May December (2023)
Director: Todd Haynes
Screenwriters: Samy Burch, Alex Mechanik
Starring: Natalie Portman, Julianne Moore, Charles Melton, Gabriel Chung, Elizabeth Yu

Todd Haynes’ films are hard to pin down. Ever the subversive, the renegade of the new queer cinema movement has a proven track record of destabilizing conventional wisdoms surrounding everything from sex to gender to celebrity to domesticity and the American nuclear family. Unafraid to wear his influences on his sleeve, and to subject them to satire and scrutiny, Haynes wields homage, melodrama, and allegory in his deconstruction of the social, political, and aesthetic contexts in which his characters dwell. His is a cinema of transgression that gets its teeth from a sort of reflexive formalism, for his films frequently call attention to their own artifice. 

Take 2002’s Far From Heaven, for example. In many ways, the film, which centers on a 1950s suburban housewife whose secret affair threatens the sanguine domestic lifestyle she is expected to uphold, is a straight-up remake of Douglas Sirk’s 1955 melodrama All That Heaven Allows, complete with all the soap and glitziness that defined Hays Code-era Hollywood. The catch is that Haynes’ film is, nonetheless, thoroughly modern in its details—by peppering in subject matter that would have been considered too taboo back in the 50s (even for Sirk, who was considered a rebel in his time), namely interracial and homosexual relationships, Haynes turns the entire genre on its head. Films such as Far From Heaven demonstrate Haynes’ unique ability to firmly situate his work relative to established cinematic traditions—and to then boldly defy them. In this way, Todd Haynes is a filmmaker who always seems to have his finger on the pulse, his films conversing with the past to illuminate the present. 

The present unto which May December, Haynes’ latest, arrives feels particularly elusive—and, fittingly, so does the film. Written by Samy Burch and loosely inspired by the public scandal surrounding Mary Kay Letourneau, the screenplay orbits three central characters: Gracie Atherton-Yoo (Julianne Moore), a suburban pariah who was once the subject of a tabloid frenzy surrounding her predatory sexual involvement with a 13-year-old boy; Joe Atherton-Yoo (Charles Melton), the boy, now in his 30s and married with children to Gracie; and Elizabeth Berry (Natalie Portman), a B-list actress who comes to study Gracie and her family in preparation to play her in a movie about the scandal. 

On first glance, such a premise seems tailor-made for the Netflix-patented true-crime-content-machine; and yet May December cleverly co-opts these vapid true-crime precepts, and our twisted attendance to them. Where Far From Heaven leverages melodrama to challenge the genre’s largely sanitized depiction of domestic life in the 1950s, May December weaponizes viewers’ learned appetite for sensationalism to unravel the tabloid mythologies that form around deviant crimes and their perpetrators—and which often exploit the victims. 

Portman’s Elizabeth is the doorway through which Haynes instantly implicates the viewer. Her morbid curiosity to get to the bottom of Gracie and Joe’s strange dynamic largely matches our own. However, as she ingratiates herself among the family, it quickly becomes clear that Elizabeth’s intentions are far more perverse. As Gracie’s mask begins to slip, so too does Elizabeth’s, revealing her obsessive, megalomaniacal fantasy of coveting, or perhaps recreating, Gracie’s and Joe’s lived experience. The ensuing dissonance, heightened by the melodramatic register in which the film operates, not only makes for an unnaturalness that is often quite funny (Marcelo Zarvos’s ostentatious score is a big part of this), but it also makes space for thorny ethical questions surrounding spectatorship, representation, autonomy, and consent—none of which feel overly didactic. 

Instead, in true Haynes fashion, ambiguities stay ambiguous, and the viewer is left to dwell in the gray areas. Neither patronizing nor flattering these characters, Haynes complicates prevailing assumptions surrounding Gracie and Joe by lending them both a degree of agency, and in doing so undermines whatever vague suggestion is made toward a simple sociological explanation for their relationship (e.g. personality disorders, abuse begetting abuse). Actors and outcasts alike, these are characters whose identities are defined by performance, whether of normalcy, security, sincerity, or innocence. Like the many mirrors Haynes frames them in, Portman, Moore, and, perhaps most impressively, Melton reflect and belie their characters’ superficial personas. 

May December comes at a strange moment in time when the popularity of true-crime content feels at odds with flattened conceptions of moral goodness and badness in popular media. What makes the film feel particularly incisive and contemporary—infinitely more so than the titles it is destined to be algorithmically paired with on the Netflix home screen—are the ways in which it converses with this moment and indeed the viewer. Haynes’ latest is, once again, hard to pin down; but it is even harder to forget. 

Score: 22/24

May December is nominated for 4 Golden Globes.

Written by Connell Oberman

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The four films released annually between 2012 and 2015 present a dystopian near future dominated by class divides and its public’s insatiable appetite for violence and cheap thrills. It focuses upon Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) as she navigates her position as a tribute in the 74th Hunger Games in Panem, what was once North America, before winning and unintentionally becoming the face of a rebellion.

In the universe of the films, the Hunger Games are an annual televised event in which 24 participants (Tributes) are forced to fight to the death until one remains. This competition was enforced by the Capitol (the ruling power of Panem) after the 13 Districts of Panem rebelled against their power. As retribution, District 13 was annihilated, and the 12 remaining Districts must offer up their children into the Hunger Games as a reminder of the cost of insurrection against the Capitol.

One boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18 are selected from each District in a lottery system (the Reaping). They are paraded as if they are celebrities, dressed in high fashion, interviewed on mandatory viewing programmes, before being shipped into a custom-made themed arena in a battle that often lasts weeks.

The Victor is then bestowed a home, riches, and exemption from further participation in the Games, while their District receives additional food for the year following their victory. The Victor will then be placed into a pool of Mentors to support the future Tributes of their District as they navigate their own preparation for the Games.

The Quadrilogy follows Katniss primarily, as she wins her first Hunger Games and manages to survive her second until she is liberated by the Rebellion. Whilst this is ongoing, she is navigating complex relationships with Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson), her two-time District 12 Tribute/Victor counterpart, and Gale Hawthorne (Liam Hemsworth), her childhood friend and closest ally in District 12. Meanwhile, she is trying to keep her family safe, primarily her sister Primrose (Willow Shields), and trying to escape any negative attention from her accidental enemy, President Snow (Donald Sutherland).

