My ranking of the 2020 Best Picture Nominees

9. Joker

Comic book films are often accused of being ‘dumb fun’. Joker avoids that risk by jettisoning the fun and cranking up the dumbness. The core problem with it was skewered years ago by The Lego Movie, which had its version of the Caped Crusader performing a heavy metal “Untitled Self Portrait”. This song begins with Batman very solemnly declaring “Yes, this is real music. Dark, brooding. Important, ground breaking” and its chorus line is just him yelling “DARKNESS!”

Joker takes this gormless equation of bleakness with profundity as its credo. Then pursues it with wearying determination. The result is a one note parade of suffering and sadism devoid of depth, wit or intelligence. That writer/director Todd Phillips clearly believes he’s preaching empathy for those suffering with mental illness, whilst perpetuating nearly every negative stereotype about them suggests a staggering lack of insight on his part.

Joker is ultimately as unpleasant, narcissistic and miserable as its protagonist. It should be a shoo-in for the Razzies not a contender for the Oscars.

8. Irishman

The key thing you need to know about the Irishman is that it’s 3hr 30 mins long. That’s almost an hour longer than any of the other nominees. That runtime is a monument to self-defeating self-indulgence on Martin Scorsese’s part.

The ambling storytelling it arises from undercuts any way this film might work. It is much too slow to possibly be meant to be an effective thriller. Yet if the idea is that it is instead a character drama, why does are the audience subjected to an encyclopaedic recounting of the interplay between the mob and the truckers union in 60s/70s America? This could be a study of the hollowing effect of violence on its perpetrators, but that thread is picked up so sporadically and haphazardly that it never pulled me along. But hey at least I now know who the accountant who oversaw the Teamster’s pension fund was, so that’s some repayment for the investment of 210 mins!

Before leaving this film, can we talk about the extensive use of digital de-ageing. What exactly is its point in a film like this? Would the Godfather trilogy have been improved if the the young Vito Corleone had been played by a digitally de-aged Marlon Brando rather than Robert De Niro? Did some section of the audience for the Two Popes find it impossible to imagine that both Jonathan Pryce and a younger actor who looks a bit like him were playing Pope Francis at different stages of his life? It doesn’t even work that well. It just about holds up when the actors are reasonably static, but they still move like guys in their seventies and in one fight scene it makes suspending disbelief completely impossible.

7. Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood

If the key to making a good film was assaulting the audience with a relentless stream of 60s pop culture references then this would be a masterpiece. As it’s not, it is insufferable.

It’s also a mess. Less of a coherent film than a scrapbook of ‘things that make Quentin Tarantino feel nostalgic’ haphazardly bolted together. That said some of the individual segments are quite entertaining, so for me it just pips the Irishman.

6. Le Mans ’66 (AKA Ford v Ferrari)

At this point, we cross the line between good and bad films. Not good enough to merit a nomination mind you. However, I’ve already done a full blog post on why this is a competent and diverting but ultimately uninspired film, so I will avoid repeating myself.

5. Jojo Rabbit

Making a broad comedy about two young people (one German and one Jewish) struggling to survive the final and most violent spasms of the Third Reich is such an implausible endeavour that Jojo Rabbit arguably deserves a nomination just for pulling it off.

Farce is a counterintuitive medium through which to examine a period of history marked by such brutality. However, it provides a way to focus in on the madness which arises at the nexus of totalitarianism and total war.

That said blending comedy, tragedy, history, polemic and a coming of age story is not an easy feat. And whilst Taika Waititi mostly pulls it off, there are also a fair number of moments where Jojo Rabbit misfires, especially when its weirdness overwhelms it, hence why it is not higher up this list.

4. Marriage Story

This is probably the nominee I have the least to say about. It is an impeccable piece of filmmaking, so there are no flaws for me to lay into. However, it is also not as bracingly original as some of the other nominees. It absolutely deserves to be nominated but probably not to win.

3. 1917

It is obviously impossible to fully evoke on screen, what it must be like for soldiers to contend with the constant fear of death on the battlefield. However, in this film, Sam Mendes probably gets as close as one possibly can. In the process he creates perhaps the most intense two hours of film ever. Shooting the whole film as if in a single shot might sound like a gimmick – and in many films might be – but in 1917 it serves to drill us ever deeper into the awful situations the protagonists face.

I’d give a particular shout out to the production design, which not only always looks totally convincing but conveys the oscillating mix of filth, desolation and horror the soldiers of WWI had to contend with.

