. Like other modern films containing narratives dealing with the manipulation of time (such as Shane Carruth’s Primer and Bradley King’s recent Time Lapse), Timecrimes has a relatively complex plot that unfolds gradually and only fully presents itself to viewers during its third act. Vigalondo’s film follows a married ogler by the name of Héctor (Karra Elejalde). One quiet afternoon, after spotting a naked woman through a pair of binoculars, he wanders over to get a closer look; by the time he reaches the woman, she’s unconscious, slumped against a large rock, and suddenly Héctor is stabbed with a pair of scissors by a second, masked person. From there, the storyline only becomes more obscure though it certainly evolves in a fascinating and original manner. All originality aside, the Hitchcockian influence is surely present and can be found in qualities such as Timecrimes’ increasingly guilt-ridden protagonist and its utilization of voyeurism, in a similar vein as Hitch’s famous Rear Window and Psycho. [Eli]

Mulholland Drive

Many deem David Lynch a singular artist. Out of his influential oeuvre a whole new adjective was born; one that’s used to describe any picture cloaked in a mysterious, off-kilter atmosphere. So it’s interesting that this one decidedly unique filmmaker’s greatest film, the mesmerizing Mulholland Drive, borrows so directly the themes, aesthetics, and particles from Alfred Hitchcock’s most critically lauded film, Vertigo, in order to help create what’s arguably the most Lynchian atmosphere and story to date. Naomi Watts’ career-making role of a wide-eyed dreamer is an amalgamation of various Hitchcock “classic blonde” heroines, striking the biggest resemblance with Kim Novak from the 1958 classic. Not only is the 1950s aesthetic that provided the contemporary backdrop to Vertigo prevalent in the old-fashioned Hollywood look to Mulholland Drive, but it’s weaved into the thematics as well. Together with fear, manipulation, and spiraling madness, all of which permeate the tone of both pictures. Lynch contorted the very same type of suspense that Hitch mastered in his day; using audience’s’ imaginations and subconscious as a plaything to create unforgettable and influential art. [Nik]

Match Point

While Woody Allen has continued to churn out a movie a year for most of his career, his recent films seem to have narrowed in scope, losing some of the sharp-witted satire that marked many of his earlier films. One film that has poked through this listless drought is Match Point, a flick that saw Allen test the waters of the thriller genre, and most importantly, play homage to the godfather of suspense himself. Allen has never been afraid to wear any particular film’s influences on his sleeve, and Match Point is no exception. The premise alone is rife with nods to Hitchcock’s Strangers On A Train, a film that centers on a tennis star, murder, and, most importantly, chance, which in Match Point is redubbed as luck. The nods don’t stop there. Jonathan Rhys Meyers plays Chris, a handsome, talented charmer with sociopathic tendencies, much in the style of classic Hitchcock villains: men who can literally get away with murder. Most importantly of all, is Scarlett Johansson, the beautiful blonde temptress, the source of all this lust, the carrier of the unwanted child, the catalysis of everything. To put the sexual politics of Allen’s work in question is to be a conscious and critical filmgoer (which we all should be), but while off-putting and dated, the film stays true to its influences, for better or worse. [Gary]

Chuck & Buck

While maybe not an obvious selection for a Hitchcock-inspired film, Miguel Arteta and Mike White’s thoughtfully constructed and hilarious micro-budgeted black comedy, Chuck & Buck, owes a lot to the popular works of Hitchcock including Psycho and Rear Window. Chuck & Buck follows the reunion of two childhood friends, writer Mike White in the role of Buck and filmmaker Chris Weitz (About a Boy, American Pie) plays Chuck who now goes by Charlie. After Buck’s mother passes away, the two friends awkwardly reconnect at her funeral which is followed by Buck following Chuck (and his wife) to Los Angeles. Buck tries desperately to fit himself into Chuck’s life as his obsession becomes increasingly more sexual and invasive. Instead of taking the path of someone like Brian De Palma (whose fantastic Blow Out I nearly chose for this list) where the Hitchcock influence is more authentic and direct, Arteta and White twist the voyeuristic themes and Norman Bates-like qualities of Buck to a wildly different effect. It plays up these qualities pushing them to levels of uncomfortable and sometime gut-busting laughter as the film brilliantly satirizes the irrational homophobic fear that can exist in straight men. [Ryan]

Stoker

The screenplay of Stoker is what most recalls Hitchcock’s work. Revolving around a teenage girl (Mia Wasikowska) and her prickly mother (Nicole Kidman) mourning the loss of a father and husband as a mysterious relative (Matthew Goode) slowly moves into the picture, the plot draws comparisons to Shadow of a Doubt, but Director Park Chan-Wook makes it his own uniquely twisted beast. While the story pays clear homage in the structuring of gradually built dread and distrust, Park’s offbeat and richly sensual direction marks the singular vision of a true auteur. Through detailed mise-en-scène and slick, haunting visuals, we are steered through an unsettling vision of sexual awakening and hereditary depravity. The film crawls under one’s skin as it pries open narrative and thematic doors initially closed tightly. The film resembles Marnie in its Freudian hang-ups and Frenzy in its relative grittiness, and although it’s far bleaker and bloodier than Hitch had the ability to be in his time, something tells me that fans of his distinct brand of psychological terror would be tickled by this one-of-a-kind experience. [Byron]

Misery

It feels almost as though any horror, thriller, or psychological suspense film we could possibly think of and include on this list would feel obvious in some way. There isn’t a great movie out there among these genres that doesn’t herald back to something Hitchcock either invented or did so well it merited emulation. But in terms of Hitchcock signature moves, Rob Reiner’s 1990 Misery uses all the very best. Single-location by way of a secluded country house. Slow zooms into character’s faces as anxiety builds giving a sense of claustrophobia. And of course, a main character with alarmingly obsessive tendencies. Hitch knew that love could be a far scarier emotion than hate. Vertigo taught us the price of obsessive love, and Misery’s Annie Wilkes is a fan whose love of a book series is more than a little unbridled. Rear Window established that a character immobilized and trapped in a small space is more horrifying than any dark castle, and Paul Sheldon learns just how harrowing four walls are when your ankles are smashed to bits. Those who appreciate the simmering, confined, tension-filled thrillers Hitchcock made his name on, will find themselves satisfied by Misery. [Ananda]

Were he alive today, the Master of Suspense, Sir Alfred Hitchcock, would be 116. With over 50 films to his name spanning from silent films to talkies, black and white to colored, and in first Britain and then later America, Hitchcock was a true auteur. So many of the modern thriller and horror contraptions we’ve come to expect were devised by this brilliant man.  That frustrating mystery decoy, the MacGuffin, the hilarious—and rather meta—directorial cameo, and Hitch even discovered the appeal of the voyeuristic vantage point long before Bravo was shoving Real Housewives and Kardashians down our throats.

