Saltburn (2023)
Director: Emerald Fennell
Screenwriter: Emerald Fennell
Starring: Barry Keoghan, Jacob Elordi, Rosamund Pike, Richard E. Grant, Alison Oliver, Archie Madekwe, Carey Mulligan

With the release of her debut feature film Promising Young Woman in 2020, Emerald Fennell established herself as one of the most exciting directors working today. Her candy-pop infused, #MeToo-inspired revenge thriller provoked challenging discussions and introduced the world to Fennell’s fresh voice and unique talents. With her sophomore effort Saltburn, can lightning strike twice?

The film opens at the beginning of the 2006/07 academic year as Oliver Quick (Barry Keoghan) enrols at Oxford University. Though Ollie struggles to make friends at first – hilariously summed up in the trailer by Ewan Mitchell’s great line “Did you know there was a college Christmas party tonight? NFI, me and you. Not fucking invited” – he quickly finds himself under the wing of charming and aristocratic Felix Catton (Jacob Elordi). Before long, Catton invites Ollie to stay with him over the summer at his eccentric family’s sprawling estate, Saltburn.

The title card of the picture finds itself scribbled across the film’s 4:3 frame, like the graffiti you’d find sprawled over an old school textbook. Immediately, with this simple design choice, Fennell sums up the schoolboy immaturity of many of the characters; they think the world revolves around them but really their problems are the sort of issues you’d find on the playground, and they hold onto their grudges forever. What makes it so terrifying, as their placement as the elite in society shows, is that these are the people who hold power. The ones that make the rules for everyone else yet don’t abide by them (a very funny karaoke scene in the film seems to poke fun at a very real example of this in recent British politics), the kind of people who don’t need to worry financially. There is maybe even something to be said about the latter point with regard to the film’s setting in 2007, right before the climax of the 2007–2008 financial crisis. 

Making up this abhorrent and aberrant family are an unforgettable cast of characters made up of the airhead family patriarch Sir James (Richard E. Grant), the oblivious family matriarch Elsbeth (Rosamund Pike), Felix, his siren-like sister Venetia (Alison Oliver) and their cousin Farleigh (Archie Madekwe), a particularly mischievous jester-like character that entertains the whole family. Oh, and let’s not forget the ludicrously melancholic “Poor Dear” Pamela (Carey Mulligan). All of whom are portrayed wonderfully by each respective actor, often delivering hilarious comedic performances with such an immense depth to them that not only do they make us laugh but they offer a scarily accurate portrayal of the type of people we allow to control our world.

The loathsome behaviour and elitist thinking of each character is introduced very early on. This is perhaps best exemplified by Oliver’s first meeting with his tutor, in which he is essentially mocked for having completed the summer reading, rather than celebrated for his hard work. All the while Farleigh, who is twenty minutes late, gains the respect of the tutor due to his family name and the power that it holds. In this world, status beats out hard work every time. Equally so, the first time Oliver and Felix officially meet, Felix’s bike has a puncture and Oliver offers him his bike so that he can make it to class even though it is clear that Felix really wasn’t doing much to even attempt to fix his bike. Felix was raised to believe that all of life’s problems would be solved for him. 

In spite of all this, Oliver can’t help but to find himself seduced by their lavish lifestyles, just as we can’t help but to be tempted by the Catton family, leading to both us and Oliver finding ourselves entangled in their web. It is in the way that the film is shot that allows Fennell to seduce us so easily. Shooting the stately home as though it were a fetish object, Fennell captures the alluring nature of such a home in the most perfect way that it becomes clear why anybody who enters would never wish to leave again. 

Saltburn doesn’t produce a product that simply delivers a message of the evils of privileged high society, but instead delivers them as fully fleshed out humans of both good and bad doing. Just as Felix may be a spoilt brat he is also by far the most understanding of the family and the one who is constantly generous to Oliver for little reason other than genuine kindness. Jacob Elordi captures this in his layered performance as Felix, bringing a charm and charisma to the character as well as a childish nature.

Instead, Saltburn shows the evils of desire and the lengths that many will go to in order to get what they want. In the game that is Saltburn, everybody wants something and they are all playing against each other to get it. It’s like ‘Succession‘ for the ‘Skins’ generation.

Though it is certainly an ensemble piece and one in which each performer must be nothing short of brilliant in order to make the world of the movie work, the story really rests on the shoulders of lead actor Barry Keoghan. He, along with Fennell’s wonderful direction, brings Saltburn to life. As the film progresses and it is Oliver who becomes the desirable object, things begin to get interesting and Keoghan’s portrayal of this journey is nothing short of spectacular. Not only does he capture the growth and progression of his character with precision, but with each new scene he brings something a little different, making Oliver’s evolution all that more interesting. Come the end of the film, once Oliver has transformed into his final form, it is clear that what we have just witnessed is a special performance that will linger in the mind for years to come.

Deciding which of Fennell’s two feature films is better will inevitably come down to a matter of taste. For some, one message will hit harder than the other, but for others the pacing and structure will leave a lasting impact. It all comes down to the individual. What is clear, however, is that Emerald Fennell is one of the most exciting directors working today and Saltburn marks the second successive masterpiece in her short but impactful career.

Saltburn is a seductive odyssey of lust, desire and betrayal that plays out like a Shakespearean episode of ‘Skins’, with a slight dash of ‘Succession’. Perhaps just as importantly, it does for Sophie Ellis-Bextor’s “Murder on the Dancefloor” what Promising Young Woman did for Paris Hilton’s “Stars Are Blind”. Emerald Fennell has done it again.

Score: 23/24

How to Have Sex (2023)
Director: Molly Manning Walker
Screenwriter: Molly Manning Walker
Starring: Mia McKenna-Bruce, Enva Lewis, Lara Peake, Daisy Jelley, Laura Ambler, Shaun Thomas, Samuel Bottomley

Winner of the Un Certain Regard prize at Cannes 2023, How to Have Sex follows three 16-year-olds on a girls’ trip to Malia. Molly Manning Walker’s riveting directorial debut captures those formative teenage years, with a focus on female friendship and first sexual experiences, specifically around the subject of consent.

Best friends Tara (Mia McKenna-Bruce), Em (Enva Lewis) and Skye (Lara Peake) fully embrace their first taste of post-GCSE freedom, in a joyous bubble of drinking and partying. While the film navigates dark territory, it is also full of great humour, perfectly depicting the emotional rollercoaster of being a teenage girl and the messy silliness of Brits abroad.

