Books:

Wuthering Heights (1847, Emily Brontë) – After seeing the controversy over the upcoming film adaptation, I recently realised I knew nothing about this book that Kate Bush didn’t teach me. In my ignorance, for some reason the name Brontë always held associations of boring, dated, upper class romance – not my cuppa tea. But this book is amazing! It’s incredibly rich in its storytelling, with so much psychological depth as to afford endless different readings into the characters’ relationships, and what (if anything) it all means in the end. Through several generations of the two main families, we observe the interplay between personal choice and the impositions wrought by society and heredity on each character’s ultimate fate, given just enough space to draw our own conclusions. And happily, the tone is anything but stuffy and posh. More than anything it reminded me at times of a John Waters movie, with the depraved misanthropy dialled up to the point of near absurdity. Yet the unreliable narration and moral uncertainty keeps your sympathy alive and constantly shifting, belying the heart beneath the cynicism. After so much relentless misery, that the story concludes on a glimmer of optimism truly moved me. It’s a melodrama of the best variety. I now totally understand the prejudice towards the new film, because it bears no clear resemblance to its source, and will probably be many people’s first encounter with the story. I’m sure it’ll make for an interesting hatewatch later this year, though, an activity which feels strangely in line with the spirit of this book.

Homer’s Odyssey (translation 1961, Robert Fitzgerald) – The fact I’m able to read anything first conceived well over 2,500 years ago is astonishing and humbling. The scale of human civilization really boggles my mind. As an actual book, I found this a surprisingly addictive experience and got through it quite fast, reading one whole chapter at a time to fully digest each episode. It felt like stepping into another world, very dreamy and fantastical, with the pace of an HBO show. After briefly surveying the dozen or so most popular English translations, I selected Fitzgerald’s because it seemed the most poetic, with a style properly evocative of the oral tradition which bore this text. This thing is absolutely gorgeously written. It makes me wish the epic poem was still a popular format, because it really does feel distinct from a novel, with strengths all its own. The aura of mystery around the entire story is endlessly fascinating to me too, like how little we know about Homer, and the myriad possible meanings and symbolism within the story’s events and characters, upon which we can only speculate. I immediately procured Fitzgerald’s Iliad after finishing this, and will get through that as soon as I can. On the somewhat boring-looking upcoming Christopher Nolan adaptation, I do sympathise with the critiques (especially after finding Oppenheimer unbearably dry). But I remain cautiously optimistic because the idea of combining the Odyssey with Batman does basically sounds like crack to me.

The Dark Tower III: The Waste Lands (1991, Stephen King) – After loving The Gunslinger but not much caring for The Drawing of the Three at all, I hoped that by the end of this third volume, I’d know for sure whether or not I truly care about finishing this series. There are still four books left to go, and they only seem to get larger and larger. But instead, I think I’ve just lost the ability to critically evaluate a text altogether. My more scrutinising side remains sadly disappointed with the relative lack of complex characters, and character development, which King usually excels at, seemingly eschewed here in favour of ever-more-insane setpieces. Here are just a few of the things which happen in this book: 

• The heroes fight an enormous feral bear who turns out to be a cyborg
• An evil house comes alive, growing arms and a face, and tries to eat a little boy
• A woman has sex with an invisible succubus to distract it from killing her husband
• A schizophrenic, living train gasses a whole city to death
• A talking raccoon resolves a hostage situation 

It’s all extremely imaginative and cinematic – not to mention addictive – but I can’t help but notice we’re not getting a lot of actual story. The constant maximalism almost comes off like a distraction from some of the more obviously undercooked fundamentals (the whole character of Susannah, for example, remains generally baffling). Technically I suppose I’m still only about a third into the overarching narrative though, so we’ll see. I’m still not inclined to bet against King, and it’s all moot anyway since I’ve already begun reading the fourth one, which according to the internet is widely regarded as the best of the bunch. I guess I’m in it for the long haul. 