On his day of birth, we give thanks for a man who tapped into the very core of human nature, causing us to squeal, scream, gasp, jump, and “a-ha!” No one has raised hairs or provoked goosebumps as often or as well as the Master. And by way of thanks we’ve racked our brains and cast our votes to definitively rank the ten best films of Alfred Hitchcock. Whether you’re new to Hitch yourself or trying to decide how to introduce him best to your children, we say you start here. Just keep the lights on and prepare the edge of your seat, you’ll be sitting there a while.

One of Alfred Hitchcock’s finest works is also one of his most spatially confined. The first in his oeuvre to be shot in color and most notable for its use of the one take illusion, Rope tells the story of two young intellectuals who strangle their friend to death and hide his body in a chest prior to hosting a dinner party in the very same room where the corpse lies. The act is deemed “an immaculate murder” by one of the men involved and the Master of Suspense stages the aftermath beautifully, setting the whole affair in one apartment unit. Every frame carries the tension of whether or not the conspirators will break and Arthur Laurents’ script playfully alludes to the increasingly apparent elephant in the room through dialogue that is both darkly comedic and slyly referential. The film is gripping in its “will they or won’t they be caught” premise, but Rope truly impresses with its nuanced navigation of homosexual subtext as well as the theme of theoretical principles being twisted into wicked, irreversible deeds. [Byron]

One of the few traditional horror movies in Hitchcock’s filmography, The Birds is the godfather of modern nature-run-amok films. Marred only by some now-dated special effects, the suspense sequences in The Birds hold up remarkably well, and the scene of the schoolchildren being attacked by the violent airborne creatures is especially unsettling. In the hands of anyone else, The Birds was bound to fail, but Hitchcock approached the subject matter with such seriousness that it manages to work almost in spite of itself. It may not be his best film, but it could very well be his most impressive. [Blair]

One of Hitchcock’s more twisted crime mysteries is in fact amazingly simplistic in its scope. A posh ex-tennis player, Tony, discovers his socialite wife, Margot, is having an affair with a writer, Mark, and plots to have her murdered. Using one of his signature techniques, the majority of the action takes place within Tony and Margot’s sitting room. Tony blackmails an old college acquaintance to do the murdering and in a hair-raising scene he sneaks into her house and attempts to strangle her. What none of them expect is that Margot has more fight in her than they imagined. As a filmed adaptation of a play, the stakes never feel all that high, but Hitch gets around this with his attention to detail. He lingers on objects and plays with our sentiments toward each character. It’s the perfect example of Hitchcock’s ability to carefully build a mystery and then piece by piece deconstruct it, and the process is a slow and simmering thrill to experience. [Ananda]

Notorious> is a film so pulsating with sexual tension, rich imagery, forbidden romance and drunken desire that it’s almost too much to handle; watch it in the right environment and you’re liable to burst. It’s one of Hitchcock’s finest works (his finest in my book), an international spy romance starring Ingrid Bergman in her greatest role alongside Casablanca. Matching her greatness is Cary Grant, a U.S. agent who recruits Bergman to infiltrate a spy ring in Rio de Janeiro and get intimate with its leader (Claude Rains). The love triangle that emerges is the best in movie history, full of innuendo and jealous glances, all framed by a plot so well constructed it rivals any of Hitchcock’s more popular classics (even Vertigo and Rear Window). Filmmaking doesn’t get more elegant than watching Grant and Bergman descend that grand staircase at the end of the film, and it doesn’t get steamier than watching them lock lips in what was, at the time, “the longest kiss in the history of movies.” [Bernard]

Perhaps Shadow Of A Doubt has become more famous for being Hitchcock’s personal favorite than for the sum of its parts, but that feels grossly unfair to what is, essentially, a masterpiece. When Uncle Charlie (Joseph Cotten) announces a surprise visit to his family in the small town of Santa Rosa, his niece and namesake Charlotte “Charlie” (Teresa Wright) is ecstatic. However, it’s not long before she starts to suspect her uncle of being the “Merry Widow” serial killer, and the plot unravels in the kind of hair-raisingly suspenseful way that would later become synonymous with Alfred Hitchcock’s name. In a rare twist of classic Hollywood convention, the leading man in this picture ends up being one of Hitchcock’s most memorable villains. Boasting the most opulent cinematography of any Hitchcock film (by Joseph Valentine), ridiculously immersive characterization of a small family unit, and a supremely original male-female dynamic that inspired Cotten’s and Wright’s mesmerizing performances; it’s easy to see why Hitchcock loved it so much. That slow-burning close-up of Cotten describing widows as “wheezing animals” is everything. [Nik]

Hitchcock’s paranoia-fueled tale of a man trapped in his apartment with delusions of murderous neighbors is my all-time favorite of his works. Jimmy Stewart’s wheelchair-bound photographer Jeff is the vehicle through which Hitchcock traps his audience into forced suspense. Through Jeff’s camera lens, we watch his various neighbors, and through his journalistic inquisitiveness and voyeuristic nature we start to see the same suspicious signs he does. His, at first, hairbrained schemes of murder by his neighbor across the way (played with perfect intensity by Raymond Burr) become more and more plausible the longer he (and we) watch from the darkened window of his apartment. With the bustling sounds of New York City providing a sort of humming background, Jeff’s neighbors live out their lives through their windows like a puppet show for his amusement, but as the truth of the danger he puts himself in by prying becomes clearer, it is Jeff who becomes the puppet, confined to his one room stage, and the denouement of Rear Window is by far among the most uncomfortably riveting of Hitchcock’s career. [Ananda]