This seems to be the bookmaker’s favourite to win, which would be a choice I’d respect. You might then ask why I have not put it higher. Well, for all it overwhelmed me in the moment, its impact lingered with me less than the two films at the top of this list. But that is to praise them, not to depreciate 1917 which is a nigh on perfect film.

2. Little Women

Greta Gerwig’s filmmaking is a bit of a mystery to me. I was utterly charmed by Ladybird two years ago and this reduced me to tears several times. However, I cannot explain why. I don’t really understand the craft she is deploying to so utterly draw me into films in genres that usually don’t resonate with me.

A particularly commendable element of Little Women is how lightly it wears its depth. The question is posed in the film itself of whether chronicling mere ‘domestic drama’ can be a worthy artistic endeavour. It also answers it, not only creating compelling relationships between characters, but also examines the role of women and the impact of war on children, whilst also offering a meta-commentary on the process of storytelling. But it doesn’t feel the need to weigh down its storytelling by telegraphing its importance or worthiness. It is content to just be those things.

1. Parasite

Parasite has the uncanny ability to succeed at what every other nominee is attempting:

  • There are moments of black humour funnier than anything in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood
  • It satirises social inequalities with the kind of wit and nuance Joker so lacked.
  • It creates families you believe in as much as those in Marriage Story and Little Women.
  • There is a scene where characters have to sneak out of a house, which is as tense as soldiers crossing no-man’s land in 1917.
  • As you might have gathered from the points above it blends genres like Jojo, working as a black comedy, a thriller, a family drama and a social commentary.

It is one of those marvellous films which not only works at multiple levels but gets them all working in perfect harmony. It is also a masterpiece of execution: The rhythm of every scene is perfect, any of the central cast would have deserved acting nominations and the writing is a marvel of economy.

I urge you all to see it. Not least because I want as many people as possible I can discuss it with!

Could the Academy really not find 10 films that were better than Le Mans ’66?

I have not got to the cinema as much this year as I have in previous years. So, I have not seen most of the nominees or potential nominees for this years Oscars, so will be staying out of arguments about whether Joker’s nominations are ‘a joke, if Greta Gerwig was snubbed in the Best Director category or if the whole thing is just too pale, male and stale.

Nonetheless, I do want to gripe about one anomalous inclusion. Why on earth is Le Mans ‘66 (or if you are in the States Ford v Ferrari) in the running for Best Picture?

It is not that I think it’s a bad film. I actually rather liked it. Had I done a top ten films of 2019, it would have been one of them. However, that reflects the fact I have not seen many more than ten films. I am incredulous that the Academy, whose membership must between them have seen thousands of eligible films to pick it as one of its ten nominees for Best Picture.

The film tells the real-life story of how in a few months, the Ford motor company went from a standing start to having a racing team able to break Ferrari’s hegemony over the sport. And – to reiterate – it does this well. It has a strong cast headed by Matt Damon and Christian Bale, who director James Mangold gets good performances out of. He also delivers some genuinely exciting race sequences, aided by solid work from the films VFX and sound teams, who fully earn their nominations in technical categories.

And yet, it is hard to see, how it is a special enough film to truly merit Best Picture nomination. A wrongheaded narrative has developed in some corners of the internet that its financial and critical success represents a blow against formulaic blockbusters. Granted, there are no superheroes in it and its not part of a franchise. However, that just means it is a blockbuster made with a somewhat out of fashion formula. It is a by-the-book sports movie, saturated with the clichés of that genre and reliant on its stock characters. It does not subvert, reassemble or play with those elements, the way Knives Out does with the components of a murder mystery. It is hardly original and honestly feels like it could have been made in 1989 rather than 2019.

It would be cheap of me to belabour this point by noting that Le Mans ‘66 has essentially the same story as Cool Runnings. Nonetheless, it does undeniably feature a team from the New World making an unexpected entrance into a high-profile race, where under the guidance of a former top-flight racer forced to stop competing prematurely, they achieve a moral victory, which earns them the respect of snooty European rivals who initially scorned them.

Granted, inventiveness is not necessarily essential quality in films that deserve to be nominated. I would argue Spotlight earned its win in 2016, not by upending the conventions of films about reporters, but by producing a superlative example of one.

