José Padilha interview at The Telegraph

An interview I did with Brazilian director José Padilha, to coincide with the DVD release of his gritty, violent police thriller 'Elite Squad: The Enemy Within' (released December 26th), has gone up on The Daily Telegaph website. I mainly spoke to him about his plans for the upcoming 'RoboCop' remake, which sounds like it should be, at the very least, interesting. Read the interview here.

I'm pretty excited about this interview, from a personal point of view, because it's the first freelance thing I've written and then pitched to a newspaper subsequently. It's exciting because the story - having gone up on the site of a major paper - has been quoted elsewhere, meaning my work is also (kind of) up on NME and The Metro, which is quite fun!

'Arthur Christmas' review:

The second computer animated feature from beloved British stop motion specialists Aardman, 'Arthur Christmas' is a thoroughly enjoyable family movie which, in the tradition of festive films, sees an enthusiastic youngster try to save the holiday against all odds. Our Christmas-loving hero of the hour is the titular Arthur (voiced by James McAvoy) - the youngest son of the incumbent Santa (Jim Broadbent), himself the latest of a hereditary line of jolly, present-giving fat men dating back to the original Saint Nick.

Something of an overlooked, accident-prone outcast on the North Pole, Arthur customarily spends this time of year replying to children's letters in the shadow of his older brother Steve (Hugh Laurie): the brains behind the family business, groomed as their father's successor. But in Steve's increasingly soulless, mechanised version of Christmas - where presents are delivered via a spaceship manned by teams of high-tech elves - one child has been accidentally overlooked due to technical error. Arthur is horrified when told that Steve - who swears the evening has been a statistical success - won't be going back to deliver little Gwen's (Ramona Marquez) bicycle and takes it upon himself to ensure she wakes up to a gift from Santa, lest her fragile heart be broken.

This daring, covert mission involves pairing up with a former Santa - Arthur's cranky, old fashioned 136 year old grandfather (Bill Nighy) - to pilot a forgotten reindeer-powered sleigh and make the hazardous journey to the girl's Cornwall home before sunrise. But without the benefits of Sat Nav they end up rocketing across several continents facing danger and petty inconvenience along the way - evading everything from hungry African lions to British military fighter jets whilst careening between city streets and mountain ranges in set pieces of effective 3D spectacle.

Aside from the guileless, faultlessly good-natured Arthur, each member of the Christmas clan is written with a touching degree of subtly, with none overtly heroic or particularly villainous. The grandfather is the most fun, constantly coming out with opinions and anecdotes which are well observed, if exaggerated, versions of the sorts of (often offensive) things people of "the greatest generation" say. Meanwhile Broadbent gives his slightly rubbish Santa a touching air of vulnerability. The whole thing benefits from a cynicism free spirit of fun, with action scenes, earnest character development business and everything in between peppered with inspired visual gags, deftly written one-liners and delightfully daft concepts. The result is something that's surprisingly laugh out loud funny, as co-written by long-time Armando Iannucci collaborators Peter Baynham and director Sarah Smith.

'Arthur Christmas' is rated 'U' by the BBFC and is out now in the UK.

'Margaret' review:

When a completed film spends years gathering dust before a perfunctory release it's usually because the studio behind it is aware said film isn't any good. It's odd then that Kenneth Lonergan's 'Margaret', shot in 2006 and just released at the tail end of 2011, should be earning so many rave reviews from critics. Apparently its time in cinema purgatory was the result of a protracted legal clash between the writer-director and 20th Century Fox over the final cut, with Martin Scorsese and long-serving editor Thelma Schoonmaker eventually brought in to mediate between the two - producing a final cut which runs at two and a half hours. The result is one of the year's most emotionally affecting and thought-provoking dramas - even if its protagonist is comfortably one of the most infuriating screen creations of recent memory.

