A Most Wanted Man (2014)

Rating: 5/5

This won't be the first time I've admitted that I don't usually like action/crime/cop films. They are often far too complex for their own good, lacking in substance, and acted woodenly. I also often find myself unable to care about the plights of whichever detective is on the case. They are usually cocky smooth-talkers with attitude problems who somehow manage to pull a very classy and professional lady who is way out of their league. But of course, A Most Wanted Man is based on the novel by renowned author John LeCarré, who is famous for his perfect, finely-tuned spy literature. He also happens to be my dad's favourite author, and so I've had some interesting discussions with the old man about this particular piece (who reminded me that I, in fact, got him the novel for Christmas several years back!) A Most Wanted Man is a very exciting, twisting story with a particularly good cast - and notably Hoffman's final lead role before his tragic death this year. 

The film takes off on a note sure to induce instant anxiety and paranoia - mention of the 9/11 attacks, which were in part planned in Hamburg, resulting in the city being on constant high alert to avoid any similar incidents in the future. I have never been to Germany, which is perhaps why I was so simply surprised at the portrayal of Hamburg - it could have been Hackney, The Bronx or any other rough and run down city area. Graffiti on the walls, trash bags piled up in the streets, a real sense of poverty and sickness is present. An ominous-looking bearded man is spied skulking around Hamburg, and espionage agent Gunther Bachmann (Hoffman) is advised of his illegal status in the country, and his potential terrorist activity. Bachmann emphasises that he and his team are not policemen, but spies, and that 'German law doesn't allow us to do our jobs.' This means they have to work twice as hard as their counterparts, American attache Sullivan (Robin Wright) and German security officer Mohr (Rainer Bock), who give Bachmann 72 hours to catch the terrorist his way, before they step in and do it their way.

The bearded man, Issa Karpov (Grigoriy Dobrygin), is taken in by a kindly mother and son in Hamburg. He is a Muslim convert, despite his Chechen heritage, and the son of a money laundering tyrant. He seeks asylum in Germany, and is put into contact with a lovely lawyer (Rachel McAdams) who represents charity cases. For whatever reason, lawyer Annabel ends up taking huge personal risks for Issa's safety, eventually smuggling him to her brother's empty apartment. On Issa's behalf, she seeks out banker Tommy Brue (Willem Dafoe) for whose father Karpov Sr used to launder money, and who is in the position to give Issa his father's fortune. The fortune is known to Bachmann, who seems hellbent on avoiding Issa's acquisition of it. 

The story is a portrait of accusation. To every authority figure, Issa is a dangerous terrorist who must be captured before all hell breaks loose. The more down to earth characters are the ones who get to know him on a personal level, and hence the only ones who doubt his guilt. The Muslim family he lives with initially are totally endearing, and Annabel later has deep, probing conversations with him, uncovering his traumatic past, why he hates his father and why he wants to give his entire fortune away to charity. The pathway of the story twists and turns all over the place, all the while we as an audience don't quite know who we trust, who we like, and who we are rooting for. A crisscrossing cat and mouse chase ensues after Issa, with people changing alliances and being used to others' advantage at a speed-dating pace. 

As mentioned, I usually don't care about the cop's mission, and I usually don't care about the journey it entails. This one was different. The movie works at a decent pace throughout, and within the last fifteen minutes of its two hour running time, it becomes evident that everything is winding up toward someone emerging victorious. Bachmann has recruited who he needs, and his highly illegal operation to catch Dr Abdullah - a philanthropist higher up the terror chain who funds weapons and is about to receive Issa's charitable donation - is all about to come to fruition. We feel so much has gone into this moment, but - in the apparent style of most LeCarré novels - the final minutes are the key to the whole thing. And how devastatingly it is pulled off! 