However, Le Mans ’66 is not in that category either. For all the things it gets right, there are a number of reasons it falls well short of master crafts status:

  • Precisely because the story almost always does exactly what you expect it to, it is not as exciting as it could be. Which is a real drawback because being exciting is the real test of a racing film.
  • The one real twist it does deliver, is taken from the actual events of the 1966 race at Le Mans, so if you know that history yo will not have had even that solitary surprise.
  • The first half drags.
  • Chunks of it are quite corny and sentimental. For example, Bale’s character’s interactions with his son.
  • While the cast are good and well used, I’d defy anyone to say they are delivering anything approaching career-best performances
  • Its attempt to sell us on the idea there is something almost spiritual about racing are thin and come across as silly rather than profound.
  • Even if you buy that, then it creates a contradiction at the heart of the film. The Ford team is presented as a tool of the marketing department of a large and unappealing conglomerate, who sees them as a gimmick to sell cars. By contrast, Ferrari are shown as motoring purists, who treat racing as an art form. Therefore, if we accept the supposed philosophy of the film, shouldn’t we be rooting for Ferrari?
  • It foreshadows the tragic elements of its story in the more ebullient sections. However, it doesn’t really integrate them into an arc, which is satisfying even in terms of character development or tone. All that seems to connect the death of Ken Miles (Christian Bale) with his moral victory at Le Mans is the fact that they both involve driving fast. As a result, it comes across not as the emotional culmination of the film, but as a discordantly dark note tacked onto the end of what is mostly a quite breezy film.

These limitations are hardly inherent to the sports or racing genre. Compare Le Man ’66 with Ron Howards’ Rush. It not only has more visually and sonically spectacular racing scenes, but spreads them more evenly throughout the film, creating a better pace. It also counterpoises moments of triumph and tragedy, so that they build on each other, and create an emotionally compelling journey for the characters, leading up to a more poignant ending. Naturally, in its wisdom, the Academy not only did not nominate Rush for best picture, they did not nominate it for anything at all.

That is just one reason that the recognition Le Mans ’66 has received today feels strange. Are the Academy really telling us it deserved that nomination more than the deliciously devious Knives Out, the heart-breaking Farewell, or the genuinely profound Two Popes? What special qualities are they claiming elevate it above 14 of 15 films nominated in the best documentary, animated feature and foreign language categories which will not get to compete for Best Picture? By nominating a film, which includes a scene where a motor exec directly advocates pandering to baby boomers, is the Academy attempting to satirise its own hidebound conception of what films might be deemed Best Picture?

If the point of increasing the number of Best Picture nominees from 5 to 10 was to give recognition to a broader range of films, then Le Mans ’66’sinclusion seems like a clear admission of failure. It undoubtedly took a huge amount of talent to make and its qualities far outweigh its vices. However, it is hard to see a case that it was nominated because it was exceptional, rather than because it makes the median Academy voter feel comfortable.

Two Popes are better than one?

* I don’t think this is a film where spoilers matter, but in case you disagree full spoilers ahead *

Habemus Papam*2

According to the fictional version of Pope Benedict XVI who appears in the Two Popes: “there is an old saying – ‘God always corrects one pope with another’.” This idea of Benedict and his successor as thesis and antithesis animates The Two Popes. However, not in the way you might expect.

When then Cardinal Bergoglio (Jonathan Pryce) travels to Rome in 2012 to appeal directly to the Pope (Anthony Hopkins) for permission to retire as Archbishop of Buenos Aires, he is surprised to discover the Supreme Pontiff is also considering stepping aside. Neither man is initially sympathetic to the other’s intentions and not only a battle of ideas, but a clash of temperaments ensues. The cerebral traditionalist Pope initially regards everything about the down-to-earth, reform-minded Cardinal as a challenge.

In many films, the two popes would function more as stand-ins for schools of thought than actual characters. However, The Two Popes prioritises, not only, understanding, its central characters as men, but also imagining how despite their differences, they could develop a friendship and reach a mutual understanding.

The film’s Benedict is initially in a sort of spiritual funk, sensing that he is not meant to be Pope anymore, but fearful about the direction the Church will take if he relinquishes his office. However, encountering Cardinal Bergoglio, and realising he can hear God speaking through someone he considers so heterodox, gives Benedict faith that there is a path forward for the Church without “God’s Rottweiler” at its helm.

At the same time, Benedict is able to challenge the Cardinal’s guilt over his ambiguous role during Argentina’s ‘Dirty War’. Using his relentlessly scholarly mind to deconstruct the illogicality of the future Pope Francis’ unwillingness to extend to himself the forgiveness, he preaches for others.

This very intense focus on just two characters, only works because both Hopkins and Pryce are superlative. Henceforth, I expect to have the same difficulty mentally disentangling the Pope Francis and Jonathan Pryce, that I do separating Mark Zuckerberg and Jesse Eisenberg.