In this Movie List from The Film Magazine, we are evaluating the best moments across the four films that cover Katniss Everdeen’s journey from a District 12 Tribute to the figurehead of a revolution. We will be considering the moments that made our hearts stop and kept us on the edge of our seats as we attempt to outline what truly are the most iconic moments of the Girl on Fire and beyond. These are the 10 Best The Hunger Games Moments.

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10. Katniss Adjusting Her Aim to Kill President Coin
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2 (2015)

The rebellion has ended with the underclass Districts triumphing over the might of the Capitol. The Government of Panem has been overthrown. The end of the Hunger Games, and the end of forced starvation and extreme poverty, is in sight. But Katniss is all too aware of what it has cost her, having witnessed the deaths of her squadron, including Finnick Odair (Sam Claflin) and brutally, in the last moments of the war, her little sister Prim (Willow Shields). The whole saga started with Katniss trying to save Prim from death, and despite it all she couldn’t save the person who mattered to her the most. Katniss has been charged with killing President Snow (Donald Sutherland), the now dethroned ruler of Panem. President Coin (Julianne Moore), the leader of the Rebellion and now assumed President, announces what is about to happen. Katniss pulls the single arrow from her sheath and takes aim at Snow, before quickly adjusting her aim and shooting Coin straight in the heart. She intends to kill herself with a nightlock pill (crafted from poisonous berries) tucked in her outfit, but Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) stops her in her tracks, allowing her capture and Snow to be torn apart by seething crowds.

This, as the end of the war, is what we’ve been waiting a long time to see. Katniss facing President Snow, finally with her in power. However, her previous discussions with him illuminate the pawn she has been for President Coin. Katniss begins to see that Coin is not trying to overthrow Panem for entirely pure reasons, she wishes for power and is willing to allow the Hunger Games to continue in a differing format. Katniss also comes to learn that Prim died in a trap placed by the Rebels, which also killed many Capitol children, seen as collateral damage by Coin. In this moment, Katniss finally reclaims the autonomy she lost as a pawn for both Snow and Coin. Whilst she becomes an enemy of the nation, Katniss knows she has avenged her sister and prevented another corrupt leader rising in Panem. Katniss never wanted to be the hero, but she still did it. This, Katniss’ final kill, represents the end of her journey as a warrior and a piece in their games. Katniss barely makes a sound, but the weight of her emotion is clear in every small movement she makes. She has nothing to lose, but might be able to change the course of the future with one final shot.

This moment makes the list because of how shocking it is, and the gravity of the situation itself. Katniss, a girl from the poorest part of a poor region, now stands before two Presidents as the most important person in the country. The culmination of the series must be represented in the top 10, only hindered by how much we’ve lost to get to this point, and how painful it is to see Katniss ready to die after losing Prim.

9. Finnick Odair’s Death
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2 (2015)

In one of the scariest moments of the franchise, Katniss and her elite Capitol invasion squad have descended below the streets of the city to avoid ‘pods’ (traps intended to kill advancing rebels) and increased Peacekeeper (Capitol soldiers) presence. However, the sewers and tunnels beneath the city are not without danger. Snow-white humanoid lizard beasts (created by the Capitol) pursue the group, soon decimating them as they attempt to flee via tight, dark sewer tunnels. Our heroes make a last stand as they attempt to climb out of the sewers, with Katniss and Finnick (Sam Claflin) leading the charge as the most skilled combatants. Finnick manages to save Katniss and takes out countless Mutts as the others escape, ultimately throwing his trident straight through a Mutt to save Katniss as she ascends the ladder. Armed only with a knife, Finnick makes it to the ladder before being dragged underwater to be massacred. Katniss activates a detonation sequence in her Holo (a map loaded with sensitive Capitol info) and uses it to kill Finnick and the Mutts.

Katniss having to mercy kill Finnick is yet another traumatic moment for her and the audience. Finnick’s death represents the hopelessness of the group’s Capitol mission. Finnick is the Victor amongst Victors, beloved by all and a larger-than-life personality. Katniss lied to make this mission happen, and she sees Finnick’s death as yet another that she caused, another weight for her to bear. It could have been avoided if she had only stuck to her original orders of avoiding live combat, but she wished to be the one to kill Snow no matter what. Finnick’s death cuts deep as, by this point, we know he has married his childhood sweetheart, and that in his years post-victory of the Hunger Games he was sex-trafficked by President Snow. He was presented as a symbol of success amongst the Districts but treated only as a plaything by those in charge.

This scene is so iconic for many reasons, the pure shock of Finnick’s death when he has become one of the most beloved characters and revealed many new layers of vulnerability throughout the franchise. As an audience member, you just want to see Finnick finally live a quiet life with his wife, however it is snatched away in a particularly horrifying manner, allowing him no reprieve from the non-stop torture he has faced since the age of fourteen. Finnick’s death remains one of the biggest talking points of the franchise many years on.

Recommended for you: 10 Best Twilight Moments

In the film, disaffected bureaucrat Theo Faron (Clive Owen) is tasked with shepherding the last pregnant woman in the world, Kee (Clare-Hope Ashitey), to a safe haven to escape the calamity. By adopting a hyper-vérité style akin to what Gillo Pontecorvo employed in The Battle of Algiers (1966), Cuarón offers a merciless conviction in his direction, using the documentary-adjacent style to achieve maximum effect.

The film uses its action as a vital point to create friction and heightens it through sequences that apply constant pressure to the characters and each of us. Children of Men creates tension unlike any film of the new millennium by maximising its long takes through composed pacing, definitive choreography, and a hardened realism. By combing all of those efforts, the film leaves a lasting impression and raises the bar on the capabilities of modern filmmaking.

Long takes in the modern age have become something of a gimmick when the director wants to show off their prowess as an artist, and they can often leave you wanting more as they simply buoy through a scene with no real purpose. Children of Men has several long take sequences that are incremented together, but instead of being monotonous and drawn-out they are all-encompassing, kinetic, and well-paced. By spacing out the one-takes, Cuarón makes these moments more palatable for us instead of having it feel like one long slide down to the bottom.

