2011 was such a good year for film, and the British Film Institute have released the year’s final tally at the box office that reflect just how good a year it was. The figures show an increase of 5% from 2010, taking a total of £1.04bn., marking the first time the UK box office has surpassed the £1bn.-mark.

The year saw a release of so many great films, judging from both critical and commercial measures, including the likes of The King’s Speech, Fast Five, Transformers: Dark of the Moon, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, The Inbetweeners, and of course, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2, which was the year’s most successful film across the world, taking £73m. at our box office, and a total of $1.3bn. from cinemas around the globe.

The total number of tickets sold was also up 1.4% from 2010 to 171.6 million, and the independent British film industry also had its best year to date in terms of market share, recording a figure of 13.5%.

The BFI note that the strong performance last year was fuelled both by independent British films like The Inbetweeners as well as blockbusters made in the UK with British talent, crew, and services, like the Harry Potter finale and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows (though Robert Downey, Jr. is of course an American in the lead, but that’s neither here nor there, because he’s so damn cool).

The report notes that the year also saw a drop in the number of films made, however, reduced from 262 in 2010 to 169 last year, a drop of roughly 35.5%.

“It’s still a challenging time for filmmakers trying to raise finance to make independent British films in this tough economic climate,” said the BFI’s Amanda Nevill.

“As we enter 2012, many challenges remain but today’s figures clearly show that keeping audiences at the heart of everything we do will help the British film industry to enjoy even greater success in the future and continue to be an important contributor to the UK economy.”

The BFI’s director general, Liz Bales, added further,

“It’s great to see film fans’ enthusiasm for the fantastic creative output of the British film industry… The BFI figures provide further evidence that the overwhelming majority of people are willing to pay for film, TV and video content.”

Though there has been talk of the Olympics this year providing competition for the box office this summer, I’m remaining hopeful and optimistic that it won’t have a significant negative impact. The Olympics will be running from 27^th July to 12^th August, during which time the main films currently scheduled for release include Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax, which should be able to draw a strong young audience along with their parents; Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, which should pull the teen and young-adult audience; Seth MacFarlane’s feature debut, Ted, which is going to be awesome; and Step Up 4 at the tail-end of the Olympics, which will no doubt draw teens and fans of the earlier franchise.

Provided it does well (which everyone’s expecting it to), The Amazing Spider-Man will probably also be in cinemas at the start of the games, with its release on 4^th July. And of course The Dark Knight Rises will be hitting cinemas a week before the Games kick-off on 20^th July, and I’ll take the Nolan brothers’ conclusion to their Batman trilogy over the Olympics any day of the week, and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of others who’d do the same.

So here’s to hoping that this time next year, we’ll be bringing you a similar report saying that 2012 has been even better than 2011 was, getting even further past the £1bn.-mark, which will hopefully become a benchmark in the years to come.

Source: BBC, who note that the figures account for UK cinemas, not including the Republic of Ireland.

The BFI have been in contact with us to offer a great prize. Not only to go to see the 1969 movie, Bronco Bullfrog and to also attend a Q&A with the director himself. And as if that’s not enough, they’ve also given us a poster for the movie.

A leading cult film and the only record of suedehead culture in British cinema, Barney Platts-Mills’ tale of teenage lovers with no money and nowhere to go is a wonderful time capsule of late 60s London, this is filmmaking with a spontaneity, wit and endearing humanity that still feels strikingly fresh.

There’s special preview screenings of the movie + Q&A with more info here. :

BFI Southbank, Thur 3 June, 20:40

Curzon Soho, Sat 19 June, 16:30

Opens 11 June at BFI Southbank, Genesis Whitechapel & IFI, Dublin

For more info and to watch the trailer.

We’ve got one pair of tickets for the 3rd June to be given away for a screening at the BFI. All you have to do is answer the following question using the form below:

Who plays Del Quant in Bronco Bullfrog?

The small print:

• This competition is open to the UK only.
• Only one entry per household will be counted.
• The competition will close Tuesday 1st June at 23.59 GMT.
• The winners will be picked at random from entries received.

The usual T&Cs can be found here.

Competition now Closed

Stephen Poliakoff’s dark, labyrinthine account of England’s tumble into the Second World War was premiered at the London Film Festival this year and we were impressed by it.

As today sees the film’s release I wanted to take another look at this drama, to see if it lives up to its name.

Glorious 39 is not as glamorous as the marketing would have us believe. The posters suggest a costume drama about the brilliant and carefree life of British Aristocracy in the world of “Jeeves and Wooster”, with the faint whiff of a world war in the air. Instead, the new film by Stephen Poliakoff turns into an interesting and almost Hitchcockian conspiracy thriller.

“Almost” ““ because it seems that the director can not decide what type of film he is directing and keeps swinging between historic political drama and conspiracy thriller. As a result the film’s pace is very slow and does not deliver the crucial emotional epiphany to the audience when it is most desired.

As the name of the film suggests the story is set in the summer of 1939, in London and the peaceful countryside. The film is centered around the aristocratic Keyes family, who continue their luxurious lifestyle or parties and parliament despite Europe being at the edge of war with Hitler. The head of the family, Alexander (brilliantly played by Bill Nighy) is an influential MP and a great father to his three children: Ralph (Eddie Redmayne) who works at the Foreign Office and Celia (Juno Temple). The eldest adopted daughter, a young actress, Anne (Romola Garai) is in love with Foreign Office official Lawrence (Charlie Cox).