Throughout, we come to respect the greasy-haired, chain-smoking Bachmann, who is mild yet relentless, and we want nothing more than for him to succeed. At last minute, everything comes crashing down spectacularly, and we are left just as shocked and dismayed as Bachmann. The film somewhat cunningly double-bluffs us too. By now used to the predictable monotony of any given film genre, there was a sense of more, unnecessary minutes to come after this. Surely we'd have to know more. But wait, it's been two hours. What's going to happen? The time's up. Exactly so. Nothing more need happen really. I always find it a welcome surprise when a movie ends at an appropriate place nowadays. The idea of a 90 minute running time seems to practically be a thing of the past. If you can't jack it up to two and a half hours at least, the audience will surely get bored? A Most Wanted Man proves, among other things, that there is a time and a place for everything in film, and the audience is left feeling more satisfaction, regardless of the film's content, when the story is told in an appropriate way.

Before I Go To Sleep (2014)

Rating: 5/5

Wow, what a film! Before I Go To Sleep is a tense and very emotional thriller, perfected by a handful of very strong performances. It is also one of those great things which, at 92 minutes, is to the point throughout, starts where it should, and ends where it should. Too many movies with potential have ruined themselves with unnecessary padding. I was actually surprised at the pace that this film moved at - fast and ominous. Christine (Nicole Kidman) wakes up in bed with a man, and creeps into the bathroom, startled. On the wall she sees a massive collage of photos of her and the man in bed, with post-it notes saying 'This is your husband.' In the bedroom, the man Ben (Colin Firth) tells her he is her husband, they've been married for 14 years, and she was struck with amnesia after a car accident. Every night as she sleeps, the day's memories are erased, and she wakes up as a terrified 25 year old again.

Now of course, the topic of amnesia has been played in several different ways in cinema, the first one that springs to mind is 50 First Dates with Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore, which was quite funny, and definitely tried hard to be, as all Sandler pictures do, but to varying success. I was instantly engaged by Before I Go To Sleep, because it focuses entirely on the traumatic effects of such an affliction, and the emotional pain it causes its sufferer and their loved ones. With Kidman as the definite main character, it would have been easy for the narrative to focus entirely on her, but it gives equal share to Firth, who steals a scene in which he finally admits his own heartbreak.

On the first day, Ben routinely explains everything to Christine, as he has thousands of times before, shows her the whiteboard which reminds her of her allergies and requirements, and goes off to work, leaving her alone in their beautiful and decidedly massive house to do absolutely nothing. She receives a phone call from a Dr Nash, who tells her to look in the box in her wardrobe, where she finds a camera. He says he's been seeing her, in secret from Ben, for a while, and gave her the camera as a video log, which he calls to remind her about each day.

However, in her meetings with Nash, it comes to light that Christine wasn't in an accident, she was attacked and found naked, bludgeoned and left for dead in an industrial estate. And with her newly found memory in the form of digital imagery, comes the unwitting trauma of finding out what actually happened to her over the past 14 years. One day she notices stretch marks on her belly, and comes to the realisation that she has a child. Ben is dismayed at her discovery, and the necessity to now tell her about the baby. This scene is outstanding in its highly emotional tension. Christine realises, as she logs her discoveries in tears, that her newfound grief will 'be new the next day, and the next day, every day for the rest of my life.'

But Christine still has to find out what actually happened to her, and who did it. Her gradual unravelling of her own life makes amnesiac ignorance seem the lesser of two evils compared to the truth. Her own lack of knowledge about her life has allowed others to basically create it for her, to their own liking. Things take one dark turn after another, and the entire film is gripping and emotionally engaging. Both Kidman and Firth are absolutely top-notch, with both stirring the sympathies of the audience despite their paralleled positions. They work well together, and this is their second collaboration in a year, after The Railway Man, in which Firth was the traumatised party, and Kidman the caring spouse. This is a fantastic reunion not to be missed.

Hector and the Search for Happiness (2014)

Rating: 3/5

I don't like to cry. Life is hard enough in the everyday without watching sad movies and bringing the mood down further. I don't understand the appeal of the cringey 'bring your tissues' captions. Today, I went straight from having the most unflattering passport photos taken to watch a movie starring Simon Pegg about a man's search for happiness, and so was hopeful that I would soon feel enlightened and breezy. I was, in fact, very wrong. Hector and the Search for Happiness made me feel depressed and lethargic, and that really shocked me.