This is perhaps best illustrated when Theo, Kee and Miriam (Pam Ferris) attempt to escape from the Fishes (an anti-fascist resistance group fighting for social liberation) after learning some troubling news. The camera carefully follows Theo at ground level as he leads Kee and Miriam around the compound in the early morning and, despite the natural jitters that come with shooting handheld, is done in smooth and guarded fashion. It never shakes too much for it to be nauseating, nor does it feel sluggish, moving step-for-step no matter how fast or slow. Accompanying that with the ambient sound of dawn, it makes every noise heard (near or far) sound deafening. It’s the sneaking around version of driving the nitro-glycerine trucks from Henri-Georges Clouzot’s The Wages of Fear (1953) – any mishap could be catastrophic, and momentum is crucial.

Pacing a take not only affects the action of the current moment but can also reflect the stylistic tone of an entire film. A couple of examples of rhythmic difference in long-takes from the last few years can be that of Sam Mendes’ British World War 1 epic 1917 (2019) and Romain Gavras’ modern French uprising film Athena (2022). Both effectively use long takes but harness wildly different pacing styles.

1917 is designed to look like one continuous shot (with some small digital edits), and uses a variety of crane and Steadicam shots to take in the scenery of Northern France in World War One. In contrast, Athena is shot frenetically, as the bedlam of every scene is accentuated by a handheld dexterity that hits like a bolt of lightning, as it augments the banlieue (French for “suburb”) Athena to new heights. If the pacing of 1917 is methodical and Athena’s dynamic, Children of Men is able to find the sweet spot of the two more often than not by ramping up and down the action when needed to convey sensitive information. Now, there are times when the camera perhaps lingers longer than it should instead of just simply cross-cutting, but it works to keep tempo stylistically with the rest of the film.

In addition to each of the long takes being well-paced, they are also immaculately designed and choreographed. The blocking that is on display ensures that everything in the frame gets used and there is no dead space being packed into the shot. The scene that highlights this the best is the Canterbury forest ride ambush, which happens relatively early but sets the stage for the onslaught our heroes will be encountering.

It begins innocently enough, with Theo and his ex-wife/resistance leader Julian (Julianne Moore) playing a game of blowing ping pong balls into each other’s mouths and casually flirting, while fellow resistance member Luke (Chiwetel Ejiofor) drives. As they move through the forest, they are swarmed by a group of armed deserters who go on the offensive against our helpless heroes as the camera oscillates inside the vehicle, capturing the madness.

Beginning from Theo’s perspective in the car, and switching and forth during the blitz, the sheer number of people converging on the vehicle is overwhelming and makes a typically open space feel claustrophobic. It’s as though the characters are drowning on dry land, and the mania amps up even more when Julian is shot by chasing motorcyclists. There might be some lingering questions regarding the legitimacy of a small group being able to overwhelm the car so ineffectively, but it does add thematic context to the story of showcasing hope (what little there is) against despair.

But staging and pacing can only be properly utilized if there is truly exceptional camerawork that can create a definitive realism. The camera team behind the film – director Alfonso Cuarón and his long-time friend/collaborator Emmanuel Lubezki – craft a raw and murky modernity that makes the characters and environments feel lived-in, ranging from the bureaucratic and consumer-obsessed metropolis to the confines of a secluded log cabin.

When describing why he wanted to shoot Children of Men in non-fluid long takes, Cuarón stated that it “was to take advantage of the element of real-time.” This harkens back to the documentary-like style mentioned at the top and how each shot, no matter how extreme, provokes a visceral and truthful reaction against an imperial obstacle in a way that is plausible and terrifying. It puts a mental timer on the viewer and makes each subsequent choice more pivotal than the last.

The sequence that features this as a focal point is that of the climatic refugee camp warzone, where Theo has to rescue Kee from the Fishes as they do battle against the British military. This is the point of the film where the battle between these two opposing forces reaches its most hysterical.

As the hand-held camera follows Theo as he traverses this makeshift battlefield in the hope of rescuing Kee, the sequence intoxicates as the descending tanks and constant gunfire capture the tumultuous and bombastic elements of a real-time war unfolding. What makes this long-take so effective is the velocity of the violence that is taking place. The bullets whiz through everything like paper and deal swift death, while the explosions are practical and create a large shock not just in Theo but in each of us too.

A moment that is particularly striking, though brief, is when Theo has to take cover inside a bus as an armoured tank approaches and blood gets on the camera lens. The scene evokes the same deadly speed and emotional stakes as Steven Spielberg’s taking of Omaha Beach in Saving Private Ryan (1998), developing in a way that is both realistic and colossal. The films also share the characteristic of having its lens be muddied with blood and dirt to showcase the magnitude of their skirmishes.

Even though Saving Private Ryan is a brutal depiction of battle and portrait of valor, there are a few moments where the bravado of the soldiers and the spectacle of war as a whole overtake it to the point of it becoming pure entertainment and losing its gravitas. In Children of Men, you get the opposite effect. There is no lionizing of the characters, they are all deeply flawed people who have to claw their way out of every hellish situation, with each scenario becoming more unforgiving and vicious than the last.

Putting it all together, Children of Men cements itself in cinema history as an awe-inspiring tour de force in science fiction action. It puts us squarely into the headspaces of its characters and does so with authenticity and conviction. Fusing that with the brilliance of Cuarón’s direction, it creates visual splendor with each shot and subverts action convention at every turn. It’s nothing short of an emotionally rich film, one that was game-changing when it was released in theatres and remains nothing short of a miracle today.

Written by Mark Serravalle

You can support Mark Serravalle on Twitter: @MarkSerravalle

Universal’s crown jewel, which includes three Jurassic Park movies and a further three Jurassic World films, has left an indelible imprint on cinema and has become a box office and merchandising phenomenon, earning around $10billion in revenue to date. Perhaps more impressively, it has forever changed our culture, its visual representations of dinosaurs coming to define their very image for the past thirty years (whether that image is factually correct or not).

Initially released as a Steven Spielberg-directed adaptation of respected author Michael Crichton’s novel of the same name, the Jurassic franchise has mixed themes of environmentalism, the ethics of cloning, and astute commentary on conglomerated big business, with the blockbuster tropes of thrilling action, sharp comedy and wondrous special effects – the work of visual effects house Industrial Light & Magic has redefined visual effects techniques forever, ensuring the franchise’s indelible mark on the industry as a whole.

