Cast: Frankie Colio, Paul Mescal, Celia Rowlson-Hall, Sally Messham
Directed and Written by Charlotte Wells
Length: 102mins

The 1990’s saw a British invasion of a new kind, with exotic locations such as Malaga and Turkey becoming overrun by package holidays and organised entertainment – foreign enough to be exciting, but without the need to learn any new language. The latter of these two getaways is where ‘Aftersun’ plays out, a story of a youthful father and his wisened daughter, as the two attempt to enjoy a getaway together, which on the surface appears to strengthen their bond and intimacy, but brings with it its fair share of anxieties and uncertainties too.

The recently-recognisable name of Paul Mescal drew a great deal of attention to this film upon its release, and his performance is nothing short of enchanting. However, this isn’t the only great piece of acting which ‘Aftersun’ provides, as 12-year-old Frankie Colio makes her debut as an incredibly talented youngster, with her portrayal of the daughter, Sophie, contributing towards one of the greatest father-daughter relationships shown in any film in recent memory. There’s a clear naturalistic aesthetic which defines much of the story of ‘Aftersun’, and a great deal of this comes as a result of the warmth and humility Colio and Mescal’s characters share with one another. In one scene sharing the sweetness of a summer holiday abroad, and the next, grumpily seeing out the tiredness of exhausted afternoons away from the sun. I don’t feel that I can overstate enough the strength of the performances between this duo, as they provide a huge range of emotions experienced throughout the length of ‘Aftersun’.

First-time director Charlotte Wells – how is this someone’s first film! – utilises a great number of filmic techniques to portray the sticky, commercialised and fond memories of a summer spent abroad in the 90’s. The great soundtrack which reinforces the emotion of many scenes is perfectly selected, with an especially well-placed use of one of Blur’s greatest tracks, ‘Tender’. However, Wells isn’t content to simply include a precisely-timed needle drop, but also experiments with the speed of the track, accentuating Damon Albarn’s intimate vocals even further by slowing the song down as an evening of uncertainty reaches its conclusion. This scene in particular stands as a highlight within a film littered with great moments, and showcases the talents of a filmmaker who may very well become a highly regarded name amongst directors of her generation.

There’s a great deal of ambiguity to ‘Aftersun’s’ narrative – a statement that would seem to contrast the naturalistic dialogue and home-video shooting style. Although never explicitly stated, and without wanting to give too much away, the film is one which sparks a flood of debate over the true story which has been told as you leave the cinema. Small hints and references to anxieties around the characters imply that what is shown is not truly what is being told, and that the enormous emotional imprint this film leaves on your thoughts comes more from what isn’t shown, than what is.

Perhaps my favourite film of 2022, I can’t emphasise enough just how much I fell in love with this story. The beautiful locations, the strange community that comes as a result of package holidays, the incredible performances between Paul Mescal and Frankie Colio. It truly is a must-see film, and a landmark debut film from Charlotte Wells.

Cast: Daniel Craig, Edward Norton, Janelle Monae, Kathryn Hahn, Dave Bautista, Leslie Odom Jr.
Directed and written by Rian Johnson
Length: 139mins

“I told you about strawberry fields, you know the place where nothing is real” calls out John Lennon in the opening of this classic Beatles track, and in a way, much the same could be said for the world in which Rian Johnson’s all-star cast of sycophantic socialites encounter their greatest trouble yet – honesty. Delving once again into the intrigue of a singular Mr. Benoit Blanc’s worldly encounters, the latest case for the man in white comes at the request of his attendance in a who-dunit game of the highest stakes, where the death of billionaire entrepreneur Miles Bron will not only need to be solved, but witnessed too.

A sequel to the Netflix sensation from 2019, the ‘Knives Out’ films as we first got to know them contained their fair share of colourful characters, twisting narratives and comic reliefs. As well as this, perhaps the strongest success from the first film was in its ability to use a classic narrative device of the murder mystery, to explore modern day issues of politics and immigration. Each individual’s treatment of Ana de Armas’s immigrant-descendant Marta Cabrera further unravelled not only pieces of the puzzle, but the ideas in the heads of the American population at the time – exposing servings of both prejudice and goodwill. ‘Glass Onion’ shares a clear theme in much the same way, exploring the impact that technology and its potential power can have on certain individuals, and their use of that influence to manipulate others, but in some ways the stakes don’t feel quite so high in this latest instalment. Perhaps the extremities of the billionaire-funded location make it a little harder to relate to the issues at hand, or Rian Johnson just wanted to be more playful in this new film. Either way, there’s something to be said for the depth of the original ‘Knives Out’, but nothing which should be taken as a reason to like ‘Glass Onion’ any less.