Hector (Simon Pegg) is a psychiatrist with a really quite amazing life. A colossal modern house in the city, a lovely girlfriend who makes him breakfast every morning, one of those swanky dark wood shrink's offices with an extensive collection of Jung, Freud and TinTin literature. Yet Hector is bored of the monotony of his life, and one day whilst tiredly bearing witness to a patient's latest worries, he snaps, insisting there are bigger problems in the world. With this, he decides to set off on a trip to discover the secret to happiness.

His girlfriend Clara (Rosamund Pike) is ridiculously open to the idea, and sends him off with nicely packed bags and plenty of kisses, with the assurance, 'If you're going to do this, do it properly. You have permission.' Throughout his worldwide escapades, Hector seems to interpret this as 'Go and hook up with a different woman on every continent. You have my permission.'

So first he sets off to China (for whatever reason - destination is just as spontaneous as the trip itself) and instantly manages to tick off a fellow air passenger, rich banker Edward (Stellan Skarsgard) with his stupid behaviour in first class, yet they become friends when the plane lands and the two venture off into the big city for a good time. Hector picks up a lovely young student (Ming Zhao) and takes her back to his room. They do a bit of pre-coital, and the only thing that actually puts a stop to their fling is Hector falling asleep. As it played out, I felt weirded out. Why the heck was Hector suddenly acting single? He definitely doesn't get that whole 'permission' thing.

Anyway, after an eventless night together, they go for lunch, where she is quickly and violently whisked off by her pimp, after a three-way scuffle in the streets. We never hear of her again, no matter how much we expect to. No fear, Hector's off to Africa (as if that's a country and not an entire continent. Where exactly in Africa? I have no idea.) and after spending a little time with his old friend Michael, volunteering at his hospice, and again making frienemies, this time with a rich coke manufacturer Diego (Jean Reno), finds himself carjacked and kidnapped by local gangsters.

This is where it gets particularly depressing. Many many movies over the years have turned the usually serious topic of kidnap into hilarious ordeals, but this one is dismal. The thugs imprison Hector in a decrepit cell and 'leave him to rot'. We quickly watch our hero go crazy, making friends with a rat and sobbing as he squats over a bucket. The gangsters eventually come in, holding him at gunpoint and shooting his pet rat dead. This is no comedy held-at-gunpoint. Hector screams hysterically, cries and begs, and a tone of utter despair upon the poor rat's execution. The scene is totally grim, totally depressing, and actually made me cry for all the wrong reasons. Simon Pegg, a famed and appreciated comedian, crying very convincingly for not the last time in this movie, is an utterly upsetting sight. Some may argue that the scene had to have been well made if it produced such a reaction. This is true; it is well made. But it doesn't belong, it is just too dark.

So somehow Hector is released and dumped on a roadside by the gangsters (yet I don't see why they would go out of their way, burn fuel and let him go, when it would be so much quicker, easier and more routine to kill him.) and finally feels something close to happiness, just because he is still alive. So he runs back to the town he is staying in (how he finds it, I don't know) and parties with all the locals. And again, makes advances towards one of the lovely young women. This one doesn't come to fruition either, but seriously Hector, we need to define 'permission'!

To top off this entire trip, Hector decides to conclude in LA, where his first love Agnes (Toni Collette) now lives with her husband and kids. The husband is totally cool when he comes home to find this guy 'he's heard so much about' but never actually met in his pool with his kids. I found this a little odd. But Hector and Agnes talk about old times, she tells him not to think about what might have been, and he attends a lecture with her, his spirits thoroughly dampened. The lecturer is Happiness Scientist Dr Coleman (a lovely role for Christopher Plummer) and backstage the couple try out his mood-testing machine.

The ending is all swelly and romantic and Simon Pegg cries his heart out again, which totally stops the routine from being happy. The ending's not totally important. Does Hector find happiness? Eh, sort of, but it's one of those had-it-all-along things. I suppose the journey is meant to be the point, but the journey was sadder and less exciting than the ending. It's all rather random, and skimmed through. At times, an entire day or night is represented by one or two seconds. There are little bits and scenes that are quite incidental, mashed into bigger, slightly more important ones, and it's all intercut with shots of savannas and mountains. It just doesn't feel very well put-together. It feels jaggedy and disjointed.