The Dark Tower IV: Wizard and Glass (1997, Stephen King) – Yes, this is the best of the bunch. At least, it’s the best of the four I’ve read so far. I could not put this down. This man can tell a fucking yarn, people. Yet I do feel vindicated in my previous criticisms of this series by that very fact. If the best book in the series is the one which sees the main quest completely sidelined in order to focus on a sprawling flashback story about young Roland and a whole new cast of characters, what does that tell you about the main quest, and the main cast? The fact that the follow-up to The Waste Lands has basically nothing to do with The Waste Lands makes that book feels all the more like an entertaining yet fairly meaningless series of disconnected setpieces, an exercise in ‘yes, and’ improvisation that amounts to less than the sum of its parts. Ah well. The main thing is that the story of young Roland and company really is everything I could have hoped for and more. And I did enjoy the present-day sections of Wizard and Glass too, as a big fan of psychedelic King, and also of a certain character whose reappearance at the end bodes well for the future of this series. Gonna take a little break from the Tower for now, though; book five looks fucking massive.

The Trial (1925, Franz Kafka) – A singular book whose history is as mysterious as its contents. We may never know exactly how Kafka intended this thing to be read, but the work we ended up with is fascinating nonetheless. Two things which really surprised me were how funny it is at times, and the abject horror of the ending. When I think about how painfully real so much of this allegedly absurdist satire feels, it’s hard not to despair. The fact it’s over 100 years old makes it all the more so. On the bright side, I can watch Orson Welles’s film adaptation now.

Moby-Dick: or, The Whale (1851, Herman Melville) – (currently reading)

Films:

Abigail (2024, Matt Bettinelli-Opin & Tyler Gillet) – This severely failed to keep my interest. It’s hard to understand how a script this low-effort even makes it to the big screen. Definitely avoid. The girl from the Matilda musical is very talented though! 

The Graduate (1967, Mike Nichols) – So entertaining, so interesting, so provocative, this is just an obvious classic slice of Hollywood fried gold, and I’ll leave it at that.

Licorice Pizza (2021, Paul Thomas Anderson) – I really enjoyed this film. It’s certainly an unusual one and I understand why it’s been pretty divisive, but I just found it so refreshing and surprising. For one thing, I really appreciated how normal-looking the cast is. Many of the narrative choices the movie makes are confusing, self-indulgent even, with an almost recklessly casual tone that hardly seems interested in telling a coherent story at all; it is very much doing its own thing. But I think that very same carefree spirit is the entire meaning of the film. It all felt dreamily lifelike to me. It’s not really trying to convince you of anything – like its characters, it sort of stands for nothing, other than the celebration of its own charm and enthusiasm and peculiarities. I also laughed more than I have at any PTA film. It goes without saying for this filmmaker, but the acting, visuals, and sound are all outstanding. You just do not see movies being made like this much at all anymore, which is a damn shame, but it lets the passion and mastery that went into this thing stand out even more. PTA’s unpredictability is so impressive; it’s hard to believe this same guy made There Will Be Blood. I am consciously putting off watching his latest film, because I tend to find that his work either hits me just right or leaves me totally cold, and for reasons I can’t explain, I suspect that One Battle After Another is gonna fall into the latter category. But I plan to find out later this year, anyway. 

My Cousin Vinny (1992, Jonathan Lynn) – Joe Pesci is so fucking good in this film. If you’ve never seen it before, I urge you to – it’s on Disney+ in the UK. I’d go as far as to say it’s probably a 10 out of 10 for what it is, though I admit I did find it ever so slightly slow to get going at the beginning. But the entire next two thirds is just perfect. I especially admired how it does the whole fish-out-of-water thing without really painting either side as the bad guys; they’re both just more confused by each other than anything. An impossible movie to dislike. 

