The Best Films of 2013

These are the ten best films I saw in 2013.

10. The Hunt 

Thomas Vinterberg’s best film since Festen features Mads Mikkelsen as Lucas, a kindergarten teacher accused of molesting one the children – his best friend’s daughter. Mikkelsen, so chilling in Hannibal, displays admirable versatility. Since we know Lucas is innocent of the crime right from the start, Vinterberg derives much tension from how – if at all – Lucas convinces others of his innocence, and from the paranoia he experiences from colleagues, friends and townspeople.

9. Beyond the Hills

Two young Romanian women reunite after years apart; one has relocated to France, while the other has become a nun. It is clear that their relationship had a sexual nature, and the desire of these women – one desires the other, while the other desires God – makes for captivating viewing. Director Christian Mungiu’s film is slow but rewarding, and some of his shots are pure cinematic poetry: the film has one of the best closing shots I saw in a film all year. 

8. Django Unchained 

Tarantino’s slavery vengeance fantasy is very nearly the equal of his previous film Inglorious Basterds. Yes, I know, Django is maybe too indulgent, but I’m happy to be a guest in a world as intricate and dynamic as Tarantino’s. As for the performances, Samuel L . Jackson is a scene stealer. 

7. Lincoln

Spielberg’s biopic is a magisterial, beautifully written piece of historical fiction. Of course Daniel Day-Lewis got most of the attention for his award winning performance as one of America’s greatest presidents, but the real stars are screenwriter Tony Kushner (who previously collaborated with Spielberg on Munich), cinematographer Janusz Kaminski who weaves wonders with light and shadow, and Spielberg himself, here redeeming himself for his over-cooked Amistad with a far more restrained epic.   

6. Lore

Lore is a harrowing family drama set against the backdrop of the demise of Nazi Germany. The film opens shortly before Hitler’s death, with a Nazi-sympathetic German family suddenly having to flee their home. It is up to the eldest child, Lore (Saskia Rosendahl), to deliver herself and her younger siblings (including a baby brother) safely to their grandmother. Director Cate Shortland’s film is breath-taking character piece.

5. Rust & Bone

Jacques Audiard follows up his acclaimed work The Prophet with the sensitive survivalist romantic drama Rust and Bone. This is a film for those who avoid mainstream approaches to romance because romance seems to be far from the characters’ minds. Starring Matthias Schoenaerts and Marion Cotillard.

4. Holy Motors 

Writer-director Leon Carax loves cinema, loves it, and this film is both an elegy for the cinema as well as a demonstration of its innovation. At the center is actor Denis Levant, who is, simply, a force of nature. I’m going to skip a plot synopsis and rather mention that this is the first time Kylie Minogue’s given me goosebumps. 

3. The Act of Killing 

Joshua Oppenheimer’s documentary is nothing short of astonishing: the film follows two men responsible for mass killings during the military take-over in Indonesia in the 1960s, and Oppenheimer (the military men, Anwar and Kotto, often mention ‘Joshua’ as if he’s a friend) allows/guides them to recreate some of their crimes using amateur actors and props. The result is a film that is disturbing and mesmerising. That the film exists is itself a miracle. 

2. Gravity

Gravity is the most spectacular film I’ve seen in a long time, and the single best argument for why 3D has cinematic value. Even without the additional dimension, the film is still a technological marvel, and a feat of economic storytelling. If American studio films have a future, Gravity is it; it’s what happens when big Hollywood stars (Sandra Bullock, George Clooney) end up in the hands of a visionary filmmaker, Alfonso Cuaron. 

1. Amour

The best film of the year is Michael Haneke’s sensitive drama Amour. Haneke, known for his disturbing material (the Funny Games films, The Piano Teacher) and politically charged narratives (Hidden), here delivers a deeply personal film that is every bit as meticulously crafted and intelligent as his other work. In addition, I found Amour to also be an acutely emotional film, given Haneke’s delicate depiction of old age, illness and debilitation.

God of Carnage

Zack Snyder (with some assistance from Christopher Nolan) does some interesting things with one of the most archetypally America superheroes, Superman, in Man of Steel. While movies have traditionally presented Superman as the icon of Truth, Justice and the American Way, Man of Steel gives us a questioning hero, a drifter who has not yet defined himself in relation to his environment even if he has an idea of inevitability.