But beneath the glittery, ecstatic haze of uninhibited freedom, Walker sustains a looming sense of something sinister, and this darker area is explored later in the film.

How to Have Sex expertly captures the experience of being 16, transporting us into Tara’s position. The close-ups of her face reflect both euphoria and overwhelm, as she navigates exciting but daunting untrodden territory. Thrust into an ultra-sexualized world where men receive blowjobs onstage at nightclubs and prizes are awarded for sexual conquests, the party island is a sensory overload. These close-ups are most poignantly used during moments of sexual intimacy, conveying Tara’s emotional experience, rather than the physical act itself.

The presentation of female sexuality is a stark contrast to films like Harmony Korine’s Spring Breakers; the voyeuristic gaze of his camera constantly leering over the teenage girls’ half-naked bodies. Thankfully, the male gaze is purposefully absent in Walker’s film, and in the wrong hands, such intimate scenes might have been handled far less sensitively.

Molly Manning Walker’s film highlights the pressure to have sex; whether that pressure is from society, friends, or the pressure we put on ourselves. As the more sexually experienced Skye tells Tara, “if you don’t get laid on this holiday, you never will”. The film demonstrates how losing one’s virginity can be seen as a goal to be achieved, no matter what the potential cost.

Walker discussed her intention behind the film’s theme in an interview with Miranda Sawyer for The Guardian. “For me, consent has become too black and white in terms of ‘she said yes, so it’s fine’…that doesn’t always work – it’s not enough”. The film does a great job of exploring the nuances of consent, rather than a binary presentation, particularly the subtleties of external pressures and coercion. Walker avoids blaming men alone, explaining in the same interview: “not taking away all blame or guilt, but I know that it’s not all their fault… it’s the way that society has brought them up”.

Walker’s personal experience heavily influenced the film, drawing on her own wild teenage holidays, as well as a sexual assault at the age of 16. “Some of these holidays are still the best memories of my life, but there are other complicated memories within them”, she told Woman’s Hour. The film importantly acknowledges that a traumatic event does not need to eradicate the joyful ones, nor define someone as a “victim”. Walker added that “as a British society we love to not talk about things”. She hopes to take the film to schools, in order to open up important conversations about consent.

While everyone’s first sexual encounter is different, the film manages to speak to a universal female experience that is painfully relatable. Mia McKenna-Bruce’s captivating lead performance and the film’s urgent message makes How to Have Sex a total must-see.

Score: 22/24

Written by Gala Woolley

You can support Gala Woolley in the following places:

Twitter – @GalaWoolley
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Threads introduces us, in deceptively mundane fashion, to the day-to-day life of Jimmy (Reece Dinsdale), Ruth (Karen Meagher) and their families in Sheffield. Ruth has discovered that she is pregnant, and the young couple plan to marry. Preparations for the baby are underway. Together, they strip the ‘old-fashioned’ wallpaper from their new shared apartment whilst Ruth’s Mother knits baby clothes. Jimmy drinks with his friend in a local pub, capitalising on his last days as a ‘free man’. The irony is palpable. All seems normal in this naturalistic illustration of working class Britain, if you can ignore the news reports which indicate, with increasing severity, the looming threat of nuclear war. And when the bombs drop, no-one will be spared.

Threads is the love child of phenomenal English writer Barry Hines and renowned director Mick Jackson. Barry Hines, known for his exploration of the socio-economic struggles of northern working class England, lent to the film’s script a disturbing realism that would quite literally traumatise a generation. Authentic dialogue ensures his characters feel like real people, reacting to the events of the film in a way which is true to their background and environment. When a mushroom cloud rises in the distance, Jimmy’s friend Bob (Ashley Barker) exclaims ‘Jesus Christ! They’ve done it… They’ve done it!’, whilst Ruth’s Father (David Brierley) simply shouts ‘Bloody hell!’ These genuine British reactions to a nuclear bomb drop are disturbingly effective in their simplicity and colloquialism.

Such realism is only enhanced by the direction of Jackson. Threads was shot on location in Sheffield using, for the majority of the film, handheld cameras and natural lighting; techniques which created a terrifying sense of immediacy and visual authenticity. Prior to shooting Threads, Jackson worked alongside famous American and British scientists to ensure his film would be as accurate as possible in depicting the aftermath of nuclear war. Thus, under the deft direction of Hines and Jackson, Threads was able to blend scientific exactness with believable drama.

Threads vividly depicts the indomitable spirit of ordinary people confronted by an impending nuclear attack; families who, despite their best efforts, will be wrenched from the domestic comfort of their homes and torn apart. To a contemporary audience, Threads offers a brutal reminder of just how close the story contained in this film came to being a reality during the Cold War. In 1983, just one year prior to the release of Threads on the BBC, the Soviet Union’s nuclear warning system reported the launch of missiles from the United States. If it were not for engineer Stanislav Petrov’s decision to wait before issuing a retaliatory nuclear strike, the Soviet system’s ‘false alarm’ would have likely led to full scale nuclear war. This example is just one of many that brings home the oppressive sense of dread that permeated the lives of those growing up during the 70s and 80s, and explains in part the disturbed testimony of those who watched Threads when it first aired on television.

One IMDB user recalls watching the film in 1984, when they were just 12 years old; ‘I wanted to look away, but couldn’t. I wanted to run from the room in fright, but couldn’t. For better or worse, this film showed in full, unflinching, uncompromising detail exactly what it would be like if your home town got nuked, and gave us graphic realism in spades’. But Threads was not the only film of its time to play on contemporaneous fears and anxieties. Body horror films like David Cronenberg’s 1986 masterpiece The Fly is said to have represented fears regarding the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s, whilst technological paranoia found its expression in seminal films like 1984’s The Terminator. So what makes Threads special? Where Threads stands out from other films of its time is in its refusal to engage in the conventions of fictional, Hollywoodised filmmaking. Threads does not set out to entertain; it was created, as Jackson stated, to provide politicians with a ‘workable visual vocabulary for thinking about the unthinkable’.