The drama exists principally in the "moral gymnasium" of Lisa Cohen, a high school student played by a fresh-faced Anna Paquin, who is the unwitting cause of a traffic accident which sees a woman (Allison Janney) killed by a speeding bus - the immediate aftermath of which is truly, utterly harrowing. Lonergan's sprawling follow-up to 2000's 'You Can Count On Me' is chiefly about taking responsibility for your actions - something Lisa spends about two hours and twenty minutes singularly failing to do, intruding on and causing trouble in several other people's lives in the process. Her mother (J. Smith-Cameron), a successful Broadway actress, bares the brunt of her contemptuous attitude and insensitivity most fully, though a mild-mannered English teacher (Matthew Broderick), a hunky "math" teacher (Matt Damon) and the friend's and family of the deceased also have to deal with her inexhaustible pouting, arguing and self-important drivel. And firmly in her cross-hairs is Mark Ruffalo as the bus driver who Lisa is determined to see punished for the accident in order to assuage her own guilt.

Lisa is a brilliantly written character. She's truly horrific, yet she isn't a caricature and Lonergan's treatment of her is infinitely humane. I even related to her a little: she's a perfectly observed example of youthful know-it-all-ness. She literally has an answer for everything, never listens to anybody and asserts half-formed, confused opinions about the world as if they are ironclad facts - often seeming foolish in the process (such as when she vents her frustration with an extremely helpful detective by irrelevantly chiding him about the history of racially motivated police brutality). She consistently chooses her friends with unfailing superficiality, being nasty to both the boy who earnestly likes her (John Gallagher, Jr.) and Broderick's affable teacher, whilst sucking up to the cool kid (Kieran Culkin) and Damon's square-jawed hunk. If that reads like a cliché, then it's one Lonergan survives because he writes all of these people equally nice, rather than creating any goodies and baddies. It's more important what Lisa projects onto these people, without consideration of their feelings, than who they actually are.

'Margaret' is a brilliantly conceived character study and never less than compelling as a look at life in the shadow of tragedy, even if it's theme rich and character packed to the point of distension (I haven't even mentioned the incongruity of Jean Reno as Colombian lothario Ramon). But conceived in the more immediate aftermath of 9/11, it's disquieting how relevant it remains to the political moment given its protracted post-production period. Set in New York, with heavy emphasis placed on the city, there are frequent heated exchanges about the rights and wrongs of American foreign policy between Lisa and a Syrian classmate. Here Lisa's refusal to at least share responsibility for the accident is presented as having moral equivalence to her nation's emotional, reactionary blindness towards the human cost of the "war on terror". The fact that this element of the film still registers (even a reference to a disliked "current President" survives the change in administrations) is a monument to how little has changed in the last half-decade.

'Margaret' is rated '15' by the BBFC and on a limited release in the UK now.

'We Have A Pope' review:

Nanni Moretti's new comedy opens on a grieving Vatican as throngs of Catholic mourners mass in the streets following the death of a pope. They are sombre but also excited because, inside the corridors of power, Cardinals from around the world have gathered to agree upon a new pontiff. After several inconclusive rounds of voting - tied between the bookmakers favourites - the assembled religious leaders turn to a surprise candidate: the humble, shell shocked Cardinal Melville (Michel Piccoli). Melville, succumbing to peer pressure, reluctantly assumes the mantle of pope, but before he can be introduced to the waiting world he suffers a massive anxiety attack, brought on by feelings of inadequacy, and runs away screaming. Desperate to find a quick solution to this crisis, the Vatican's press officer (Jerzy Stuhr) calls in the self-proclaimed world's best psychoanalyst (Moretti), an atheist.

'We Have A Pope' reads like a recipe for high concept comedy and possibly even a ballsy satire of the papacy. Yet those expecting a damning indictment of the institution will be disappointed. Moretti declines to make cracks at paedophile priests or the church's irresponsible position on contraception in Africa. However there is some implicit criticism of the church which comes in two flavours: the first of these is a recurring joke which sees Moretti mix the sacred with the mundane. Here the Cardinals are made to appear slightly ridiculous - if in an affectionate, gentle way - as they play volleyball in full regalia. Elsewhere they are made to behave like slightly naughty schoolchildren. They are not exactly portrayed reverently, though their religious conviction is never placed in doubt.