Hitchcock’s timeless tale of exchanging murders poses a question that we’ve all asked ourselves, and in the process truly shows off the director’s mastery. Hitchcock constantly found ways to make even his most villainous characters empathetic, and that’s precisely what makes Strangers on a Train such an immensely engaging film. Despite being an abhorrent, sociopathic murderer, Bruno Anthony is strangely charming. Robert Walker approaches the role brilliantly, opposite the criminally underrated Farley Granger, who plays a perfect patsy in the form of Guy Haines. Over sixty years and countless viewings later, Strangers on a Train remains one of the most suspenseful movies of all time. [Blair]

Mistaken identity was part of Hitchcock’s arsenal as early as 1935’s The 39 Steps, but it reached iconic heights (literally and figuratively) in 1959’s North By Northwest. New York ad-man Roger Thornhill (Master of Swag, Cary Grant) is mistaken for a government agent by villainous spy Philip Vandamm (a perfect James Mason), and finds himself running for his life cross-country whilst falling hard for Eva Marie Saint’s mysterious blonde beauty Eve Kendall. The film is infamous for its action scenes, especially a bamboozled Grant barely escaping from an evil crop-duster in the middle of nowhere, so it’s easy to overlook the sly sense of humor on constant display and one of the greatest screenplays Hitchcock ever directed (written by the legendary Ernest Lehman). Without a single frame wasted, and a kind of cinematic rhythm that holds the answer to defeating time itself, there’s no mistaking North by Northwest as one of the master’s very best. [Nik]

When we think about Psycho, we think of its iconic scenes. The infamous shower sequence. The shocking twist. That unsettling final inner monologue in which the audience stares directly into the face of evil. As undeniably memorable as those moments are, though, Psycho is notable for more than its permeation of popular culture. Beginning as a tale of a woman absconding with a bag of money, the film deftly transitions into a very different kind of story, centering on a young man, his mother, a motel and a trail of disappearances. With his intelligent use of editing (cleverly obscuring grotesqueries while still managing to disturb), a discerning eye for darkly connotative imagery and a perfectly paced progression of terror, Hitchcock took B-movie material and made it into art. A watershed moment in horror cinema and a catalyst for the modern slasher movie, Psycho legitimized the genre and remains a vastly influential work 55 years on. [Byron]

In the darkest corners of Hitchcock’s mind hid his deepest, wildest obsessions and fears; with Vertigo, he digs them out, slaps them together and forms with his hands the purest expression of his true self he’s ever shared with the world. It’s a pretty, prickly thing that sends you into a state of paranoid euphoria, lusting after its beauty as you drown in cold sweats. As we become more and more immersed in the headspace of Jimmy Stewart’s Scottie as he chases the spectre of the quintessential icy blonde (embodied by Kim Novak) around San Francisco, we are stepping into Hitch’s very own shoes. As in most of his stories, his leading man is his proxy, and the dizzying fever dream that is Scottie’s pursuit is his way of saying, “This is me. All of me.” It’s all there: his debilitating fear of the police; his manipulative relationship with women; his resentment of the real world and its cruelty. Hitchcock much preferred the world of dreams. In his greatest shot, Novak walks slowly toward Stewart in a lonely hotel room, wading through an otherworldly neon green light. The image is paralyzing. Hitchcock is known for being less than kind to his icy blondes, but in this moment, he feels her pain. Good filmmakers take you on a leisurely stroll through the garden of the mind; great filmmakers drag you through the brambles. By this measure, Hitch was the greatest. [Bernard]

Season two of True Detective came to its crooked and sinewy ending last night in “Omega Station” (directed by Brooklyn director John Crowley) where all the dangling threads of this disputed second season were either wrapped up, stamped out, or set on fire. There’s been a lot of hate for this season as this LA-based tale of corruption played out over the past eight weeks, but we stuck with it and the time has come to process. 

First, a breakdown of last night’s episode. Spoilers ahead, obviously.

The episode began in typical doleful fashion with Ani Bezzerides and Ray Velcoro, our sole-surviving detectives on the lam, post-coitus and of course wallowing in their shared brokenness. Ani contemplates the recently surfaced memories of her childhood abduction, feeling guilt over liking that her abductor called her “pretty.” Ray continues to grapple with the truth that the vengeful murder of his ex-wife’s rapist, an event that has come to define his life, was all a lie. Meanwhile Frank Semyon tries to send Jordan off to safety in Venezuela by pretending to insult her, she strikes back with a well-placed “you’re a terrible actor.” Zing!

Ray tries to get ahold of Paul, and when Lt. Burris answers he realizes poor little Paul Woodrugh is dunzo. Burris reveals his plot to pin all of this on Ray. Ani and Ray freak out for a moment before connecting some rather loose dots: they know Erica/Laura, Caspere’s assistant, is the grown-up child that witnessed her parents’ murder in ‘92, but what about her brother? Ray conjectures (rather wildly) that he’s the set-photographer, Lenny, we met briefly in episode three. Ani and Ray go to Lenny’s house, Ray sees the bird head costume his masked assassin wore and then they stumble upon the missing Erica/Laura. Little sister spills all, revealing rather anticlimactically that the murder this entire story began around—the death of Caspere—was committed by the vengeful Lenny who’s now on his way to finish what he started and kill the crooked cops who murdered his parents. Ray gets to him in time before he can go through with it, but when Lenny listens in to the conversation Ray has with Holloway—more convenient exposition under the guise that Ray is striking a deal with a dead hard drive—his anger gets the best of him and he attacks Holloway. They both die in the ensuing shootout. Ani swoops in to run away with Ray.

Ray and Frank team up to take on the Russians, massacring them at a cabin in the woods and taking off with their money to fund their escape. But these characters are riddled with hubris and Ray can’t help but stop off to see his son one last time allowing Burris a free minute to put a tracker on his car. Ray has no choice but to lead him away from Ani, heroic perhaps, but resulting rather predictably in a last stand in the woods. Ray doesn’t make it and adding insult to injury, his dying message to his son fails to send. Frank has some pretty rotten luck as well, getting sidetracked by Mexican gangsters and ending up stabbed and penniless (except those hidden diamonds!) in the desert where he proceeds to not only die, but be visited by apparitions of those who both love and hate him.  