In this edition of Ranked, we at The Film Magazine are revisiting every film from the Jurassic franchise – all three Jurassic Park films and the further three Jurassic World releases – in order to decipher which of the Jurassic Park / World movies is the worst and which is the best in terms of artistic merit, enjoyability, purpose, meaning and message. These are the Jurassic Park / World Movies Ranked.

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6. Jurassic Park III (2001)

When Joe Johnston took over from Steven Spielberg at the helm of the Jurassic Park franchise following success with his mid-90s family hit Jumanji, he seemed like the most natural fit to continue the franchise’s legacy. The director, who would go on to helm Captain America: The First Avenger among other notable films, was a long-term understudy to Spielberg throughout the 1980s (even acting as director of visual effects on Raiders of the Lost Ark) and was stepping into the franchise just as Spielberg had seemed to lose his passion for it. Unfortunately, Jurassic Park III turned out to be a cursed production, its spot at the bottom of this list due in no small part to the shoot beginning before a script was ever even finished.

Jurassic Park star Sam Neill returned to his role as Alan Grant from the 1993 release 8 years prior, his character a continual reminder of the better film many at the time could catch on TV or home video. Here, his respected palaeontologist is conned into heading to the island of the 2nd movie, The Lost World, to rescue a teenager stranded there as the result of a holiday mishap. Tonally, Jurassic Park III is all over the place – supporting characters as annoying as they are stereotypical, inappropriate jokes made to cover cracks in the narrative, inspired horror elements side-by-side with poop jokes – and it never really gets going like every other Jurassic film does, the pace picking up just once beyond the threshold of the narrative’s inciting incident.

Of all the Jurassic movies, Jurassic Park III is simply the most forgettable. And, while there are moments of genuine inspiration (most notably the bird cage sequence) and points of tension here and there, the film’s lack of awareness as regards its own cheesiness and silliness (both massive steps away from the more earnest Spielberg outings), made this the only franchise entry worthy of being mocked on the internet: a Velociraptor talking directly to Alan Grant is cheesy, cheap and not even played for laughs.

Jurassic Park III is likely the result of “too many chefs in the kitchen”, a situation in which the director, screenwriters, producers and studio all had distinctly different visions of what should have been another mega-hit franchise entry. The result is poor to mediocre, and certainly more boring and unpleasant than the other franchise entries. Jurassic Park III is the film that would end the franchise for some 14 years, and that should be proof enough that it is deserving of the number 6 spot on this list.

5. The Lost World: Jurassic Park (1997)

Thrusting Jeff Goldblum into the lead role of The Lost World: Jurassic Park after a film-stealing performance in the original film seemed about as logical as Dr Ian Malcolm himself, but tacking on familial interests and a strange romantic angle seemed to remove the mystery surrounding him, watering down his cool-factor in the process. In revisiting his role as the prophet of doom, The Lost World: Jurassic Park became eternally bonded to the character’s cynicism through focusing so much of its narrative on his journey, the movie losing touch of the awe and majesty of the 1993 original as seen through Richard Attenborough’s wide-eyed John Hammond and Sam Neill’s more pure and (reluctantly) kind-hearted Dr. Alan Grant.

Not only was The Lost World: Jurassic Park missing that cool character we’d all come to love as a part of the original’s ensemble of strong, instantly recognisable icons of the screen, but Ian Malcolm was now a father having an existential crisis about his girlfriend going missing while navigating issues of divorce; The Lost World was simply more cynical than any other Jurassic movie.

In the decades since the release of this Jurassic Park sequel, many have placed The Lost World in the lower echelons of Steven Spielberg’s filmography, this 1997 movie marking a point at the height of Spielberg’s fame in which the director seemed much less interested in money-making ventures than he was by passion projects such as Amistad (released the same year) and Saving Private Ryan (released the year following, 1998).

While Spielberg’s legendary blockbuster-leading trademarks are still present in The Lost World (elevating a relatively mediocre script), the bedrock of this Jurassic Park sequel seems to reverse the original film’s stance on armed intervention and mass governmental control by film’s end, and this weak structural base simply fails to provide enough of a springboard for a less-than fully motivated director (even one as great as Spielberg) to overcome. There are glimpses of greatness here – the cracking glass over the edge of the cliff being one particular highlight – but The Lost World is missing the intention and politics of the four films to come, its on-the-nose efforts futile in the face of the deeper realisations of the Jurassic World movies and the original Jurassic Park.

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Anderson, like many auteurs, may be best known for the actors he has consistently worked with. Joaquin Phoenix, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Philip Seymour Hoffman have led several of his films to much critical acclaim. Actors who are not often thought of for their great dramatic work have turned in incredible performances too, such as Mark Wahlberg, Adam Sandler, and John C. Reilly. Anderson clearly has a talent for getting the best out of his performers, and working with his team to find the right person for a role. This may be his biggest strength in an industry where the on-screen talent is so often the focus of the movie-going public. 

Outside of his debut Hard Eight, and the Sandler-led Punch-Drunk Love, each of his films have received attention at the Academy Awards, and his work has also earned him Best Director recognition at major film festivals – at Cannes for Punch-Drunk Love, at Berlin for There Will Be Blood, and at Venice for The Master. Magnolia also received the Golden Bear for Best Film at the Berlin International Film Festival. His industry and critical recognition puts him on a level few filmmakers reach. 

It can be difficult to decide where to begin with Anderson’s filmography, so allow us here at The Film Magazine to guide you on your journey through his oeuvre. Here is Where to Start with Paul Thomas Anderson.

1. Boogie Nights (1997)

Paul Thomas Anderson’s breakthrough film brings viewers to the height of the pornographic film industry in 1970s Los Angeles. Mark Walberg leads an ensemble cast composed of Julianne Moore, Burt Reynolds, Heather Graham, John C. Reilly, Don Cheadle, Philip Seymour Hoffman, William H. Macy, and many more. Reynolds is director Jack Horner, a passionate pornographic filmmaker who genuinely wants to create good work. The rest of the cast play porn stars and crew members in Horner’s orbit who help Walberg’s well-endowed Dirk Diggler navigate the new world in which he finds himself. Boogie Nights is ultimately the story of the American dream – striking rich in the entertainment industry and achieving material gains, only to find oneself weighed down by the vices that come along with success. The story is filled with comedy and tragedy, and maintains an exceptional pace throughout. 