The second (and much more effective) way in which Moretti critiques the church is in the organisation's handling of Melville. This is effectively the story of a bewildered old man being bullied into spending his last few years sitting in a glass box being waved at. Forgoing a lot of easy laughs, Moretti treats Melville's sudden depressive episode with utmost compassion and, in the second half, tips the film towards drama rather than out-and-out farce. It's possible that a lot of the comedy is in delivery and doesn't carry over if (like me) you can't understand Italian, because Melville's scenes - as he goes AWOL and wanders around Rome - struck me as more sad than funny. Moretti's analyst character certainly is funny, but - beyond one initial (hilarious) scene as he's introduced - his story is quite separate from Pope Melville's belated odyssey of self-discovery.

'We Have A Pope' is a strange film that doesn't go where many will expect it to - or indeed want it to. It could be considered frustrating, toothless and too slight, and I can certainly see all of those criticisms in it. But if taken on its own terms I think it's quite a poignant and faultlessly humane look at how a frail, mentally ill person in such a position would struggle to find compassion or understanding amongst peers who deny the existence of depression - especially in one supposedly selected by God. In their one scene together, the analyst is not allowed to ask Melville any of the questions he might usually ask his patients. Discussions of childhood, repressed sexual desires, his mother and dreams are among those declared off limits by the pope's advisers, who insist the session takes place in the middle of a large room full of Cardinals. It is said you can feel all alone in a crowd of people. Moretti, almost without judgement, is asking us to imagine how it must feel to be pope.

'We Have A Pope' is out now in the UK, rated 'PG' by the BBFC.

'Las Acacias' review:

Pablo Giorgelli's little Argentine road movie 'Las Acacias' tells a simple story with minimal incident and even less dialogue. In it a long-distance lorry driver called Rubén (Germán de Silva) reluctantly drives a stranger, Jacinta (Hebe Duarte), and her baby girl all the way from Paraguay to Buenos Aires at the behest of his (unseen) boss. It's really just these two characters and an adorably smiley baby - probably the cutest on record - sitting in a lorry not talking to each other very much for 85 minutes. They make a couple of short stops, but otherwise the film is comprised of real-time snatches of this epic and awkward drive.

As with all road movies the journey is part metaphor, paralleling the development of the characters, though unlike most road movies there is little, if any, emphasis on landscapes. What we see of the overcast Argentine countryside is gleaned incidentally through the cabin window, with Giorgelli's camera more interested in - for want of a less pretentious turn of phrase - the landscape of the human face. The story takes a predictable arc and is far less compelling the talkier it becomes, as Rubén and Jacinta become more at ease in each other's company, but for the first half the emotional story is told with laudable economy, through glances and emphasis on small details.

For instance, it is notable that Rubén is uneasy when he finds he'll be driving a mother and child. Later Rubén swigs a bottle of water without any thought of offering it to his passengers, which gives us some indication of his reluctance to let them into his life. As he washes we see a large scar across his abdomen, emblematic of the emotional scars he carries - which we will come to understand as he opens up. His gestures become less misanthropic and he realises that his chosen life of isolation on the road is not necessarily where it's at. So it goes.

This reliance on visual metaphor might seem heavy-handed when read on the page but it's carried off with a pleasing degree of subtlety. This premise could probably have made a more compelling, not to mention tighter, twenty minute short without really losing anything other than the sense of time spent on the road. (As a case in point, the above trailer more or less contains all the key events in the narrative (and in order) in around 100 seconds.) Though in spite of this incredibly slight story, Giorgelli's film never really comes close to outstaying its welcome.

'Las Acacias' is out now in the UK and rated '12A' by the BBFC.

My Top 30 Films of 2011: 10-1

This is the concluding part of my 2011 top 30 films list. You can read the previous entries here: 30-21 and 20-11.

10) Pina, dir Wim Wenders, GER

What I said: "[Wenders'] use of space, the way he stages the action, is just incredible and wholly new, whilst the cinematography and camerawork is beautiful to behold. 'Pina' is a technical masterpiece and a bold piece of work all ways around. Watching it I was struck by how conceivably any film characterised by incredible blocking and interesting use of space would not only work in [3D] but would in fact be enhanced by it... 'Pina' proves there is a place for 3D in the arthouse and in the hands of auteurs."



