FEATURE: The Movie Bash Awards of 2015!

So. 2015, eh? What a year. Or was it? I never really like doing that thing of trying to sum up a year's trends neatly, with a bow on top, because inevitably it'll always be riddled with contradictions. For instance, you could say that 2015 was the year of flops, bad bets on people's money that didn't, ahem, Pan out. There were a few pretty good films that didn't deserve to flop, of course, like Crimson Peak and Steve Jobs, but most of them sucked - Rock the Kasbah, Fantastic Four, American Ultra, Mortdecai, to name but a few. But then Jurassic World, Spectre and Star Wars: The Force Awakens broke box-office records and made a fuckton of money, showing that, nope, Hollywood ain't dead yet. And I'll be damned if one of the best films this year wasn't just a summer blockbuster, but a part of a franchise: I'm talking about Mad Max: Fury Road, which I LOVED, even if I didn't get around to reviewing it.

There were some great documentaries, there were some great independent films, and there were some truly wonderful works of animation. But were there any real trends? I suppose one of the big ones was the advent of the digital: Netflix bucked the trend this year by releasing Beasts of No Nation on VOD and in cinemas concurrently, much to the outcry of greedy bastards everywhere - the biggest surprise being that it was actually good - and Spike Lee plans to release his latest, Chi-Raq, on Amazon Video. And Tangerine showed that you could have a budget that would barely cover a weekly shop at Morrisons and still make a good film.

Of course, Netflix has also signed a deal with Adam Sandler, just in case you were getting too optimistic about the future of cinema. But there's still a lot to be hopeful for. One of the undeniably noticeable trends of the year was to do with representation, namely that of women, both in front of and behind the camera. Yeah, most big name female auteurs were in-between projects, but the emerging evidence of wage discrepancies between genders at least led to a debate, even if not much was really solved. It was also reflected in some of the year's finest films, particularly Carol - which also, coincidentally, featured the least patronising depiction of a female-female relationship I've ever seen. Still, in general, film is lagging behind ground-breaking works of television like Transparent, Orange is the New Black, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, and even the surprisingly good Jessica Jones, in terms of getting to grips with gender- and sexuality-based issues.

So, in light of this mess, I will conclude with this: 2015 was a year. A year in which films were released. And I have decided to hand out some arbitrary awards to some of those films. Enjoy.

FILM OF THE YEAR

Nominees:
Amy
Carol
Inherent Vice
The Lobster
The Look of Silence
Mad Max: Fury Road
Song of the Sea
The Tale of Princess Kaguya
Whiplash
World of Tomorrow

AND THE WINNER IS...

TIE: Carol and Mad Max: Fury Road.

A.k.a. Mad Carol: Quietly Repressed Sadness Road. Two amazing films that could not be more different - their only point of comparison being that they involve people who occasionally drive cars - but that, in their own way, sum up the best the year had to offer. They were both films whose action was equally thrilling, in spite of the fact that one was a violent car-chase extravaganza and the other a dignified period piece - perhaps because both treated their (mostly female) characters with sincerity and respect, and because their vivid cinematic landscapes were both brought to life by filmmakers and actors at the top of their game. In short, both Carol and Mad Max: Fury Road were pure cinema, and easily my favourite films of 2015.

But hey, don't take just my word for it! Here are some of the most enthusiastic reviews from each film's comment section on Metacritic.com:

Carol

Jemski: "The acting was fine but not outstanding but for me it was a long string of pauses joined together with silence with the odd disjointed sentence."

what2c: "Please, people, this is a snooze of epic proportions ... If you go, you'll be whispering to bae let's go get a drink about 50 minutes in. What Kool-Aid are these critics drinking?"

leaveit: "If the characters were hetero then this film would not have half the score."


Mad Max: Fury Road

TobyMan: "It felt weird, I don't know if the movie is supposed to make you feel weird but yeah It made me feel weird. I was sitting eating my popcorn looking around because I didn't understand a single thing, I usually love action movies but this is weird."

Criviewer: "I'm not a rock fan, so the constant heavy metal was just disgusting."

Clutcher: "If you dress up a monkey in fancy clothes. in the end it is still a monkey."