While scriptwriter Anthony McCarten is clearly more sympathetic to Francis’ worldview than Benedict’s, the marriage of his writing and Hopkins’ performance creates a portrayal of Benedict which is no less empathetic than that of Francis.

And crucially given the subject matter and central characters, both the writing and acting of the Two Popes, finds a way of depicting personal faith which reflects that as inexpressible as it is, for Benedict and Francis there is no force more powerful.

Two notes

Before finishing this review, duty compels me to note two things. The first is my one substantive criticism of the film. I do wish relatively more had been made of Benedict’s pre-clerical past. At one point, he says to Cardinal Bergoglio: “we both know that part of what dictatorships do is take away this choice”. Despite this, and the fact that incidental characters twice refer to Benedict as a “Nazi”, his upbringing under the Third Reich, and whatever parallels it might have with Francis’ experiences under Argentina’s Juanta, go mostly unexplored.

Secondly I absolutely, most flag up how legitimately funny the Two Popes is, especially when it depicts the stand-offishly modest Bergoglio confounding the grandiose world of the Vatican. As that world is often personified by Benedict, that means large sections of the film function as an odd-couple comedy.


However, this humour is always affectionate, as befits a generous film that promotes understanding rather than conflict. But that is not understanding as some intellectual exercise, rather it is as a lived experience involving other people, who are inevitably replete with nuances and frustrations.

It is also understanding with teeth. The philosopher Kwame Anthony Appiah writes in his book Cosmopolitanism that: “People often recommend relativism because they think it will lead to tolerance. But if we cannot learn from one another what it is right to think and feel and do, then conversation between us will be pointless. Relativism of that sort isn’t a way to encourage conversation; it’s just a reason to fall silent.”

Both Benedict and Francis are men of faith who believe in moral truth. That is what gives the fictional conversations across an ideological divide in the Two Popes such weight and urgency: they are between people who think that words can alter beliefs and that the right beliefs can change everything.

However, McCarten’s script avoids positing anything as simple as one man successfully proselytising the other. Rather, like two marbles travelling in opposite directions, which collide; after their encounter both his popes are put on an altered course, neither of which matches the trajectory either was on before.

That kind of change in one’s understanding might seem weaker than brute persuasion. However, as the Two Popes shows, under the right circumstances, it can be powerful enough to vault someone from the throne of St Peter.

Best podcast episodes of 2019 (Part 1 – Reply All)

As I was compiling this post, I realised I had a problem: I was going to have a top ten which was mostly episodes of Reply All.

It is tech podcast with a difference, focusing not on the technology itself, but on the stories of those who have found their lives impacted by the internet in surprising ways.

It is largely made by This American Life veterans and uses a similar storytelling style, but for my money hosts PJ Voght and Alex Goldman and the rest of the team behind it have an even greater knack for finding subjects that are both revealing and have a very human core.

So here are my top 5 Reply All episodes of 2019:

5) Dark Pattern [June 27th]

Christopher Hitchens told a story about going to Prague whilst it was still under communist rule “determined to be the first visiting writer not to make use of the name Franz Kafka.” Only to be arrested and have his captors tell him he had no reason to know why he had been detained!

The lengths companies go to in order to prevent Americans exercising their legal right to file their taxes online for free make clichés about ‘Kafkaesque’ situations similarly hard to avoid.

4) 30-50 Feral Hogs [October 10th]

In August 2019, a little known twitter user responded to a tweet about banning assault rifles by asking rhetorically: “Legit question for rural Americans – How do I kill the 30-50 feral hogs that run into my yard within 3-5 mins while my small kids play?” Unsurprisingly, this decision made him a global laughingstock. It also prompts PJ Voght to ask why wild pigs became such a problem that someone would sincerely believe they need to military weaponry to deal with them. A strange (and very American) tale follows.

3) The Great Momo Panic [March 14th]:                              

It is easy to deride the parents and teachers who fell for a hoax story about a “demonic chicken lady” encouraging children to commit suicide. However, this episode makes a persuasive case that part of why this fake story caught on is that virtually all of its constituent elements (including messages about committing suicide being snuck into Youtube videos aimed at children) reflect things that have actually happened. Google comes out of this episode especially badly, having allowed Youtube to become a major presence in children’s lives, whilst taking little responsibility for what they see.

2) The Crime Machine (parts 1 and 2) [October 12th]       

The story of the NYPD’s embrace of data-driven police almost feels like a Greek Tragedy. At first, reformers used it to make policing not only more effective but fairer. However, over time what was once a useful tool, essentially hijacks the entire department, creating incentives for officers to conceal crimes and target ethnic minorities.