Once again, Daniel Craig is in his element as the extravagant and exemplary Benoit Blanc. The supposedly “greatest detective in the world according to Google,” with a face of stone and a heart of gold, it’s hard not to have a smile on your face as Blanc eyes up every scene, whether having a friendly chat with another oddball individual, or criticising the conspiracy at large. Like the layers of a glass onion, everything seems completely clear once Blanc has drawn attention to each detail.

The story structure of this new film is unlike many others I’ve seen in recent years. Anytime you feel as if you’ve begun to settle into a scene, Rian Johnson throws a whole new set of rules at you, but fortunately soon comes to your aid to explain how the game’s being played. One inexplicable mystery after another, ‘Glass Onion’ is home to its fair share of twists and turns – none of which should be sought after before seeing the film for yourself.

A perfect family watch over the festive period, the film’s release just two days before Christmas was a smart move on Netflix’s part, with the only regret being that it didn’t receive a wider run in cinemas. Wherever you see it, however, the latest trials and tribulations of the esteemed Benoit Blanc are not to be missed.

Cast: Colin Farrell, Brendan Gleeson, Kerry Condon and Barry Keoghan
Directed and written by Martin McDonagh
Length: 114mins

Powerhouses of the acting world, Brendon Gleeson and Colin Farrell are at odds once again, with the lines they deliver coming straight from the mind of writer-director Martin McDonagh. Unlike this trilogy’s previous success with the darkly comic excellence of ‘In Bruges’, the historical Belgium cityscape has been exchanged for fictional Irish isle, Inisherin. A timid land off the west coast of Ireland, home to little more than a few hardened drinking holes, and a port necessary for a quick route off the place. Our story begins when Pádraic (Farrell), discovers that longtime drinking buddy Colm no longer wants to knock back pints of Guinness each day at 2pm, for some unknown reason. The fallout from this simple decision results in one of the most intriguing and engaging narratives which has played out on the big screen this year. 

Although Pádraic might pester Colm constantly throughout the film in search of a reason for his abandonment of their friendship, there’s another question put to Colm on multiple occasions throughout this film. On two separate visits to a priest’s confessional booth, after the everyday sins have been accounted for, the question of, “How is the despair?”, is asked. The film never mentions any recent loss or great tragedy in Colm’s life, and yet this inquiry immediately puts a more sympathetic touch to the tinges of the man’s harshness. Suddenly, his unexpected end to a longstanding friendship takes on a new perspective, and Colm turns from a stoic and unkind man, to a victim of some recurring suffering. McDonagh’s manipulation of language has always been an essential part of what makes his filmmaking so entertaining and engaging, and ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’ only reinforces these talents. Characters on that damned island seem only to have to lift a finger to change the lives of those around them, and it’s within these small mistakes that the director digs at the roots of a greater tragedy. Although only asked explicitly to Colm in these moments of confession, there’s a despair which hangs over the occupants of all who inhabit Inisherin, and I imagine most would verbally fight back if asked the question in such a director manner – and yet the harshest of them all seems to be the only one who faces the question head on. 

The island’s landscape is visually stunning, and is often called upon to bookmark a particularly impactful or poignant scene. Characters are beckoned to from across expansive lakes, gaze longingly from clifftops, and stare endlessly at the ocean swirling inside a pint glass. However, these moments of sublime natural beauty imply a story which centres on slow-burning scenes and deep-thinking characters. This may be true for some aspects of the film, but the rest is formed of quick-witted dialogue flying to and fro, amongst scenes ranging from the hilarious to the bizarre. Though the island and its inhabitants may experience great periods of bleakness, there’s a great energy running throughout ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’, owed in large part to its tightly-woven script and impressively talented cast.