And though modern viewers likely do not hold the same deep-rooted fears of nuclear annihilation, Threads retains its impact. This is not only because of the impressive verisimilitude that Jackson and Hines achieved on such a low budget. Threads’ portrayal of a world brought to the brink of destruction addresses current fears surrounding global warming and environmental degradation, with its focus on the breakdown of society after a catastrophic event hitting all too close to home. The COVID-19 pandemic will be fresh in the minds of viewers today, and with those memories comes a renewed fear when watching Threads; we observe the fragility of modern civilization with alarm. Whether it is the feeling of close proximity to the characters in the first half of the film conveyed by Jackson’s use of the handheld camera, or the practical effects depicting the gruesome onslaught of radiation poisoning, Threads stands the test of time and possesses the ability to strike terror in the hearts of viewers even today.

The build up to the bomb drop in Threads is uncomfortably akin to global reactions to the COVID-19 pandemic. Most readers will remember with vague amusement the panic buying of toilet paper during the early days of the Lockdown Era, but Threads reminds us that in the moment we were genuinely afraid; and perhaps we had cause to be. In supermarkets across Sheffield, panic buying ensues as families desperately seek to stockpile goods for their homes. Articles in newspapers explain how people can best protect themselves against a strike, with Jimmy’s Father painstakingly following instructions to build a makeshift shelter out of mattresses and the kitchen door. Even the most optimistic of viewers knows his endeavour is a pointless one. At 8:30am in England, disinterested documentary-style narration declares a nuclear detonation over the North Sea, damaging communications across Britain. A second attack wipes out military targets, and the third and final attack confirms the instant death of 12-30 million people in the UK. Here, the true horrors of Threads ensue.

As depressing a watch as Threads may be, director Mick Jackson’s attempts to ‘visualise the unthinkable’ are as successful today as they were 40 years ago. Threads does not only set out to shock with gruesome depictions of radiation poisoning; it displays, in grim docudrama fashion, the long-term breakdown of British society. Ruth is, from the two large families we connect to at the start of the film, the only survivor of the initial bomb strikes. Stumbling out of her family home into the rubble that Sheffield has been reduced to, she walks past people made unrecognisable by radiation. The camera’s unsympathetic gaze observes a woman with her face burnt off clutching the corpse of her dead baby. We are reminded of Ruth’s own pregnancy, and the hopelessness of her situation. Considering our current cinematic landscape, littered as it is with dystopian heroines like Katniss Everdeen, it is important for contemporary viewers to recognise that Ruth’s post-apocalyptic existence is not confined to fiction. Wrapped in grey rags and dusty with nuclear fallout, Ruth may be reminiscent of the hero of a dystopian survival film, but Threads makes it clear that nuclear war is not something any of us would want to live through.

The second half of the film is sparse in dialogue, relying on intermittent title cards that document how much time has passed since the strikes, as well as information about the ongoing struggles the survivors face. Here, the powerful imagery of director Mick Jackson and the understated yet dynamic performance of Karen Meagher as Ruth shines through. Created with a budget of just £250,000 and shot over the course of 17 days, Threads is truly one of a kind. Combining archive footage with staged shots, Jackson blurs the lines between reality and drama to extraordinary effect.

Utilising miniatures and hand-painted backgrounds, Jackson was able to portray nuclear devastation in excruciating detail. Long shots depict cremated British countryside and towns and cities fallen into irreparable ruin. As society breaks down, we see Ruth give birth alone in a shack. Her daughter will grow up in a world that is unrecognisable. As nuclear winter sets in, she must barter for rats to eat. It is in stark contrast to the cosy life she enjoyed with her middle class family that we observe, with despair, Ruth’s relentless drive for survival in a world without hope.

The ending of Threads adheres to the same unremitting hopelessness that persists throughout the film’s second half. Hines refuses to provide viewers with catharsis, and instead ramps up the film’s horror in the final scene where Ruth’s young daughter Jane stumbles into a crude hospital, reminiscent of a cattle shed from the 14th century, to give birth. Threads ends on a freeze frame as, handed the deformed body of her stillborn child, Jane looks upon her baby with confusion, then opens her mouth in a silent scream. The message here requires no deciphering; society has regressed back to medieval times, and the long-term effects of nuclear radiation will be suffered by generations to come. Life as we know it is fragile, and the delicate threads that hold society together easily torn apart. Here, we are reminded of the first shot of the film; documentary-like footage of a spider spinning a web.

The bold ending that Threads delivers appears almost like a challenge to its viewers: ‘I have shown you what will happen if we enter into a nuclear war; do you want this?’ For anyone who has made it through the film’s two-hour runtime, the answer will be a resounding no. And whilst Jackson almost certainly anticipated such a response, he could not perhaps have anticipated the enduring legacy of Threads; his unflinching portrayal of a post-apocalyptic hellscape remains crucial today as a timeless cautionary tale about the devastating impact of nuclear weapons on humanity. As Vladimir Putin famously stated, there can be no winners in a nuclear war.

Written by Eleanor Wise

Recommended for you: 100 Unmissable BBC Films

You can support Eleanor Wise in the following places:

Website: filmstowatchbeforeyoudie.com
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Scrapper (2023)
Director: Charlotte Regan
Screenwriter: Charlotte Regan
Starring: Lola Campbell, Harris Dickson, Alin Uzun, Laura Alkman, Ambreen Razia

In the middle of a Venn diagram that has circles for “debut feature”, “written and directed by a woman named Charlotte” and “explores parental trauma through the perspective of a young daughter”, there are two films that have both been released fairly recently: Aftersun and Scrapper. It’s difficult to avoid comparing the two when they have so much in common, especially when they’re both (very) British. But actually, the two films really don’t have much in common beyond those surface-level connections. Where Charlotte Wells gave us an ambiguous masterpiece that saw its parental trauma through both pre and post-facto lenses in Aftersun, Charlotte Regan’s Scrapper presents something far more accessible, linear and, in its own way, hopeful.

Georgie (Lola Campbell) is the daughter at the centre of Scrapper’s story. She has had a rough time of it recently with her mother dying, leaving her to live alone under the rouse that a fictional uncle has moved in to take care of her. As a 12-year-old she has now inherited the burdens of being a renter in a single-person household, a pre-teen outcast at school, and, as if she didn’t have enough going wrong in her life, a West Ham fan. When Jason (Harris Dickson) turns up by climbing over her garden fence, things change dramatically. He’s the father who abandoned her, and now he’s here to challenge the new identities that she has had to make for herself. She is no longer solely responsible for paying rent, she has someone in her corner when she needs it, and she now knows who bought her the West Ham shirt that she wears every day.