The film opens with an extended segment set on Krypton, home planet of Jor-El (Russell Crowe) and his wife Lara Lor-Van (Ayelet Zurer). Unfortunately, Krypton is also home to the militant General Zod (Michael Shannon), and in the time honoured fashion of clearly differentiating the good guys from the bad, Jor-El speaks in an English accent while Zod is unmistakeably American. We soon find out that Krypton is doomed, but Jor-El’s baby boy Kal-El is saved from planetary destruction and sent into space to eventually land on earth.

Grown-up Kal-El, going by the name of Clark Kent (Henry Cavill), occupies himself with odd jobs whilehe tries to figure out Who He’s Meant to Be. Much of the film is about Clark’s road to awareness as told in flashback, which is where we meet the Kents as played by Kevin Costner and Diane Lane. Early on, the themes of sacrificing for the greater good and the recognition of accountability are outlined, and I was surprised – and impressed – by how much time Snyder and screenwriter David S. Goyer were willing to spend solely on investing in their main character.

Along the way, the film introduces a spirited Lois Lane (Amy Adams) and weaves her into Kal-El’s search for himself (it sounds cornier than it is). Many critics have commented that there’s little spark or chemistry between Cavill and Adams as romantic leads, but honestly, the film doesn’t pitch these characters as possible lovers as much as colleagues. The film is so Kal-El centered that romantic subplots are briefly spun off at best. By the time Zod and his cronies make it to earth, having all survived the destruction of their home planet, Kal-El is ready to do what needs to be done.

In completely rebooting the Superman story, Man of Steel gets a few things right, and many things wrong. There are character moments strong enough to make me want to revisit the film on Blu-Ray, and say what you will of Snyder’s work, but he’s a fantastic visualist. In 300 he demonstrated his ability to craft impeccable big-screen carnage, and in Watchmen he took on one of the most daunting directorial challenges of the past twenty years and, in my view, pulled it off. In addition, Nolan’s involvement favours a ‘realistic’ approach to the character, with even the red underpants falling away.

Yet for a film so intent on presenting some sort of realistic take on the superhero, Krypton is strangely fantastical, complete with flying creatures. And for someone who’s excelled at clear, convincing combat in some of his earlier the films, Snyder prefers the fashionable accelerated aesthetics for most of the fight scenes, especially those early in the film. As a result, it’s hard to see who’s doing what to whom, and the 3D only makes it worse. The repeated punch-ins on objects lose their novelty quickly.

Much has been made of the messiah-like character of Kal-El, as if it’s some sort of revelation. The Christ-like character of the hero is nothing new, but Snyder handles it as if the audience won’t get it unless it’s hammered, repeatedly, into their heads. That is Snyder’s approach in general, for most of the film: why show someone getting punched if you can show them getting punched, bounced, and dribbled? Why have a villain verbally express his anger if you can rather show him pick up a car and throw it through someone’s house?

Like it or hate it, Snyder’s visuality, often focusing on movement and using filmic techniques that emulate movement , gets results. In this case, Man of Steel showcases quite possibly the most jaw-dropping action in any superhero movie. For Snyder, less is simply less. The destruction and debris filled finale makes The Avengers seem cute, and I had to wonder about the actual death toll such a battle would have. Overall the film is also a strangely humourless affair, possibly in a misguided attempt to keep things realistic and serious.

Less is less for the characters too, unfortunately. Cavill certainly looks the part of the hero, but he delivers dialogue like a low-rent Michael Fassbender at best. It doesn’t help that the dialogue is seldom imaginative and often overly familiar. Much of what Cavill has to say are clunkers, and would come across as such regardless of who says it. On the other side of the spectrum, Shannon follows the Pacino approach to villainy: shout, and if in doubt, squint and shout some more.  

Man of Steel delivers spectacle in spades, even if it lacks the deep thought that made Watchmen so compelling, even if it skims over the moral quandaries that made the Dark Knight so interesting. While Man of Steel is far flashier, bigger and meaner, it doesn’t have the heart that Superman Returns had (and that’s a sentence I never thought I’d type).