What’s interesting about Boogie Nights is that it is as much about the film industry as the porn industry. Anderson’s camera spends more time on the equipment of 1970s filmmaking than it does on Dirk Diggler’s legendary tool. The flashing lights of Polaroids, the film and canisters used to shoot the porn, and diegetic, contemporary film shots are incorporated into Anderson’s movie. The rise of the videotape is documented, and shows how it affected the quality of cinema in every aspect. It creates a characterization of cameras that parallels the humanization of its often objectified subjects. Cinema has been a part of all of our lives for decades, and Anderson celebrates it through all of Boogie Nights’ ups and downs.

Boogie Nights is a good representation of Anderson’s early work, and shows his ability to portray and analyze the human experience without judgment.

2. There Will Be Blood (2007)

Perhaps Paul Thomas Anderson’s best work, There Will Be Blood tells the story of oil magnate Daniel Plainview and his prolonged rivalry with preacher Eli Sunday. Daniel Day-Lewis stars as Plainview in one of the most prolific performances of the great actor’s career. Day-Lewis is a dark, menacing presence with plenty of dimension to help this villainous character feel human. Paul Dano turns in an equally stunning, explosive performance as Sunday, going toe-to-toe with Day-Lewis in every scene they share. It’s tactile in its cinematic style – the heat of burning fires, the slickness of fresh oil, and Daniel Day-Lewis’ grizzled appearance can be felt through the screen. 

The cinematic styling also gives this small story an epic quality, reminiscent of the work of David Lean or John Ford. The camera drinks in the landscape of the slowly urbanizing old west, and turns oil derricks into architectural idols. Flames erupt from them as if hell itself is attempting to emerge onto the earth to drag Daniel Plainview into its maw. Don’t go in expecting similar pacing to Boogie Nights, however – the film takes its time with every shot and scene, lending to the harsh, gruelling journey faced by the characters. The impressionistic aspects of sound, camera, and editing, show that realism is a means utilized by the film, and not only a great accomplishment in its own right. The authenticity and representationalism work in concert with the emotional components of the performances and story as well as the aesthetic style to bring the film to a higher level.

There are hardly any weaknesses in Anderson’s filmography, so to call There Will Be Blood his magnum opus is a testament to its position as a 21st century masterpiece.

3. The Master (2012)

What makes The Master great are the performances from its two lead actors, Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman, who play Freddie Quell and Lancaster Dodd respectively. The two share an odd, cosmic relationship. Dodd is the head of a cult called The Cause, and Freddie is an alcoholic seaman with mental health issues. Dodd feels drawn to him despite their seeming differences, but Freddie’s violent outbursts and crude nature create as many problems for the pair as Dodd’s pride and hedonism. 

The Master is somewhat of an enigma of a film. It’s quite provocative and begs for interpretation, but carries no clear meaning. There are numerous influences on the story, and critics have read themes about post-World War II America, religion, and, more specifically, Scientology. The filmmaker himself may not even know. Perhaps that in itself is a goal – The Master is a Rorschach test, a journey into one’s own subconscious to search for a takeaway. There is the question of whether humans can overcome their animalistic nature, as Dodd tries to tame Freddie to bring him into the fold. The characters contrast, but each has their moments where they take on the temperament of the other. 

This relationship is what drives The Master, and if you’re not sold on it then the film may be a laborious watch. It is Paul Thomas Anderson’s favorite of his films, and it deserves a watch from any cinephile for that reason alone.

Recommended for you: Paul Thomas Anderson Films Ranked

As of writing, Paul Thomas Anderson has released nine films, and there’s reason for any of them to be in this guide. It hurts to not include Phantom Thread or Punch-Drunk Love, and you really can’t go wrong checking out any of his movies.

Dear Evan Hansen (2021)
Director: Stephen Chbosky
Screenwriters: Steven Levenson
Starring: Ben Platt, Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Kaitlyn Dever, Amandla Stenberg

Dear Evan Hansen, the movie with the trailer that caused a meltdown within the global film community, is finally here. The highly anticipated (maybe not for the right reasons) adaptation of the hit Broadway musical that brought many to question the moral compass of the filmmakers and wonder why on earth a then 27-year-old Ben Platt was playing a high schooler, is a film with as many issues as were evident in its trailers: a controversial, melodramatic and predictable movie musical that leaves you wondering why the show was ever as successful as it was. 

Much of the debate around the film’s morals comes from the fact that the story revolves around Evan Hansen, an anxious and depressed high school student who lies about his friendship with a fellow student, Connor Murphy, who committed suicide, after their parents find a letter Evan wrote to himself, believing it to be a suicide note. 

But first things first… Ben Platt sticks out like a sore thumb as Evan Hansen. Though it’s understandable why having the original Evan Hansen back for the movie would seem like a good idea – even if only to cause some buzz for the film among fans of musical theatre – it comes as a questionable decision given the fact that Platt does not look that much younger, let alone 10 years younger, than his actual age. Of course, this is cinema, work some of that movie magic, but it doesn’t even seem like there was an attempt to de-age Platt through makeup. A ridiculous wig certainly didn’t help either. 

The noticeable age difference between Platt and the rest of the cast is off-putting, especially due to the fact that you never really get used to Evan Hansen looking like a near 30 year old man. It remains constantly jarring, even more so with the fact that Evan is romantically interested in a fellow student. That being said, it cannot be glossed over that Ben Platt does give a genuinely great performance, bringing a level of understanding and empathy to the character – a difficult task given that what Evan Hansen is doing is terribly wrong. In Dear Evan Hansen it’s easy to see why Ben Platt won a Tony award for Best Leading Actor in a Musical for his original performance as the titular character, yet the issues keep coming back to Platt’s casting. As good as the performance is, Platt’s jarring placement alongside the rest of the cast does take us out of it and one can’t help but to wonder whether we could have felt even more sympathetic toward Evan if a younger actor had been given the part, eliminating the dissociation brought on by Platt’s appearance.