And in terms of comedy, or in fact any light-heartedness at all, it is mostly absent. You don't even really laugh. At the most, there's a smile, and the movie's funniest part is actually from a little African boy in the hospital. I feel Simon Pegg has been used to a slightly manipulating degree here: the material hangs in the balance between comedy and drama, but isn't really either, and so if Pegg was opting for more a serious role this time around, he hasn't really achieved it. And that's not his fault. I love Simon Pegg. He and Nick Frost's Cornetto trilogy is possibly the finest offering of British comedy in recent years. I'd have liked a little more certainty of Pegg's role in the movie for all he could have brought to it.

So, Hector and the Search for Happiness is a passable movie, unsure of its genre or audience, but those flexible movie-goers out there will probably enjoy it. It's not bad, but it's unfortunately not that good either, and it definitely didn't make me feel happy, or any more certain of how to become so.

Belle (2014)

Rating: 4/5

It seems to be quite a regular move nowadays to base a love and struggle story around some kind of true historical sources. From the many stories of Phillipa Gregory to Steve McQueen's recent masterpiece 12 Years a Slave, we seem to relate to it more closely if we can appreciate that these people really existed, and that this was, to some extent or another, what they experienced at a point in their lives. Belle is the latest example of this trend, and it's based upon the upbringing of Dido Belle, the illegitimate daughter of a naval admiral and an African slave woman, whose paternal great-uncle Lord Mansfield brought her up in the English aristocracy. The film particularly deals with her finding love and her supposed involvement in the process toward the English abolition of slavery.

Of course, the film's main theme is the injustice of slavery, and within that, the injustice of Dido's treatment in a white country as a black freewoman. Dido (the lovely and passionate Gugu Mbatha-Raw) lives in luxury alongside her white cousin Elizabeth (Sarah Gadon) under the guardianship of their childless great-uncle William Murray, the Lord Chief Justice, who is ruling over the case of the Zong massacre, whilst taking a radical young humanist named Davinier under his wing to show him the ropes. Despite Dido being met with suppressed outrage and shame when she is first brought to the Murray household as a child, they now make quite a happy family, with great-uncle William (the fabulous Tom Wilkinson) regarding both the girls as his beloved daughters. However, the delicious gossip of a 'mulatto girl' in the Murray family is quite a novelty to the social network of rich (or seemingly) snobs that they must associate with once it's time for the girls to come a-courtin'.

The casting director struck some pretty serious gold when deciding to put Miranda Richardson and Tom Felton together as the rival family - Lady Ashford and her weaselly son James. Richardson's sly matriarchal act has spanned brilliantly from Blackadder to the Queen of Hearts to Sleepy Hollow, and poor old Felton is probably one of the youngest actors in history to find himself so terribly typecast. Here he is a disturbing mishmash of himself and his onscreen Malfoy father, Jason Isaacs, as he dons one of those dodgy 18th century ponytail wigs. But he is tangibly more despicable, and more deliberate, as the bigoted young aristocrat. He also has a less interesting but more important brother (James Norton) who is briefly engaged to Dido, but she drops him with a powerfully eloquent speech, insisting, 'I do not wish to marry into a family who would carry me as their shame.'

Of course, the intelligent and topical young Davinier (Sam Reid) is on-hand to dispatch wisdom about marrying one's equal and true love, and together they smuggle evidence about the Zong trial, in which Dido has become increasingly interested. The movie's political theme, which starts out based mostly on Dido herself and her position in society, flows at this point into a greater historical context, in which the law deliberates on whether human life can be insured as cargo on a ship. The movie wishes us to believe, as these sort so often do, that our heroine had underlying involvement in what turned out to be a hugely significant step in social progress.