BEST DIRECTOR

Nominees:
Ana Lily Amirpour for A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night
David Robert Mitchell for It Follows
George Miller for Mad Max: Fury Road
Steven "Done-Done-It-Again-Y'All" Spielberg for Bridge of Spies
Todd Haynes for Carol
Yorgos Lanthimos for The Lobster

AND THE WINNER IS...

Todd Haynes for Carol. Whoops, wrong photo...

There we go. Look at that magnificent face. Doesn't it just scream "Compassionate Purveyor of the Impossible to Categorise Elements of Sexuality and Gender through Entirely Wonderful Works of Cinema that Capture the Human Soul at its Most Exposed"? It does to me.


BEST ACTRESS

Nominees:
Cate Blanchett in Carol
Charlize Theron in Mad Max: Fury Road
Emily Blunt in Sicario
Greta Gerwig in Mistress America

Karidja Touré in Girlhood
Nina Hoss in Phoenix
Rooney Mara in Carol

AND THE WINNER IS...

Rooney Mara, a.k.a. "Rooney Tunes", in Carol.

Good year for leading female roles, eh? Anyway, I know it's not really fair to nominate two actress for the same film. But when Rooney Mara inevitably gets nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress, I want everyone to know what complete bullshit it is. The entire point of Carol is that the two main characters are equals, who might fluctuate in the balance for power and control in the course of their relationship, but ultimately land in a place of mutual respect and love. Cate Blanchett's been on all the best posters and production stills - and I'd like to qualify that she is bloody wonderful, even if we don't need a reminder every five minutes. But in terms of growth, in terms of doing something new and original and exciting, it's Rooney Mara who's won me over as - quite frankly - the best performance of 2015.

Alright, I'll shut up about Carol now.


THE NICOLAS CAGE AWARD FOR BEST ACTOR

Nominees:
Abraham Attah in Beasts of No Nation
Fat Colin Farrell in The Lobster
Joaquin Phoenix in Inherent Vice
Johannes Kuhnke in Force Majeure
Michael Fassbender in Every Bloody Film Ever Advertised on the Side of a Bus
Shia LaBeouf in #ALLMYMOVIES
Tom Hiddleston in Crimson Peak

AND THE WINNER IS...

Colin "Schlubby and Tubby" Farrell in The Lobster.

Seriously, everyone always talks about when an actor slims down for a role, or when they put on loads of muscle. But what about when an actor gets really fat? Any old Matthew McConaughey or Christian Bale can look like Skeletor one minute and Johnny Bravo the next, but it takes a really talented actor to commit to looking like a completely pathetic sack of shit for a film, just to maximize laughs and pathos. And Fat Colin Farrell is genuinely the funniest thing I've seen all year. He's funny when he's being dry-humped by the hotel maid. He's funny when he kicks a child. Hell, he's even funny when he's just sitting by a pool, his belly obscuring our view of his crotch. His performance makes me forget he was once in Alexander, and shows that real weight matters just as much as dramatic weight. Sorry, Jonah Hill.

THE NICOLAS CAGE AWARD FOR WORST ACTOR

Nominees:
Chris "Mumbly Muscle Man Who is Also a Hacker" Hemsworth in Blackhat
Kevin "Has He Ever Actually Been Funny?" James in Paul Blaaarght: Mall Cop 2
Liam "Schindler's Pissed" Neeson in Tak-three-n
Schmadam "Yes I'm Re-Using This Gag" Blandler in The Ridiculous 6

AND THE WINNER/LOSER IS...

Sandler, Sandler, a million times Sandler.


BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Nominees:
Alicia Vikander in Ex Machina

Daisy Ridley in Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Kristen Stewart in Clouds of Sils Maria
Marion Cotillard in Macbeth
Olivia Coleman in The Lobster
Viola Davis in Blackhat

AND THE WINNER IS...

Marion Cotillard in Macbeth.