Red Eye (2005, Wes Craven) – My hopes for this were not particularly high, and I mainly watched it because it’s freely available on BBC iPlayer and only 71 minutes long(!). Nonetheless, I found it both dumber and more boring than I wanted it to be. Still not bad exactly, but almost totally forgettable. Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams are both looking extremely good here though, so it’s got that going for it. Also, look at how Jayma Mays runs in this one scene:

I especially liked this moment because there’s not even any reason for her to enter the room. She tells the guys inside the room that everyone in the room is in danger, then she runs straight into the room, despite clearly having nowhere to go. Movie’s like a 4/10.

Wind River (2017, Taylor Sheridan) – This is very well made, but I can’t say I enjoyed it. I found it quite horrific. I didn’t really know anything about the subject matter going in and was expecting more action-adventure fun, so maybe that’s my fault. It’s grim and brutal and ever so slightly generic. I don’t know. If you’re looking for a very serious and depressing straightforward crime thriller, here you are.

Road House (1989, Rowdy Herrington) – This did not disappoint; it’s everything I expected it to be and more. Probably the most masculine work of cinema ever produced. Yet (perhaps fittingly) it’s somehow a little stupider than I wanted. I think the mistake it makes is taking itself too seriously in the second half, and consequently running a bit too long. But the first hour is a complete blast, a pure slapstick cartoon with gore and swears and a really cool blind guitar player.

Phantom Thread (2017, Paul Thomas Anderson) – So begins my attempt to finish all the films on my MUBI watchlist before my 30-day free trial subscription runs out. I started with Phantom Thread because I tried to watch it online when it first came out, having been such a huge fan of its predecessor The Master (which remains by far my favourite PTA joint); as I recall, I found it so boring then that I quit after about 20 minutes, a rare thing for me. This time I did finish it, and certainly found a lot more to appreciate, while still sympathising with my own previous failure to care. I’ll start with the good: like most of PTA’s work, the acting in this film is simply on another level. It’s both overtly theatrical and absolutely convincing, the characters so completely realised and the world so fully lived-in that you just get hypnotised. The filmmaking is so in-your-face you can never forget it’s a movie, yet at the same time you feel practically as if you’re in the room, sharing the space with these characters. Here the sound design alone is doing so much to produce a constant sense of uncomfortable intimacy – in fact, if there’s any two-word phrase to sum up this whole thing, it’s ‘uncomfortable intimacy’. It’s a tactile, sensual, and almost oppressively rich experience. Which brings me to the bad, or at least, the unsatisfying: I really struggled to see the point of this story. Watching it, I often marveled at my own bafflement as to how and why anyone could conceived a film so simultaneously specific and opaque. A few times I thought it ought to be considered one of those ‘cryptid’ movies like INLAND EMPIRE or House, films you don’t watch so much as survive, let them have their way with you, like a passing storm. But where those examples achieve that feeling via impenetrable excess, this is a comparatively restrained and mannered presentation, unbearably so at times, just like the characters who inhabit it. It’s almost utterly lacking in likability, humanity even, yet often fascinating for that very reason. Hopelessly empty and sad, yet with a distinct kind of absurdist humour to it all. I suppose it’s all about the romance at the centre, which has some interesting comparisons with the relationship in Licorice Pizza, a film that hides its own subtle darkness in a much more palatable package. Overall, this is a remarkably strange watch which seems at least partly intended as a canvas onto which the viewer should project their own interpretations. I get the sense I’ll rewatch this one day and have an altogether different experience of it. You can’t be caught in the same storm twice, after all.