3D adds depth, obviously, but is that useful and if so how? Its advocates often compare stereoscopy to the additions of sound and colour, yet it seems clearer to us what those advancements have enabled filmmakers to convey from a dramatic or artistic standpoint. A Marx Brothers comedy would simply not work if we couldn't hear Groucho's rapid-fire one-liners, whilst 'The Wizard of Oz' would probably not dazzle us so much if it remained in black and white after Dorothy set foot in the fantasy realm of the title. But, by comparison, what does 3D offer and what do we stand to lose without it? How can the addition of depth be used beyond the initial spectacle, in order to assist a director in telling a particular type of story or giving a very specific experience?

This year 3D has been used by some heavyweight talents, whose movies are perhaps more familiar to arthouse patrons than mass audiences. Werner Herzog used the technique to give us a rare glimpse inside the Chauvet caves in 'Cave of Forgotten Dreams', whilst Martin Scorsese had a lot of fun with its possibilities making 'Hugo' (more on that below). But it's really Wim Wenders who has provided the most compelling evidence that 3D can undeniably add something to a cinema experience that you'd miss greatly if it were taken away. I'd watch most other 3D movies in 2D with minimal complaint, but to me it seems central to what made Wenders' 'Pina' work.

A quasi-documentary, the film is a tribute to the late experimental dance artist Pina Bausch, bringing together a series of dance sequences as performed by her troupe. These expressionistic pieces range from harrowing to comical to downright bizarre and are separated by passionate monologues delivered by those who knew her, talking about Bausch's character and attitude to art. The 3D allows us to appreciate the dances more fully than we might otherwise, giving a proper sense of how the performers negotiate space. Wenders shoots almost every scene from a slightly elevated angle that emphasises the depth of each frame and gives us the best possible view of Bausch's inimitable choreography.

9) The Skin I Live In, dir Pedro Almodóvar, SPA

What I said: "When reviewing so-called "World Cinema" you often encounter brilliant films that you know stand next to no chance of reaching a wide audience. For most 'Of Gods and Men' would be far too austere and ponderous, whilst even 'The Tree of Life' was far too esoteric for the crowds that flocked to see "that Brad Pitt movie". Yet 'The Skin I Live In' has such tremendous, heartening potential for cross-over appeal, thanks to its tight, well-paced and surprise-filled story. It's never less than engaging for a single frame and, with its ruminations on identity and moral complexity (to put it lightly), must also rank among the year's most intelligent and thought-provoking films."



It's a slightly tawdry premise in keeping with the bulk of director Pedro Almodóvar's filmography, handled with the same mix of black humour, cheerful amorality and brightly lit, intensely colourful cinematography. In 'The Skin I Live In' a mysterious prisoner (Elena Anaya) is kept locked up within the mansion of a mad scientist (Antonio Banderas). He's a world class plastic surgeon and it becomes clear that this beautiful woman has undergone extensive, experimental surgery transforming her unrecognisably from whoever she once was. But who is she?

Seldom does a plot twist have this much impact on me, but 'The Skin I Live In' kept me guessing all the way through and, when the big reveal is made, left me gasping. Almodóvar very cleverly misdirects the viewer, making them draw conclusions throughout which, with each passing scene, make events seem more outrageous and Banderas' character seem ever more psychotic. But beyond this guessing game the film is surprisingly profound as an exploration of identity. To what extent are we defined by what we look like and how people treat us? Are we much more than the skin we inhabit?

8) Rise of the Planet of the Apes, dir Rupert Wyatt, USA

What I said: "'Rise' is a dramatic story first and an action film second and this all comes courtesy of [Andy] Serkis and WETA. It is a combination of a skilled character actor and tremendous animators that creates such a compelling and credible character in Caesar. A chimp adopted by James Franco's scientist after his mother is killed in the lab, he is the focus of the entire film and we follow him from newborn to energetic teenager, before he is brutalised and locked away. Caesar then (perhaps reluctantly) takes up the mantle of revolutionary leader to free apes from their human oppressors, grappling with moral and existential concerns along the way. What nuance the film has is in this journey, as key moments include subtle looks in the ape's eyes as we see his worldview change wordlessly."



The human characters - who include James Franco and Freida Pinto - might be a little bland, but 'Rise of the Planet of the Apes' is all about the titular chimps as they get smart and begin a revolution which will (eventually) lead to the crazy, upside down world of the original 60s movie. As nominal head of the ape revolution, Caesar is the focus of the story - as played by Andy Serkis in a masterpiece of motion capture performance - and we see events through his eyes, coming to empathise with the apes rather than our own kind. But it's more than just an animal welfare story, with the apes' rise emblematic of how a mistreated underclass may act if pushed too far. That the press screening I attended coincided with the London riots was lost on no one.