Martin McDonagh delivers a film which ranks equal with the strength of his previous collaboration with Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson. The film begins from a simple premise, but quickly grows into something far greater – a story not to be missed.

Cast: Florence Pugh, Harry Styles, Olivia Wilde, Chris Pine, Gemma Chan and Kiki Layne
Directed by Olivia Wilde
Written by Katie Silberman, Shane Van Dyke and Carey Van Dyke
Length: 123mins

An intriguing tale of an unsettlingly pleasant American utopia, an all-star cast featuring some of the biggest names in todays film and music industry, as well as a story chock full of references to great cinematic landmarks which came before – Olivia Wilde’s latest feature sets out to be an extremely promising trip to the cinema. However, audiences have experienced many different reactions to the film, and though the consensus seems to be that ‘Dont Worry, Darling’ is far from as strong a film as the director’s 2019 debut, ‘Booksmart’, there’s still a great deal to discuss.

Aside from the ambitious storyline and the twisting narrative, the first thing most audiences seem to have highlighted after stepping from the darkness of the big screen and back into daylight, is Florence Pugh. Her leading role as Alice, the doting housewife to a charming, yet traditional husband, is undeniably the film’s greatest strength. Her performance maintains a great energy and passion throughout, which is perfectly reigned in for moments for tenderness and shock. The film often acts as a test of her characters’ stability, and Florence Pugh walks this line with the grace of a ballet dancer. Harry Styles takes up the role of Jack, the aforementioned 1950’s all-American husband, despite his British origins. In truth, it would be difficult for any performer to match the talents of Pugh as their co-star, but rather than the strength of the couple together elevating the inexperience of Styles, it seems to only highlight the issue in greater detail. As charming as he may be, there’s definitely a little clunk to his movements and delivery which may smoothen out in the years to come.

‘Don’t Worry, Darling’ is a beautiful film to watch. The American suburbia which filmmakers seem to love to corrupt, remains as entrancing, yet unsettling, as ever. A repeated reference to Ridley Scott’s ‘Thelma and Louise’, pays homage to one of the greatest female-led films released, but can quickly draw the audience into making comparisons between the two, which often seems to work against ‘Don’t Worry, Darling’s’ favour. Despite this, as simply a film to take in visually, whilst you recline into the comfort of your cinema seat, there’s a great deal to love here. The sets are intriguingly detailed, the cameras capture everything with a rich warmth, and moments of unexpected thrill wash over you in captivating bursts.

In terms of story, the film sadly seems to fall completely at its own squeakily-polished feet. The first ten minutes sets up what could evolve into a captivating narrative, but very quickly begins to meander into a dull repetitiveness, only to suddenly throw everything it seems to have forgotten to mention at the audience in the final half an hour. There are moments which absolutely need to be seen to be believed, but so much potential is wasted on unmotivated actions and inexplicable storylines. Amongst the ever-confusing actions of some characters, as well as the equally unengaging plot devices which seem to pop up only to further bamboozle audiences, there may be hidden a great film, but sadly ‘Don’t Worry, Darling’ most likely won’t be remembered as one.

Rating: 15
Featuring: David Bowie, Iman, Mick Ronson, Lou Reed, Brian Eno
Directed by Brett Morgen
Length: 135mins

The Earth’s favourite spaceman, David Bowie is perhaps one of the most untouchable prophets of the twenty-first century. The incredible output of music, performance and all-round allure which surrounded this man for nearly fifty years remains a feat of charisma which I would be hard-pressed to find comparisons with. Musically, Bowie remains an inspiration for all musicians alike, dancing from funk to punk, ambient to electronic, then back to glam rock, with a slender finger seemingly always resting upon the pulse of what the musical world needed most. Now, just over five years since his death, ‘Moonage Daydream’ seeks to relive the adventures of this singular man, with a documentary as ambitious as its subject.