Ani makes it out on the boat to Venezuela. Burris lives and gets the young Tony Chessani elected as mayor—did I mention he murdered his own father? Who knew he was so ambitious? Ani meets up with Jordan, apparently has Ray’s baby, and passes off all the evidence she has to a writer to finally expose the events that have transpired. She, Jordan, and Nails the loyal henchman, walk off into a Venezuelan crowd toward some indeterminate future.

Here’s what we thought:

[Ananda]

I was not among the naysayers who disliked Season Two early on. Knowing the way things went with season one, I gave the writers the benefit of the doubt that they would take every last second to tell their tale and thus knew I’d be watching every episode. And they did take every last second…but the cramming of explanation and consequence in the last episode proved that they could have been much thriftier with all those used seconds. Many of those dots connecting in the end could have connected earlier with no detriment to the finale. It’s one thing to build a mystery, it’s another to Scooby-Doo a story by sending everyone running for seven episodes and then pull off masks for an hour and a half in the finale.

The logic leaps made in the case were pretty erratic in the end. Actually quite a few people who barely existed within the show came out on top. Tony Chessani is a kid in a speedo in one episode and then rather inexplicably ends up more on top than anyone. Lenny the set-photographer is our super-secret murderer and masked bird-man assassin and yet his reveal is so sudden, and his next move so quickly thwarted, that all these revelations fizzle quickly and pretty soon we’re thinking “Caspere? Caspere who?” If you’re going to spend years plotting revenge—which his house full of photos and evidence would suggest—why act so impulsively and erratically when justice is just on the horizon?

Ok, fine, so side characters don’t get real character development, we mostly care about our three “true” detectives anyways. Paul seemed a little expendable from the get-go, the disadvantage of working for a lesser police organization—CHP, seriously?—and because he just couldn’t seem to figure out what he even wants in life. Similarly, Ray had a bit of an X on his back for being a generally corrupt cop and iffy father, but it seemed like he was headed for redemption by finally involving himself in something that might change things for the better. And maybe Pizzolatto was responding to the flack he got for last season’s treatment of its female characters, but this season he over-corrected severely in giving all these dudes such dramatic endings and allowing the women to escape, but into lives of exile.

So, is any real justice done this season? Our detectives used their skills and cracked the case, but for what? Even in their mutual flawed state, last season’s Cohle and Hart were able to get to a more positive place. Their determination came from a need to eradicate evil, whereas our detectives this season were constantly just trying to keep their heads above water and save themselves.

They may all be messed up cops, but the difference in the origin of each season’s evil—a crazy killer in the first season and a corrupt judicial system in the second—really makes all the difference. At least Hart and Cohle could believe in the value of their toiling, this season’s detectives were allowed almost no silver linings and nary a light in their tunnels. True Detective Season Two’s bleakness stemmed from the cloud looming over their heads, not just the smog that defines Los Angeles.

[Zach]

Coming off the tail end of a convoluted second season, I’m still attempting to parse my way through True Detective’s multitude of conspiracies, cover-ups, and double-crosses while wondering how much any of it mattered. In the end, Ben Caspere’s murderer turned out to be a day player with impulse control issues; the hard drive with the damning evidence of corruption had already been bricked; Frank Semyon chose his suit jacket over his life.

To be honest, I lost the connecting thread of Season Two sometime after the high body count shootout that ended episode four. Pizzolatto took his show in so many directions without ever finding an organically cohesive element to bring those episodes together. It was a show about entrenched corruption. It was a show about damaged children who grew up defining themselves by their trauma. It was a show about the futility in finding fulfillment through redemption. It was a show about Stan. And ultimately, it was a show about evil winning out over good. But it was rarely successful at conveying all those stories at once.

While it would have been reasonable to assume Pizzolatto a misanthropic person from the first season of True Detective, last night’s finale all but confirmed it. The moment that sticks out as bleak for bleakness’ sake has to be when Ray Velcoro inexplicably leads his pursuant tail to the redwood forests rather than buy himself some time in an area with cell service. In our final moment with Season Two’s most notable character and actor, his final message to his son fails to upload. Velcoro was not always a stellar dad in eight episodes, but not allowing him even this minor win feels unrelentingly cruel.

When I look back on this season of True Detective, I’ll mostly remember how little I cared. For most of the season Pizzolatto & Co. tested the limits for endless, self-serious, vapid conversations in darkly lit bars to the tune of bummed out singers. Last night, they pushed the amount of exposition characters can deliver in a finale to the extreme. So little of it ever registered with me on my first watch of a given episode. Two days from now I won’t be able to explain to you what the blue diamond heist was or who was involved.

Whereas Cohle and Hart improbably but mercifully made it out alive at the end of the last season, three of season two’s main characters were offed to little effect. It mattered to me when Velcoro appeared to be shot down in episode two, but by the time Vince Vaughn was limping through the desert, getting teased by an anonymous, imagined group of young men, these characters had all done enough incoherent mumbling for a lifetime. There existed some flashes of intrigue, exhilarating moments, and occasionally memorable lines of dialog in this season. Mostly, True Detective’s second season left me looking for more satisfying answers. Thankfully the Internet helps to fill in some of the unexplained gaps, but I resent the need for a Spark Notes study guide to watch such mediocre TV.

[Nik]

Well, thank God that’s over.

A lot of the same frustrations I’ve had with the finale have already been summed up, so I’m afraid my reaction won’t provide much balance, just more bludgeoning. Nic Pizzolatto should take a long vacation and think real hard on how to handle a possible third season (too soon?), otherwise he’ll be remembered as something of a one-season-trick pony. Season One contained exemplary, layered world-building and immersive character development paving the way for a climax that froze our emotions with fear, only for a positively unpredictable and life-affirming resolution to thaw them. That the same writer managed to follow-up something like that, with something like…this…is a more compelling mystery than anything that happened over the course of the past eight weeks in the made-up town of Vinci and to its half-baked, morose, characters. Or should I say “splenetic,” to go in line with the kind of vocabulary these sanctimonious gangsters and corrupt cops tend to drop in casual convos? There should be a GIF of Ray and Frank talking about how apoplectic they’re feeling, a GIF that would sum up True Detective’s mind-numbingly self-indulgent second season to a tee.