I think a large part of my loving it also came from the film's use of the city of San Francisco, where I had been only weeks before the screening. Hitherto unknown director Rupert Wyatt shoots the city in a way which is entirely consistent with the real layout and - although the climactic (magnificently staged) battle takes place on the Golden Gate Bridge - he doesn't overdose on landmarks. I was also really amazed by how credible Wyatt's movie is able to make the entire 'Apes' premise. How is it possible for chimps to organise the overthrow of mankind, with all our guns and helicopters? This is how.

As the marvellously dystopian credits rolled, my cheering for the apes gave way to the realisation that it would soon be curtains for mankind. Proof if it were needed that we will basically root for anything if asked to by a filmmaker.

7) Hugo, dir Martin Scorsese, USA

What I said: "'Hugo' is not the most exciting, consistent or perfectly structured children's film you'll ever see. In fact it often seems like a slick piece of educational programming rather than a fun family movie - with the slapstick chases around the station the least effective sequences. It's almost as if Scorsese has engineered a self-indulgent piece of fan fiction as a clandestine way to educate children about the art form he loves and give some of his favourite film clips a fresh airing for a new audience. But as a fellow lover of cinema I find this entirely admirable. It's heartening to see such an unabashed celebration of art."



It's perhaps not an entirely successful family film, seeing as how every person I've spoken to saw it with only half a dozen middle aged men for company, but 'Hugo' made me smile with its brazen, unapologetic love for cinema. It's less a children's adventure story than an excuse for Martin Scorsese to show us all his favourite silent movie clips and even stage an overdue lifetime's achievement evening for cinema's first magician Georges Méliès. Though it hardly matters when the result is this joyful and affirmative about the importance of art - as well as the preservation, history and criticism of that art.

I worry that it's ended up only preaching to the converted, though I fancy a lot of kids would find themselves inspired by Martin Scorsese's beautiful cinema history lesson, even if just as many were bored to tears. And whilst not as experimental or accomplished as that in 'Pina', the use of 3D here is another powerful statement of intent from a respected pro. Scorsese may be approaching 70 but he's clearly still every bit as excited about the future and the possibilities of his medium as anyone.

6) Hanna, dir Joe Wright, GER/UK/USA

What I said: "The first time we hear anything of the intricate, energetic Chemical Brothers score is when Hanna makes a conscious decision to leave the safety of life with he father and accept her deadly mission. The music makes her anxiety and excitement palpable, and every time we hear it subsequently – such as when she is escaping from a military facility in a spectacularly choreographed light show – it forms part of a hyper-stylised representation of Hanna’s psyche. When soldiers surround her log cabin near the start of the film, the score stands for the nervous anticipation of first contact with people other than her father. In this way 'Hanna' is an example of proper cinema which, rather than being a slave to dialogue, tells its story through the harmonious marriage of sound and image – and with magnificent economy."



An exuberant, hi-octane modern fairytale, 'Hanna' is a coming of age story about one young woman whose years in near isolation are ended suddenly, opening up a new world of senses, sounds and experiences. The titular teen assassin (Saoirse Ronan) spans Europe, running for her life to a breathless Chemical Brothers score, chased by a wicked witch (Cate Blanchett's obsessive CIA operative) and her campy German goons (led by Tom Hollander). Director Joe Wright tells a very simple story with singular vision and confidence, with sound and image merging together in a way that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I liked it the first time I saw it, especially because of its immensely capable if socially challenged heroine, but only really started loving it on repeat viewing where it all started to make much more sense. It's the sort of film I find literally mesmerising, in that I'd be compelled to continue watching it if I saw a single scene.

5) Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, dir Tomas Alfredson, UK/FRA

What I said: "This is not a glossy, establishment picture of Britain we're being sold. It's a world very alien from that James Bond inhabits, as our spies juggle with mundane concerns and petty office politics as well as the very real risk of death at the hands of enemy agents. It's a film where our heroes spend most of the movie secretly investigating their friends and, in effect, battling their own government whilst (ironically) trying to catch out one charged with doing the same. Seldom have the words "we're not so very different you and I" seemed less like hollow cliche as they do here, as [protagonist George] Smiley - not an idealist or ardent anti-communist by any standard - ponders on the moral equivalence of it all."