Anne’s lifestyle is all London-parties and countryside picnics and it is changed dramatically after one of her friends, a young MP (David Tennant) speaks out against British government and Hilter and shortly after that is found dead. Her suspicion and sense of dread is compounded by Anne’s discovery of hidden recordings with some secret Government information.

Anne’s journey of unveiling the truth lies not only in the political world of Britain ruled by Chamberlain’s government, but it also reveals great family drama, a tragedy of her personal fears. Romola Garai is brilliant in delivering her character’s fears, sense of betrayal, confusion and, finally, terror. She is supported by great performances of her screen siblings, Eddie Redmayne and Juno Temple, and the remarkable Julie Christie as Aunt Elizabeth.

Glorious 39 is the first film for Stephen Poliakoff after a 10-year break, during which he focused on TV dramas for BBC. That is probably the reason why film feels like it belongs to TV screen rather then cinema. The cinematography by Zac Nicholson is picturesque eye-candy, but it does not help in conveying the sense the horror of upcoming war and our heroine’s panic.

Stephen Poliakoff deliberately stayed away from the war footage and instead showed Britain as it was the edge of WWII. One of the surreal pictures shows scenes when people have to abandon their pets and take them to be “put down” to vets. The pictures of pets are almost horrific, as well as the condition of Anne, who discovers secrets that can totally ruin her whole concept of life.

However, despite brilliant performances and some surreal pictures, the film does not deliver the sense of horror. Poor editing and slow pace makes this film very hard to enjoy and follow the director’s vision. It seems the director wants to show too many interesting things that are hard to put into one film. In this case a longer frame of TV dramas feels like a better choice.

Glorious 39 is out today.

Nowhere Boy marks the feature debut of director Sam Taylor-Wood, from a script by Matt Greenhalgh, who wrote the screenplay for the acclaimed Ian Curtis biopic Control. The film, which closes the 53rd London Film Festival tonight, deals with the coming of age of John Lennon and the complicated domestic turbulence between his Mother and her Sister, John’s guardian, Aunt Mimi. It chronicles the passions and pains of a young, angry man in a society on the brink of a revolution.  It is an impressive work, with a magnetic central performance from Aaron Johnson and a plethora of magnificent support from some of the finest British actors working today.

Based on the memoir Imagine That by Lennon’s sister, Julia, Nowhere Boy is a fresh and emotionally taut drama which captures the rage and excitement of the post war years; a time of inherited austerity feeling the initial tremors of the Rock and Rock seismic change just around the corner. It is a playful and moving character study of the young Beatle, whose life is struck repeatedly with tragedy and who searches for a foundation in the fractured family unit consisting of Aunt Mimi and her sister, John’s Mother, Julia.

John Lennon is an icon recognisable the world over and his music, with The Beatles and his tragically short solo career, influenced millions of people. Where Taylor-Wood and Greenhalgh succeed is in taking the mythology of Lennon and his fellow Beatles and find an ocean of emotional turmoil to dive into. The early tragedy of his Uncle’s death sparks the touchpaper of an already unstable young man and the film follows his life through the rebelliousness and euphoria of teenage life with a care and sensitivity which is gripping and captures the excitement of the time.

Beatles fans will spot the customary Liverpool landmarks of Strawberry Fields and The Cavern club but these are cursory nods and the film eschews the conventions of the music biopic and allow the characters, so familiar to us, to form. The streets of Liverpool are awash with dockers and bus-surfing teddy boys, and the dialogue crackles with Scouse wit and backchat dripping with sarcasm, lifting the inherent melodrama and bringing the story to life. The cold, stifled atmosphere of Mendips, home to Lennon and Aunt Mimi contrasts perfectly with the riotous colourful abode of Lennon’s Mother Julia and both are beautifully realised and peopled with actors of great capability.

Johnson does a remarkable job as our leading man, bringing a charisma and tangible excitement to John Lennon as he rampages out of control on the stage and coolly dismisses a flick-knife in the face by a local bully. His chaotic genius  and energetic sadness is captivating. He is recognisably John Lennon, but with an unformed quality that is so necessary as he is buffeted by the forces of family loyalty and the wealth of secrets that lay in repressed memories of a grey Blackpool day out long ago.

While the narrative adheres faithfully (perhaps prosaically) to the story it succeeds in capturing the moments that matter beautifully. Lennon’s rowdy behaviour in school, the uncertain rebel trying to cope with the loss of family, the arrogant showman learning his trade from a fresh faced,  tea drinking Paul McCartney, the frustrated son searching in vain for a sense of harmony to his life; all shades of Lennon are rendered impressively by a brilliant performance. For the first time in a long while Aaron Johnson made me want to be the character I saw on screen.

I cannot praise the supporting cast enough. Anne-Marie Duff continues her startling rise with a nuanced and sympathetic performance as the trouble Julia and director Taylor-Wood wisely refuses to linger on the obvious traits of her character, instead Duff is able to bring a caricature to ebullient life. In contrast the third point of the triangle is Mimi, played with precision and outstanding depth by Kristen Scott Thomas, trying to bring up the wayward teenager with a sense of discipline while keeping dark secrets at bay. Her subtleties and understanding of the drama of the story is an essential component of why this film, at one crucial point, literally left me breathless.