Ben Platt’s casting isn’t the only element of the film to bring both the good and the bad. The writing is also a mix of very good ideas and equally as terrible ones – it can only be described as providing conflicting viewing. The screenplay creates a heart-breaking backstory for Evan that ensures an empathetic character, something that is nearly completely ruined by the character’s actions throughout the film. Some empathy remains, but not enough for the audience to really route for Hansen, and herein lies the biggest issue with Dear Evan Hansen.

Every other character is shallow and weakly written. Most noticeably Jared Kalwani, a family friend of Evan’s, spends the film being perhaps the largest source of negativity in Evan’s life, yet he’s framed as some kind of wacky sidekick. It simply does not work and the character is detestable from start to finish. Furthermore, the two mothers of the story – Evan’s mother and Connor’s mother, portrayed by iconic actors Julianne Moore and Amy Adams respectively – have little to no characterisation and are such huge wastes of talent. Kaitlyn Dever (Booksmart) puts in an acceptable performance as Evan’s love interest and Connor’s sister Zoe, but the love story between Zoe and Evan never sits comfortably. Zoe is a high schooler but Evan looks nearly 30. It’s an uncomfortable start to say the least, and the relationship between the two never quite recovers.

As for the film’s musical numbers, the original Broadway cast recording offered up an album of some really great songs and the cast of the film are sadly never able to live up to such high standards. To make matters worse, many of the more varied parts of the soundtrack, such as “Anybody Have a Map?” (a song which would have added some much needed depth to Amy Adams and Julianne Moore’s characters) were taken out and some new songs were added, ultimately turning a rather good Broadway soundtrack into a dull affair. Maybe the one standout song is “Sincerely, Me”, a catchy and upbeat number that brings some life to the musical but also comes with its own issues. Although it may be catchy and easy to be sucked into, the song also takes place as Evan manipulatively writes emails between himself and the deceased Connor in order to trick his family into believing they were friends. Even worse is the fact that the song is played for laughs, so whilst you are dancing along to the song you are snapped back into the reality of how disturbing the whole thing is. 

Perhaps the biggest issue with the musical side of the film is that the timespan between songs does tend to be longer than most musicals. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but with many of the songs being understated in their own right it is easy to slip into the idea that Dear Evan Hansen is a simple coming-of-age drama. This then makes it pretty jarring when characters break out into song, even more so during the most emotional scenes.

Of course, it isn’t all bad. Though the songs may not be particularly fantastic there are a number of tracks that genuinely have great messages in regards to mental health, even if they are surrounded by an entire film that may not deal with the topic as well as it could. The way in which the flick shows the different levels of the Murphy family’s grief also creates an interesting dynamic and, once again, it must be stated that Ben Platt does genuinely give a very good performance and there are some redeeming qualities to the character. Dear Evan Hansen, in spite of its many issues, also does tie itself up nicely in the end.

Dear Evan Hansen is by no means a perfect film – it has dull musical numbers, a problematic protagonist, a questionable moral compass and is a musical that does not feel like a musical – but it’s not quite the dumpster fire that the trailer seemed to promise. It is, instead, a heavily flawed film with a very small handful of redeeming qualities that make it possible to see why some may have enjoyed the original stage musical. In a year full of great musicals such as In The Heights, Annette and Everybody’s Talking About Jamie however, Dear Evan Hansen is most definitely one of the least enjoyable and artistic of the movie musicals released theatrically in 2021.

7/24

Hannibal (2001)
Director: Ridley Scott
Screenwriters: David Mamet, Steven Zaillian
Starring: Anthony Hopkins, Julianne Moore, Gary Oldman, Ray Liotta, Frankie Faison, Giancarlo Giannini, Francesca Neri, Zeljko Ivanek, Hazelle Goodman

Hannibal is a frustrating film. Granted, it was a tall order to follow up The Silence of the Lambs ten years after it swept the Academy Awards, especially with Thomas Harris’ divisive and flawed book sequel as the basis for the screenplay. But there are talented people in front of and behind the camera, and some ambitious and creative choices made, so perhaps you can chalk this one up to having to keep too many plates spinning at once.

Ten years after FBI Agent Clarice Starling (Julianne Moore) hunted down serial killer Buffalo Bill with the help of incarcerated cannibal Dr Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), Starling’s position at the Bureau is threatened when she is blamed by her superiors for a very public drug raid going spectacularly wrong. Meanwhile, having escaped the asylum, Lecter is finally drawn out of hiding in Florence, Italy when a wealthy victim of his, Mason Verger (Gary Oldman), pulls strings to get Starling to resume the FBI manhunt and allow Verger an opportunity to exact his revenge.

One of the most effective choices in The Silence of the Lambs was what they decided not to show. The scene in that film where Dr Chilton shows an (unseen to the audience) Polaroid to Starling with the comment, “He did this to her… the doctors managed to reset her jaw, more-or-less” has in-built power and is far more chilling than actually seeing the incident in question. In Hannibal, Ridley Scott decided to show us the same violent assault of the nurse by Lecter in flashback, and in lurid detail, and just like that, the spell is broken. Show and don’t tell is a common adage in filmmaking, but you don’t need to show everything.

Hannibal is a gruesome affair throughout and absolutely everything is put on screen for the sake of eliciting a gasp from the audience. Throats are slit, faces are peeled and eaten, bowels fall out of hanging bodies and brains are flambéd. Far from the atmospheric psychological thriller that its predecessor was, Hannibal is a splatter movie with better than normal production values and big-name actors.

You can’t really morally object to the sequel to The Silence of the Lambs being far more explicit – this is a story revolving around the life and times of a charismatic cannibalistic serial killer after all – but when nothing is left to the imagination, you immediately lose tension and you soon become desensitised to anything that was intended to be shocking or frightening.

Hannibal could have been relentlessly bleak, almost nihilistic in its hopelessness, but there is another juxtaposing tone, and it’s this liberal deployment of dark humour that almost rescues the film.

More often than not, Hannibal’s darkly humourous edge comes from Oldman as depraved millionaire child molester Mason Verger, a man left a horribly disfigured quadriplegic by an earlier encounter with Lecter, musing to Starling that the good doctor drugging him and suggesting he cut off his own face “seemed like a good idea at the time”. Oldman’s scenes are probably the highlight of the film – he conveys an impressive amount of malicious, spoilt rich kid entitlement through heavy prosthetics as Verger is left increasingly apoplectic by his lackeys’ inabilities to apprehend Lecter.