The problem for Georgie is that none of the things that Jason has turned up promising to be is her mum. To make it worse, this is the person who walked out on the two of them before Georgie even had a chance to remember who he was, so of course she’s sceptical of letting him in. Both literally and figuratively, as she only accepts that he’s here to stay once he foils her plan to lock him out of the house by breaking back in; something that she likely respects deep down, seeing as she has been getting by for the last however long by stealing and selling bikes in the local area. But it does give her cause for concern – who is Jason, what does he do, and why is he here now?

What ensues is a game of cat and mouse that subverts our expectations again and again. Regan is such a skilful writer that she has crafted entirely real personalities for both Georgie and Jason in a swift 84-minute runtime, and as such it’s so easy to slip into Georgie’s cynicism towards him. Perhaps the nicest example is when Georgie is driven to search through Jason’s belongings to find out more about him, and we’re given multiple Chekhov’s Guns to look out for. Whether they all go off or not is really up to us to decide, but it creates a feeling that we’re coming to Georgie’s conclusions about Jason at the same time as she is.

Outside of the two central characters, there are some stranger approaches to storytelling. A theme that runs all the way through Scrapper is the idea that it takes a village to raise a child. Of course, Georgie initially rejects that in favour of raising herself, but we’re given multiple snippets of ‘The Office’-style pseudo-documentary inserts where characters speak directly to a camera about what they think of Georgie. The woman she sells her stolen bikes to, a popular girl from school, and the social services officers who’ve bought her story about a fake uncle, are all featured. They’re largely played for quick laughs though, in a film that is otherwise thought-provoking and heartbreaking. Instead of providing much-needed humour amongst a narrative that would be otherwise difficult to take emotionally (which seems to be at least part of the idea behind them), these inserts simply become distracting.

There’s enough substance in Scrapper that its flaws aren’t enough to supersede its qualities. Charlotte Regan’s debut feature knows the rules of its genres well enough that Scrapper is able to break them in consistently thoughtful ways, even if some might work better than others. That’s what elevates this to being such a worthwhile take on a story that isn’t often told.

Score: 17/24

Recommended for you: 100 Unmissable BBC Films

Written by Rob Jones

You can support Rob Jones on his website: rbrtjones.com
Twitter: @rbrtjones

“The more films our audiences come to watch, the more likely it is that we will survive. It’s that simple.”

The UK’s last surviving newsreel theatre, the Tyneside Cinema in Newcastle upon Tyne, has launched a fundraising campaign to save it from closure.

The North East’s only full-time independent cinema, an 86-year-old cultural institution and a registered charity, faces a stark future due to a slump in post-COVID audience numbers, the cost of living crisis, public sector spending cuts, and soaring energy bills. Specifically, Tyneside Cinema is combatting a 300% hike in energy costs and a 40% downturn in post-pandemic audiences.

The living wage employer was founded by Dixon Scott, the great-uncle of famed Hollywood directors Sir Ridley Scott and Tony Scott, and serves more than 500,000 people per year across the programmes, attractions, bars and cafes, offered inside its Grade II listed building.

“Right now, we ask people who want to help us to do two things – donate to our fundraising appeal and visit us as often as you can,” said Tyneside Cinema’s interim CEO Simon Drysdale.

The best course of action to support Tyneside Cinema is to donate directly to the charity via their website: tynesidecinema.co.uk/about-us/support-us

You can also donate via Tyneside’s JustGiving page: justgiving.com/campaign/lovetynesidecinema

Alternatively, you can text LOVETYNESIDE to 70085 to donate £5.

Tyneside Cinema’s official press release reads as follows:

AN URGENT fund-raising campaign is being launched to save the iconic Tyneside Cinema from closure as it faces up to an unprecedented threat to its survival.

A combination of a post-Covid slump in audiences, the cost of living crisis, soaring energy bills and public sector funding cuts have left the 86-year-old Newcastle cultural institution facing a stark future.

Bosses warn that without additional funds and support from the public, Tyneside Cinema could face the same fate as other independent cinemas and venues around the country which have had to shut their doors for good.

Simon Drysdale, interim CEO at Tyneside Cinema, said: “This is potentially the worst funding crisis Tyneside Cinema has faced in its history.

“Whilst we made it through the pandemic and the enforced closures that brought, audiences have so far failed to return in pre-Covid numbers and, like many cultural venues around the country, we are also facing reductions in funding from public sector organisations who themselves are finding finances tight.

“There have already been closures of other long-standing cultural venues including leading independent cinema The Filmhouse in Edinburgh, the Oldham Coliseum theatre and, closer to home, The Exchange Theatre in North Shields.

“We are determined to do our utmost to ensure that Tyneside Cinema does not become another addition to that list and to preserve this iconic centre for independent film for current and future generations.

“However, in order to do that, we really need your help – and we need it soon.”

Tyneside Cinema reopened successfully after the pandemic, with support from guests, friends of the cinema, donors, Arts Council England, DCMS, Heritage Lottery Fund and the British Film Institute.

But all cinemas across the UK, from multiplexes to independent cinemas, have struggled to deal with low ticket sales following the pandemic – down by 40% on pre-pandemic levels in the case of Tyneside Cinema.

Rising utility costs have also hit hard with the cost of heating, cooling and lighting Tyneside Cinema trebling.

In addition, Tyneside Cinema building’s listed status presents its own unique challenges to maintain and adapt to the needs of modern audiences. It is in discussion with its landlord to achieve a rental that reflects the open market value of the premises rather than one that is linked to RPI (which is particularly crippling in the current environment) and leads to an unrealistic level of rent. A better rent deal would help the cinema to continue to bring the very best of independent, blockbuster, foreign language and award-winning films to audiences in the region.

In response to these various challenges, Tyneside Cinema is working closely with other UK independent cinemas to find new funding and operating models to protect the sector.

Simon Drysdale said: “As well as providing audiences with a genuine alternative to mainstream Hollywood movies, Tyneside Cinema and cinemas like it are a vital part of the UK film industry, championing the work of the new and up and coming film makers and supporting local talent.

“It is particularly fitting that Tyneside Cinema was founded by Dixon Scott, the great-uncle of stellar film directors Sir Ridley and Tony Scott.

“Preserving and building on that unique history is one of the driving forces behind our campaign to keep Tyneside Cinema alive.