Nowhere Boy takes a man whose life has transcended cultural boundaries and looks back as he struggles to become greater than the accident of his birth. The token scenes of the early Beatles performances excite and the dynamics of the characters are pitched perfectly and the final shock, when it comes, is devastating. Sam Taylor-Wood has earned the praise she is rightfully receiving as an artist and now as a film maker.

This film is a perfect end to a magnificent London Film Festival, and serves to remind the world that the talent of British film makers has never been greater and a new British cultural identity is being established here and now.

A Serious Man is the Coen brothers’ darkest comedy to date and perhaps their most personal film, set as it is in the Jewish-America suburbia of Minnesota in the 1960s. Their purposefully erratic filmography is a definite advantage as with most Coen films there is no indication of which direction the wild wind will blow, and Larry Gopnik (played by Michael Stuhlberg) has very rough weather to contend with, to prove he is a serious man.

Larry is a physics professor seeking tenure, and when we meet him we quickly see the fruits of his labour are rotting in the sun-soaked suburban sprawl of middle America. His family is a mess, with his chronically sick brother Arthur sleeping on the couch, conducting deep mathematical investigations to aid his secret gambling habit, his son’s bar mitzvah’s is approaching and only his confiscated pocket radio, the TV aerial and a burgeoning marijuana habit on his mind, a failing student attempts to bribe him and his wife wants to discuss their imminent divorce. This all happens in the first ten minutes of the film. And things only get worse for Larry.

The Coens have hidden complex questions on the nature of faith, mortality and the constant onslaught of meaningless adversity that befalls us, in amongst some beautifully observed and truly hilarious vignettes. It is their trademark oddness which elevates this story and the prologue, a small piece of folklore with a Grimm twist in its tale (told entirely in Yiddish), is a suitable introduction to the inventiveness and confidence of the Coens. A Serious Man is a film about staring into the abyss and hearing a deafening, endless silence.

The characters are where the Coens excel, and their films guarantee unique, memorable personalities and this film, though it centres primarily on Stuhlberg’s character, has a brilliant cast which populate Larry’s social and emotional disintegration. His wife’s lover is a fantastically outsized Coen creation called Sy Ableman (yet another perfectly named character), whose deep, hypnotising drawl is a masterpiece of passive aggressive behaviour and Larry, in his moral quagmire, is no match. Of course, this being a Coen brothers film, the unexpected chaos comes quickly to Sy, and the twisting gale of calamity which orbits Larry closer and closer gathers pace until he is forced to finally make a decision. Once he does, and all the pieces of this particularly diabolic puzzle are in place, the film cannons out another volley of curveballs and the film ends on a beautiful and necessary note.

There is no order in the chaos of Larry’s life, no answers or reassuring moral messages from the succession of Rabbi Larry consults. The story of the Goy’s teeth is a perfect and hilarious illustration of the meaningless of asking questions in order to get answers. Larry, standing on his roof to fix his TV aerial has the unlooked for advantage of a new perspective over his everyday suburbia, and just as we think he’s making progress he is distracted and entranced by his neighbour sunbathing nude. Larry’s only absolute understanding is of the Uncertainty Principle, writ large in oversized detail on his classroom blackboard. This is entirely in keeping with the confusing nature of the film, as is the moment when the ghost of a main character rams Larry’s face into the blackboard again and again and again.

A Serious Man is not so much a love letter to the Coen’s past as a fabulist reworking of remembered scenes and tall tales, dysfunctional families and mass of meshugas (and that’s enough Yiddish from a Goy like me”¦). It is a rich and esoteric film of impeccable detail and many cruel laughs. The Coens have become masters of the unexpected and have made a personal and mature film that sparkles with enough inherent brilliance to make it worth your time.

As a final note, in case you missed it, I wanted to include the outstanding trailer for A Serious Man which is as sublime and original as befits a Coen brothers film. Check it out below and there is an excellent article here on the creation of this piece of work, which is considered by many to be the best trailer of the year.

Glorious 39 marks acclaimed filmmaker Stephen Poliakoff’s return to the big screen after  twelve long years and it is an epic triumph of ambition and craft, delivering a superb and engaging thriller of duplicity and deceit on the eve of World War II.

Threatened by the impending ‘little war’ the aristocracy, fearing their way of life will be destroyed by Hitler’s army, adopt an aggressive strategy of appeasement and it is this anxiety which propels the plot of Poliakoff’s script forward. The uncertainty and tension of the late summer of 1939 is our scene and an intriguing and poignant journey into the darkness of war produces an unforgettable drama from a writer and director whose ability to illuminate the harrowing detail of betrayal and heartache has never been more potent.

The formidable cast, eager to work with Poliakoff in the first feature production for over a decade, is headed by Romola Garai, recently seen in the title role of the BBC’s latest production of Emma, as Anne Keyes, the adopted eldest child of an aristocratic family with a rich history of high ranking public servants. Anne’s father is Sir Alexander, Bill Nighy in what can be considered one of his most impressive performances yet as the grave, morally ambiguous member of parliament with an agenda hidden deep within the labyrinths of power.