1) The Roman Mars Virus [11th April]                                   

An investigation into why a listener’s car stereo crashes when it plays 99% Invisible (and only 99% Invisible) turns into a loving homage to podcasting itself.

Best Podcast episodes of 2019 (part 2)

Having yesterday considered the best episodes of Reply All, today I’m moving on to the crème of the other podcasts out there:

5) Can My Stutter Be Cured? [Crowd Science]

A touching look at a group of patients struggling to overcome stammering.

4) The Fictional Presidencies of Hilary Clinton [Primetime]

Emily VanDerWerff uses popular TV shows to analyse America’s strange relationship with Hilary Clinton. Could the same women really inspire both Lesley Knope and Claire Underwood?

3) Mrs Sherlock Holmes [Criminal]

Criminal specialises in true crime stories that avoid straightforward mystery tales. Nonetheless, episode does raise the question why no one has made a TV series based on the life of Grace Humiston, a New York heiress born in 1869, who, despite her gender, became not only a crusading lawyer but also a famed criminal investigator?

2) Don’t Accentuate the Positive [Happiness Lab]

Anyone who finds the Onion headline “Perky Optimist Brings Joy Wherever She Leaves” as funny as I do, is sure to find validation in this episode. Yale psychologist, Dr Laurie Santos uses research and anecdotes to make the simple, but somehow still counterintuitive point, that only imaging success leaves us unprepared for failure and ultimately makes us more miserable.

1) The Missing Crypto Queen and the Dropout

I’m going to mess about with the format of this list in two ways for this one. Firstly, I am choosing two podcasts not one. I’m also choosing whole series rather than individual episodes. However, these two podcasts are both compelling and make a fascinating pairing.

They both centre on the women behind multi-billion dollar scams. Elizabeth Holmes won plaudits as “the new Steve Jobs” and persuaded some of the richest and most famous people in America to put their names and money behind a plan to revolutionise blood testing, which rested on devices that did not work and were probably physically incapable of ever doing what Holmes claimed they could. Ruja Ignatova sold an imaginary crypto currency to thousands of people around the world.

Ignatova was likely a con artist from the start and very possibly working in league with organised criminals throughout. Holmes appears to have been more a narcist, who genuinely convinced herself she could fake it until she made it. What unites them was their ability to harness the mythos and tropes of Silicon Valley to prevent their victims properly scrutinising the product they were selling.

Why ‘Knives Out’ is my favourite film of 2019

If you have not seen Knives Out yet; then whatever you are expecting it to be; expect something different. I intend to keep that surprise intact. Therefore, I will avoid saying anything too specific beyond noting that it is homage to the Agatha Christie style ‘stately home homicide’ whodunnit.

The best – and truest – complement I can pay it, is that it is an ideal use of cinema. By that, I mean it deserves to be seen in a bespoke place, specifically reserved for watching films. It works on myriad levels and no detail in it is incidental. Therefore, it rewards complete concentration. However, because of the effort that has gone into crafting the witty script, elegant editing and pitch-perfect performances; intense attention comes effortlessly to the audience.

Indeed, the quality of the filmmaking is something that can be savoured in and of itself. It is a pleasure to behold, even above and beyond the enjoyment of the film itself.

Knives Out absolutely merits a second viewing. Partly because there are more jokes than anyone can take in on a single viewing. However, it is also because, watching it again allows you to observe how writer/director Rian Johnson seeds information, creates and then subverts expectations, and finetunes the characterisations to make everything first fizz and then explode.

However, it is the joy of my first viewing that will stay with me. I confess, I was pretty unhappy when I went in to see it. I found the final stretch of 2019 quite a slog, more marked by doubts and fears than anything else. One film can’t change that. But one as engrossing and immersive as Knives Out stopped me dwelling on all the things that had been bothering me, for a few hours at least. It allowed me to follow a trail intriguing clues leading me on a humorous trail involving compelling characters, and forget about everything else for a while.

Clearly, escaping into fantasy long-term is unhealthy, but I’d argue that short breaks from an often-difficult reality are not only ok but actually vital for our wellbeing. That’s why I am so grateful films as good as Knives Out exist. Now and again we all need to kill time.