Having previously considered her as "that annoying French woman who ruins Christopher Nolan films", I really had to re-evaluate my opinion of Cotillard after Macbeth. A few issues I had with Justin Kurzel's adaptation aside (namely some slow-mo battle scenes that wouldn't have been out of place in a 30 Seconds to Mars music video), her portrayal of Lady Macbeth as a foreign bride suffering from the loss of a child was original and wholly captivating - even outshining Michael Fassbender, who spent a bit too much time talking to his beard. Now if only Juliette Binoche would play Cleopatra or something, all might be right with the world.


BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Nominees:
Idris Elba in Beasts of No Nation
J.K. Simmons in Whiplash
Josh Brolin in Inherent Vice
Mark Rylance in Bridge of Spies
Ricardo Darín in Wild Tales
Sam Elliott in Grandma

AND THE WINNER IS...

Idris Elba in Beasts of No Nation.

While I didn't really enjoy BONN, per se, I thought it was very good - and both Elba and Abraham Attah (nominated for Best Actor but went home empty-handed, sorry Abraham) were the best things about it, giving us something to hold on to while we watched women and children hacked to bits with machetes. In fact, I think it might be the second-best performance Elba's ever given, behind only Stringer Bell in The Wire. The way he says "commandant" in his South African accent is enough to win him the prize, but there's a great moment where he does a scary Haka-like dance to pump his soldiers up for a fight. Plus, he's the only bloke on my list from Laaandan, which is nice.


BEST SUPPORTING DOG

Nominees:
"Bitzer" in Shaun the Sheep [: The] Movie
Carlos the Crime-Fighting Dog with PTSD (really) in Max
Channing Tatum in Jupiter Ascending
The Entire Cast of White God

AND THE TOP DOG IS...

The Entire Cast of White God.

Apocalypse Bow-Wow, indeed.

NOTE: "Bitzer" in Shaun the Sheep Movie has recently been disqualified, due to the fact that a) the dog is made of plasticine, and b) his actor, "John Sparkes", only gives a voice performance. And is clearly not a real dog.

BEST ANIMATED FILM

Nominees:
Inside Out
Song of the Sea
The Tale of Princess Kaguya
World of Tomorrow

AND THE WINNER IS...

World of Tomorrow.

An amazing year for animation around the world, even if a lot of it didn't technically come out this year. Pixar roared back onto form with Inside Out, whose carefully arranged world of mind-based contraptions was one of the most imaginative I've seen in years; Studio Ghibli's Isao Takahata went out on a bittersweet, brilliant note with The Tale of Princess Kaguya; and proud Irishman Tomm Moore atoned for the fact that his debut, The Secret of Kells, looked great but had a crap story, with Song of the Sea, which looked great and had a wonderful story.

But my favourite of the bunch managed to squeeze more imagination and innovation into its 17 minute (17 MINUTE!) running time than 90% of the films released this year combined. World of Tomorrow was a career-high bit of work from Don Hertzfeldt, who I've been banging on about for ages but who still isn't a household name. He bloody well should be: in spite of the fact that you can only watch the film via rental on Vimeo, it's cinematic as anything, a tour de force of childlike imagination and wonder that says some really powerful stuff about the future while still retaining a wickedly absurd sense of humour. I loved it, and I'm sure you'll love it, too, if you give it a chance. And shell out £2.99. Hey, I never said love was free.


BEST ORDER AND ARRANGEMENT OF WORDS ON A PAGE (A.K.A. BEST SCREENPLAY)

Nominees:
The Coen Bros™ for Bridge of Spies
Noah Baumbach for Mistress America
Paul Thomas Anderson (and Thomas Pynchon) for Inherent Vice
Pete Docter, Meg LeFauve and Josh Cooley for Inside Out
Phyllis Nagy for Carol
Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymis Filippou for The Lobster

AND THE WINNER IS...

The Lobster.

I haven't really explained why I think The Lobster is so fantastic - having missed the initial reviewing window back when it first came out - but I genuinely think it's the most original film of the year, both in its conceit and its jet-black-funny execution. A hotel for singletons who must find a mate within 40 days or be turned into an animal? Brilliant. Colin Farrell, Rachel Weisz, Ben Whishaw, and Olivia Coleman all turning in career-best comedic performances? Even better. And this is before we've even gotten to the strand of sadness and profundity running throughout the entire thing - showing us the struggle for meaningful connection in the age of Tinder, stripping back mating rituals to their deepest, most humiliating nature . Yeah, the first half in the hotel is better than the second half in the woods; but who cares when the material is this good?