Their relationship is our safe haven in the film. When news of war breaks and hearts flutter with arrivals and disappearances Anna and her father console one another and Nighy is perfect as the solemn, solicitous patriarch whose family are integral to the nation’s fate.  Eddie Redmayne and Juno Temple are Sir Alexander’s children by birth and their complicity and active part in the family’s fortune comes to overshadow the carefree and affectionate relationship they share with Anna when the film begins. Every relationship has a truth and a solidity to it that is Poliakoff’s forte, and it compels each and every twist with great power.

Charlie Cox plays Lawrence, Anna’s lover and a middling civil servant whose fate is buffeted by the class-invoked tempest that results from the declaration of war. He is a sympathetic in a well cast role, and thanks to the overbearing air of suspicion his agenda and manner is constantly under scrutiny. His friendship with Hector Haldane, played with a frenzy and passion by David Tennant, and a fateful birthday celebration for Sir Alexander brings together the family with several shady government officers whose silence and reverence for the host of the party fuels a distrust in Anna that has devastating consequences for all involved.

Poliakoff’s contribution to film and television is unparalleled and it with great pleasure that we welcome him back onto the big screen. His recent television works, including The Lost Prince and Shooting the Past, are works of such complexity and grace that even a minor work is considered a glowing achievement in the field. Glorious 39 has moments of true genius, from the stunningly original method of establishing the transition from present to the past to the message from the grave Anna receives is a chilling and bold spin on a cliched turn.

The camerawork is almost Kubrick-esque as the handheld tracking shots following characters as they move through the shadowy interiors of houses or into running into rapidly collapsing external spaces is breathtaking. The rose pink skies over the quiet Norfolk hills contrasts perfectly with the cluttered, smoke scarred London with its cacophonous clash of bells; every location is perfect and serves the story well. The ruins of an old cathedral in the family grounds is an evocative environment and the various ways it is used to further the plot is thrilling in its invention.

The language is beautiful and precise, the prosaic nature of government and family politics is rendered with such imagination and poise that the plot, as it unravels, is gripping at every turn and the scenes we encounter as Anna’s world closes in on her are filled with emotional authenticity. The use of a Keats poem to foreshadow a key plot point is a moment of joy.

The opulence of scenery, of performance and complexity to this tale is so overwhelming  that to attempt to cast a critical eye upon its entirety is futile. This is a powerful masterwork whose elements combine to produce a moving, thrilling film.

Glorious 39 is out in cinemas on the 20th of November.

Atom Egoyan’s remake of Anna Fontaine’s 2003 thriller Nathalie relocates the French thriller to a beautifully filmed Toronto and employs Mamma Mia’s Amanda Seyfried as the eponymous escort in what can only be described as an ‘erotic thriller’ (I know”¦) that falls short of complete satisfaction.

The film is ostensibly a simple thriller of deception and suspicion as Julianne Moore’s Anna suspects her husband of sleeping his way across the country to his New York University. Their marriage is a series of pregnant pauses and disappointed remembrances of their early years before their son was born. Their troubles are evident however David shows a total reluctance to acknowledge them. Moore is always worth watching and can imbue even the most tired role with a weight and sensitivity, and in this film she carries a sadness with her that is tangible and affecting. If only the film could have derailed from he obvious path her character is set on.

Neeson too is excellent as the Lotharian teacher and is to be commended for such a potent performance at a time of personal tragedy; he and Moore provide a solid foundation for the film’s patchwork plot to play out. The final number in the triumvirate is the beautiful escort Anna enlists to test her husband’s fidelity, Chloe. Following her star making turn in Mamma Mia and the subsequent nerdy role in Jennifer’s Body Seyfried is allowed to expand her range as the doe-eyed courtesan who handles Anna’s husband with alacrity and Anna herself with an abstruse diffidence that belies her professional demeanour. Something is not right with all or any of them, and the film stirs their lives up as we watch the dangerous chemistry do its work.

In the beginning time is taken to establish the characters and their situation to each other. A surprise birthday party which David misses (deliberately to spend more time with some female students) is the prefect set up and the film builds on the construction of the sexual identity of relationships and the dangers of misunderstanding and fear of abandonment. As an example the surprise party is, at first glance, a lovely touch by Anna but as the motives and angst of the characters unfolds it is seen as a enormous lie, involving all of their friends against David. This is the sort of backwards double-thought logic of the film that pulls you into the collapsing relationship and as it falls it is easy to hold on to see how it ends up.

Once Chloe is in the mix Anna urges her to continue meeting up with David to see what he’ll do with such a pretty and eager woman. Chloe regales her with the increasing intimacy that follows and the scenes between Seyfried and Moore are interesting without being particularly impactful; they play beautifully off each other which, as the story develops, becomes important. I won’t spoil it for you, suffice to say that Chloe’s motives are anything but subtle and the ending is obvious half way through the film. You ask questions that Anna doesn’t and the early work done by Moore is lost as the film fades into a crowd of myriad other genre films.