Upon researching Dido and her family, and the Zong trial, I could find no record of her doing any more than taking dictations for her great-uncle. She was, however, accomplished and educated. In the closing scene, in which the trial concludes and justice is done, we are given the obligatory 'person who shouldn't be in the crowd sneaks in and watches proudly as the once-doubted person in power puts wrongs right' stuff. And then the 'person in power finally notices the teary-eyed radical in the crowd who shouldn't be there, and emphasises their words more and builds to a glorious finish of swelling string music and cheers from the audience' stuff. I admit, it was mostly pretty predictable. Perhaps that's because, some 250 years later, we think we know our world well enough to guess what will happen.

But that doesn't take away from the fact that Belle is a very enjoyable and moving drama, which is well acted (ensemble also includes Penelope Wilton, Alex Jennings and Emily Watson), and a nicely romanticised version of history with just the right amount of political and societal speculation for it to still be enjoyed as a story.

Venus in Fur (2014)

Rating: 5/5

What a welcome back to the cinema. After an incredibly demanding few months, I returned today to my beloved Cinema City to witness the latest masterpiece of probably my favourite director, Roman Polanski. Right from Repulsion and Rosemary’s Baby to Tess and of course The Pianist, Polanski has always demonstrated keen insight into his audience’s emotions and expectations, the latter of which he usually seems to defy. This year, we have the beautiful Venus in Fur, which is based upon the play which is based upon the novel by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch (whose practices were apparently on par with the Marquis de Sade – hence Sado-Masochism).

Admittedly, through some apparent mishap, I was until today unfamiliar with either the play or the novel, but had brief understandings of masochism. This movie, which works entirely as a captivating two-hander, gave me a very detailed idea, as it handles not only the story, but its characters explore their characters’ complex minds and thought processes.

Taking place as a single, feature-length ‘scene’, it opens with an inspired shot of a long, tree-lined pavement in Paris during a violent thunderstorm, and the pavement creates an endless  grey tornado into oblivion. The camera then pans to the theatre (the H is missing from the run-down sign), and zaps through the doors, and we are introduced to Thomas (Mathieu Amalric), a first time writer-director, who has penned an adaptation of von Masoch’s novel for the stage, and has grown infuriated by the torrent of brainless bimbo actresses without any depth or emotional understanding auditioning to be his leading lady.

Then, in a rather Educating Rita-esque opening, in swaggers a dishevelled, wind-swept actress (Emmanuelle Seigner), to audition. She is loud, colloquial and self-professedly ‘stupid’, and she is too late. It’s the middle of the night and Thomas has to get home to his fiancée, but the actress is insistent to say the least. She has brought costumes, claims she knows the part well, and when that doesn’t work, she cries. Eventually, she convinces the exasperated Thomas to let her read three pages.

From the very first word of the first page, she is a different person. She is amazing. This is the first of many times the actress Vanda, whose name is the same as that of the character she is auditioning for, effortlessly snaps from ego to alter-ego. Despite insisting he is no actor, Thomas is so attracted by her performance that he soon seems to embody the character speaking the words he wrote. Vanda abruptly snaps back upon the three-page mark, but now Thomas is intrigued, and he wants to continue.

What follows is a paralleling of the play into the reality of the audition. The plot sees beautiful young innocent Vanda propositioned into a dominant relationship by Severin, who has had a fetish for fur and humiliation since a childhood punishment by his aunt. But when Vanda relents and has him become her ‘slave’, she becomes corrupted by his influences, and becomes more than he could ever handle.

Throughout, I couldn’t help but notice certain similarities between Venus and Polanski’s earlier erotic melodrama Bitter Moon, which also starred his lovely wife Emmanuelle Seigner in the role of the femme fatale. That story showed us bitter old paraplegic Oscar (Peter Coyote) and his eye-candy wife Mimi (Seigner), who meet an uptight British couple with a frigid relationship (Hugh Grant and Kristin Scott Thomas) on a cruise, and Oscar relates to the husband in a series of sessions, the story of how his and Mimi’s relationship started out as absolute true love in Paris, but how they reached ‘sexual bankruptcy’ after escalating their sadomasochistic interests as far as they would go. Then came the downfall of their relationship, which involved two-way game-playing, cruelty and ultimate peculiar happiness.