LEAST BORING DOCUMENTARY

Nominees:
Amy
Beyond Clueless
Going Clear
The Look of Silence

AND THE WINNER IS...

The Look of Silence.

It's been a good year for documentaries - so good, in fact, I still haven't got around to seeing half of them. But it's hard to see how anything could top two particular films, ranking at #3 and #6 in my favourite films in the year. I was really tempted to give this award to Amy - not only did Asif Kapadia's confident collage of data and memory say some pertinent things about the nature of celebrity, but it was impossibly moving, making me cry like a little bitch at least three times. But I think it was Joshua Oppenheimer's superior follow-up to The Act of Killing that really feels like one for the history books. Subtle, anger-inducing, and filled with some insanely memorable moments - the most striking of which involving a deaf-blind old man writhing on the floor - it really might be one of the best documentaries ever made.


LINE OF THE YEAR

Nominees:

Stinger Apini (Sean Bean) in philosophically mature Jupiter Ascending.

Rome (Jada Pinkett Smith) in conflict-free humparama Magic Mike XXL.

Fletcher (J.K. Simmons) in pseudo buddy-comedy Whiplash.

Steve Jobs (Michael Fassbender) in verbose stageplay Steve Jobs.

AND THE WINNER IS...

MOST DISTRACTING THING

Nominees:
Joaquin Phoenix's sideburns in Inherent Vice
The dazzling glare of J.K. Simmons' bald head in Whiplash
Oscar Isaac's spectacular dance moves in Ex Machina
Joésèph Górdôn-Bleu Lévitt's accent in The Walk
Steve Carell's stupid face in Foxcatcher

AND THE WINNER IS...

REVIEW: The Ridiculous 6

The Ridiculous 6 is the latest Schmadam Blandler joint, and it's every bit as vacuous, misogynistic, racist, and downright unfunny as you'd expect from its premise. It's a mock-Western of sorts, and Sandler plays a white guy raised by Native Americans (whose names, cultures, and personalities are tackled with an insensitivity that would make Buffalo Bill blush). He recruits a wacky band of misfits when his father (Nick Nolte) is kidnapped by, well, Mexicans, or something. Turns out all the misfits are, in fact, Sandler's brothers, so they form a loose bond as they travel from town to town, robbing banks and...oh, what's the point. Either you can predict what happens, or you don't care.

I don't really understand Sandler. He's like the Steven Seagal of comedy, a mess of ego and smug pretentiousness that actively undermines any sense of worth from his work by outright refusing to do anything that might paint him in a bad light. What is at all funny about a guy with supernatural combat abilities, with a beautiful, cardboard cut-out of a wife, and a complete lack of any tangible flaws whatsoever? Some talented people try their best to at least raise a half-smile - Steve Buscemi, Terry Crews, John Turturro, even Harvey Keitel - but all are roped into furthering Sandler's agenda to become the biggest cunt on the planet, and none of them are given any real jokes. Aside, of course, from taking the Your Highness approach to comedy, where people in period costume talk like they're from Baltimore. Oh, can you imagine the hilarity? Watching a film like this in a crowded cinema at least conveys a sense of mutual suffering, if not laughs. But watching the film on Netflix, on your own, in silence, sees the film die a painful, protracted, twitching death. Not good.

★

REVIEW: Star Wars: The Force Awakens

There's something rather liberating about reviewing the new Star Wars. Considering how quickly the pre-sale tickets sold out, and considering the vast amount of money Disney have spent on a gargantuan marketing campaign - where everything from posters to trailers to lunchboxes with Darth Whatshisname's face on it seem geared to turning everyone into raving, hyped-up fanboy - there's an absolute guarantee that nothing I write on this blog will affect any decisions about people going to see it. I mean, it's not like it would anyway (hi Mum), but still - the only way this film could not make a record breaking amount of money is if J.J. Abrams decided to digitally replace every character on-screen with an excrement-covered Jar Jar Binks doing the Macarena, and even then the hardcore nerds would probably watch it at least five times.