What’s funny is that I, like Ananda, wasn’t hating on the second season from the start. I was enjoying the vibe even if it was heavy-handed, I was getting attached to the characters (well, let’s be honest; to Ray), I was digging the pensive scene transitions and the bird’s-eye-view cinematography of the snake-like urban LA jungle. But, sometime around Frank and Jordan’s thirteenth baby conversation, before Colin Farrell’s husky Texan drawl grew into a parody of itself, and long after I stopped caring about who killed a corrupt asshole politician; I got tired and realized that the opening theme song was developing and evolving more convincingly than any character this season (seriously, the use of Leonard Cohen’s “Nevermind” is the only true highlight here). If a season only has eight episodes, and five of them feel like they’re spinning wheels on matters no one cares about, jumping through time like Doc Brown on speed, and introducing further layers of corruption and cartoonish villainy (I’d put money that there’s concept art of Austin Chessani in some Looney Tunes artist’s basement) to hammer the same fucking point across; I’m sorry, but that season is a major fail.

In that respect, HBO’s prez Michael Lombardo made a point when he claimed that the finale is “enormously satisfying.” After an enormously disappointing five and a half episodes, with a few lightning-fast glimpses of greatness and the painful experience of watching four fine actors trying their best with trite dialogue, the finale was satisfactory (let’s not get carried away with big adverbs). Paul was long gone before he was ever a goner, but at least he’ll be remembered as the heroic dude that he actually was, and there was enough emotional investment with Ray’s arc concerning his son and his newly-formed relationship with Ani, that his demise hit all the right chords. Except that I agree with Zach in that the “failed-to-deliver” ender was an unnecessarily bleak twist of the knife. Frank’s end was fitting; stranded alone to bleed to death because of his pride, and Ani—as the truest detective of them all—deserved to get out and imagine what life with Ray would’ve been through their son (let’s face it, the guy was a trainwreck and would’ve probably screwed up somehow had he made it out). Importantly, and in contrast to Season One, there was no place for a happy ending here and Pizzolatto rightly saw to that. The cycle of corruption continues to spin, and well-intentioned characters will make one-too-many terribly human mistakes that’ll get them killed.  

If I could give any advice to Pizzolatto, it would be to take his sweet time before writing a third season. Everything that went wrong this season stems from the writing, and it’s painfully obvious how rushed the whole thing was compared to the brilliant first outing. Take your time, don’t give your characters dialogue that sounds like third-person narration from a dollar-bin crime novel, create a mystery that people will actually want to invest in, and for God’s sakes, add more truth to your detectives.  

Come to think of it now, there was something enormously satisfying about that finale: we’ll never have to hear that clinically depressed bar singer ever again.

While all of us here at Way Too Indie love to cover the bigger film fests in the world (including Cannes, TIFF, Berlin and SXSW, to name a few), we have love for the smaller fests too. The spotlight may be smaller, but in many cases it can shine just as bright, profiling films and/or specific areas of modern day cinema that might otherwise get unjustly ignored. This is why a festival like the Mosaic International South Asian Film Festival (from now on we’ll call it MISAFF for short) feels vital in a lot of ways. It may only look small in comparison with the bigger players, but over four days they offer plenty of premieres and screenings of festival favourites. We’ve curated a small preview of some films playing at MISAFF, which happens just outside of Toronto in Mississauga from August 6th to 9th. To find out more and buy tickets, please visit www.misaff.com.

Court

Earlier this year WTI writer Zach Shevich reviewed Court, saying that it’s “an impressively complex debut, particularly from a 28-year-old filmmaker,” and he’s right on the money. Chaitanya Tamhane’s film deals with a court case that should be thrown out due to its frivolousness, but within the Indian legal system it goes on endlessly. Tamhane’s debut is undeniably aimed at the heart of his own country’s failing systems, but there’s a universal appeal thanks to his precise direction and focus on the inefficiency of corrupt bureaucracy. Court premiered last year the Venice Film Festival in the Horizons section where it won Best Film, and since then it’s been racking up awards around the world. Anyone interested in attending tonight’s opening night gala should also know that director Chaitanya Tamhane will be attending the screening. [C.J.]

Timbuktu

Abderrahmane Sissako’s Timbuktu should be a film anyone into indie or arthouse knows about by now. Ever since its premiere at Cannes in 2014, it’s gone on to gross over $1 million in the US (a rarity for African cinema), sweep France’s César Awards, and even earn itself a nomination for Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars. Sissako’s film, which looks at the absurdity and horror of a town taken over by Islamic extremists, has clearly struck a nerve with audiences, and for that alone it needs to be seen. Back at Cannes, WTI writer Nik Grozdanovic reviewed Timbuktu, saying it has “more than a handful of moments when the vulnerability of human life is captured with deft precision.” Sissako has a keen eye for bringing out the humanity in his stories, but his gorgeous visuals makes Timbuktu the kind of film that demands to be seen on the big screen. [C.J.]

Monsoon

We won’t lie: we weren’t exactly too keen on Sturla Gunnarsson’s Monsoon. But regardless, audiences have been a big fan of Gunnarsson’s documentary on the massive yearly event that brings both life and death to India. It was chosen by TIFF as one of Canada’s Top 10 Films of 2014, and it wound up winning the People’s Choice Award for the best film out of the top ten as voted by audience members. And despite our criticisms, there’s one aspect of Monsoon everyone can agree on: it’s a visual treat. Gunnarsson shot his film with 4K digital cameras, and it captures the monsoon’s large scale powers in crisp detail. Anyone interested in learning more about monsoon season should definitely try to catch this one. [C.J.]

Umrika

Umrika (which is the closing night gala for the fest), translated into English as America, is the place where you can find “Hollywood,” “The White House,” and those “statues with lots of people,” as spoken with adamant enthusiasm by Ramakant (Suraj Sharma, The Life of Pi). However, Umrika itself is in much need of Sharma’s commanding presence and magnitude to avoid becoming an utterly obsequious film.