A feature-length film about love

Michael Haneke is one of the greatest living filmmakers. I’m not going to add “arguably” to that statement. Consider the Austrian’s oeuvre: the cruel experiment of Funny Games (via Jim Emerson); the sexual masochism of The Piano Teacher; the black-and-white collective psychosis of The White Ribbon; repressed guilt and accountability in Cache. With his latest film Amour, which garnered Haneke a second Palme d’Or in Cannes (2012), the director enters a much more personal territory than before with a film that has been considered (rightly so) as his most humane.

An elderly couple, George and Anne (Jean-Louis Trintignant and Emmanuelle Riva), live out their retirement in a Parisian apartment. They go to musical performances and appreciate good literature. They seem perfectly contented to spend time with one another, revisiting memories and doing the chores around the house - all part of a comfortable, sustaining routine. Then one morning, Anne has a stroke. The scene is spellbinding; Georges does not realise what’s is happening to Anne, but when he seems to begin to understand that something is wrong, he takes rational action. Haneke’s use of image and sound is perfect; visually, he alternates two-shots and close-ups, while the sound of water running off-screen adds to the tension.

The stroke causes paralysis in half of Anne’s body. George, her husband of decades, her lover, her companion, becomes her caretaker. She makes him promise that regardless of what happens, he will not have her hospitalised (an arrangement reflecting the real-life pact between Haneke and his wife). As Anne’s condition worsens, George must address not only his responsibilities towards his wife, but also deal with a daughter (the beautiful Isabelle Huppert) concerned for her mother’s well-being and uncertain as to whether her father can take care of her.

What an audacious move to call your film Love – and Haneke gets away with it. While the elements of suffering are there – ageing; disease; incapacitation; the certainty of death – Haneke chooses to foreground love. In its sombre and stark way, the film shows how love is a barrier against the suffering which is irrevocably part of life. In embodying the power of love, Trintignant and Riva deliver superb performances. Riva realises every phase of Anne’s mental and physical degeneration, while Trintignant’s grief and perseverance in the face of his wife’s condition is inspiring without being indulgent or celebratory. A husband is simply doing what one does when a loved one is in need. George and Anne come to vivid life in the carefully constructed apartment, which is not just a home anymore, but a space for love and care to manifest in considerable capacity. Haneke never sugar-coats the severity of the couple’s situation, but makes the devotion that George has for Anne palpable. Haneke does not deal with an ideal of love, but with the act of love. While many films deal with love as abstraction, Amour shows love as a performed part of daily existence.

There are so few truly great films about love, yet there are so many lifeless attempts at showing and understanding love in soulless films that either focus on youthful exuberance or prefer to idealise human relationships as a series of happy events. Love often has little to do with happiness, as Haneke understands, and much with commitment, devotion and determination. Amour deservedly won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film and was also nominated for Best Picture and Best Director. It is a flawless film, full of life, with a master filmmaker delivering some of the best work of a decades-long career.

Family First

Paul Eilers’ Verraaiers is a long film. At two hours, it feels like three. This Bosbok Ses production is overall a more merit worthy experience than Roepman, their previous film I liked but a film I found to be too whimsical and spiritually thin for its own good. Verraaiers is, for better and for worse, a more grounded experience, an exploration of loyalty and betrayal against the backdrop of the South African War (Anglo-Boer War).

At the centre of events is Jacobus van Aswegen (a strong Gys de Villiers), who with his sons – including Vilje Maritz – fight the British until he starts to question the wisdom of their involvement in the conflict. With the implementation of Kitchener’s scorched earth policy, whereby farms were burned down and women and children taken to concentration camps, Van Aswegen decides to rather stay at home with his wife (Rika Sennett) and daughters (including Roepman’s Beate Olwagen) so that he can be there to protect them if necessary. This decision is seen as betrayal by some of the Boer authorities and before long Jacobus and his kin (and some friends) are arrested and set to stand trial on charges of treason.