“We are doing all we can to keep the cinema open and we are determined to save this vital and unique institution that people of Newcastle and the North East are so rightfully proud of.”

The trustees have already put in place a number of initiatives to help improve Tyneside Cinema’s financial picture, including changing operating hours and restructuring ticket pricing.

Following a review of staff costs, the cinema is also now considering restructuring its workforce and is entering into consultation with staff members about the potential for a small number of potential redundancies.

Mr Drysdale explained: “Losing colleagues is the last thing we want to do, but the economic climate, combined with low visitor numbers means we have little choice.

“By breathing in for a while we can weather the storm and we hope that, in the future, we will again be able to offer the full series of community and arts work we have been famous for.”

Tyneside’s operations were comprehensively overhauled three years ago following an independent investigation which was prompted by issues raised by staff at that time. Following the review, a new chair, board of trustees and senior management team were appointed.

Mr Drysdale said: “We acknowledge the mistakes identified by the independent investigation three years ago, but this is very much a new era for Tyneside Cinema and it is a time when we need the support of the fantastic North East public more than ever before.”

Tyneside Cinema is hoping that its rallying call to the region’s film lovers will help to secure its future and ensure that the final curtain doesn’t fall on this iconic cultural venue.

Simon Drysdale said: “Right now, we ask people who want to help us to do two things – donate to our fundraising appeal and visit us as often as you can.

“The more films our audiences come to watch, the more likely it is that we will survive. It’s that simple.”

To make a donation to the Tyneside Cinema fundraising appeal go to
https://tynesidecinema.co.uk/about-us/support-us/, visit the JustGiving Page at
https://justgiving.com/campaign/lovetynesidecinema or text LOVETYNESIDE to 70085 to donate £5.

Polite Society (2023) 
Director: Nida Manzoor
Screenwriter: Nida Manzoor
Starring: Priya Kansara, Ritu Arya, Nimra Bucha, Akshaye Khanna, Ella Bruccoleri, Seraphina Beh, Shona Babayemi

Presenting the premieres of Pearl, I Like Movies and two new documentaries from Mark Cousins, the 2023 Glasgow Film Festival was a huge a hit. Its closing film, Polite Society, ensured it went out with a bang.

Polite Society follows Ria (Priya Kansara), a British high schooler from a Pakistani family who dreams of becoming a stunt woman and for her sister Lena (Ritu Arya) to graduate art school and become a famous artist. However, when both of their futures come under threat due to an arranged marriage, Ria must save her sister from (almost) certain doom.

Nida Manzoor, both the writer and the director, formally introduces us to the fantastically stylish (and equally over the top) world that she has created via a good old fashioned schoolyard brawl between Ria and her dreaded arch nemesis, school bully Kovacks (Shona Babayemi). The fight is presented like a series of comic book panels mixed in with Wire-Fu and ‘Street Fighter’, creating a sensational action scene that is as exhilarating as it is funny and perfectly sets us up for the ride we are about to be taken on.

Of course, Manzoor’s work isn’t only fight scenes, but it cannot be overstated how perfect the placement of each action sequence is throughout Polite Society. The writer-director clearly has a deep understanding of her story and her world, and the way in which she builds upon each action sequence (constantly allowing the stakes to grow higher and higher) is simply excellent.

That is not to say that the moments between these fight scenes are any less captivating. Far from it. The screenplay is filled to the brim with wonderfully colourful characters who not only add to our enjoyment of the film but further the story and the emotion of the movie too. By far the best examples of this are Ria’s two best friends, Alba (Ella Bruccoleri) and Clara (Seraphina Beh), whose banter and antics together (or as a trio with Ria) are reminiscent of post-2000s teen coming-of-age favourites such as Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging. However, none are greater than Nimra Bucha as Raheela, the over-protective mother of Lena’s soon to be husband, who plays her role to the standard of a classic Bond villain; perfectly over the top and campy yet intimidating all at the same time. 

The story itself may be somewhat standard so far as coming-of-age movies go, but it is the unique way in which it is presented that makes Polite Society as terrific as it is. Can you tell how the film will wrap up? Probably. But Manzoor creates stakes that feel genuine, and moulds fresh characters whom you care about to the extent that they overtake your better judgement. 

Furthermore, the performances of Polite Society truly capture your heart. Priya Kansara steals the show in her lead performance, crafting a character that feels real in a picture that is presented as anything but. Not only does she look natural in every single thing that she does, but she brings so much heart to the role. Truly, a star has been born in Priya Kansara. Ritu Arya’s performance must also be applauded, bringing the true emotional weight of the story to her role, capturing the genuine anxieties of a woman in her 20s. Her chemistry with Kansara is a joy to watch, both performers capturing the type of relationship that could only exist between two siblings who have known each other their whole lives.

With Polite Society, Nida Manzoor proves herself as a director to keep an eye on with her feature directorial debut, creating a story that is wonderful to be a part of and a world that is a joy to watch. Filled to the brim with amazing performances, beautiful costumes and some of the most fun action sequences to come out of Britain in some time, you won’t want to miss it.

A few days ago at a local cinema a young man was strolling up and down the halls, looking at every poster and pointing out what little original cinema is out there these days. Well, if it’s something new you’re looking for, Polite Society is the film for you: a unique yet familiar picture that has all the makings of a smash hit.

Score: 21/24

Girl (2023)
Director: Adura Onashile
Screenwriter: Adura Onashile
Starring: Déborah Lukumuena, Le’Shantey Bonsu, Liana Turner, Danny Sapani

Following its world premiere at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, Adura Onashile’s debut feature film opened the 2023 Glasgow Film Festival. Set in the very city hosting its UK premiere, Girl follows a severely traumatised migrant mother, Grace (Déborah Lukumuena), and her daughter Ama (Le’Shantey Bonsu), whose relationship comes under threat when Ama must return to school. Onashile’s short film Expensive Shit had previously won both the audience and the critics award at the Glasgow Film Festival back in 2020, launching Onashile’s career with a bang. Unfortunately, the filmmaker’s feature film debut opened the 2023 festival with a whimper.

There is no denying writer-director Adura Onashile’s talent considering her many years in theatre, including multiple acclaimed and award-winning plays. But as a film director, her lack of experience shows. Many of Girl’s issues come from odd staging and camera framing, and there’s some some jarring editing too. It is unfortunate, then, that it is through the director’s (arguably) greatest strength – writing – that Girl’s most glaring issues arise. 