The source of more violent disagreements than any other on this year's entire top 30 list, Tomas Alfredson's follow-up to 'Let the Right One In' is not to everybody's taste. It's cold, slow, complicated and packs little action. There isn't much to be gained here by trying to guess who the Soviet spy is either, with little effort made to plant seeds, and I don't think that's the intention anyway: the reveal is supposed to be anti-climactic and disappointing (a fact which is clear in the novel). For a film which, on the face of it, promises to be a Cold War thriller, it isn't exactly thrilling. It's in many ways the anti-Bond, where spies live quiet, unfulfilled lives and never get the girl. Yet as a study of isolation and faded idealism it can't be beat.

I enjoyed Afredson's adaptation so much that I read John le Carré's original novel (which I also enjoyed greatly) straight afterwards and discovered, to my delight, that the film version still holds up incredibly well. The novel is, of course, much bigger: with more detail, more incident and a greater number of characters. But viewing the film subsequently I don't think there's anything important missing, as Peter Straughan's screenplay combines with Alfredson's eye for the smallest detail to ensure everything is there, even if it's only captured in a glance or a brief close-up. 'Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy' is a film that rewards those who watch films with both eyes open and their brain switched on. It desires to be read, studied and actively engaged with - not merely because of the labyrinthine plotting, but because Alfredson shows all and tells almost nothing.

It needn't be said that Gary Oldman gives a performance of understated brilliance as protagonist George Smiley (a man of more advanced years than his own), whilst everyone else, from Colin Firth to Mark Strong, is also terrifically cast and linger in the memory even with minimal screen time. Especially Tom Hardy as cocky maverick Ricki Tarr and Benedict Cumberbatch as Peter Guillam, here re-conceived as a closet homosexual.

4) Captain America: The First Avenger, dir Joe Johnston, USA

What I said: "The best thing about Johnston’s Captain America is that it’s completely earnest... Chris Evans’ Steve Rogers is played almost completely straight. Other characters make jokes about his shrimpy pre-experiment figure, but Steve himself is on the level. When asked why he wants to kill Nazis he delivers what is, for me, the film’s key line of dialogue: “I don’t want to kill anybody. I just don’t like bullies.” Laugh if you want but that’s a glorious sentiment at a time when cold-hearted revenge movies are at a premium. It also serves to ensure that Steve’s wish to go to the front isn’t because he is some kind of wide-eyed boy adventurer who never read any Wilfred Owen... He isn’t an alpha-male douchebag, he’s a little guy motivated by a desire to protect the weak from the strong. His motivations are pretty much that simple and it makes for a likable, surprisingly compelling character, with Evans a thoroughly engaging presence from beginning to end."



My most controversial choice here, by some distance, 'Captain America: The First Avenger' is not a film I suspect will register on the best film lists of even the most blockbuster-friendly critics. But it's no fluke that I've put it here. I've seen it four times since release at the time of writing, and I've enjoyed it just as much on each occasion. In fact the last time I saw it I was moved to tears (I honestly was) by its simple, honest charm and unimpeachable good nature.

You see, as someone who was bullied and carries a certain amount of insecurity and anxiety with him as a result, a hero like Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) means a great deal. He's a man defined by weakness of body and faltering health; a man whose every day has been lived as the butt of every punchline. Yet he's kind and compassionate to a fault in spite of it all. This is his greatest strength: he is basically a nice guy. Living in 40s New York, Steve believes in everything America represented and without question. He believes in the idea of America regardless of the reality and this is something Joe Johnston's comic book adaptation allows this unambiguous hero to do without sniggering and covering its ass with irony.

It's completely earnest and totally lacking in cynicism. Which is - beyond being admirable - disarmingly brave in an age where ironic distance is a knee-jerk response for so many. When Rogers is made a beefcake super soldier, and assumes the mantle of Captain America, we don't hate this newly muscle-bound Adonis because he remains at heart the same weedy kid with wide-eyes and good intentions, not intent on killing enemies but solely set on protecting the weak against the strong.