Though she commits fully to the role and holds her own while being belittled and scapegoated by her FBI and DOJ higher-ups (chiefly Ray Liotta as the slimy and misogynistic Paul Krendler), Moore can’t hold a candle to Jodie Foster’s nuanced portrayal of Clarice Starling. Hopkins as Lecter on the other hand is still entertaining, particularly in how he gleefully toys with Detective Pazzi (Giancarlo Giannini) early in the film and Clarice in the finale, but he too proves divisive as he completes his transformation into a cartoon character, an almost supernaturally strong slasher villain who now has an innocuous and annoying catchphrase: “Okey-dokey”.

The film’s $87 million budget is definitely in evidence – Norris Spencer’s production design is lavish, the locations numerous and photographed pristinely by DP John Mathieson, and Hans Zimmer’s score is appropriately bombastic for this material. For a key scene with Lecter and a suspicious Detective Pazzi both at an outdoor opera performance, Zimmer worked with Patrick Cassidy to produce an original aria specifically for this scene, “Vide Cor Meum”, which offers a few minutes of tranquil respite in a hugely macabre movie.

The Silence of the Lambs worked in a large part due to an artistic Holy Trinity – Demme, Foster and Hopkins – but, lacking two of the three magic ingredients, Hannibal rarely manages to rise above the level of watchable. One of the biggest R-Rated films of all time is all squeamish spectacle and surface-level thrills, and it would take another decade-and-change to see a compelling version of this particular story adapted in the second and third seasons of Bryan Fuller’s riveting series ‘Hannibal’.

11/24

Crazy, Stupid, Love. (2011)
Directors: Glenn Ficarra, John Requa
Screenwriter: Dan Fogelman
Starring: Steve Carell, Ryan Gosling, Julianne Moore, Emma Stone, Kevin Bacon, Marisa Tomei, Analeigh Tipton, Jonah Bobo

Well-written and lavishly-casted romantic comedies have been somewhat hard to find in recent years. The most memorable rom-coms of all time are positioned neatly in the nineties alongside the majority of Hugh Grant’s repertoire. Finding something just as satiating, quirky and actually funny comes as a bit of a surprise, but Crazy, Stupid, Love. is a satisfying example.

Directed by Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, Crazy, Stupid, Love. follows a series of interlinked romances, spurred on by the divorce of Cal and Emily Weaver, played by Steve Carell and Julianne Moore respectively. A heartbroken Cal is approached by Jacob (Ryan Gosling) who insists he start picking up women at a bar to get over his loss. Despite his newly-discovered soar in confidence, Cal remains deeply in love with his childhood sweetheart and attempts to win her back from the arms of her new beau, David (Kevin Bacon).

Gosling and Carell share a mesmerising chemistry that strongly holds the backbone of the film and its narrative. Jacob’s wit and poise are the ideal antidote to Cal’s dull and dispiriting nature as he teaches Cal his nightly routine at the bar. Although performed as a slightly problematic deed – insisting that ‘the routine’ works on every single woman – this does not discourage the true messages of the film and only exists as an extraneous part of the plot. Gosling and Carell share some extremely funny and candid scenes, with a particular highlight being a shopping trip – Jacob’s disgust at Cal’s Velcro wallet is priceless. Their fraternal bond grows over a period of weeks as Jacob supports Cal’s re-introduction to the dating scene. What unfolds is wholesome and incredibly entertaining.

While bettering Cal, Jacob meets Hannah (Emma Stone), who initially rejects his advances – a first for Jacob. Later on, law school graduate Hannah is expecting her boyfriend Richard (Josh Groban) to propose, but is hurt and offended when instead he offers her a position at his law firm. Rejecting his offer, Hannah returns to the bar and – soaked with rain – passionately kisses Jacob, igniting their love affair. Crazy, Stupid, Love. is the first pairing of Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone in a feature film, which inspired their reunion for Gangster Squad in 2013 and La La Land in 2016. They flawlessly work in harmony and consistently offer inspiring, genuine portrayals of their characters. For Jacob and Hannah, their romance is open and authentic, changing Jacob’s perception of relationships and what he wants from love. Although he tries his usual tricks with Hannah, their attempt at having sex is so awkward that they end up drinking and talking all night long, spilling their deepest thoughts and wishes. This gorgeous exploration of the pair’s love is synonymous to the heartfelt rom-coms of the early millennium; it’s unrestricted and sincere, a true representation of falling deeply in love.

Simultaneously to the blossoming of Hannah and Jacob’s relationship, Cal begins to struggle after his realisation that all he wants is Emily. It takes Cal sleeping with nine other women for him to realise that it won’t bring him happiness; that’s just not who he is; he’s a family man and instinctively loyal to his children and his wife; the bachelor lifestyle gave him a short-term boost, but a long-term change in perspective. This is a key element of the film’s overall standing point. The protection of the ‘Nuclear Family’ is a poignant part of classic American cinema, utilised most often in seasonal and holiday films such as Miracle on 34th Street and Sleepless in Seattle. Cal’s ultimate goal is to protect and prevent the breakdown of his family, which is why it’s even more moving when Cal gives Jacob his blessing to date Hannah, who is revealed to be Cal’s daughter. Accepting Jacob as an extension of his family is paramount to upholding these conveyed American values and extends that feeling of love further than simply romantic affection.

A final part of Crazy, Stupid, Love. to give praise to would be the unrequited love of Robbie and Jessica. Hannah’s younger brother Robbie (Jonah Bobo) is infatuated with his 17-year-old babysitter, Jessica (Analeigh Tipton), who secretly has a crush on Cal. Robbie’s frequent and sometimes bold efforts to win Jessica’s heart are unbelievably cringe-worthy but sweet in their hopelessly devoted way. Robbie’s expressions of love conjure memories of childhood crushes and the naivety of young love, when everything was led by fairy tales and the rich belief that if you wished hard enough and made some grand gesture, then your crush would instantly become yours. Jessica, however, is not swayed by Robbie’s sweet and innocent nature and tries her luck at winning Cal’s heart – a man who is at least twenty years her senior. Her daring attempt at seducing him is a want-to-look-away-but-just-can’t moment, just one of many of these instances throughout the film.