5 other films I loved this year:
The Farewell
Avengers: Endgame
If Beale Street Could Talk
Can you Ever Forgive Me
Ad Astra

Why ‘Maybe You Should Talk to Someone’ is my favourite book of 2019

This year I have read the stories of spies, terrorists, serial killers and generals. Yet the book that had me flipping pages the fastest mostly takes place in an ordinary office in suburban LA, where regular people receive standard pyschotherapy.

In Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, Lori Gottlieb – a TV producer and journalist turned clinical psychologist – examines the purpose of therapy and how it works. However, it is not a monograph. Instead, Gottlieb conveys this message through the interlinked stories of four of her patients, along with her own experiences in therapy.

Gottlieb spent most of her TV career working on ER, so knows how to craft drama. So she chooses a case with plenty of mysteries and revelations to serve as the spine of the book. That allows her to create cliffhangers and deliver emotional gut punches.

However, the real appeal is the way Gottlieb recreates the intense empathy inherent in therapy on the page, drawing her readers into the lives of other people and then showing us how people who seem utterly lost can, with the right help, find a path to contentment.

Hat-tip: The book was flagged up to me by YANSS and Longform

The rest of my top ten of the year:

10. Babel: Around the World in Twenty Languages by Gaston Dorren

9. Furious Hours: Murder, Fraud, and the Last Trial of Harper Lee by Casey Cep

8. The Spy and the Traitor: The Greatest Espionage Story of the Cold War by Ben Macintyre

7. Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup by John Carreyrou

6. Ottoman Odyssey: Travels through a Lost Empire by Alev Scott

5. Why We Need Religion by Stephen T. Asma

4. The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs: A New History of a Lost World by Stephen Brusatte

3. Yes to Europe by Robert Saunders

2. Say Nothing: A True Story of Murder and Memory in Northern Ireland by Patrick Radden Keefe

The Siren Call of Safety: My Rise of Skywalker review

I have avoided revealing anything in this post that is not in the trailers or other pre-release publicity

A fan’s lament

I noticed myself noticing something whilst watching the Rise of Skywalker. Perhaps because it was mostly shot in the UK, a lot of minor roles are filled by actors who have played major parts in British TV shows. So, my brain would regularly be like “wasn’t that X-wing pilot a detective in Sherlock. Even in one of the film’s most emotionally charged moment, I was distracted by the realisation that a small but pivotal role was played by someone strongly associated with playing a very distinctive character, very different from the one they were depicting in the Rise of Skywalker.

Why am I telling you this? Well, I’m a huge Star Wars fan. I’m enthusiastic about the direction the saga has taken in the Disney/Kathleen Kennedy era. I would have been so enraptured watching The Force Awakens and the Last Jedi, that something small like this wouldn’t really have registered to me. That I was taken out of the film by it, illustrates that the new film did not cast the same spell on me.

Sure, it was still entertaining: the cast of characters remains hugely likable, John Williams remains a genius and ILM continue to deliver a mic drop visual after mic drop visual. However, it is impossible not to be disappointed that the trilogy has ended this way.

The criticism I’ve seen made most frequently is that the pacing is rushed. Which it undoubtedly is. In fact, it feels like two films have been edited into one. If films are often praised for their ‘lean’ storytelling, then the Rise of Skywalker is emaciated. It has been cut back so viciously that the bones of the plot are largely stripped of character development, thematic depth or anything else that might put flesh on them. The relentless gallop through the narrative also robs the audience of slower moments where tension can build. The effect of this pace is alienating rather than invigorating.

These writing and editing issues are exasperated in the first act of the film by the filmmakers trying to incorporate unused footage of Carrie Fisher shot for the Force Awakens. I appreciate why giving one of the saga’s truly great characters (and the fantastic actor who played her) a proper send-off seemed important. However, taking dialogue from one film and trying to jam it into another is the wrong way to do it. It feels out of place in the film it’s now in. And the editing doesn’t cover the joints in a smooth way.

The perils of playing it safe

However, I want to suggest a more fundamental flaw with the Rise of Skywalker: Lucasfilm was too cautious.

In his book Messy, Tim Harford cites numerous incidents where measures intended as a safety feature actually become dangerous. For example, part of a safety valve in a nuclear reactor breaks loose and causes a blockage which leads to a meltdown. Or more mundanely an anxious public speaker is so anxious about not knowing what to say, that they cling to a carefully pre-prepared script rather than reading the room and wind up saying exactly the wrong thing.

I fear Lucasfilm took a risky precaution by deciding to go back to a trusted director. It is understandable why they did this: the studio has been repeatedly burned by taking risks on directors – including parting ways with the Rise of Skywalker’s original director, Colin Trevorrow. In that context, rehiring JJ Abrams, the man who successfully delivered the saga’s relaunch in Force Awakens, must have seemed like a way to almost guarantee they would get a decent film.