The first part of the film is the narrative and thematic set-up and provides a clear idea of why some Boers decided to personally withdraw from the war even if they supported the effort as a whole. The second part of the film concerns the trial, and is a complete slog to sit through. When the trial-part of the film begins, the film has nothing else to focus on, no B-storyline to alternate with the trial-storyline. So, for nearly an hour we see the men worry, talk to the Boer authorities, question themselves and so on. There are some cutaways to the women all alone at the homestead, but those quickly become pointless due to a specifically bizarre scene which suggests something completely unconvincing about the Boer women in question, particularly the mother.

Then we’re back with the men who sit and toil and wonder their way to an unsurprising ending. Half the film is thus claustrophobic and constraining without visual reference to whatever else is happening while the protagonists are imprisoned – why are we not shown the scorched earth policy in practice? – and the film grinds to a halt. In films such as Der Untergang (Downfall) such characteristics – claustrophobia; constraint; a focus on a specific small group of characters – were beneficial in sustaining suspense and a sense of foreboding, but in Verraaiers their sum total is tedium. There’s something in the combination of shot selection, editing and the screenplay that severely undermines the film, something I hope will become clearer to me in a second or third viewing (which I’m not looking forward to, given how leaden half of the film is). 

Johan Baird and Stian Bam are solid in important supporting roles, but there are odd character moments that don’t convince, such as an early scene with Carel Trichardt as a judge wondering aloud (as if on stage) about loyalty and betrayal, somewhat clumsily foregrounding the film’s themes. Yet it’s the pacing that remains the biggest problem. I’ve seen war films that go on for three hours; I’ve seen hour upon hour of Tarr and Tarkovsky and am all the better for it. Those films, regardless of their running time, have a poetry to their images that is undeniable, and often, to me personally, unshakeable. Maybe that’s why Verraaiers felt so long and seemed so lifeless as it continued: it is so sincere, so focused on representing history in a functional and visually instrumental manner, that, to its detriment, it fundamentally lacks a sense of imagistic poetry. 

The best films of 2012

I'm not going into a long-winded explanation of "value" and "worth", or even of "eligibility"; simply, these are the films that made 2012 a very good movie year. I know that I've missed a few must-see's - I still cannot bring myself to rent The Artist - and I haven't gotten to some of the currently showing critics' darlings like Silver Linings Playbook. All lists exist as versions of themselves and I may well revisit this list down the line.

Honorable mention goes to The Grey's existential adventure; The Raid's superlative action; Kill List's last 30 minutes; The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo's Salander; and Lena Dunham's mumblecore family drama Tiny Furniture. 


Now for the top ten.

10. Wuthering Heights

Andrea Arnold's bold, animalistic retelling of the famous story of doomed love is unsettling and poetic, if not a perfect fit for adaptation purists.

9. Once Upon a Time in Anatolia

This is a police procedural by way of detailed character study. In Nuri Bilge Ceylan's glacially paced (in a good way) drama, the frustrating search for a buried corpse over the course of a day brings masculinity and authority into sharp focus.

8. Cloud Atlas

This film appears on as many "Worst of 2012" lists as Top Tens. I found this Wachowski-Tykwer collaboration to be an emotionally engaging, visually breathtaking secular fantasy about human kindness. Ben Whishaw and Jim Broadbent are standouts in this time-traversing epic.

7. War Horse

 I know, I know: Spielberg is an unrepentant sentimalist who never saw a saccharine close-up he didn't like. And yet, what his critics forget is that Spielberg is also an informed lover of cinema, and War Horse is as much an ode to American film as it is an engrossing ensemble drama set against against the backdrop of  WWI.

6. Shame

Michael Fassbender stars as an alienated corporate male in Steve McQueen's intense character study. Driven by sexual imagery devoid of any erotic dimension, McQueen shows a man at the brink of implosion when his sister unexpectedly shows up at his apartment. Fassbender is mesmerising.

5. A Separation      

Asghar Farhadi delivers one of the most suspenseful films of the year in this story of truth and accountability. The film weaves perceptions of a central event until it becomes a tapestry of memory - and when is memory truth?

4. Melancholia

Danish provocateur Lars von Trier follows the apocalyptic Anti-christ with another apocalyptic drama in this tale of two sisters facing nothing less than the end of the world while at a country lodge. Kirsten Dunst is superb as the younger sister struggling with depression.