I've never even been a huge Star Wars fan. True, when I was five, I wore out my VHS of The Phantom Menace, because I kept on fast-forwarding past the bollocks about trade sanctions to the cool lightsaber battle with Darth Maul, whose hair I imitated in the bath with liberal amounts of shampoo. I watched the originals quite a bit, too, but eventually - aside from keeping a LEGO Darth Vader keyring - grew out them.

Thing is, I figured this actually put me in quite a nice position to actually review the film based on its own merits, rather than post a messy splurge of nostalgia-inflected nonsense. I went into the film quite prepared to dislike it - though, of course, secretly hoping it would knock my socks off.

And the result? Well, rest easy, people. It's pretty fucking good.

In fact, I'd say it's pretty fucking great. The original Star Wars was simply designed as a Western and Kurosawa-inspired knockabout into the furthest reaches of the galaxy, a fun action film that actually gave a shit about its characters and the world they inhabited. The dialogue wasn't great, the special effects sometimes a bit cheap, but it had heart, dammit, and that was enough to transform it into the hulking franchise monster that it came to be.

And while Star Wars: The Force Awakens has to contend with this legacy - having to satiate both its passionate (read: insane) fanbase and the casual audience member - it seldom lets this get in the way of what is, essentially, a terrifically fun knockabout into the furthest reaches of the galaxy: this time, with great dialogue and great special effects, but also a talented cast, both old and new, a canny and incisive sense of humour, and, of course, a whole lotta heart.

The film kicks off, in its opening crawl, by telling us what's gone down since all that ugly business with Death Stars and incest and Ewoks and the like. Luke Skywalker's gone missing, and a bunch of bad guys named The New Order have sprung up from the ashes of the old Empire, who are on his trail. Fighting against them are the Rebels, led by Princess General Leia (no-one seems to have bothered to learn her first name), who are also looking for Luke...I think. Well, they have a map. Or part of a map. I'm not sure how they got it - I just remember Max von Sydow's Lor San Tekka (ugh) being very serious as he handed it to Oscar Isaac's supremely attractive Poe Dameron at the start. Soon, some serious shit goes down as the baddies invade, with a masked bloke named Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) giving us the dodgiest vibes. He gets rid of Tekka and takes Dameron hostage - but fortunately, a ball-shaped robot (named BB8M84LYFE or something) gets away with the cargo.

It's not long afterwards that we meet our new heroes. John Boyega plays Finn, a stormtrooper with a conscience, who helps Dameron escape from the Order's clutches, only to crash-land back on the desert planet they came from. The same planet, coincidentally, that houses Daisy Ridley's Rey - the real heroine of the piece. She's a scavenger, exchanging parts she finds in the ruins of old spaceships for food, and who seems to be waiting for something - or someone. Rey is surprised, however, when she finds herself accidentally adopting the ball-droid-thing, and when she runs into Finn all hell starts breaking loose. Both of them escape danger by hijacking a decrepit Millennium Falcon, and things really start to get moving when they run into everyone's favourite crusty scallywag, Han Solo (Harrison Ford), and his pet walking carpet, Chewbacca (probably a very sweaty Peter Mayhew).

I'll stop my dreadful recollection of the plot there. (See what happens when a review doesn't matter?) What I will say is that both John Boyega and Daisy Ridley are two of the best things can could possibly happen to this franchise. I've thought Boyega was destined for great things ever since his electrifying turn in Attack the Block, and he's superbly charismatic as the reluctant but kind-hearted hero, revealing a real knack for comedic timing. But Ridley's the real revelation: emerging from tiny roles in Silent Witness and Casualty, she gives a star-making performance of both confidence and vulnerability, that cuts through the special effects and requisite nostalgia indulgence to land a real emotional wallop. It's incredible that in something this huge in size, an unknown British actress would be allowed to play the starring role - with a British accent, no less. Though perhaps that's the point: Abrams wants to give us an underdog that immediately resonates. Whatever. I loved her.