The hazy grain of the film’s visuals (shot on Super 16) is immediately engaging, capturing the affection of a rural village community which provides some pleasurable moments in the first act. As Udai (Prateik Babbar) leaves the village, his younger brother Ramakant (Sharma) watches while their mother (Smita Tambe) cries. The mother becomes the driving force for her two sons and their subsequent actions; they all have a desire to conquer the mystical and marvelous land of America, but it is Udai who takes the lead first. He eventually returns letters, stamped in pop culture images (look out for Arnie’s biceps), to provide a physical presence for his mother’s angst. Eventually, Ramakant finds out a revealing piece of information that will leave a lasting impact on his own family.

The film, set in the 70s and 80s, is stuffed with irony and funny cultural comparisons (“everything there is bigger… even the people”), but such laughable remarks get thrown in amidst a fundamentally serious story. As Ramakant comes of age, he finds himself deep in the hustle and bustle of Mumbai, and as exciting as it sounds the film also hits a wall, focusing on the plot capers of working-class Mumbai rather than Ramakant’s home village and the search for Udai. The film’s emotional core gets lost as a result, appearing only as glossy surface dramatics. The film itself never actually reaches America, but it does end on a simultaneously satisfying and troublesome note; it suggests that all could be well, but the plot dynamics may suffer in the process. [Charlie]

What else?

We’re a bit bummed that we couldn’t see a lot of what else MISAFF is offering, but we can’t help sharing what we’re looking forward to. We really want to see Afia Nathaniel’s Dukhtar, a drama about a mother protecting her daughter that looks very intense. And over in the documentary section we’re happy to have another chance to see Speed Sisters, a documentary about an all-female race car team in the Middle East that we missed at Hot Docs earlier this year. It had a lot of positive buzz at that fest, so it’s definitely worth checking out! To find out more about these films, and if you (hopefully) want to buy some tickets, visit www.misaff.com.

I decided to write this series right in the height of my final push in post-production for my first feature film, Almosting It. Throughout that process, I found myself scrambling to make deadlines in a myriad of different locations and situations. With regard to the prehistory of this film, I feel every location I have written in has a story behind it:

• The McDonalds in Potsdamer Platz during the Berlin International Film Festival: I wrote the short film that led me to this feature.
• The plane ride down to LA for my first meeting with my mentor: I wrote the synopsis for Almosting It.
• The lunchroom of the cafeteria I cashiered at before quitting to work on the film: I wrote the first draft of my script.
• The lobby of my first exhibiting theater during the first theatrical run of my career: I wrote this article.

Almosting It premiered just a couple weeks back to a nearly sold out crowd of 676 people. Two days later, we were in the premier art house of Idaho, making a real run at it. I’m still numb thinking about it. We sold out all five shows of our opening Saturday—then moved to a larger auditorium (from 44 seats to 197) and continued to turn good numbers. On Monday I was informed we were booked for a second week, and our gross earnings were higher than several of the larger studio films over at the cineplexes.

I have worked to make as many screenings as possible to host a small Q&A sessions between shows—which is why I currently find myself in the lobby of The Flicks Theatre. I was asked, “What has been my favorite part of this process?”

I have to say, this is it.

Presenting Your Film

Presenting your work—especially after 18 months of sweat, struggle, and self-doubt—can be both terrifying and exhilarating. Fortunately, the experience has been made easier by the fact that audiences seem to genuinely enjoy the film.

I made the decision months back to self-release the film first before festivals. I think it is a shame that so many films, after getting their supporting fans excited, disappear for a year to make a stab at the festival circuit, leaving their home base of fans behind. I wanted to get this film back to the people who helped create it as soon as I could—meaning I set a release date months prior to the film’s actual completion (the film was actually finalized and reassembled only a few days before our scheduled release).

There’s nothing like watching a film in a theater. Emotion is energy, and energy is contagious. Whether you are laughing, crying, or screaming, when others are around you to share that emotion, the energy is amplified tenfold. That is the theatrical experience. I know VOD/DVD release is profitable and inevitable, but I hope to keep the film running at this level for as long as possible.

I’ve referred to Almosting It as a dramatic comedy from the start. What has been fascinating is that—while both elements are present—depending on the mood of the audience, one genre plays out more than the other. There are certain jokes and moments that always play strong and others that pop more depending on the tone of the room.

It’s fascinating to witness, but it’s also fun. I have watched the film so many times through the various edits, revisions, sound mix sessions, and color grades that I truly thought I would never be able to enjoy watching the film again. I was dead wrong, and there are certain screenings I sit in on where—depending on that audience energy—I have just as much fun as the rest of the crowd watching for the first time.

Pre-Release or Festival Premiere?

Several people argue that a pre-release will exclude you from festival play. This is not entirely true, as there are several high-profile festivals that allow distributed films to play (Austin, New Orleans), and several festivals claiming “premiere status requirements” will still allow you to exhibit, just not compete.

But should that even matter? Was your film truly made to only be enjoyed by a select few who can brave the snow and staggering lines/prices of a Utah ski town? I think the general population loves a reason to see a movie, especially a hometown audience, so I took the chance of releasing it locally first.

Writing these articles has been a great way for me to reflect over the process that brought me here. It’s been pretty crazy, and the 30,000 words I have written total for this series seem like an inadequate summation of 18 months. During my post-screening Q&As, I find myself breaking it down even tighter, but again—these Q&As have been a super way for me to reflect on everything.

A question that never fails to be raised is: “What’s next?” or “Will I ever do this again?”

I cannot wait to do it all again. There is still a lot of road ahead for Almosting It as we chase a legitimate distribution deal—though, $21,687.36 on five screens is nothing to sneer at. (Kirsten Wiig’s drama Welcome to Me brought in $32,000 on twelve screens—just to give a comparison.)

There is nothing I want to do more than make films, and having gotten the first one out of the way, I look forward to slightly smoother sailing—as far as not having to worry about the virgin status holding me back. That was always one of the larger hurtles, which I realized during one of the Q&As: it’s tough getting people to take you seriously when you are new in this field.

What’s Next?

As for what’s next, I have a few ideas I am kicking round—and one in particular I am fairly set on. I’d like to have a script done by the end of the summer. If Almosting It reaches the elusive and prestigious realm of a profit break by then, I should be at a point where I can go into development.