However, that created a problematic dynamic. In contrast to their Disney compatriots at Marvel, Lucasfilm do not have a masterplan for how the story will unfold film-to-film. Instead, the writer/director of each entry in the saga improvises. Now, as anyone who improvises on stage or screen can tell you, it only works if you are prepared to accept and develop others’ contributions, the so-called “yes and…” principle. Rejecting them breaks the flow of the process.

Just such a break is created, by bringing back the director of the episode VII to direct episode IX. Abrams clearly had ideas about how the rest of the trilogy would pan out. Judging from the Rise of Skywalker those ideas seem to have differed substantially from what Rian Johnson actually did in episode VIII.

Rather than developing the story Johnson bequeathed him, Abrams instead seems to have tried to pull the saga back in the direction he initially intended: Characters introduced in the Last Jedi are ignored; whilst characters from Force Awakens often act in a way that seems at odds with what we learned about them in the previous film; and the previous film’s big reveal is retconned away. This isn’t even done in an intelligent way. Instead a character simply goes (to paraphase slightly): “When I said X (in the Last Jedi) that was actually sophistry. I really meant Y, which is the literal opposite”!

It also feels like Abrams drives forward with ideas, like the return of Palpatine as an antagonist, which because they were not seeded in Episode VIII seem to emerge from nowhere.

I also couldn’t escape the sense that Abrams had used up a lot of his ideas for action sequences in Force Awakens. So in the Rise of Skywalker, he resorts to making things bigger in a way that doesn’t turn out better. The combination of this drive for scale and the rushed editing, mean that a lot of the battles sequences become an uninteresting blur.

Let the past die – Kill it if you have to

Thus the very thing that probably most recommend Abrams to Lucasfilm, having successfully directed the Force Awakens, was actually the thing that made him the wrong director for the Rise of Skywalker. He did not have enough fresh ideas to contribute. Plus, his preconceived ideas about the saga’s direction clashed with the direction it actually took. This makes for a film that whilst not bad is jarring and uninspiring. It also points to a real danger for Lucasfilm or anyone else handling a long-running franchise. If you don’t take risks and tweak your formula, audiences will tire of seeing the same film repeated. For a franchise, too much caution is path which leads, sooner or later, to certain death.

Scorsese v Marvel (or why fans make the best critics)

Image credit available here

*This post contains a spoiler for Avengers: Infinity War*

During an interview with Empire, legendary director Martin Scorsese was asked (for some reason) what we thought about Marvel films and replied:

“I don’t see them. I tried, you know? But that’s not cinema. Honestly, the closest I can think of them, as well made as they are, with actors doing the best they can under the circumstances, is theme parks. It isn’t the cinema of human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences to another human being.”

Look, I’m not going to try and tell you Iron Man 3 is better than Taxi Driver, but it seems a bit much to claim Marvel films aren’t ‘cinema’. Genius that he is, I would submit there are a few flaws in Scorsese’s reasoning.


The funny thing about equating being cinematic with “human beings trying to convey emotional, psychological experiences to another human being” is that it fails to identify any quality of film that distinguishes it from other mediums. Surely most good plays, books and TV series also “convey emotional, psychological experiences”?

By contrast, one thing that cinema perhaps does do uniquely well, is deliver exciting spectacles that make you feel like you’ve just been on a great theme park ride. That kind of spectacle is in many ways the purest cinema; it was often all very early films consisted of. And it tends to be the aspect of a film that is most diminished when it is watched on a TV rather than in the cinema. Scorsese himself has demonstrated that character drama is less inherently tied to the cinema by releasing his latest film on Netflix, a decision which would be unthinkable for the next instalment in the MCU.


However, even if one accepts this definition of cinema, does it follow that Marvel films fall outside it?

There are films, including very good films, that are essentially a succession of adrenaline shots. The Raid, for example, doesn’t give much weight to the ‘emotional, psychological’ experiences of its characters. And for good reason, they are there to fight each other in magnificently choreographed martial arts sequences. Plumbing the depth of their psyches or watching them evolve as people would be beside the point.*

However, Marvel films aren’t really in this category. Character is a key part of the exercise. It’s not a coincidence that superhero films are almost invariably named after their protagonists. They tend to jettison the plots (and often the look and tone) of their comic book source material. They will, however, always retain the characters.