What I enjoyed as the film went on was playing Spot the Influence and there is a tangible Hitchcock vibe to the film. Elements (and sometime direct replication) of some of Hitchcock’s most effective scenes and devices are used. The double dealing hidden motives of Strangers on a Train, the obsession and the blonde bait of Vertigo and, in one truly memorable moment, a Rear Window echo which causes the forth wall to wobble precariously.

The film looks gorgeous, with luridly sumptuous hotel rooms and luxurious restaurants and homes contrast nicely with the glorious airy Toronto cityscapes. The definition of desire is a rich vein to tap into and helps lift the film above the erotic thriller label and while the level of nudity and sex isn’t overt to a tasteless degree the haphazard and seemingly random sexual choices the characters make isn’t always credible.

Egoyan’s film is psychosexual in every way, and sadly concentrates on the psycho as the film plummets to its unsatisfied climax. What began as a taut, if familiar, adult drama never fulfills its promise and descends rapidly into a confused mix of genres and leaves many of the emotional elements without resolution. Usually this is fine, and I’m all in favour of a film that leaves questions unanswered but this is a thriller that relies on its conventions to lead us to a clearly defined end point, and to have an interesting premise and solid performances result in such a contrived manner is a disappointment.

While Chloe is scheduled for a 2010 release, a date is yet to be confirmed.

Scott Hicks returns to the South Australian sun for his latest film The Boys Are Back, and echos his greatest commercial triumph, the David Helfgott biopic Shine, with this family in transition drama. Clive Owen leads the film as a recently widowed sports writer and father to two boys, Artie (Nicholas McAnulty) who lives with him in Australia and Harry, his child from a previous marriage who is ensconced at an English boarding school, played by George MacKay. While this road has been walked before Hicks and Owen combine to create a poignant film which maintains an original voice despite the crowded arena.

Dealing with the tragic, early death of his wife (Laura Fraser)and the onslaught of parental responsibility Joe Warr (Owen) retreats into his grief with a stoic facade and the creation of what he considers to be the best environment for his young son: Hog’s Heaven. Slowly the threads holding his life together unravel as he struggles to maintain a bond with his child as he resolves to be a father to his boy despite the erosion of his treasured, and very male, image of himself as the man of the house.

Coping well the family home is turned upside down, literally and figuratively by the arrival of Warr’s teenage son, Harry. The film speaks volumes about the bonds of fathers and sons, the crisis of male identity in the three stages of life and how to pick up the precious components of a broken life, and Hicks places a great deal of trust in Clive Owen to be the emotional centre around which this film orbits. It is faith well placed as Owen has a depth and subtlety rarely seen in his body of work as a man who boundaries and responsibilities are clearly defined and founded on the presence, and then absence, of his wife.

While the film’s introduction of the older son allows another dimension of Warr’s emotionally tortured journey to reveal itself it does threaten to knock the film off balance as the profusion of relationships Warr has to contend with overwhelms the main arc of the story. The question of how to fill the void left by someone so important to your life is not answered and that is just as it should be, a happy, manufactured ending would betray the tenderness and gravity of the preceding events. This is a series of grief stricken vignettes; each episode is a slow step on a path to recovery and the understated performances, particularly of the young boys, and the sun bleached shots of the varied Australian landscapes evoke a strong response.

This is a brave look at the minutiae of the recovery process of becoming a single parent in sudden and heart-rending circumstances, and a realistic tone is well realised with a smart script by Allan Cubitt adapting Simon Carr’s novel and the grounded performances and sensitive dynamics by the cast, particulate the three male leads. At times painful, this film only occasionally strays into familiar territory with a third act dilemma which appears crafted to elicit a particular conclusion, but there is a hopeful undercurrent which is given the chance to bloom by the film’s end and serves to honour the heart breaking scenes which came before.

Hicks’s direction is assured and uses the economy of silence to tell a deep and soulful story with respect for the audience, and the subject matter. The most powerful moments occur when the questioning has abated and the tears have dried, and the total absence, the loss of the anchor, is made clear. The Boys are Back is a film told beautifully and with great integrity, achieving a emotional richness that will stay with you.

The Boys are Back is released in the UK on the 15th of January 2010.

Lone Scherfig’s An Education is the surprise of the festival for me. Knowing only that Nick Hornby had adapted a journalist’s memoirs centring on her first love during the early 1960s I didn’t expect much. When the credits rolled I was certain that I’d seen perhaps the best British film of the year.

Carey Mulligan leads the cast, including Peter Sarsgaard, Dominic Cooper, Olivia Williams and Alfred Molina with a strong and charming performance, and should easily be in contention come Oscar season. For such a young actor to shoulder so much and with such ability is truly phenomenal; she will be a bright shining star. To stand out in a crowd of accomplished actors such as Emma Thompson and the aforementioned Molina is truly incredible, yet she is able to avoid the trappings of cliche and imbues her character will a wilfulness and originality that elevates this film from its pedestrian roots.

Mulligan plays the sweet natured and strong willed Jenny, a schoolgirl with an Oxford education in her future and only the trials of exams and a laughably inadequate schoolboy suitor to navigate before her real life begins in earnest. An ostensibly random meeting with a wealthy and sophisticated man casts a light on an alternative path for her future, one that has previously been hidden from her: that she might follow her heart rather than her head and replace Oxford libraries with Parisian jazz clubs. The family unit, headed by Molina and Cara Seymour, rounds on Jenny, stressing the importance of her education. She has a choice to make and so the story is set.