The film sets out to divide the many apparitions of Bowie by decade, painting a vivid picture through sound and vision of the achievements and experiences which defined every ten years of the artists’ life. What makes for a fascinating seventies era, with the rise of Ziggy Stardust and Aladdin Sane captivating young crowds, as well as the later experimental tours of Station to Stations’ ‘The Thin White Duke,’ and Brian Eno and Tony Visconti’s incredible contributions to the music throughout the Berlin trilogy, can ultimately make the rest of the film feel as if it’s trying to summit these same peaks which formed early within Bowie’s career. Whilst there’s nothing wrong in exploring avenues of the artist’s life which stray from his musical output in later years, the film attempts to fill up these other eras with anything and everything that the man got up to, and as a result can often feel as if the narrative has lost its way amongst vaguely-strung narration and repetitive visuals. 

Perhaps the greatest thing to come from ‘Moonage Daydream’s release is the gloriously remastered visuals from throughout Bowie’s expansive career, as well as the opportunity to hear his equally expansive recordings through a cinema-sized sound system. What the film lacks in a consistency to its experimental take on a life well lived, it makes up for in its specific sequences. The early uprising of Bowie and his band at the beginning of the 1970’s, as well as his later explorations across various continents, from the beaten streets of Europe’s Berlin to Asia’s Singapore, are shown in compassionate detail, capturing the exact emotions we can only estimate that Bowie was feeling at the time, in a way which perhaps only film can truly achieve.

There’s a great film somewhere within the extravagances and meanderings of ‘Moonage Daydream’. Hidden amongst the short and equally vague voiceovers is a story of a tormented artist who took the world for his own through music, fashion, art, film and everything in between. And for the moment, the best way to have a look for yourself is to take a seat at the cinema, and let this ambitious piece of filmmaking wash over you for a few fantastical hours.

Cast: Henry Thomas, Drew Barrymore, Robert MacNaughton, Peter Cyote and Dee Wallace
Directed by Steven Spielberg
Written by Melissa Mathison
Length: 115mins

Back in 1981, E.T. may have perhaps been considered among Steven Spielberg’s crowning achievements. The director was thirty five at the time of its release, but already had an impressive back-catalogue containing ‘Jaws’, ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ and the first Indiana Jones film to boast. However, ‘E.T.’ showed for the first time a true understanding of childlike wonder which would later define much of Spielberg’s work. The doe-eyed expression displayed by Elliott throughout most of the film, as he gazes with a mix of wonder and fear at the possibility of a new friend who he’s discovered, but one that looks different enough to warrant a degree of uncertainty, is how so many of us would have seen the world at that age, and tenderly pulls the audience back towards their childhood, whether they were born in the eighties or any other era. That’s why, fourty years on, Spielberg’s filmmaking has the ability to draw in viewers with equal captivity, as they lose themselves in this fantastical tale once again.

Known for his striking visuals and symbolic compositions within films, Spielberg remains on top form throughout ‘E.T.’. Moments of uncertainty are quite literally shrouded in fog, whilst the threat of an unknown government agency, set to steal Elliott’s friend away from him appears as anonymous and sinister, as each shot with adults shown spends the entire scene ensuring that they’re hardly present. There’s a huge emphasis on a childlike perspective on events, and by telling a story through a symbolic approach to visuals, rather than simply just how they play out, the film develops an added layer of complexity to what could be a light-hearted and fairly simple tale, much like ‘The Goonies’ a few years later. (Not to say ‘The Goonies’ could ever be improved in any way, that film is perfect exactly as it comes.)

Although the edges around E.T.’s prosthetic complexion may now show up as a little more unbelievable than viewers might have taken the time to notice back in 1981, and the visual effects may leave a great deal to the imagination, it’s the motivation behind these moments which matter more than the actual visuals themselves. To see a gang of biker kids having their wheels lifted from the ground appears so exciting to the audience because they understand the joy that such a moment would have inspired in them at that age, rather than being brought down by any slightly dated effects. 

‘E.T. the Extra Terrestrial’ was a massive hit upon its release in the early eighties, and has clearly had a great impact on popular culture, with TV shows like ‘Stranger Things’ in recent years taking so much inspiration from the film that Spielberg probably deserves a writing credit. Whilst a modern viewer might write it off simply as another dated nostalgia-fest, there’s a great deal more to enjoy about ‘E.T.’ than you may first think, and to go back to the cinema and see it all play out on the big screen is something absolutely worth enjoying.