3. The Skin I Live In
Pedro Almadovar's mad scientist thriller blew me away the first time I saw it and I haven't been able to shake it from my mind. Featuring Elena Anaya as the object of Antonio Banderas's obession, it's one of the Spanish auteur's best. 

2. The Turin Horse

A hansom cab driver and his daughter try to make sense of increasingly strange events on their farm in Italy, 1889. Filmed in crisp black and white, Hungarian filmmaker Bela Tarr's hypnotic final film (or so he claims) is a deeply haunting apocalyptic vision of the world as place of habitual suffering. Like Werner Herzog, Tarr remains one of the most fascinating figures of world cinema.  

1. Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

This British anti-Bond spy drama is the epitome of meticulous filmmaking. Director Thomas Alfredsson assembles a great cast headed by Gary Oldman as aging British intelligence worker George Smiley who is tasked with finding a mole in the agency. TTSS is more than just a genre film; it's a measured character study with beautifully underplayed moments of betrayal and revelation. Watching the film, it felt like I was unable to breathe for two hours.

The Cause

The Master, the latest film by American ingénue Paul Thomas Anderson, is a demanding and frustrating film. I have no problem with it being demanding, but the film needs to meet its audience somehow, and that’s where The Master reveals its Achilles heel. Anderson’s major works to date, Magnolia and There Will Be Blood, hum with a dynamic tension that makes the films’ three hour running times fly by and present the viewer with a point of entry into the film unvierse, usually through a sympathetic character. Both of these films represent some of the best American filmmaking of the past twenty years, so expectations were high for The Master. But Anderson also made Punch Drunk Love, the oddly ineffectual drama with Adam Sandler; this film plodded onward driven by Sandler’s solid performance.

With The Master, it’s once more the performances that drive the film. For most part, the electricity that flowed from every frame of There Will Be Blood has been replaced by scenes that seem strangely static. Not all of the film has this problem; there are moments, such as the “informal processing” scene and a power-establishing scene between the titular character and his wife, that make the film come alive. Still, these scenes are few and far between. Another problem is that the film’s main character is a simple-minded and offensive WWII Navy veteran, Freddie Quell. Quell is a fevered character thoroughly rooted in all sorts of conflict, yet is the single most boring character in the film. He likes sex, liquor and farting. He is an all surface character in a complex film, and it doesn’t fit. Some will argue that Quell holds a mirror up to the far more intelligent Lancaster Dodd, and even so Quell is not nearly as compelling as Dodd.

We are introduced to Freddie (Joaquin Phoenix) while he’s still in the Navy, and Anderson makes it clear that the man is somewhat sex focused and has little social skills. To his credit, he is a master distiller. Back in the States, Freddie has a hard time holding on to jobs and one evening he slips onto a boat where a lavish party is being held. His choices have brought him into the company of Lancaster Dodd (Philip Seymour Hoffman), often simply referred to as the Master, the author of the worldview-challenging The Cause and currently working on its long awaited follow-up. For reasons that are hard to pinpoint, the sophisticated Dodd takes the intellectually limited Freddie under his wing. There is a third party in this power relationship, Dodd’s wife (Amy Adams), whose crucial role becomes clear only later on and had me wishing to spend more time with her than with Quell.

The three main performances in this film are all worth savouring; Adams seemingly has little to do but she is a force of nature when required, while Hoffman presents another fascinating, rather walled-off character. But it is Phoenix who completely embodies Freddie as a broken man who goes through life without any idea where he’s going. As much as I have issues with the character, Phoenix cannot be faulted; he surrenders himself to a challenging role.

The Master is far from a failure. The cinematography is superb, as one can expect from an Anderson film, and there are parts of the film that are inspired and enthralling (Quell’s hallucination at a Cause get-together). As a whole, though, Anderson’s film doesn’t quite come together. Additional viewings may change this perception, but for now, The Master lacks the compelling character ensembles and rhythm of previous Anderson films.

Note: much has been made of The Master as based on the life of L. Ron Hubbard and Scientology, but don't expect anything salacious. It's simply not Anderson's nature. 

