Little Women (Greta Gerwig)
Where to start with Little Women? If we are to write a report card home to the Gerwigs, let the record show that Greta is “a model student,” “no trouble at all,” “top of the class!” In recounting Louisa May Alcott’s now many-times-retold story of the March sisters, the writer-director has created a film which feels every bit as bold and relevant as the novel did upon its release in 1868. Or, at least, I presume she has. I was still very young back then so I have difficulty remembering.
What I can recall, however, is how thoroughly I enjoyed this film. Gerwig has assembled a cast who appear so at home in their roles that you wonder if this is how they’ve always lived (in a remote part of Massachusetts, bedecked in 19th century garb, with Meryl Streep popping over every now and then to make sassy comments about their posture). Following on from their work in Gerwig’s Lady Bird (2017), Saoirse Ronan and Timothée Chalamet spark as Jo and Laurie, respectively, while Florence Pugh brings a hitherto-neglected complexity to the frequently maligned Amy. The remaining sisters, Meg (Emma Watson) and Beth (Eliza Scanlen), offer pragmatism and pathos, while Streep’s Aunt March brings some ever-welcome Streepness to proceedings. Even the minor characters have room to shine. Chris Cooper’s Mr. Laurence may only have a handful of lines but, through subtle gesture, creates some of the film’s most heart-wrenching moments.
Ensuring that it remains fresh for a contemporary audience, Gerwig’s script emphasises the instances from Alcott’s novel which feel most applicable today. Amy’s speech, for example, about women’s struggle for autonomy and recognition, feels particularly apt in light of the Academy’s failure to acknowledge Gerwig (or any other woman) in the Best Director category.
Choosing to jettison linear chronology, the film also intercuts between two stages of the sisters’ lives in a manner which maximises the emotional potency of the film. Significantly, it is also genuinely funny; an all-too-rare occurrence for a period piece such as this.
Alexandre Desplat’s swooning score and Yorick Le Saux’s painterly cinematography are worth the price of entry alone (one seaside scene looks and sounds as if the subjects of Monet’s The Beach at Trouville were suddenly brought to life) yet, thankfully, Little Women is so much more than mere artisanal delight. Gerwig’s directorial snub means it is unlikely to take home the main prize but it would have this writer’s vote, and isn’t that the most important thing?
The Irishman (Martin Scorsese)
They say that time flies when you’re having fun and, in his latest film, legendary cinéaste and renowned Marvel fanboy, Martin Scorsese, makes three-and-a-half hours feel like, well, three-and-a-half hours. Would it have been shorter if the septuagenarian squad of Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, and Joe Pesci were able to move quicker? Perhaps. One thing’s for sure, this slowest of slow burns proves that Hamlet’s Polonius was on to something when he claimed that “brevity is the soul of wit.”
In chronicling the life of truck-driver-cum-hitman, Frank Sheeran (De Niro), however, Scorsese is not in search of fun or wit. Instead, he creates an elegiac reflection on crime and its consequences, refusing to revel in the bloodshed but choosing to embrace a more sombre tone than his earlier work, such as Goodfellas (1990). It is something of an endurance test, demanding patience from its audience, but I believe that Scorsese’s insistence on laying out the narrative at a crawl rather than a gallop eventually pays off.
Based on Charles Brandt’s 2004 nonfiction book, I Heard You Paint Houses, The Irishman begins with Sheeran in his nursing home, wheelchair-bound and alone. He starts to recall a life which took him from wartime soldier to confidant of union boss, Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino), by way of Russell Bufalino’s (Pesci) crime syndicate. These three veterans all impress, giving credibly world-weary performances. Although much has been made of the controversial de-ageing technology used, which sees 76-year-old De Niro playing a man half his age, it isn’t as distracting as some have suggested. Is it noticeable? Definitely. But does it significantly detract from the film’s realism? Not particularly.
Another focus of criticism has been the paucity of lines afforded to Sheeran’s daughter, Peggy (Anna Paquin). It is true that she only enacts a fraction of the film’s dialogue and it is a shame that Steven Zaillian’s script doesn’t find room for stronger female characters, but Peggy’s role should not be underestimated. Acting as a moral compass from which her father frequently strays, her presence is keenly felt throughout, with many of the film’s more impactful moments revolving around her detachment from her family. This does not excuse the sparsity of female performers but does at least point to one strong example.
Despite its impressive haul of 10 nominations, previous award shows indicate that The Irishman is unlikely to win Best Picture and, in truth, there are better films on the list. It is, however, a subtly moving and atmospheric watch, worthy of its demanding running time.
With the exception of Joker, Jojo Rabbit is probably the film which has proved most divisive on this list of nominees. Sure, it won the much-coveted People’s Choice Award at the Toronto International Film Festival and bagged six Oscar nominations for good measure, but Waititi’s follow-up to 2017’s Thor: Ragnarok has split critics and audiences alike.
Loosely based on Christine Leunen’s book, Caging Skies, and set in Germany in the latter days of the Second World War, the film revolves around the titular Jojo (Roman Griffin Davis), a 10-year-old in the Hitler Youth who idealises Adolf Hitler to such an extent that the infamous dictator acts as his imaginary friend (played as a hapless idiot by Waititi). To his initial disgust, he discovers that his mother, Rosie (Scarlett Johansson) is hiding a Jewish teenager named Elsa (Thomasin McKenzie) in the walls of their house. This discovery, however, soon forces Jojo to question his faith in the Nazi ideology as he comes to realise that he may have been misled by his instructors in the Hitler Youth (Sam Rockwell and Rebel Wilson).