Girl starts strongly, illustrating the close nature of the mother-daughter relationship through their sharing of both a bed and a bathtub. Inseparable. Furthermore, we get a glimpse into the fairy tale world which Grace has placed Ama into, starting with a fable as to how Ama was born. Grace tells her impressionable young daughter that, as a young girl living alone with her grandmother, she went to a well and wished for someone who would always be her friend, and so arrived Ama. What could be an introduction into the ways Grace has manipulated her daughter into staying with her quickly turns sour.

Onashile’s screenplay sticks solely to very broad strokes, with no attention to detail as far as any backstory or world building goes. One could assume that the director hoped to represent the characters not from the country they were from but through their actions, though in doing so unfortunately removes a major part of both of their identities, going so far as to reduce Grace to just a mother and victim. 

This issue sinks itself deep into the film, and with it everything crumbles. Grace is such a one dimensional character that her scenes of trauma-induced PTSD fail to engage on an emotional level, which then has a domino effect. Though we understand why Grace is overly protective as a mother, we simply detest the ways in which she chooses to act toward her daughter. Moreover – once again like dominoes – the entire emotional crux of the story, the relationship of the mother and daughter, is something which we do not care for, Girl therefore lacking in engagement for the majority of its ninety-minute runtime.

Although the character of Grace may be the best example of the film’s poor writing, she is by far the last. The rest of the adult cast of characters are simply incompetent. Throughout the film care workers, teachers and even neighbours are portrayed as buffoons who couldn’t help if they tried. For example, when Grace cannot find her daughter and approaches Ama’s school teacher to ask whether she knows where she may be, the teacher’s actions are comparable to a shrug and an “I dunno.” Though this could have been used to great effect to critique the lack of help or care towards immigrants in Britain, it instead illustrates the lack of quality in Onashile’s writing.

Thankfully, a saving grace can be found in Ama, who is a little more fleshed out, who we see the world through. Le’Shantey Bonsu gives a very subdued but nonetheless charming performance as Ama, doing a very good job of displaying her character’s curiosity and desire to explore the world surrounding her through her wide-eyed enthusiasm. By far the best scenes of the film surround her friendship with her school friend Fiona (Liana Turner). Though the pair’s relationship gets off to a rocky start thanks in part to some odd direction and some cringe-worthy dialogue, the chemistry between the two is hard to resist and swiftly takes over. Unfortunately, just as the pair’s story seems to be reaching its peak, the rug is pulled out from under it.

Dialogue and character development are certainly areas in need of improvement in Girl, and so too is the structure of the movie. Not only does the screenplay feel repetitive, but each third of the picture feels like its own individual short film with a clear beginning, middle and end. Not only does this cause some pacing issues, but it creates multiple moments in which we are left both confused and horrified as to how this could possibly be the climax to such a feature.

Once the climax does come, it does not feel deserved. Whilst there are no loose ends per se, no plot point feels as though it has come to a reasonable conclusion, as if limited in their cycle to completion by time restraints. It leaves a terrible taste in the mouth.

Adura Onashile’s progression through Glasgow Film Festival from previous short film award winner to festival opener makes for a wonderful and charming success story, but Girl kicked off the festival in a forgettable fashion. Awkward staging, jarring editing and lacklustre writing simply can’t elevate this disappointing debut from this promising talent.

Score: 5/24

The nominees for the 76th British Academy Film Awards (BAFTA Film Awards) have been announced, with the British Academy of Film and Television Arts revealing their selections for the best films from 2022.

The nominees of 12 categories including Best Film, Director, Actor and Actress, were announced in a live video streamed via YouTube and presented by actors Hayley Atwell and Toheeb Jimoh, with the remaining 12 categories announced via social media and on the BAFTA website.

The nominees for the 2023 EE BAFTA Rising Star Award were announced previously, with the likes of Emma Mackey (Death on the Nile) and Daryl McCormack (Good Luck To You, Leo Grande) among the choices in the award show’s only public vote category.

The most nominated film of the BAFTAs in 2023 is Netflix Original adaptation All Quiet On the Western Front, which earned 14 nominations, 4 more than any other film. Nominated across the categories of Best Film, Film Not In the English Language, Director and Adapted Screenplay, the (largely) German language war film was prominent across most major categories. Martin McDonagh’s The Banshees of Inisherin and The Daniels’ Everything Everywhere All at Once were each nominated 10 times.

Despite few nominations across the major categories, Baz Luhrmann biopic Elvis earned a Best Film nomination, ousting late favourites such as Aftersun (nominated in the Outstanding British Film category) and The Fabelmans for its spot on the list. The other major surprise was that Golden Globe-winning Best Director Steven Spielberg wasn’t nominated by the British Academy, the Director category offering a more diverse list than in previous years, this time featuring the likes of Park Chan-wook (Decision to Leave) and Gina Prince-Bythewood (The Woman King).

The 2023 British Academy Film Awards will be broadcast on Sunday 19th February from the Southbank Centre in London. They will be hosted by Richard E. Grant (BAFTA nominee for Can You Ever Forgive Me?), with in-studio co-host support from popular British television host Alison Hammond.

The list of nominees for the 76th BAFTA Film Awards (2023):

Best Film
All Quiet On the Western Front
The Banshees of Inisherin
Elvis
Everything Everywhere All at Once
Tár

Outstanding British Film
Aftersun
The Banshees of Inisherin
Brian and Charles
Empire of Light
Good Luck to You, Leo Grande
Living
Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical
See How They Run
The Swimmers
The Wonder

Outstanding Debut by a British Writer, Director or Producer
Charlotte Wells (Aftersun)
George Oakley, Hélène Sifre (Blue Jean)
Marie Lidén (Electric Malady)
Katy Brand (Good Luck To You, Leo Grande)
Maia Kenworthy (Rebellion)

Film Not In the English Language
All Quiet On the Western Front
Argentina, 1985
Corsage
Decision To Leave
The Quiet Girl

Documentary
All That Breathes
All the Beauty and the Bloodshed
Fire of Love
Moonage Daydream
Navalny

Animated Film
Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio
Marcel the Shell with Shoes On
Puss In Boots: The Last Wish
Turning Red

Director
Edward Berger (All Quiet On the Western Front)
Martin McDonagh (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Park Chan-Wook (Decision To Leave)
Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All At Once)
Todd Field (Tár)
Gina Prince-Bythewood (The Woman King)