Nerves will definitely be involved. As huge as the first one is to get out of the way, it is the second one that really decides your longevity and place in this track. Almosting It brought the spotlight to us, now we have to actually perform—and with people watching! I learned so much over the last 18 month about things I didn’t know I did not know. I am excited to put these into play. For me, going into number two feels like taking a test you were given a copy of the night before.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t anticipate it being any easier—just a little less messy. There has been a lot of help, and it’s very flattering to know who is there and wants to see you succeed. This is wonderful world to work in. Not to get too cheesy, but literally anything is possible with film. If you can imagine it, it can be done.

I’m not entirely sure why most folks are stopping in to read these articles—for advice, pure enjoyment, or camaraderie—regardless, I wanted to close with the advice I got before making this film:

You will never be ready. There will never be a perfect moment to move forward. You can sit forever waiting for that magical missing element that is holding you back. But you can’t let that happen. Just go for it, and know that—while it won’t be perfect—it will be the best you can do. Surround yourself with good people, and just move forward.

• Marketing, Distribution and Film Release
• Shooting Pick-Ups
• Post-Production and Editing
• Production
• Development and Pre-Production
• Script Writing Process
• Financing Legalities
• Casting Talent

The myth—or rather, the idea—of Robin Hood has resonated across the world since stories of him first emerged in the mid-17th century. His schtick is sublime in its simplicity: he robs from the rich, gives to the poor and has a lot of fun doing it. He’s a rabble-rouser, a deadly archer, a protector of justice and a smooth-talking ladies’ man. An all-around good dude.  His brand of clean-cut heroism has gone out of fashion in recent times, however; these days, stand-up heroes like Robin Hood are treated like a joke. It’s a crying shame.

1938’s terrific, jaunty The Adventures of Robin Hood, starring an improbably chipper Errol Flynn, is playing on July 4th as a part of TIFF’s “Dreaming in Technicolor” film showcase. It’s a treasure that all should see, though it’s the kind of lighthearted hero’s tale mainstream audiences have sadly lost an appetite for.

We’ve grown too cynical and in love with mayhem and revisionism to take seriously a man in green tights swinging on vines and letting out a big “A-HA!” as he pushes his fists into his hips and puffs out his chest. Romantic swashbuckling is difficult, I’m afraid, for the average 2015 moviegoer to take un-ironically. Ridley Scott‘s 2010 Robin Hood ran in the opposite direction of the Flynn version, painting a dreary picture of 13th-century England for Russel Crowe‘s “Robin Longstride” to brood around in because, these days, gloom is all the rage.

Our generation’s Robin Hood, arguably, is the Dark Knight himself. Batman is the perfect example of the kind of hero people crave today: psychologically damaged, shrouded in darkness, defined by tragedy and loss. No superhero, not even the bright and shiny Marvel ones, can contend with his superpower-less, black-on-black hipness. His look has evolved over the years, getting scarier and scarier with each reboot of the movie franchise, to the point where the latest version of the Bat, played by Ben Affleck in the upcoming Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, straight-up looks like evil incarnate. We’ve come a long way from Robin of Loxley and his funny little hat.

In The Adventures of Robin Hood, directed by Michael Curtiz (and, to a lesser extent, William Keighley), we see Flynn’s Robin stride into the malevolent Prince John’s massive banquet hall, plopping down a (very illegally) poached royal deer in front of the interim king. Surrounded by an army of armed men, Robin accuses John of treason and vows to avenge the missing King Richard and fight for the poor. What courage! What honor! For centuries, this was the epitome of heroism.

Batman treats evil-doers a bit differently, to put it mildly. He’s an intimidator who lurks in the shadows and strikes fear in his enemies from behind a mask, a symbol that hides his true identity (as a billionaire, another subversion of the Robin Hood myth). He’ll do anything to gain an advantage (short of killing, of course). In a classic comic book version of the Batman/Superman confrontation (found in Jeph Loeb’s Hush), Bruce Wayne defines his true nature. “If Clark wanted to,” he says internally as Superman pulls his punches, “he could squish me into the cement.” He suddenly smashes Superman in the face with a ring made of kryptonite. But Superman’s got an even bigger weakness than the glowing green stone, as Bruce explains. “Deep down, Clark’s essentially a good person. And deep down, I am not.”

Where’d all the good guys go? A remnant of Robin Hood’s youthful spirit does exist prominently in Batman lore. His famous sidekick, Robin, was clearly inspired by Robin Hood. In fact, “The Boy Wonder” was a direct homage to Errol Flynn. Robin is the last glimmer of innocence in Bruce Wayne’s world, a playful young ally designed to bring a bit of levity to the Batman comic book series.

The character’s gruesome death is a darkly poetic sign of the times, now more than ever.

Jason Todd, the second to take up the “Robin” identity, is brutally beaten with a crowbar in front of his own mother (who’s just sold him out), his medieval yellow cape and green boots soaking in a puddle of his own blood. Mother and son are restrained, a ticking time bomb plunked beside them. Jason throws himself onto the bomb to shield his mom, despite her betrayal, in a final act of heroism. With Robin’s bright light snuffed out, only darkness remains for the mourning “caped crusader.” Written by Jim Starlin, the story was called “A Death in the Family.”

It’s an apt parable for what’s happened, culturally, to exuberant, grinning movie heroes like Flynn’s Robin Hood. Jason Todd was murdered by The Joker, a demented cackler with a sick sense of humor who applauds and giggles at the sight of brutality and pain. Sound like anyone you know? If Robin represents Robin Hood’s chivalric valor, the Joker symbolizes modern audience’s regurgitation of such classical ideals. He’s more interested in Batman; they’re a reflection of one another, both messed-up social outliers with a penchant for violence. “I don’t wanna kill you,” Joker tells Batman in Christopher Nolan‘s The Dark Knight. “What would I do without you?”

As moviegoers, we owe it to ourselves to not let pure, lighthearted heroics fall into extinction at the cinema. The reason Zack Snyder‘s The Man of Steel sucked was that it wasn’t any goddamn fun. It was a de-saturated, over-produced drag obsessed with mining darkness out of a character who should inspire wonder and make kids cheer. Batman v Superman looks to offer more of the same, depressing superhero action.

Get excited about The Adventures of Robin Hood instead. It’s everything The Man of Steel isn’t: fun, full of laughter, bursting with life (in Glorious Technicolor) and punctuated by thrilling, plain-spoken action sequences. If we would just let go of our snarky aversion to unclouded optimism every once in a while, perhaps Robin could live once again.