I also loved the wrinkled resurgence of Han Solo and Princess General Leia, though perhaps my love for them was tested at times. I know that some fans treat the original films as seriously as the Bible, but when every other line is a reference or in-joke to some bollocks that happened thirty years ago, it becomes a little frustrating, and, complete with the reappearance of characters like fucking C-3PO, threatens to tip the film over into fan-fiction territory. However, there comes a point where that, um, ceases to be the case - where the film takes off and becomes its own, independent entity that restored my faith - so perhaps it's just me being a grumpy bugger.

Having said that - and it's really hard to talk about this without getting into spoilers - I'm not sure how much new stuff we're really seeing here. For every wonderful and original scene, there are a bunch of things just nabbed from other Star Wars films, given a visual update and a minor twist, then sent on their way. They even kept the Window Movie Maker-esque transitions. (Has a horizontal wipe ever actually looked good?) I realise that they're sort of references, or, as George Lucas might like to say, a bit of "rhyming poetry", but, I mean, there's an undeniable sense of déjà vu ingrained into the film's structure, that seems to work against its purpose as the spark of a brand-new franchise.

Again, whatever. It's still balls-to-the-wall fun, which successfully replicates the conditions that had us fall in love with the old films in the first place. I think what impressed me most wasn't the exciting action, but the real weirdness of the content. Seriously, Star Wars was such a weird film, with some of the gummiest aliens in existence and some really unusual bits of humour and plot development. Like this, Star Wars: The Force Awakens doesn't feel like a billion-dollar success story, it feels personal - unlike Star Trek, you get the sense that J.J. Abrams really gives a shit, and sets out to tell the best story he can. And it's a good 'un.

★★★★

REVIEW: Grandma

Grandma shouldn't really work. The plot is standard Sundance fare: a young girl (Julia Garner) needs an abortion, so instead of talking to her strict mother (Marcia Gay Harden) she seeks out her hippy lesbian grandma (Lily Tomlin), someone who's fierce and feminist and talented, but whose instincts, shaped by a lifetime of hurt, are to lash out at those close to her. They go on the road in search of money for an abortion, and in the process young learns about old, old learns about young, yada yada, you know the score. During its running time it goes through a veritable checklist of exhausted indie tropes: shots of light filtering through trees, a strummy guitar soundtrack, an overdone plot thread about a dead loved one and, to top it all off, some of the most pretentious chapter title cards I've ever encountered. Seriously, they're just nonsensical words like "dragonfly", "the ogre", "coffee", "toilet", "irritable bowel syndrome", that serve no narrative purpose whatsoever.

It could have all been terminally annoying. But it's not - the film just about works - and I think the chief reason why is, well, its star, Lily Tomlin. She's been working in the industry for over 40 years but that hasn't dimmed her senses at all: she's as sharp as a button, steely, unsentimental, and with a knack for turning the most banal dialogue into something entirely natural, imbued with wit, warmth, and genius comedic timing. It's a pleasure to watch her work, and it's great that a film has been constructed to have her in the starring role - something she hasn't been able to enjoy in a long time.

In fact, Grandma's chief pleasures come from watching its actors work to elevate the material they've been giving. It's a cornucopia of character actors given free-reign: Sam Elliott, typically cast in roles that exploit his sexy, sexy voice, impresses the most as an injured old flame, but Marcia Gay Harden convinces as a frustrating work-addict mother, and it's nice to see Judy Greer break out of the rut of empty maternal roles she's been stuck with for the past year. There's also something to be said for the healthy way it depicts sexuality and femininity - it's all treated as perfectly natural, and not in a preachy, Roland Emmerich kind of way, which seems to indicate that film might finally be catching up to its television counterparts. (Laverne Cox, primarily known for her role as Sophia on Orange is the New Black, also pops up here as a tattoo artist.)

Grandma ultimately emerges as a rather sweet (if slight) picture, one that, at moments, threatens to plunge into sentimentality, but never does, and that lambastes the lazy process by which Hollywood has frequently marginalised its actors into tired, clichéd roles. Instead, it tries to find their humanity - and this alone, I think, is enough to redeem its flaws.

★★★