The Fall (2006, Tarsem Singh) – I loved this. More than anything it struck me as an incredibly kind film, exuding such a strong sense of warmth and humanity even as it takes the characters to some unexpected emotional depths. And yes I welled up several times. It reminded me a bit of It’s A Wonderful Life in terms of this balance of despair and joy, and shares that movie’s themes of how adulthood can break your spirit, and the quest for redemption after hitting rock bottom. Alexandria is a truly inspired protagonist, and Catinca Untaru gave one of my favourite child performances I’ve ever seen. She really carries the movie since we see so much through her eyes; the whole thing conveys both the cosiness and unease inherent to childhood perfectly. And I don’t even know what to say about the fantasy sequences – they have to be seen to be believed. Overall, it’s not that every single moment landed for me, but the movie as a package is just so creative and ambitious that even its flaws felt beautiful to me. I guess that’s true love!

The Mastermind (2025, Kelly Reichardt) – I was close to growing an extra thumb while this was on just so I could give it three thumbs down. It is shockingly slight. I don’t actually know how it got made, like how anyone involved actually mustered the enthusiasm to work on this for multiple months of their lives. I’m not afraid of subtlety or slowness by any means but my days, this is like the thinnest slice of plain white bread you could ever imagine. I was forgetting it even as I watched it.

Paris Is Burning (1990, Jennie Livingston) – A precious snapshot into a very particular time and place. As someone who’s watched a lot of RuPaul’s Drag Race over the years (and witnessed it slowly devolve into an ouroboric shell of its former self) this documentary was a sobering experience. Like peering behind the curtain into the revolutionary real life origins of a subculture which has become so thoroughly commercialised today. As a movie it’s really likable and engaging, disarming in its intimate style, and at turns equal parts lovely and devastating.

The Outlaw Josey Wales (1976, Clint Eastwood) – My dad loves Clint Eastwood and often goes on about this, so we put this on in a rare moment of father-son quality time. It’s pretty dated in some of its more cliche aspects, but I can’t deny Clint is great in this role. If nothing else he’s just got one of the best faces of all time. There are a bunch of quirky side characters, some clever twists, and a bounty of excellent dialogue. Good stuff all round, but not great. 

Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (2010, Apichatpong Weerasethakul) – This is another item from my Mubi list which I’m sure I would never have gotten around to otherwise; it’s certain to go down as one of the most unique watches of my year, and possibly my whole lifetime. It’s a deeply contemplative fantasy drama about… something. There’s a guy, Uncle Boonmee, and a ghost, and a talking catfish, and astral projection, and sasquatches, and while it is all telling a more-or-less coherent story, the presentation is uncompromisingly abstract. Definitely not for everyone, but I found it to be a gorgeous film with a positively hypnotising atmosphere and an awful lot on its mind. The final few seconds alone are doing so much; to be honest, they’re still haunting me.

Marty Supreme (2025, Josh Safdie) – I loved it! Exhilarating, funny, and immensely satisfying. It’s long and epic in scale but there’s nothing I can think to cut. The best part is the real thematic richness behind all the adrenaline. Highly recommended.

Another Round (2020, Thomas Vinterberg) – While this is never quite reaches the heights I hoped it would, I did find it to be a very pleasant film with some unexpectedly lovely insights into teaching. I will watch anything with Mads Mikkelsen, and this is a great role for him. The whole cast is excellent in fact.

The Conversation (1974, Francis Ford Coppola) – Gene Hackman is so good in this. I wasn’t expecting it to be so much a character study, and a hauntingly sad one at that. The final shot has really stuck with me. An undeniably slow, quiet, and subtle film, probably not for everyone, but the sheer vibe is absolutely impeccable.

Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (1986, Tom McLoughlin) – Matt Draper spoke highly of this on his list of the best slasher sequels. I’ve only seen a couple of Friday movies in the past, and never got much out of them. Jason Lives is definitely fairly well made and fun, and I do enjoy the main actor’s performance (he is also great in the genuinely brilliant Return of the Living Dead). But it’s such an utterly by-the-numbers slasher, there was very little that excited me. Overall: meh.