The beauty of this film is partly in the performances, but credit is due to Nick Hornby’s outstanding script for illuminating the realism of the character dynamics while allowing the eccentricities of the causal racism and outmoded sensibilities their place. The pacing of the film contributes to a natural evolution of plot and is driven by the characters and as the path Jenny is walking becomes muddled with revelations the generic plot devices are touched on rather than relied on to bring a satisfying conclusion that earns the rewards it brings.

An Education is an apt title, as almost every character undergoes enlightenment of one kind or another. The overlapping layers and interweaving character arcs provide the film with a touching and original tone, and the delicacy with which it plays out is a joy to behold. It is funny, moving and capable of melting your heart. The direction is magnificent and Scherfig is to be commended for eliciting such powerful performances from her cast and creating a flawless world of schoolgirl crushes on the precipice of adulthood and the tribulations of that great unknown. It is not mired in these questions, nor does it offer a superficial narrative of awkward sexual encounters and pantomime parents. It creates something unique out of something quite ordinary and that is an achievement indeed.

This is a phenomenal year for British film and there is much we can learn as an industry from this film. Not every film set in the 1960s has to look like Austin Powers. London does not have an endless supply of red routemaster buses orbiting its streets. We don’t all live in Zones 1 and 2 of the capital. We have a rich cultural heritage and identity but more importantly we have a wealth of talent and stories that can be harnessed and celebrated on screen to create something extraordinary.

Somewhere between the suburban nuclear meltdowns of Mike Leigh and Richard Curtis’s two sugars with his tea lies An Education, and we have much to learn from this remarkable film.

Bright Star is a visually poetic film from Jane Campion, based on the final years of one of the most celebrated Romantic poets, John Keats, and his relationship with Fanny Brawne. Ben Wishaw follows his leading performance in Perfume as the poet and Australian actress Abbie Cornish as Keats’ muse. Based on Andrew Motion’s biography of Keats it is a tour de force of tragic love with a serious and affecting intelligence and Campion wisely chooses to let the poetry come, like leaves to a tree, from the inspiration Keats finds with his muse, Fanny Brawne.

It is a sad film filled with bright, shining moments. Keats is portrayed as a man failing in health and prospects, surrounded by friends who love him though unable to sustain him. Sharing a room with his bullish close friend Brown (Paul Schneider) and a house with the Brawne family Keats’ magisterial poetic voice is raised through his relationship with the eldest daughter of that family, the spiky, fashionable and mellifluous Fanny. Though doomed by the narrow parameters of society the love which blossoms between the two is slow burning at first, yet builds to an all consuming fire by the end.

Love is the pulse of this film, and Campion takes her time with the central relationship, allowing it to feel its way naturally into life and find the two central characters in good time. Keats’ story is not a happy one, constantly on the edge of debt and his talent undiscovered almost completely and yet the audience was held in rapt attention while his words were read on screen. Familiarity did not dull the sonnets and the Odes that came easily into the narrative, thanks to a economic and imaginative script.

The performances were solid, Wishaw gives Keats a subtle charm and does not overplay the moments of inspiration. Abbie Cornish has the harder task of carrying the audience with her as she, and we, fall for this dispirited man, and yet her capability leads us through the infatuation and raptures of love. She is the one, the Bright Star, who carries this film.

The direction is understated and suitable poetic from a visual standpoint and you are able to see Campion stepping back from the scene and allowing it to play out. The delicate touch allows us to immerse ourselves into this world and yet there are moments, such as the moment when Keats, euphoric, climbs to the top of a tree and lies on its topmost branches among its blooming flowers under a flawless sky. Likewise the butterfly garden Fanny creates in his room is realised expertly and with a genuine emotional delicacy. The shadows are equally powerful, and Campion’s choice of understated music which echoes mournfully through the sedate scenes of society constriction is a masterful play.

The interiors are dark wood, solid and oppressive; the house they share is made to contain. It deadens the senses, so important as Keats has it, “Poetry can only be understood by the senses,” and so it is here with Wentworth Place. The location chosen by Campion reinforces the repression of the society that fuels Keats’ inferiorities, denying him the pathway of his affections. The doors are heavy and their opening and closing echo throughout the house, the floorboards creak and shouts of argument and whispers of devotion have nowhere to go and are caught. That Keats and Fanny are divided in their beds by only a thin wall is a perfect illustration of the importance of space as a metaphor for their existence together.

In an exquisite moment, when love is declared and Fanny reals the sudden rush of its power she is shown lying back, almost thrown back on her bed as the bedroom curtains billow inwards, letting in the summer wind to which she happily succumbs.

At times the film feels airless and detached from the details of the love which drives it. We only see glints of the complete love of the written word which cast such a spell over Fanny initially and which sustains Keats in his later, frail days. While letters are poured over and small notes of two simple words held to the breast there is little of the ecstasy felt in the creation of these. Only once, when the words of Ode To a Nightingale come to the poet after listening to the song of the bird as it made its nest outside his room, Keats takes his place under a plum tree and inhales deeply and the words are spoken over the scene, then written on scraps of paper. This for me was the joy of the film. The inspiration bringing forth the sublime poetry which is his legacy. He, like the nightingale, lives on through his song.