But beyond the fact it clearly touched me on a personal level, it also made me smile - almost more than anything else this year. Alan Silvestri's triumphant score accompanies daringly stylised visuals from Johnston, reminiscent of his 90s flop 'The Rocketeer' and with a definite Steven Spielberg's 'Amazing Stories' vibe. There is even a song, with lyrics by Disney veteran Alan Menkin, sung by chorus girls during a sparkly USO show (my favourite section of the film). In 2D the special effects look somehow much less impressive - and the ending is more about setting up next year's 'The Avengers' than closing Johnston's movie - but I could care less. I just plain love this movie.

3) Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai, dir Takashi Miike, JAP

What I said: "With '13 Assassins' Miike playfully mocked Japanese tradition and criticised the country's historic cultural values. He questioned why honour and death are so often linked and had his heroes kick dirt in their enemies faces - fighting for survival rather than as part of some slickly choreographed pageant. Here these criticisms are foregrounded. Social class, poverty and a culture of obligation are targets, as well as the wisdom of bushido. And just as the child-murdering, woman-deforming lord in '13 Assassins' represented all that's contradictory about a society which saw swordplay as equivalent to penmanship and poetry - outwardly representing all that was considered beautiful - in 'Hara-Kiri' such vanity is attacked again."



Takashi Miike is fast becoming one of my favourite active filmmakers, having produced two masterful samurai epics (probably the greatest of all genres) in as many years. I find it hard to choose between this and '13 Assassins' (high up on last year's list) but at the moment I'm leaning towards regarding 'Hara-Kiri: Death of a Samurai' as the superior film - even if it's far less exciting in terms of visceral bloody action.

What I really like about 'Hara-Kiri' is that it takes Miike's subversion of tradition and satire of violence to new levels as he abandons his usual fun, anarchic sensibility to make a heartfelt and passionate period melodrama. In this deeply humanist film, Miike contrasts real honour and courage with the pretence of honour, found in ritualised (dehumanising) behaviour. I don't want to repeat myself, so I'll just put a link to my review here - if you're interested in how he subverts feudal Japanese values and why I loved it so much.

The film is also notable in that it's the first straight drama I've seen designed for 3D (in fact it's the first 3D film in history to play in competition in Cannes) and it works very well. It seems entirely appropriate that a film involving the elaborate and precise staging of a ritual should wish to fully exploit depth and create a sense of space, though this also has a dramatic effect, distancing our hero from those who sit in judgement and occupy more lofty positions in society.

2) A Separation, dir Asghar Farhadi, IRN

What I said: "[A Separation] is a tightly made ensemble piece that is as enthralling as it is tear-inducing. It is quite simply the best film I have seen so far this year and the first film to really knock me for six at [this year's Berlin Film Festival]. A human story of great social relevance as well as unmatched depth of feeling. Sincere, passionate and intelligent."



I feel as though I've been going on about this one all year - since even before it had a localised English title and I was still calling it 'Nader and Simin: A Separation' - following its triumph in Berlin. It was, without doubt, the best film I saw at that festival, though that's taking nothing away from the competition because 'A Separation' is a film of singular greatness. It tells a morally complex story populated by well-rounded, fully-formed characters. It would be possible to pick any character and side with them fully in this feud between two families (divided by class and religion) who go to a "family court" in Tehran to solve a highly complex dispute.

Director Asghar Farhadi reserves judgement on proceedings almost entirely, allowing his camera to act as an impartial observer and in doing so gives us a very humane, apolitical account of life in his country. It isn't as stylishly shot as many of the other films on this list, though it's certainly handsomely made, but in this case the content more than justifies the form (making it pretty much the opposite of 'Drive').

1) Melancholia, dir Lars Von Trier, DEN

What I said: "Von Trier has long been able to dazzle critics with his technique and 'Melancholia' is an immensely beautiful film, comprised of haunting and truly spectacular images from start to finish. Taken at face value the impending apocalypse plot is also dramatic and terrifying. But more significantly, what we have here is his most candid and revealing film. It's thought-provoking, personal, earnest and far less oblique than some of his previous work."