Bitter Moon was melodramatic and at times uncomfortably laughable in its depictions of S&M, but it was utterly captivating and unapologetically insightful towards how humans really think. There was a particular scene in that movie, in which Mimi childishly begs Oscar to let her shave him with a cut-throat razor, and when she cuts his neck, she takes a tongueful of blood – shaving foam and all – and they stare at each other in the bathroom mirror. There is a look Seigner still masters after twenty-something years. That of the foxlike femme fatale, whose motives are questionable and indefinite until the last minutes.

Although there was initially apparent doubt towards Seigner’s capability when Polanski cast her in a couple of his earlier movies, she proved herself. Here, she reinforces herself. Not only does she have an exquisite body for a 47-year old mother of two, but she has utter power over the screen and the situation. Even when Thomas is screaming at Vanda, calling her every name under the sun for questioning the morals behind his content, which he sees as ‘demolition of the material’, she is absolutely collected, and does not flinch. She is never intimidated.

The main attraction of this movie is the insatiable power play between…well, four people really. There is Vanda the actress, and her character Vanda, and there is Thomas, and his character Severin. Mostly by Vanda’s prompt, they break character regularly, erupting into argument, flirtation, seduction, and many many unsure scenarios in between. At first we wonder if anybody knows what is going on. Then Vanda reveals she does: she isn’t actually ignorant to the novel; she isn’t actually ‘stupid’; she has been playing us. After these initial deceptions, what is anyone to expect?

The important quality that the actors and director get so right is the blurring between ego and alter-ego. Vanda may speak the scripted lines, but she will throw in gestures or ideas that are–original. Eventually she and her character dominate Thomas and his to the very limit, to the point where reality must return. But we are still not sure just what that reality is.

This movie is superb. Acting by Seigner and Amalric is absolutely sterling, direction is precise and artful as ever, visuals are dark, rich, moody, reminding me somewhat of those in Louis Malle’s Pretty Baby, and there is a fascinating use of sound. As Vanda and Thomas act out mimed stage directions, the appropriate sounds of the non-present objects are audible. The rattling of a teacup on a saucer, the stirring of the spoon, the tearing of paper. It has a spookily beautiful effect. Musical scoring is equally strong, particularly in the dramatic, forté ending.

Without wanting to spoil a very spectacular ending, the question of the movie’s message must be addressed. Throughout the play, Vanda criticises its supposedly misogynist ideas and claims it is sexist. The fate of Thomas puts these issues up for discussion. Are we to agree ultimately that the play, and Thomas’ own mind, is a perverted display of misogyny, or that these ideas were in fact correct? I really cannot say anymore on what is a very moral-questioning film, for fear of spoiling an ending which left me in awe, and with a slight smile on my face.

Inside Llewyn Davis (2014)

Rating: 5/5

I am a sucker for a musician movie, especially if it is set anywhere between the eras of the beatniks and the rock revolution. This is a crazy, funky time that filmmakers can have a lot of fun recreating, and the prolific Coen Brothers have landed firmly on their feet with their first feature since True Grit - folk drama Inside Llewyn Davis. It is 1961 in the Greenwich Village, and for an uncertain period of perhaps a few days or perhaps a few weeks ("feels like it was a long time..."), we hitch a ride with struggling, now-solo folk musician Llewyn Davis, whom life has dealt a whole lotta lemons. "Everything you touch turns to s**t, like King Midas' idiot brother!" This harsh analysis is unfortunately true of Llewyn's life: whether wittingly or not, nothing ever works out for him. There is no doubt that Llewyn joins a wall of well-loved Coen anti-heroes, but matters out of his control seem to take just as damning an approach as those he brings upon himself. 