There is much darkness in this Bright Star, and as Keats and Fanny fall in love within the social shades of the time, and touch hands in the fleeting moments of privacy they find, it is society, money and illness which conspire to deny them the happiness they fight for. Campion keeps the story close to its heart and Fanny and Keats are the beginning and the end of this film and perhaps it was a combinable decision not to sex up the story (indeed the consequences of sexual liberties are shown all too clearly in Brown screaming that, after having an illegitimate child with a maid and failing Keats in his moment of dire need), however there is such passion in Keats’ poetry that the romance on screen in kept in stolen kisses and longing, agonising looks.

The film is a sensual triumph and though the pace often slows the performances are engaging enough to allow the poetry and intelligence of the film to shine through the tragedy.

Bright Star is released in UK cinemas on the 6th of November 2009.

Jon Ronson’s investigation into the surreal and secret endeavour by the U.S. Army to use paranormal and New Age theories in the war on terror is hilarious and terrifying in equal measure; it brings together the seemingly polar opposites of war and peace and shows us that the middle ground is littered with madness and dead goats.

The research undertaken by Ronson, as part of his Channel 4 documentary series ambiguously titled Crazy Rulers of the World, uncovers the strange history of the American military’s interest and investment in the practical application of a psychic soldier; the potential of an Army corp deep undercover in the Twilight Zone. The script, adapted by Peter Straughan, had been riding the Hollywood circles for a few years until it fell into the hands of Grant Heslov and George Clooney who saw immense potential in lifting the veil on a story that strains credulity and takes delight in watching peace and love collide spectacularly with war and death.

The film adaptation, directed by Grant Heslov and starring George Clooney, Ewan McGregor, Kevin Spacey and Jeff Bridges begins with the inter-title ‘More of this is true than you would believe’, and promptly delivers the fixed stare of a high ranking army official before he runs head first into a wall.

It is a suitable start to a film whose greatest moments lie in the militarisation of the hippie movement and whose considerable use of flashbacks tell the story of depressed cuckold Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor) who, after being stuck in a back water newspaper job interviewing a bewildering assortment of local crazies, seeks a redemptive journalistic triumph in the wilds of Kuwait City, and happens upon Lyn Cassady (George Clooney), a retired psychic spy. Seizing his chance to uncover a bizarre and covert military operation Wilton pleads to join Cassady on his, admittedly vague, journey into the desert.

This odd couple road trip takes the characters across a barren Iraq landscape, with roadside bombs and kidnappers on the way. All the time Cassady tells the increasingly anxious journalist the story of how the Army enlisted him and bought him under the command of Bill Django, a Vietnam veteran who survives a near death ambush who sees a vision and opens his mind to the colourful New Age philosophy the Army become interested in taking advantage of; casting a timely lightness against the darkness of the Vietnam war.

Jeff Bridges plays Django and I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were watching the history of The Dude before his found his bowling balls and went shopping for rugs. His G.I. Lebowski is a highlight of the film and adds unexpected pathos as we discover his fate when the film catches up with him in present day. Also introduced in the flashbacks is the conniving Larry Hooper (played with gleeful, deadpan maliciousness by Kevin Spacey), who after playing second fiddle to Clooney’s impressive psychic ability begins experimenting illegally with LSD and blames the death of a fellow soldier on Django. The Army’s warrior monks are disbanded and Hooper forces the unit’s emphasis to harness the power of the mind, to infuse the work of mother nature with a vicious twist – plainly, to be able to stop the beating heart of a goat by staring at it. And that’s just the beginning.

It is not hard to accept the premise. Given the lunacy of war, writ large in the fictions of Joseph Heller and Kurt Vonnegut, it seems entirely appropriate that every angle is tried, including the use of a forever looping theme song of Barney the Dinosaur in the torturing of prisoners. The gloriously backward nature of military decisions is well played here, evoking the very best of Yes Minister-esque double speak and Möbius logic, and the juxtaposing of sense and nonsense that we accept, along with McGregor’s character, as the film jumps back and forward to a surreal climax in the desert.

Much fun is to be had with the Star Wars references as Django and Cassady’s philosophies and credo are called the ways of the Jedi. Seeing McGregor’s cynical reaction to being told to ‘think like a Jedi’ are great to watch, and though the film claims to be mostly fiction, it is entirely plausible that the Army commandeered Reagan’s Star Wars initiative to its own means.

And while the film never settles into its own rhythm the performances are enough to bring this film to life and provide an engaging experience. My only problem was that the ideas introduced aren’t given the breath to realise the insane potential and the film seeks too hard to provide a suitable resolution for each of the cast (which it achieves, but at the expense of a wavering focus from ideas to characters).

It is an enjoyable film, with excellent performances that elevate, but never overshadow, the ideas contained within.

The filmmakers state that the film, despite the factual roots, is fictional. The trouble is that every crazy minute is entirely plausible.

The Men who Stare at Goats is released in the UK on the 6th of November.