Such a premise has rubbed a lot of people up the wrong way. Peter Bradshaw of The Guardian, for example, gave the film one star out of five, describing it as “terrible” and “redundant,” while The Telegraph’s Robbie Collin deemed it “feeble, one-note […] waist-high slush.” Much of the criticism has revolved around the notion that the film is in bad taste and that Waititi’s brand of goofy comedy is inappropriate for the subject matter. Such viewpoints are undoubtedly understandable and Jojo Rabbit certainly won’t be a film that will cater to everyone’s taste.
In his previous films Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016) and Boy (2010), Waititi has shown himself to be a dab hand when it comes to mixing offbeat humour and unexpected pathos and Jojo Rabbit offers a similar brand of bittersweet. At a time when far-right politicians are becoming increasingly powerful, it is important that films like this are given a platform to remind audiences of the atrocities carried out in the not-too-distant past. Although it approaches this in a somewhat unconventional manner, Jojo Rabbit still contains a number of highly upsetting scenes (including one truly shocking image) which drive home the terror of Nazi rule. It is not a perfect film; certain jokes don’t land as well as intended and criticism aimed at it has not been without foundation, but Waititi does manage to create an oftentimes funny and moving film. It almost certainly won’t win the Academy’s main award and its inclusion on the list of nominees is itself questionable, but it is still a memorable and thought-provoking watch.
“And breathe. In through the nose and out through the mouth. Just take it easy for a few minutes. Maybe put your head between your legs.”
This is the kind of advice you might expect to receive after stepping out of a screening of Sam Mendes’ World War I tour-de-force, 1917. So immediate, immersive, and visceral is the film that you will almost certainly come out of it feeling absolutely knackered. Only a filmmaker of rare cinematic skill could make sitting in a chair for two hours feel thoroughly exhausting.
Dedicated to, and based in part on the experiences of, Mendes’ grandfather, Alfred, the film sees two young British soldiers, Lance Corporals William Schofield (George MacKay) and Tom Blake (Dean-Charles Chapman), given the task of calling off a planned attack which is doomed to fail. In order to do this, they are instructed by General Erinmore (Colin Firth) to deliver a message to Colonel Mackenzie (Benedict Cumberbatch), informing him that the attack must be jettisoned in order to save the lives of 1600 British soldiers. Motivated by the fact that Blake’s brother, Joseph (Richard Madden), is one of the men in peril, the two soldiers risk their lives as they are forced to traverse various stages of no-man’s-land without even the shadow of night-time to keep them hidden.
It is a relatively simple plot – get from point A to point B without dying – but, by Jove, is it effective. This is helped in large part by what can only be described as the virtuosic cinematography of Roger Deakins (the veteran DP will surely collect his second Academy Award for the film). Much has been made of the “one-shot” technique employed but, make no mistake, it is no gimmick. Although, in reality, the crew shot the film in segments of about ten minutes, a collection of hidden cuts allows it to be presented as if it has all been done in one take. This may seem like something off a cheat, but one need only check some behind-the-scenes footage on YouTube to witness how spectacular a technical achievement the whole thing is. This technique ensures that the film remains unbearably tense throughout, with very little room for respite. Much to my embarrassment, I audibly gasped several times during my viewing [can confirm – Connor (Film Editor)].
It is not only impressive on a technical level, though. Chapman and, in particular, MacKay, have been bafflingly overlooked in practically every award show thus far. There are also notable cameos from the aforementioned Firth and Cumberbatch, as well as the always-welcome duo of Mark Strong and Andrew Scott. Having picked up a number of gongs on the awards circuit so far, expect 1917 to be right in the running for the Academy’s top award.
Accepting the award for Best Foreign Language Film at the Golden Globes, Bong Joon Ho memorably advised that “once you overcome the one-inch tall barrier of subtitles, you will be introduced to so many more amazing films.” And yet, when it comes to Parasite, “amazing” doesn’t quite feel adequate. In fact, trying to find any one word with the ability to encapsulate this truly original film is quite an ordeal. Yes, it is “funny” but it is also “shocking,” “grotesque,” “thrilling,” and “thought-provoking.” Get the Thesaurus out fellas, it’s gonna be a late one!
Perhaps the only word which can describe this unique cinematic experience is the one which I texted my friend immediately after leaving the screening: “AAAAHHHHHHHH.” In a world where fully-grown adults are more inclined to see the latest Fast & Furious spin-off than, say, films designed for actual adults, it’s nice to be reminded that films as intelligent and surprising as this one can still be found in cinemas.
Centring on a cunning plan which sees every member of the impoverished Kim family, through a combination of luck and deceit, secure jobs with the mega-wealthy Park family, Parasite never heads in the direction you might expect. In the process, it moves from comedy to thriller to full-blown horror, forming a searing social critique which deliberately keeps its moralising ambiguous, refusing us easy access to where our sympathies ought to lie. I daren’t say any more, as it is so full-to-the-brim with twists and turns that any hint of a spoiler is unforgivable. The work of a master filmmaker; I can’t wait to see it again.
The level of success achieved by Parasite is already unprecedented. Last May, it became the first South Korean film to win the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and the Best Picture race is just one of six categories it is contesting at the Oscars, a frankly obscene amount for a foreign language film (foreign to Anglophone monoglots at least). Should it take home the showpiece award on February 10th, not only would it be richly deserved, it would also be a triumph for world cinema collectively as Hollywood slowly begins to realise that you don’t have to be American to make a good film (who knew?!). Considering its success so far, who would bet against it throwing up one final surprise and taking Best Picture come Oscars night? It wouldn’t be half as shocking as the film itself.