This is one of those pictures you will struggle to identify the plot of. The situation is more than obvious, but it does not amount, so much, to a plot. This is one of those pictures you will enjoy for the richness of its characters, its in-depth understanding of people, and the stylish aura it conjures. I cannot say that any particular issue or episode is launched at the beginning and resolved by the end - that's not how it works. Instead, we are treated to beautifully written characters, portrayed by perfectly cast actors, and a recreation of an era so beautiful that you feel at ease just watching. The Coens pay such attention to character development; even those with just a few lines have a well-established sense of self, to the point where we can make our own assumptions as to what they get up to once they are out of the picture. One of my favourites, for example, was soldier/musician Troy Nelson (Stark Sands), who is crashing with Llewyn's sort-of-friend-sort-of-lover Jean (Carey Mulligan) and her happy-go-lucky boyfriend Jim (Justin Timberlake, to perfection). In the morning after a gig, Llewyn wakes on the floor to Troy sitting eating cereal right next to him. His air of contentment, followed by an unknowingly exaggerated slurp of leftover milk and the exclamation "Well, that was great!" is something that would be near-impossible to imitate to such comic effect. This same care is given to each character - simultaneously by their creators and the actor portraying them - forming an incredibly rounded and human picture.

The same is to be said for the movie's level of comedy. It's not of the comedy genre, and the writers (I don't believe) set out to be funny with it. What they do is capture reasonable snippets of real-life-funny, usually created by a character's eccentricity, which doesn't feel forced, scripted, or even planned. This is situational humour, sparsely distributed throughout, and therefore all the more enjoyable. We don't see these jokes (if that is really what you'd call them) coming, and there is no tedious set-up for an unimpressive comic payoff. Consider, for example, the grumpy old wife of Llewyn's manager, whose response to her husband's absence at the office is, "He's at a funeral. Mel goes to a lot of funerals - he likes people!"

But now to our protagonist, Mr. Llewyn Davis, played with mastery by the beautiful Oscar Isaac, whose presence, from his musical performance, to his vocal control, to his astounding face, is everything the role could dream of. This incredibly captivating actor has a rather short and unglorified record before Llewyn Davis, but I suspect this is the first step in an amazing career for him. Not only does he capture the very essence of every good folk musician in his performance, but he presents us with a character we shouldn't really like and makes us love him. It's not that we shouldn't like him because he's bad, but he is quick-tempered, presumptuous and sometimes confrontational. The only entity to lighten his forever depressed and defensive manner is Jean, an aggressive, foul-mouthed "careerist" who may be pregnant with Llewyn's child (only it could also be Timberlake's, and 1961 was sadly lacking televised paternity tests). "All you do is spout bitchery," he tells her, but that's not all. She has an uncanny way of making her own infidelity and subsequent pregnancy somehow Llewyn's fault. Hers is the only BS he will sit and take.

Shall I attempt a synopsis? Here goes...amid the possibility of having impregnated his best friend's girlfriend, Llewyn is slowly but surely exhausting every willing friend with a couch upon which to crash, it's a New York winter and he has only a corduroy jacket (and a friend's fugitive tabby cat), and the suicide of his former musical partner has taken a toll on his enthusiasm, and others' willingness to book him. The truth is, he is a very good folk musician, with a lot of soul, a beautiful voice and good guitar skills. Only a big box of his unsold solo records is a constant reminder that his talent doesn't make money. To counter this very obvious impediment comes an amusingly poignant remark from the friend of a friend, who exclaims, "I envy your business. I bet one hit can setcha up for life!" This is just after Llewyn accepts $200 and no royalties for an out-of-the-blue session. This is really the life of Llewyn Davis. He goes places, he plays gigs, but none of it forms an obligatory three-act performance. All we have to go on is the humanity of it all, and how easily we can sympathise with Llewyn, despite him not being the particularly charitable, lovey-dovey or cavalier man you'd usually expect. He has issues, feelings and fears, and every wonderful element of this film comes together with perfect clarity to show us a man we can feel for. That's all that's really asked of us.

Inside Llewyn Davis is (yep, I'm gonna say it again, and it's still only January!) one of the best films of the year, and shows the Coen brothers back in top form. I'm sure those who lived through the '60s will be happy to bask in the film's nostalgic glory, and those of us who didn't will be happy to bask in the film's nostalgic glory, and simultaneously come to terms with being born too late.