The Road defeated me. It crushed and destroyed me. It broke my heart in the first fifteen minutes and spent the next hour and a half trampling it through the dead and dusty ground. It is a haunting and poetic work, soulful and subtle in its tone and the dark, elegiac cadences. Director John Hillcoat and screenwriter Joe Penhall have adapted Cormac McCarthy’s apocalyptic novel with a masterful touch and the result is incredibly powerful and moving.

The beginning is the end. With a soulful, almost sleepy, melody the films awakes to The Man and his Wife in their house. She is pregnant as is the mood, with a tangible anxiety. Then outside we hear the plumes of panic in the air, people screaming, unearthly lights and the Earth’s deep, portentous rumble. As in the novel we are never told what happened, director John Hillcoat keeps the fire behind closed curtains or beyond the scant protection of a tent’s cover; the world ends through a glass, darkly. But the apocalyptic events seen are a dream, and we wake with Virgo Mortensen’s character to a barren, derelict world; the forests are gone, the ground is scorched and the death rattle of the world continues far off. The world is dying, slowly.

Javier Aguirresarobe’s melancholic cinematography paints a exhausted world with grace and sadness. Witness The Man and The Boy pushing their belongings in a shopping trolley in the darkest silhouette against the horizon  consumed by a furious fire or the ashen, empty streets under blackened skies littered with skeletons and the detritus of the human world in savage evacuation. One scene in particular is beautiful and a poignant reminder of what has become of us – walking through a small town’s main street The Man and The Boy walk under the shadows of dozens of telegraph poles listing and slanted like broken masts of shipwrecked ships in a storm ravaged sea. The poetry of the images imbue each step on the road with such power it becomes hard to breathe. The sudden rush of colour of the flashbacks are impactful to the point of physical recoiling, and in this new world even the rainbow cast by a discovered waterfall is muted and temporary.

The music by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, uniting again with the John Hillcoat after their work on The Proposition, is mournful and in fractured harmony with the vacant world. The sonic landscape is beautifully scored with a haunting touch which whispers along with each scene like a chorus of ghosts and contributes everything it should. Bereft of its images the score draws the ear and conjures up a succession of slow moving emotions: hope and despair, lightness and the blackest night; it is the perfect accompaniment to Hillcoat’s bleak cynicism.

While the score is an essential part of the world it is in the deep silences when the film’s power becomes apparent. Each silence brings the terrifying potential of the next threat, be it the footsteps of another interloper in this dead world (the danger of cannibalism is the greater fear), or the groaning of the Earth as it gives up its forests one tree at a time. The world is complete, and it is jarring. I thought of the computer generated destruction of Roland Emmerich’s disaster films, shown with such overblown, voyeuristic detail in the trailer for 2012 and realised that there is nothing more terrifying than hearing the hollow silence after the end.

Hillcoat is a master of presenting a wide open landscape and finding the detail that colours our perception of the whole. The realistic tone of this world turned on its head is startling, and while the events and characters encountered on the road are routine their impact on the central figures is conveyed powerfully. Robert Duvall’s old man is a heart breaking study of acceptance and loss in the face of utter defeat, as is the brutal accosting of The Boy by a cannibal and its equally brutal denouement. The wedding ring held aloft on the vast, vacant elevated freeways is a perfect example of the smallest object having the greatest significance in this world. His direction is solid and elicits a overwhelming emotion connection to the events on this futile journey.

The true heart of this film is the gentle relationship between The Man and The Boy, played with sublime grace by Viggo Mortensen and Kodi Smit-McPhee. The dynamic of the piece necessitates the central characters and the actors who play them must be believable as they carry so much  of our engagement on their shoulders. Viggo Mortensen has praised the performance and humanity of Smit-McPhee, who was able to bring a child’s natural enthusiasm and curiosity to this other Earth, the only world he knows; it is an integral part of the film’s effectiveness and works on every level and at every moment. You believe each heart breaking interaction as The Man prepares his son for a time when he won’t be there to protect him, and Mortensen evokes an incredible depth to his performance, there is a true sadness in his eyes as as he shepherds The Boy through the badlands of the world his depleted energy is a cruel testament to the incompatibility of the bond of love in this crestfallen world. One brief surprisingly uplifting moment occurs when The Man upends an old vending machine to find a dusty can of Coke its in bowels, and The Boy’s surprise at its alien taste and, once his begrudgingly accepts a taste, there is the briefest moment when The Man looks off into an imagined distance, recalling a lost time. It rips through what is left of your heart.

Each performance is perfect, and the moral questions it raises of how to survive and at the same time maintain the human part of you is oppressive and magnetic. The film contains moments of panic, hope, courage and endurance played out in a world that is a shadow of the world we enjoy. It is a harrowing and painful journey, one that we will all walk in our lives and the questions which face The Man and his Boy will be asked of us too. To create a film so intimate and encompassing is a true achievement; a masterpiece of melancholia this substantial and stirring is worth your time.

This film, like all films, is a love story. Witness The Man taking up a blanket which has lain over the skeleton of its former owner and wrapping it around The Boy in a moment of functional, parental love and this is merely one moment in a multitude that will touch your heart.

The Road is a triumphant adaptation of a powerful work. It is dark and poetic, beautifully bleak and desolate and will stay with you forever.

The Road opens in UK cinemas on the 8th of January 2010. Don’t be afraid. Take the first step and the film will do the rest.