Child’s Play 2 (1990, John Lafia) – As above, this was another recommendation from Matt Draper, and an equally mixed bag in my opinion. I think I probably got more out of this story purely because Chucky is such a compelling villain, but Jason Lives was definitely the more ambitious and action-packed. This feels like a TV movie for most of the runtime. If you could smush both films together I think you’d really have something. Surely Chucky vs Jason is all but guaranteed some day? Jason would wipe the floor with Chucky man-to-man of course, but Chucky’s so much more smart and resourceful, and they’re both seemingly immortal anyway. I’d watch it.

Drunken Master II (1994, Lau Kar-leung) – I didn’t plan for this to happen, but my experience with Drunken Master II went so well that it precipated a several-weeks-long marathon of various other Jackie Chan movies. This included two viewings of Rumble in the Bronx (so good that I had to share it with others) and a rewatch of Police Story 3: Supercop, which I first saw several years ago (and is also good, but neither quite as good as I remember, nor as good as some of the others here). Anyway, as I write this retrospectively, having now sat through twelve Jackie Chan movies in a very short span of time, I really do feel that Drunken Master II remains one of the absolute best. Honestly, the only things keeping it from the official top spot are the very ending scene – which struck me as a totally unnecessary joke in bad taste – and relatedly, the broader fact that Jackie’s character here is such a fucking buffoon when he’s not kicking ass. Of course there’s comedy in all these movies, but this one goes straight-up cartoonish in certain scenes. While most of it really worked for me (Anita Mui is especially good as the stepmother) the ending was a disappointment. Nevertheless, you come here for the fight scenes, and for my money they truly have never been better. Again, I can only reiterate that watching Drunken Master II caused me to instantly seek out more Jackie Chan in my life (and more, and more, and more). I have absolutely no idea how some of what takes place here is physically possible for a human being. Do yourself a favour and see it. And no, the first Drunken Master is not required viewing. The only thing required is eyes to see, and fists to pump.

Project A (1983, Jackie Chan) – A really enjoyable movie, if not quite as memorable as Drunken Master II. Of the two, this is actually even more lighthearted, but this one achieves a more consistent tone by prioritising comedy the whole way through, rather than letting up during the action scenes. This thing feels almost Mel Brooks-like at times. Lots of slapstick, fun characters, and brilliant setpieces. The manner in which the final villain is ultimately dispensed with made me laugh out loud. As an aside: I like to watch these films subbed rather than dubbed, because I like hearing the original actors’ performances; the added bonus of this is that you get to experience the terrible Chinese dubbing which was applied to the white actors speaking English. The voice they got for the British Colonel in this movie is fucking hilarious. A criticism would be that I had basically no idea what was happening at any point in the story, but it hardly seemed to matter.

Dagon (2001, Stuart Gordon) – In between spamming myself with Jackie Chan movies, recently I’ve also been plowing through the Resident Evil games (yes, ladies, I am single). Apparently the developers of Resident Evil 4 took inspiration for that entry’s iconic Spanish village setting from this rather obscure horror movie. Stuart Gordon, of course, is the man behind both Re-Animator and From Beyond, two objective schlock masterpieces. Having now seen Dagon (what a useless title that is! Of all the things they could have chosen) I can tell you that it was clearly a big influence on Resident Evil 4, but for me, that’s basically where its value begins and ends.

Police Story (1985, Jackie Chan) – It’s good, don’t get me wrong. The climax in the shopping mall is up there as some of Jackie’s best-ever action (and caused some of his worst real-life injuries). There’s also a great opening setpiece where he chases down a double-decker bus on foot. But apart from that, I wasn’t really vibing with the story or characters much. Jackie’s kind of an asshole in this one actually. I was grateful to see Maggie Cheung, but even she gets a lot more to do in other, better films later down this list. Worth a watch for sure, but keep in mind it is mid-tier Jackie.