Crazy, Stupid, Love. offers up a group of delicious romances. Flavoursome in their performances, writing and direction, the interweaving characters support a hearty tale of love, loss and recuperation. Often difficult to find in a modern romantic comedy, Crazy, Stupid, Love. executes the complexity of love in such a beautiful and rewarding manner.

20/24

The source material may have been aimed at the YA demographic, and feature young characters, but the mature themes of violence and social justice at the heart of The Hunger Games gave these movies a mass appeal that was reflected in both their box office success and positive critical reception. Plus, the series was a key part in propelling Jennifer Lawrence (who played Everdeen herself) to superstardom.

With all four movies maximising their rewatch appeal courtesy of an announcement that Collins is penning a new book in the series – a prequel, set during the 10th Hunger Games and titled “The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes” – it’s clear that the Mockingjay’s legacy lives on.

But, the big question – which of the Hunger Games movies is the best?

Have an opinion? Make sure to leave a comment!

4. The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part One (2014)

In this third instalment of the series, the plot takes us out of the Hunger Games arena and moves underground. There we find District 13 and their president, Alma Coin (Julianne Moore), attempting to make the most of the momentum from Katniss’s act of defiance in the Quarter Quell, and unite the districts against the Capitol.

It’s in this film where Katniss tentatively steps into her role as the Mockingjay, the face of the revolution. She is separated from Peeta (Josh Hutcherson), who is being imprisoned and tortured by President Snow (Donald Sutherland), and she is attempting to stoke the fire of the rebellion by broadcasting footage of her on the battlefield.

One of the key elements that makes these films engaging is the dynamic between Peeta and Katniss – her pessimism and his optimism, his light to her dark, and the love story between them that grew from reality TV fodder to a matter of keeping each other alive. Without Peeta, that balance is skewed, but it also lets us see who Katniss is without him, as well as what she will do to save him.

There’s lots more to enjoy; Mahershala Ali has a quietly magnetic quality as military leader Boggs, Natalie Dormer makes a welcome addition to the ensemble as director Cressida, and there’s a satisfaction in seeing the behind-the-scenes of how Katniss evolves from inspiring tribute to a true leader.

Mockingjay – Part One isn’t bottom of the list because it’s a bad film, but simply because it’s not quite as good as the rest. It suffers from a problem that occurs with all first parts of a two part story, where one book has been split in half – nothing really happens. There’s no clear structure, and it instead feels like two hours of setup for what’s to come in the next chapter. For Hunger Games fans, that’s not really a problem – the more time spent in this world, the better – but it still makes this movie the weakest of the bunch.

3. The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part Two (2015)

Picking up right where the previous film ends, Mockingjay – Part Two sees the aftermath of Peeta being rescued, the rebels finally storming the Capitol, and the conclusion to the entire Hunger Games saga.

After disobeying orders from Coin and secretly travelling to the frontline, Katniss and her team continue as the public face of the war. They walk through a Capitol littered with deadly ‘pods’, edging ever closer to President Snow’s mansion, and Katniss’s mission to assassinate him.

This final chapter was the most surreal and hardest to follow of Collins’ books, and the same can be said for some of the film version too. The supernatural elements are dialled up; Peeta being ‘hijacked’ into hating Katniss by the Capitol, increasingly weird and gruesome traps, a woman who gives them refuge who has been surgically altered to look like a human-tiger hybrid. 

But, despite these distracting you from the story at times, this final chapter has all the emotion, tension and action you would want from a finale. There’s a standout horror sequence in the underground tunnels that will have your heart racing, and many friends and allies are sadly lost along the way, giving a tangible sense of the cost of this war. Most impactful of all, Katniss loses the one person she was trying to save when this story started. 

Overall, Mockingjay – Part Two ranks very closely to the film that preceded it, but works a little better as a satisfying end to the franchise. 

For this list, we’ve analysed the contemporary era of cinema (1970 and beyond) for the very best rom-com ensemble casts that came to define eras, surprise audiences and ultimately sell their film, whether the picture could be considered good or not.

As a rule, we’ve avoided films that are firmly attached to other genres, such as musicals like Grease and La La Land or dramas like The Silver Linings Playbook and Shakespeare In Love (all of which have rom-com elements), and have judged all casts based on casts alone – beware, there may be some seriously trash movies in the list ahead!

In no particular order…

1. No Strings Attached (2011)

Starring that year’s Best Actress Oscar winner Natalie Portman and arguably the decade’s most trustworthy go-to rom-com leading man Ashton Kutcher, this early 2010s offering from Ivan Reitman, the director of Ghostbusters (1984), featured a stacked cast of future industry leaders including Oscar-nominated director Greta Gerwig and multi-time Emmy nominee Mindy Kaling.

Oscar winning actor Kevin Kline played Kutcher’s father, meanwhile Lake Bell, Ophelia Lovibond, Ludacris and Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse’s Jake Johnson offered their two cents in some of the film’s smaller roles, filling No Strings Attached to the brim with some of the decade’s most influential and recognisable names.

Cast: Natalie Portman, Ashton Kutcher, Kevin Kline, Lake Bell, Cary Elwes, Greta Gerwig, Olivia Thirlby, Ludacris, Mindy Kaling, Jake Johnson, Ophelia Lovibond

2. You’ve Got Mail (1998)

The 2nd half of the Meg Ryan/Tom Hanks rom-com double bill, You’ve Got Mail, also directed by Nora Ephron (When Harry Met Sally), peaks its older sister to this slot due to each of its stars (particularly Hanks) being even closer to the top of their game, with the supporting cast being nothing short of a who’s who of top class late 90s names.

Leading male Tom Hanks had won two Oscars between Sleepless In Seattle and You’ve Got Mail (for Philadelphia and Forrest Gump) and was about to win his 3rd for 1998’s Saving Private Ryan, while the supporting cast featured that year’s Supporting Actor Oscar nominee Greg Kinnear, award-winning comedian Dave Chappelle, Steve Zahn, Parker Posey and even Chris Messina in a small role.

Cast: Meg Ryan, Tom Hanks, Greg Kinnear, Parker Posey, Dave Chappelle, Steve Zahn, Heather Burns, Jean Stapleton, Chris Messina