Original Screenplay
Martin McDonagh (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once)
Tony Kushner, Steven Spielberg (The Fabelmans)
Todd Field (Tár)
Ruben Östlund (Triangle of Sadness)

Adapted Screenplay
Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson, Ian Stokell (All Quiet On the Western Front)
Kazuo Ishiguro (Living)
Colm Bairéad (The Quiet Girl)
Rebecca Lenkiewicz (She Said)
Samuel D. Hunter (The Whale)

Leading Actress
Cate Blanchett (Tár)
Viola Davis (The Woman King)
Danielle Deadwyler (Till)
Ana De Armas (Blonde)
Emma Thompson (Good Luck To You, Leo Grande)
Michelle Yeoh (Everything Everywhere All At Once)

Leading Actor
Austin Butler (Elvis)
Colin Farrell (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Brendan Fraser (The Whale)
Daryl McCormack (Good Luck To You, Leo Grande)
Paul Mescal (Aftersun)
Bill Nighy (Living)

Supporting Actress
Angela Bassett (Black Panther: Wakanda Forever)
Hong Chau (The Whale)
Kerry Condon (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Dolly De Leon (Triangle of Sadness)
Jamie Lee Curtis (Everything Everywhere All At Once)
Carey Mulligan (She Said)

Supporting Actor
Brendan Gleeson (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Barry Keoghan (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Ke Huy Quan (Everything Everywhere All At Once)
Eddie Redmayne (The Good Nurse)
Albrecht Schuch (All Quiet On the Western Front)
Michael Ward (Empire of Light)

Casting
Lucy Pardee (Aftersun)
Simone Bär (All Quiet On the Western Front)
Nikki Barrett, Denise Chamlan (Elvis)
Sarah Halley Finn (Everything Everywhere All at Once)
Pauline Hansson (Triangle of Sadness)

Cinematography
James Friend (All Quiet On the Western Front)
Greig Fraser (The Batman)
Mandy Walker (Elvis)
Roger Deakins (Empire of Light)
Claudio Miranda (Top Gun: Maverick)

Editing
Sven Budelmann (All Quiet On the Western Front)
Mikkel E. G. Nielsen (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Jonathan Redmond, Matt Villa (Elvis)
Paul Rogers (Everything Everywhere All at Once)
Eddie Hamilton (Top Gun: Maverick)

Costume Design
Lisy Christi (All Quiet On the Western Front)
J.R. Hawbaker, Albert Wolsky (Amsterdam)
Mary Zophres (Babylon)
Catherine Martin (Elvis)
Jenny Beavan (Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris)

Make Up & Hair
All Quiet On the Western Front
The Batman
Elvis
Roald Dahl’s Matilda the Musical
The Whale

Production Design
All Quiet On the Western Front
Babylon
The Batman
Elvis
Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio

Original Score
Volker Bertelmann (All Quiet On the Western Front)
Justin Hurwitz (Babylon)
Carter Burwell (The Banshees of Inisherin)
Son Lux (Everything Everywhere All at Once)
Alexandre Desplat (Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio)

Sound
All Quiet On the Western Front
Avatar: The Way of Water
Elvis
Tár
Top Gun: Maverick

Special Visual Effects
All Quiet On the Western Front
Avatar: The Way of Water
The Batman
Everything Everywhere All at Once
Top Gun: Maverick

British Short Animation
The Boy, The Mole, The Fox and The Horse
Middle Watch
Your Mountain Is Waiting

British Short Film
The Ballad of Olive Morris
Bazigaga
Bus Girl
A Drifting Up
An Irish Goodbye

EE Rising Star
Aimee Lou Wood
Daryl McCormack
Emma Mackey
Naomi Ackie
Sheila Atim

Most Nominated
All Quiet On the Western Front (14)
The Banshees of Inisherin (10)
Everything Everywhere All at Once (10)
Elvis (9)
Tar (5)

Empire of Light (2022)
Director: Sam Mendes
Screenwriter: Sam Mendes
Starring: Olivia Colman, Michael Ward, Colin Firth, Toby Jones, Tom Brooke, Tanya Moodie, Hannah Onslow, Crystal Clarke

Sam Mendes has returned following the critical success of his exceptionally thrilling and award winning World War I movie 1917 to set his lens upon a British drama surrounding staff at a south coast cinema in 1980. It has been promoted as a love letter to the cinema experience, but is a film so oblique that it’s hardly a letter at all and instead a series of barely related log lines that could have been the subjects of six or seven better movies. Whatever you have imagined this film to be, it almost certainly is not.

Part ode to cinema, part coming-of-age tale, part racial tension drama, part dysfunctional romance, part psychological thriller, part abuse story, Empire of Light is made up of disparate threads that contradict one another, that make it impossible to decipher any kind of thematic throughline. In a film of this type, with so many different intentions, it would be natural to assume that the above threads occur across the film’s range of characters and that the relatable element within the narrative is the cinema itself – just as the airport is in Love Actually or the death of a suburban husband is in Mendes’ own American Beauty – but all of the different stories Mendes attempts to tell here are told through just two characters across a relatively short amount of time, and thus each thread’s intention smashes into the next as we are thrown from a film premiere to a mental breakdown and into a racially motivated gang assault before being dragged back to a lesson about the sanctity of film projection with all the grace of King Kong swatting planes away atop the Empire State Building. It’s a real shame, too, because going back to the cinema, seeing the classic way that films used to be projected and how the exhibitors used to make each night feel special, is the only saving grace yet is presented as if an afterthought.

Sam Mendes has not written any of his projects by himself before, Empire of Light being only his second screenwriting credit of his twenty-plus year career (the first being as co-writer on the largely dialogue-less 1917), and to his credit he does land some small and emotionally stirring story beats (each of which occur in the cinema itself), but the issues with this movie are almost exclusively on the page. Beyond the disparate threads of the story there is an almost complete lack of consequences to anything or for anyone – a mental breakdown at work doesn’t cost a job, friendships or seemingly anything else; a near-death experience doesn’t cause life-altering trauma; the unconventional dynamics of the central relationship causes no tension with or for any character – and worse still there is an exploitation of real world issues like National Front racism and workplace sexual abuse that come out of nowhere to offer a small hint at stakes and conflict but then disappear (in terms of impact and meaning) just as fast. It’s a pity because it’s easy to see how a respected filmmaker writing characters with in-the-movie backstories would attract the acting talents of Olivia Colman, Colin Firth and Toby Jones, and there is some very strong work occurring behind the camera from the likes of iconic cinematographer (and regular Mendes collaborator) Roger Deakins, as well as Oscar winning composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. The film is well made, just badly written.