A boy and his tiger

Yann Martel’s novel Life of Pi reaches the screen in spectacular fashion thanks to Ang Lee (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Brokeback Mountain). The largest part of the film features two characters – one human, one animal – adrift at sea, and Lee makes sure to provide some breath-taking ocean-bound imagery as the film unfolds. From the star covered skies mirrored in a flat ocean surface to phosphorous night-time aquatic visitations, Life of Pi is, if nothing else, visually tantalizing viewing. Even the 3D is functional; I could hear audience members gasp for breath during a storm sequence and also where Lee allows us to enter a frame in a comic book.

Life of Pi tells the story of Pi Patel who leaves India for Canada after his father decides to relocate the family to the West for financial reasons. Along for the boat ride are all of the family’s animals that they acquired while running a zoo, including a Bengal tiger called Richard Parker after a name registration mishap. A savage storm hits, and Pi (Suraj Sharma) finds himself on a lifeboat with the tiger, a hyena and a zebra. The film details Pi’s attempts to stay alive and not lose hope while caught between the pitiless if beautiful sea and a hungry carnivore. Throughout, Pi finds his faith in God tested as sharks circle the boat and the sun beats down relentlessly. The story is framed by a journalist interviewing the adult Pi (Irrfan Khan) on his extraordinary adventure, a tale that, according to Pi’s uncle, will make a man believe in God.

But it’s best to not think too much of the film’s religious dimensions, which get increasingly fluffy towards the film’s end. Pi’s initial interest in various religions is entertaining and sympathetic, and once he is out to sea, his faith is a necessity for survival. As an adventure based on the relationship between a boy and a tiger and as a psychological drama the film works like a charm, but as a spiritual film, it’s a real meringue. The final explanation of how the story makes one believe in God is a horrible theological cop-out. 

Yet I remain in awe of the film’s visual effects, and with how much emotional heft Lee invests Pi’s relationship with Richard Parker. Lee establishes the animal as predator kept alive by instinct, but as Pi explains, there’s more to animals, and to the tiger in particular, than just basic instincts.It's a gripping story of survival and resilience; don't be too put off by the design-your-own-brand approach to religion.

Capsules: The horse, the fish & the cult

As can be expected from Spielberg, War Horse is relentlessly sentimental. I fell for every lavishly lit and shot second. By the end of the film, I was properly doused in Spielberg’s particular brand of saccharine, and I savoured every moment. Spielberg is superb at historical drama (Schindler’s List, Munich), but here his focus is less on history and more on humanity. Based on the novel by Michael Morpurgo, Steven Spielberg’s latest epic is a family drama set against the backdrop of the World War I. It’s a stunning looking film, shot as usual by Spielberg’s right hand man Janusz Kaminsi, and scored by the legendary John Williams. Again Spielberg explores a favourite theme, the return home, but this time he anchors the narrative around a noble horse instead of a human character. That said, in the figure of Albert (Jeremy Irvine) the recurrent character of the young male innocent returns, as does the father who cannot be trusted (Peter Mullan) and the sensitive mother (Emily Watson). The film also has Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch and Niels Arestrup in smaller but important roles.

So it’s the familiar Spielberg film of virtuous youthful faith and belief, but told from the position of Joey the horse. War Horse follows Joey as he leaves his home and becomes a participant in World War I as he moves from owner to owner. The film builds to an ending that depends so much on coincidence and chance that it can only happen in a Spielberg film, and he’s a master at emotion for those susceptible to it. I’m sure that some thorough psychoanalysis can shed light on my readiness to be exhilarated by the infamous filmmaker, but for the moment I’ll say that the masterful final images are perfectly constructed moments of affect as well as tributes to another classical master in cinema history.