July’s streaming picks are a well-rounded selection for those feeling patriotic, looking to celebrate marriage equality, or wanting to celebrate the birthday of the Governator (Arnold Schwarzenegger). Happy streaming!

What to Watch Next On Netflix July 2015

Independence Day Movies on Netflix

Every July, Americans come together, eat some grilled meats and set off controlled explosions all for the love of this great country. Independence Day is truly one of the great American holidays, and one of the few that hasn’t really lost its true meaning. With the ever-complicated geopolitical landscape and its own citizens divided on many issues, it is even more important to take some time to reflect on all the great things America stands for. There probably isn’t a better medium than film for capturing patriotism in all of its forms—from cathartic war films to thrilling sports films.

Rocky IV (1985)

Director: Sylvester Stallone
Starring: Sylvester Stallone, Talia Shire, Carl Weathers, Dolph Lundgren
Synopsis: The scrappy American boxer is faced with his biggest test in Soviet ultra-athlete Drago. One of the most brashly patriotic sports films, with no metaphoric blur between character and country. Can a man end the decade-long tensions between super-power countries with a jab and a montage? Emphatically, yes.

Rocky IV will be available to stream on Netflix July 1, 2015.

Team America: World Police (2004)

Director: Trey Parker
Starring: Trey Parker, Matt Stone, Kristen Miller
Synopsis: A group of elite counter-terrorism agents recruit a popular Broadway actor – the only man who can infiltrate Kim Jong Il’s South Korea and take him down. Yes, this animated puppet movie is highly satirical of American global politicking, but it’s hard to not get wrapped up in its over-the-top rhetoric and music, f*ck yeah.

Stream Team America: World Police on Netflix Here

Top Gun (1986)

Director: Tony Scott
Starring: Tom Cruise, Kelly McGillis, Val Kilmer, Anthony Edwards
Synopsis: Students in the U.S. Navy’s elite weapon school compete to be the best. It’s 1980s style and themes may not completely hold up today, but it is a glorious advertisement of the American military way.

Stream Top Gun on Netflix Here

Forrest Gump (1994)

Director: Robert Zemeckis
Starring: Tom Hanks, Sally Field, Robin Wright, Mykelti Williamson, Gary Sinise
Synopsis: See Forrest fight in the Vietnam War, play college football, start a small business, shake hands with Presidents, become a cause, and other wholly American pursuits. The sprawling epic spans decades and runs like a summary of American cultural history.

Stream Forrest Gump on Netflix Here

Marriage Equality Movies on Netflix

Appropriately timed, you probably heard about the Supreme Court’s decision to uphold gay marriage, giving marriage equality to all American citizens. It was a hard-fought win for the community, but not their first. The LGBTQ social movement has been active and visible since the 1980s, tackling issues related to public health, job discrimination, transgender rights, and more. This certainly won’t be the last fight for the LGBTQ community, but it is a great example of hope for an equal society.

How to Survive a Plague (2012)

Director: David France
Synopsis: A harrowing found-footage documentary of ACT UP and TAG (Treatment Action Group), whose hard work led to breakthroughs for AIDS research and containment. Using only archival footage, the film tells a completely captivating narrative of activism.

Stream How to Survive a Plague on Netflix Here

Bridegroom (2013)

Director: Linda Bloodworth-Thomason
Synopsis: Documentary about Shane Bitney Crone and Thomas Bridegroom, lovers intending to marry after California passed their same-sex marriage law—but a tragic event leads to sad circumstances. A stark reminder of why the equal marriage laws are vital and the shifting social landscape offers so much hope.

Stream Bridegroom on Netflix Here

Call Me Kuchu (2012)

Director: Katherine Fairfax Wright & Malika Zouhali-Worrall
Synopsis: Profile of David Kato, the first openly gay man and activist in Uganda, where a bill was introduced that would make homosexuality a crime punishable by death. A terrifying inside look at a heavily publicized struggle not for equality, but the right to be gay.

Stream Call Me Kuchu on Netflix Here

Weekend (2011)

Director: Andrew Haigh
Starring: Tom Cullen, Chris New
Synopsis: After a drunken hookup, two gay men spend the majority of a weekend together, where they talk about the many issues facing their community. Less exclusively about gay rights, but an incredibly normalizing romance. Haigh would go on to produce HBO’s Looking, about a group of gay men in San Francisco.

Stream Weekend on Netflix Here

Arnold Schwarzenegger Movies on Netflix

The month is capped off by the birthday of our beefiest politician slash Hollywood star, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Even if he isn’t American, his incredible career is the American Dream encapsulated—European immigrant comes to America barely able to speak the language and through hard work, determination, and huge biceps, he rises to places no one could have expected. And are there any films that stand more for America than his work?

Hercules in New York (1969)

Director: Arthur Allan Seidelman
Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Arnold Stang, Deborah Loomis
Synopsis: Arnold’s first film role as the Greek God sent to earth. This cult flick features the baby-faced star before he quite figured out his persona, or the English language.

Stream Hercules in New York on Netflix Here

Total Recall (1990)

Director: Paul Verhoeven
Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sharon Stone, Ronny Cox, Michael Ironside
Synopsis: Arnold as everyman Douglas Quaid who has virtual vacation memories of a time on Mars implanted into his head. Or is he the dangerous and wanted special agent Hauser?

Stream Total Recall on Netflix Here

The Running Man (1987)

Director: Paul Michael Glaser
Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Maria Conchita Alonso, Jesse Ventura, Richard Dawson
Synopsis: Arnold is a wrongly-convicted man who is chosen to participate in a cutting-edge reality television show where felons are hunted to the death. Prophetic to American television tastes decades later, it is a flashy and action-packed ride with cool characters and a satirical edge.

Stream The Running Man on Netflix Here

The Last Stand (2013)

Director: Kim Jee-woon
Starring: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Johnny Knoxville, Peter Stormare, Luis Guzmán
Synopsis: Arnold as small-town sheriff Ray Owens, the last stand between a violent drug cartel and the Mexican border. May not be a perfect English-language debut for Korean genre auteur Kim Jee-woon, but it is a fun full-time post-politician return for its star.

Stream The Last Stand on Netflix Here