Rumble in the Bronx (1995, Stanley Tong) – Now this is where it’s at. Currently, this is my personal favourite Jackie Chan film. Despite nominally being set in New York City (in reality, Vancouver doing an incredibly bad job of posing as New York City) it has more in common with Joel Schumacher’s Batman movies than anything close to reality. The Bronx here is simply a playground for various criminal gangs clad in unbelievably garish costumes to wreak whatever havoc they choose, and Jackie is the only man who can stop them. The scene that really won me over comes when Jackie goes to visit his new girlfriend at work, only to find that she’s an exotic dancer in a packed nightclub and casually sharing a cage with an enormous tiger. Sure, there are better individual sequences, characters, and stories in other movies, but I don’t think any of them are as briskly entertaining as this. There’s a Hollywood-like simplicity to this which really makes it go down smooth. And I guarantee that you cannot find me a more preposterous climactic sequence in any other action movie. All I’ll say is that it makes prodigious use of a hovercraft and that you will not stop smiling. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Just as good the second time around too. A flawless 10/10.

Armour of God (1986, Jackie Chan) – For me, as Jackie Chan movies go, this was the first real stinker of the bunch. It’s sort of his take on Indiana Jones, but the result isn’t nearly as fun as that sounds. This thing is strangely lacking in action and adventure, as silly as that feels to say about a movie where a man leaps a hundred feet from an exploing mountain onto on a hot air balloon. I guess Jackie’s just set the standard too high. For much of the runtime it plays as sort of a buddy comedy, but I really didn’t like the buddy character, and Jackie himself was dull here too. There’s also some awkward racialising going on in the prologue. Yeah, to be honest, I don’t recommend this.

Tangerine (2015, Sean Baker) – A constant tug-of-war between empathy and disgust. Repugnant and endearing in equal measure. Worth a watch, but I’m still not sure what the point is.

Armour of God II: Operation Condor (1991, Jackie Chan) – The best thing about the first Armour of God is the fact that it beget this movie. I would put Operation Condor at the higher end of mid-tier for Jackie. A theme I’m noticing with these movies is that they really benefit from making use of their supporting cast, and on that note, it was refreshing to see some great female roles here; Carol Cheng especially is so good. It’s a fun time with much more going on than the original, and a broader, slapstick tone. The ending where everyone’s being blown about by enormous fans is worth the price of admission alone. Or rather, it’s worth the subscription to Now TV.

Three Colours: Blue (1991, Krzysztof Kieślowski) – A moody art piece which is saying something about repression and sublimation and creativity. It looks and sounds beautiful. It’s a mood. I liked it fine, but it did leave me hoping that the second in the trilogy, White, would give me a little more to chew on.

Three Colours: White (1994, Krzysztof Kieślowski) – What the fuck is this? What the fuck is the point of this? Who the fuck came up with this shit? If 1994-era Julie Delpy divorced me because of my impotence, would I not act in the exact same way this man does? These were the questions I was asking myself as I watched Three Colours: White. I found it utterly bizarre, undeniably intriguing, and deeply unsatisfying. Maybe that’s the point? Someone please help.

First Strike (1996, Stanley Tong) – This one kicks ass. It’s technically the fourth Police Story, but there’s very little overlap with the rest of the series since it takes place in Australia. I’ve been remembering this one as the ‘Jackie Chan fights sharks in Australia’ movie because that is basically the whole last third of the runtime and all I can say is it rocked my socks off. As someone who is deeply phobic of sharks, I found it very exhilarating. It’s pretty short on story and characters, but there’s a leanness to the proceedings which is really satisfying. My man Stanley Tong strikes again.

Send Help (2026, Sam Raimi) – I thought this was pretty much perfect for what it is. Typical Raimi W to be the person to finally give Rachel McAdams the kind of role she’s long since deserved. Dylan O’Brien is a great match for her too. A great time at the movies.

Caddyshack (1980, Harold Ramis) – I’ve always heard such good things, but, as my dad has been known to so witheringly put it about comedies my sisters and I have tried to share with him, I found this sadly a “laugh-free zone”. There’s a smugness I just could not get behind. Rodney Dangerfield is fun at least.