12 Years A Slave (2014)

Rating: 5/5

"Your story is amazing, and in no good way," a white Canadian labourer tells the slave 'Platt.' What has brought this narrator and his unlikely listener together are two entirely different roads, but they meet on the same plantation. Bass is there for the money, having travelled across America for some 30 years, but he can leave any time he chooses, something he says he is grateful for. 'Platt' is enslaved, along with countless other black men and women, but unlike many others, he was born a free man. In fact, he is a free man, and his name is Solomon Northup.

In 1841, Solomon is a happy husband and father, respected by his neighbours, and a gifted violin player, living a successful middle-class life in Saratoga Springs, New York. When his talents are heard of by two suspiciously talkative men, he is enthusiastically enlisted for a two week engagement with a couple of other musicians in Washington. He enjoys an appraised week there, but is suddenly drugged by his 'employers' and wakes up in shackles, on a bare brick floor. Kidnapped and sold into slavery, Solomon is ripped from his wonderful life, and assumed to be the Georgian runaway Platt. 

Every single element of this film, based on the incredible 1853 memoir of Solomon Northup, is absolute perfection, and demonstrates everything one would expect from a brilliant movie. In the same vein as The Color Purple, it is a heart-wrenching, detailed personal account (although this one is not narrated as such) that sees our protagonist suffer much pain, both physical and emotional, but ultimately reach a happy conclusion. Solomon (Chiwetel Ejiofor) is instantly likable. We see him dote over his wife and children, and he demonstrates a charming, gentlemanly manner. He carries himself gracefully, and has a very kind face, a very striking face.

The first moments of his horrific capture are made critical by Ejiofor, whose pure excellence is guaranteed to see an Oscar nomination, not only with his physical performance, but with perfect vocal control, which he goes on to flaunt throughout. As his captors beat him relentlessly with spiked clubs, his usually warm and calm voice bursts out in high pitched wheezes, like his lungs are screaming. A small detail, perhaps, but one of many that I picked up on the perfect execution of for the duration of the movie. Chiwetel Ejiofor, a true British treasure, has previously displayed versatility and craft in a variety of roles - particularly enjoyable as transvestite fashionista Lola in Kinky Boots - but here is given the opportunity to demonstrate every admirable length he is able to reach, with absolute dedication to every intimate characteristic.

Solomon's first prison is that of proud but kindly William Ford (Benedict Cumberbatch), whose secretly nurturing manner recognises his employee's talents, not only for music, but for transport and engineering. He presents Solomon with a new violin, who is later forced to play it to distract onlookers from the violence of his new master, the sadistic Edwin Epps (Michael Fassbender in terrifyingly good form). Epps reads crassly to his slaves from the Bible, making absurd connections to the verses and his own cruelty, and declaring, "That's Scripture!"

It is this tyrant's grasp from which Solomon is eventually rescued, but in the years beforehand, he and the other slaves are subjected to horrific, brutal treatment by their 'owners'. A scene in which Solomon helplessly witnesses a slave woman being whipped almost to death uses sound to present us with a metaphor which carries on throughout. As our protagonist screams in protest, every word is drowned out by the vicious crack of the whip. It is a harrowing sequence. This effective use of sound is noticeable so often. A menacing foghorn-like noise booms to announce the approach of some or other oppressor. The sharp creaking of a tightening violin string quakes with implication of it imminently snapping.

Impressive cinematography is similarly utilised. Every shot is perfect in its construction and purpose. There are too many worthy sequences, notable for their beauty and intelligence, to mention. Director Steve McQueen has once again demonstrated a deep understanding and devotion to his material, and made every element work to form. A former war artist, his film portfolio ranges many topical and thought-inducing presentations, and this is surely his greatest triumph to date.

The cast are an amazingly talented ensemble, with each individual's performance, no matter how brief, being given all the energy and attention to detail that a lead would. Every single actor is utterly dedicated to their character, completely absorbed in it, and as a whole create a seamless reality to the situation.

Although much of 12 Years A Slave is difficult, upsetting viewing, it is undoubtedly one of the year's best films already. Engaging and totally captivating, this movie represents an important milestone in cinema, in history and in literature. It is perfect beyond words. To date it has won 174 awards and 359 nominations, and the 2014 Oscar Nominations are announced on the 16th. This is sure to be among them for many a category.