A highly personal choice, as I hope you'll appreciate from my review (and my evangelical, hyper-passionate podcast on the subject), 'Melancholia' has divided critics this year but I was among those deeply moved and inspired by it. Having struggled with depression myself over the years I find Kirtsen Dunst's star turn here as deeply affecting as Von Trier's stunningly realised story, which works in its own right as intriguing doomsday sci-fi. Here the imminent destruction of the planet by another heavenly body is a potent metaphor for the suffocating, world-ending effects of the illness.

But forgetting my personal attachment to the themes, 'Melancholia' is also a beautiful experience full of droll satire and deftly-observed social observations. The art design and special effects are jaw-droppingly gorgeous, whilst there isn't a bad performance among the terrific cast. I can't think of a more perfect film this year. It beats out long-time frontrunner 'A Separation' by virtue of Von Trier's virtuosity and because of the deep, personal connection I feel to every minute I spent locked in this world.

'Melancholia', for me anyway, perfectly captures what it feels like to be depressed and, as a result, I can't imagine a film less depressing or more life-affirming. Often knowing that someone else is going through a similar thing can be helpful and there is no greater thrill than seeing my own scattered thoughts and feelings distilled in this way, far more competently conveyed than I could hope to do in words. He might have pissed a lot of people off with his daft comments at Cannes earlier this year, but Lars Von Trier has helped me a great deal and I will be forever thankful.

'Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows' review:

Since surpassed in the imagination of the British public by a (by all accounts) brilliant BBC TV series, Guy Ritchie's 'Sherlock Holmes' was something of a surprise box office smash back in 2009, despite coming out in the shadow of James Cameron's world-conquering 'Avatar'. The script was alright, Ritchie's direction mercifully restrained and the action marginally above average, so I suspect the chief reason for its success was the appeal of charismatic "women love him, men want to be him" leading man Robert Downey Jr as a scruffy, debauched version of literature's most celebrated detective. His on-screen chemistry with Jude Law's Dr. Watson certainly helped matters and the material was elevated substantially whenever they appeared together, becoming damned funny. The film took over $500 million worldwide and revived Ritchie's flagging career in the process. A sequel was inevitable.

Two years later that sequel has arrived in the form of 'Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows'. It's basically the same film again with a bigger budget, more action, less restrained direction from Ritchie (whose handling of action is cumbersome and over-reliant on slow-mo) and with Rachel McAdams traded in for Sweden's Noomi Rapace (of 'The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo' fame) as a stock fiery gypsy. Stephen Fry is an amusing if underused addition as Holmes' brother Mycroft, whilst 'Mad Men' actor Jared Harris is terrific as long-term adversary Professor Moriarty - the detective's intellectual equal and evil opposite. But all the superficial changes and cast additions are ultimately irrelevant. What matters is that Downey Jr and Law are together again, playing the characters as barely repressed homosexual lovers.



If in the first film the duo's status as quarreling lovers was arguably just a gag: a riff on the incongruity of two ostensibly straight men having "domestic" arguments. In the sequel this subtext is much more pronounced, being felt in the plot as, for instance, one catalytic event sees Holmes, in drag, preventing a newlywed Watson's honeymoon. McAdams reprises her love interest role at the beginning but, tellingly, she is removed from the equation before the credits.

Rapace is nominally her replacement, yet there is never even the pretense of a romance this time round. Holmes even cuts short a dance with her in favour of his handsomely moustached friend. Holmes, who is vocally opposed to Watson getting married, is even openly pleased when he is forced to delay the consummation of Watson's marriage, announcing that their own "relationship" is not over. "Relationship?" queries Watson. "Partnership", says Holmes as though to correct himself - though we know the best mind of his generation never misspeaks.

This conflicted, unspoken love is deeply embedded in Holmes' character arc and the resolution of the story. He only bothers defeat Moriarty because he refuses to leave Watson alone and it is only through Holmes exiting the picture that Watson might be able to go along with married life. The filmmakers of course will tell you this love is Platonic, but through their sly delivery and knowing glances Law and Downey Jr infuse this otherwise rote action flick with a delicious hint of sexual ambiguity. The implicit romance between these male leads is what gives the film its slightly subversive energy, allows the madcap bits to work and provides the emotional bits some semblance of weight.

'Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows' is out now and rated '12A' by the BBFC.