It simply isn’t true to say that these films aren’t trying to ‘convey the emotional, psychological experiences’ of these characters. For example, the opening act of Avengers: Endgame is essentially all about making the audience feel our heroes’ anguish at having failed to prevent half the universe’s population being killed. More of it is devoted to a support group meeting, than to action.

Not that we should mistake the presence of action for the absence of character. Good action sequences frequently express something about the characters in them. For example, the story of both the Avengers and the Guardians of the Galaxy is about the formation of a team. Hence at the start of both films, the action sequences have the heroes opposed to each other or at least pursuing divergent objectives; around the midpoint they are working together but ineffectually so; and by the final battle, the audience sees them operating as more than the sum of their parts.

The point

I unpack these comments not because I think they are important in and of themselves. The MCU will continue not withstanding Scorsese’s disinterest and he has clearly earned his right to his cinematic preferences. It is disappointing that many outlets treated his off-the-cuff remarks about films he’s clearly not that interested in as important pronouncements, but they do need page views and this kind of thing gets people talking (as I’ve illustrated by writing a blog post about it).

However, they do illustrate something about the nature of criticism. That an undeniable genius can misread a sub-genre in a fairly basic way, illustrates that it is basically impossible to offer a meaningful critique of something unless you are interested and engaged with it. As interest and engagement tend to go along with enthusiasm, it’s almost invariably going to be the case that fans make the best critics. Ask a metal-head to assess an opera and it’s likely all you will learn is that it’s not a piece of metal music. Ask an opera lover who appreciates what an opera can be and you’ll get a real sense of if the work before you measures up. So, ironically if you want to know what’s wrong with superhero films, then you really need to ask someone who loves superhero films.

*Though it’s worth noting that even in a film like the Raid the filmmakers still need you to identify with the characters enough for you to emotionally invest in the action. Notice how before the fighting starts in this sequence (NSFW), there are multiple close-ups of the heroes face, giving you the opportunity to appreciate the extent of his fear.

My favourite films of 2018

Eligibility = Films with a UK release date in 2018

Honourable mentions

Spiderman: Into the Spider verse, Three Identical Strangers, Crazy Rich Asians, Black Klansman, Shape of Water, Thoroughbreds, Unsane.

Notable Absence

Solo – I love Star Wars. For two of the past three years, Star Wars films would have topped this list. Yet whilst I thought Solo was fine. The acting was notably good. However, it didn’t excite me or make the mythology feel notably richer.

Biggest disappointment

Avengers: Infinity War – Never has so much movie, felt like so little. Thanos was a (surprisingly) excellent villain but the heroes were fighting for screentime with the result that no one got enough. Plus, the big shocking ending felt like it had no stakes whatsoever as it will clearly be reversed in Endgame.

5. Widows

When we praise a film for its moral complexity, we often say it recognises ‘grey areas’. Widows certainly does that. However, it also inhabits an even deeper level of ambiguity. Many of its characters are doing bad things for good reasons.

Also, adeptly treads the line between arthouse and genre filmmaking.

4. Black Panther

A devastating riposte to anyone who thought either the superhero genre or the MCU had nothing left to offer. Takes the reliably entertaining Marvel formula and supplements it with bold new elements like Afro-futurism and thematic depth. It is the first film in the MCU you can have a meaningful debate about the meaning of.

Drifts a little towards the generic in its final act but prior to that it barely puts a foot wrong.

3. Mission Impossible: Fallout

The citizens of Ancient Rome simultaneously entertained themselves and sated their bloodlust by watching Gladiators fight to the death with wild animals and each other. In our more enlightened times, we replicate that experience by having Tom Cruise thrown off buildings, out of planes and into fires for our amusement.

Don’t allow the fact that this is pure popcorn cinema to blind you to its brilliance. It may not have deep character development, a story that makes sense nor any subtext. But Casablanca doesn’t have an epical final action sequence involving nuclear bombs, helicopters, martial arts, ropes, wires and the Himalayas. It is the perfect version of what it is. That takes incredible craftsmanship from very talented filmmakers. Don’t underestimate that.

2. Ladybird

I don’t really know why I adored this film so much but I can tell you that by the end I wanted to give every character a hug.

1. A Quiet Place

I fear this film may not have the cult afterlife it deserves. It is not really a film for DVD, let along a phone or tablet. It demands a proper cinema, where you have no ability to pause it and there’s strong social pressure to stay as silent as the tormented protagonists.

Not suitable for those of a sensitive disposition, but for everyone else it’s an extraordinary demonstration of how a simple premise can be developed into an extraordinary work of art.