With references to A Nightmare on Elm Street, an opening scene-setter featuring Gary Busey and bringing David Hasselhoff in for support, Piranha 3DD, the sequel to last year’s moderate hit 3D horror, has fewer stars, a lower budget and a less competent director who doesn’t allow things to go completely off the rails during the bloody climax (admittedly, this could be due to budget constraints). Set in a water park no that the lake from the first film has become a quarantined wasteland, Piranha 3DD has a bunch of horny teenagers up their genitals in blood and mayhem when the prehistoric piranha make a return. Mercifully clocking in at only 79 minutes, Piranha 3DD is exploitative and gratuitous, and not in a good way. The film gets most of the nudity out of the way its opening minutes, and from there on there are many budget-restoring underwater piranha POV shots as the aquatic critters go for heels, hands, breasts and, once again, penises. While the film has enough gore for horror hounds, it is devoid of ideas. In other words, it’s pretty much what you expect from a film called Piranha 3DD. It has a heart of cash and a mind of silicone.  

 

Writer-actor Brit Marling, so impressive in Another Earth, stars in The Sound of My Voice as Maggie, a sickly woman claiming to be from the future where living in America is a daily struggle for food and survival. She presents herself as someone who can train people to prepare for this dark future. So convincing is her story that she’s become nothing less than a minor cult leader. A teacher (Christopher Denham) and his girlfriend (Nicole Vicius) enter the cult with the prerogative to film a documentary expose on Maggie and her clan. The Sound of my Voice plays with the absurdity of Maggie’s tales of time travel and what future America looks like, and as can be expected draws you in to believe some of her stories only to have you later shake your head at the impossibility of it all. The science fiction element (the possibility of time travel) is even less prevalent here than in Another Earth (literally another Earth appearing close to our own), and The Sound of my Voice seems more prone to actively avoid spectacle. The result is a quiet, claustrophobic drama that is far more successful in exploring cult psychology than the over hyped Martha Marcy May Marlene. 

Capsules: the ghost, the bear, the MMA champ

James Watkins’s The Woman in Black is an old fashioned ghost story unconcerned with the post-adolescent thirst for bloody carnage, putting atmosphere above gore and playing with tragedy rather than troublesome suburban poltergeists. Daniel Radcliffe carries most of the film alone as a young lawyer, Arthur, recently widowed, who treks to a remote part of the English country to settle the affairs of an estate. But he’s not alone in the old deserted mansion where no-one else is willing to set foot, and how is it that so many children have died in the nearby village? This is a horror for audiences who understand horror to be about tragedy coated with the supernatural, not drowned in blood. As a remake of a Hammer studios classic, Watkins succeeds in evoking a sense of dread and grave inevitability as the young lawyer, ably performed by post-Potter Radcliffe, comes to fear for his own safety. It’s an atmospheric, quiet, satisfying horror.

Here we have another film that seems more concerned with other films than with telling a story itself. Instead of telling an involving and funny story, Ted steadies itself upon other movies, propped up on pop references and cues to make things funny when there’s very little happening on screen. I’d rather watch Flash Gordon again than watch Ted again. Between the Saturday Night Fever reference (or rather an Airplane! reference) and many other winks at better films, the film plods along with an odd and misguided stalking subplot thrown in featuring Giovanni Ribisi. I’ve seen Ted described as transgressive and subversive, but the film is the same-old-same-old story about friendship that we’ve seen a hundred times, even if the titular character is a marijuana smoking foul mouthed teddy bear. Indeed, contemporary American cinema’s celebration of the persistence of adolescence has become quite tedious, and despite a few genuine laughs – including an inspired jab at a Twilight cast member – and excellent visual effects, Ted is neither refreshing not intelligent comedy entertainment. Creator Seth McFarlane’s television work, mainly Family Guy, provide better material.

Haywire, Steven Soderbergh’s first foray into mainstream action (accepting that his Oceans movies are lightweight capers, not action films) is a sombre, yellow-hued affair with MMA star Gina Carano starring as Mallory Kane, an employee of a company contracted by the United States government to address sensitive international situations by way of assassination. While Carano is clearly not a strong actor, her physicality more than makes up for often clunky line delivery. Haywire is a female driven Bourne but stripped of spectacle and with Soderbergh’s trademark restrained editing. As a result, the combat scenes are exciting without being exaggerated or indulgent. Haywire tells a simple story but in Soderbergh’s hands it becomes (momentarily) cerebral. The film features Ewan MacGregor, Michael Fassbender, Channing Tatum, Antonio Banderas, Michael Douglas and Bill Paxton. Fans of The Expendables 2 need not apply.