Olivia Colman is given the opportunity to really dive into the psyche of her character here, and she duly delivers with all the class we’ve come to expect from one of the great dramatic actors of our time. And there is no doubt that the supporting players – including the young and magnetic Michael Ward – are played well, presented effectively, embraced by both the director and the actors. But as the film begins to open up and early readings, which could vary from each character representing a particular era of cinema to idealisations on the cinema itself being a means of escape for people from all walks of life, the film’s on-the-nose dialogue and stunted editing techniques (which at times look as if they’re stitching shots from two completely different films together) come to the fore, some sequences being so close to amateur in how they’re written that even Colman and Firth can’t shine any light on them.

Worse still, the film is without a lens – that being a perspective for us to view the world from. We’re not physically rooted to the cinema, though it would make for a much better movie to witness the romance and drama of day-to-day life within the walls of a cineplex, nor are we transported through the world by Olivia Colman’s Hillary or her co-lead, Michael Ward’s Stephen. We experience things happening just because they’re happening, and we can barely locate ourselves in this world because the first act makes the cinema a magical palace and the rest of the film treats it like an ugly step-child, the final act introducing us to locations and settings that we haven’t even seen before. The messaging on the page is so muddled that even a director with the credentials of Sam Mendes can’t find a perspective through which to film it, that Lee Smith (the editor of Inception and The Dark Knight) is unable to find any consistency in the footage Mendes has handed to him. Empire of Light is a mess, albeit one that holds so much potential for those hopeful for a celebration of their passion: cinema.

Those are the people with whom this film will resonate the most. People who’ve been able to get through hard times because of the escapism of sitting in the dark, alone, absorbing something profound. There are moments here that will speak to that person in ways that few films do, but they’re only moments – Empire of Light is so distracted, so lacking in commitment to this message, that even if you consider yourself to be one of those people, you’ll be left wishing that there was far more of this good stuff included.

There’s a really good film somewhere within the mess that is Empire of Light, one that celebrates the cinema as a home for catharsis, for understanding, for passion and art, one that is a celebration of culture. But it’s buried so deep beneath lesser ideas that we only get hints of what that movie could have been. This is almost certainly the worst film of Sam Mendes’ respected career, a tripe rumination on everything and nothing all at once. If you would like a film about films, and specifically about the experience of cinema, watch Martin Scorsese’s Hugo instead, or take the time to absorb the unrivalled classic Cinema Paradiso, because Empire of Light isn’t the one for you. Truthfully, it isn’t really for anyone.

Score: 10/24

Enys Men (2022)
Director: Mark Jenkin
Screenwriter: Mark Jenkin
Starring: Mary Woodvine, John Woodvine, Edward Rowe

With his breakthrough feature, 2019’s Bait, Mark Jenkin earned plenty of critical acclaim, crafting an intimate drama so specific to a small area of England that it spoke to many the world over. Naturally, after making such an impact, many of his newly found fans and peers awaited the sophomore effort – or the dreaded second album, as Jenkin himself referred to it. Almost four years later and the new film, Enys Men, can make or break the director’s legacy.

With Bait, Mark Jenkin crafted a film so unique with its post-synced sound, blunt dialogue and bare yet stylistic photography (thanks in no small part to the use of a vintage black and white camera), that he instantly placed his own directorial mark on the film. With Enys Men, Jenkin revisits this style and progresses it appropriately.

All the auteurisms from Jenkin’s previous work remain, and they charm just as easily. However, it is the new additions that truly put a spell on anyone willing to give this British independent film a chance. Enys Men is shot in gorgeous colour film photography, creating not just an accurate representation of 70s British cinema, but casting a wonderful colour palette across the screen that is a beauty to behold.

Enys Men is much more stripped back (in large part due to lockdown procedures during the pandemic) than Bait was. The plot of the film – if you could say it has one – finds a lone woman (Mary Woodvine) isolated on an island off the Cornish coast circa 1973. The actual reasoning for the woman’s stay on the island is unknown and never questioned, though her daily observations of a rare flower hint towards some form of research. 

Both the woman and the rock she inhabits are one and the same; two lone vessel’s battered and shaped by time and the natural world that surrounds them, each showing signs of past traumas only they could know. Thus, once the past, present and future traumas of the woman and the island begin to coalesce, the mysteries of both do not unravel, but instead tighten up, culminating in a 90-minute presentation that will leave you puzzled and without the ability to forget this movie anytime soon.

Jenkin opens up room for interpreting his film through ghostly images that appear on the island, in props, and even through the superstitious routines the woman re-enacts every day (checking the temperature of the flowers, throwing a rock down an old mine shaft, for example). Everyone will leave with their own reading – are they all ghosts, flashbacks, flash forwards, maybe even the woman’s own mind deteriorating? – but that is the very pull of the movie, the intrigue. There will surely be new evidence found upon each viewing that will help to enrich any theories you may find yourself gravitating towards originally, and this is a film that is bound to represent different things to different people.

It is in the very mystery of the movie that Enys Men’s horror elements arise. Just as the woman is seemingly alone on the island, you too feel alone in the cinema, transfixed on the screen, scanning every corner of the image in the hopes of finding any clue that might help you to understand what is happening, completely unaware of what is beside you (or worse, behind you). 

Throughout the film Jenkin focuses on certain routines or objects, pointing our attention towards a potential clue only to cut us away from our fixed gaze, usually to a horrifying image or to an ear-splitting sound, in a cruel abuse of storyteller power.

Perhaps the greatest mark of a filmmaker’s talent is their ability to adapt their use of cinematic language to each new story they tell. It is in this ability to adapt that Mark Jenkin presents himself as an incredibly intelligent filmmaker, evolving the style of his feature debut into something equally as recognisable whilst being entirely unique in its own right.

Enys Men is a chillingly atmospheric horror that embeds itself into your mind just like the traumas of its main character, leaving you with more questions than answers but one universal interpretation: Mark Jenkin is making films unlike those made by anyone else.

Score: 20/24