Project A Part II (1987, Jackie Chan) – This surprised me not only by being so much better than the first Project A, but by being an actual sequel to the story set up by its predecessor. That’s quite rare for these films. It’s another case where a strong supporting cast really elevates the proceedings, with Maggie Cheung finally getting a proper part and even her own stunts. The villains are also great and help lend a strong sense of stakes to the story. The story really engaged me here. And I loved the whole ending. One of Jackie’s best for sure.

Three Colours: Red (1994, Krzysztof Kieślowski) – I’m very happy to report that after being thoroughly whelmed by Blue and White, Red struck me as cinematic gold. I loved this film completely. It’s so intriguing and engaging, the characters just brimming with life and love. It’s no less inscrutable than its predecessors, but for opposite reasons; where those movies struck me as stifled, this one positively aches with passion, awash with allusions and deep yearning, endlessly contemplative of so many varied themes: religion, art, identity, fate. And best of all, it’s simply a great story, superbly conceived and performed. It feels like sharing in a precious conversation.

The Florida Project (2017, Sean Baker) – This worked perfectly for me. So breezy, so full of love, and yet packing such a powerful gut punch. Narrative-wise, it’s much more in the vein of Tangerine than Anora, with its floating, documentary-like feel and various perspectives, but I feel it works far better here specifically because it’s invoking the lens of childhood – that inherent looseness and triviality that lets the dramatic irony hit so hard. Definitely Sean Baker’s most beautiful film, too, and instantly iconic in that respect. I recommend it wholeheartedly. 10/10.

Who Am I? (1998, Jackie Chan) – An epic, Jason Bourne-style thriller filtered through Jackie Chan’s singular imagination. There aren’t even really any action scenes for the first hour or so, but the story hooked me enough that it didn’t really matter. I love how everyone actually calls him ‘Who Am I?’ the whole time. There’s another great villain too, which always helps. Not my favourite Jackie experience – the sillier stuff is closer to my heart – but undoubtedly a very satisfying action film.

Decision To Leave (Park Chan-Wook, 2022) – This bowled me over. I was hooked from minute one. Really felt like reading a great novel; perfect storytelling. Park Chan-Wook is so underrated. What a cast, too… it’s been a couple of weeks and I am still in love with everyone here. 10/10.

Playtime (1967, Jacques Tati) – Yep, I was enchanted. There’s nothing else like this film. It washes over you like a summer’s day. A glorious, uncompromising celebration, teeming with life and affection for human beings.

Election (1999, Alexander Payne) – I saw this a really long time ago and thought it was due a revisit. It’s a good deal better than I remember. If you’ve never seen it, give it a go; one of the sharpest and best-cast dark comedies of the ’90s.

Midnight Cowboy (1969, John Schlesinger) – I just always thought with the music and the costume and the title and “I’m walkin’ here!” this film would be a more lighthearted affair. Why didn’t anyone warn me? I was in a genuine funk after this ended. It really, really got me. Mulling it over makes me feel so grateful for the things I have. No matter how low I’ve got, I’ve never been anywhere close to what these characters are facing. It reels you in so easily, with so much charm, and before you know it, all you can do is watch as things get worse and worse and worse. I’ll be thinking of this for a long time. Flawlessly executed on every level. A definite 10/10.

Mr. Nice Guy (1997, Sammo Hung) – Although decidedly on the crumbier end of the Jackie Chan spectrum overall (and featuring the worst acting I’ve seen in a while), Mr. Nice Guy did have me literally cheering by the end because of the sheer overkill of how he defeats the villain. Here is the scene in question.

Amadeus (1984, Miloš Forman) – Unfortunately this left me a little cold. I guess the aesthetic excess is part of the point, and simply being in this lavishly designed world is certainly fun for a while. It’s really well cast and generally very likable, but at 3 full hours it began to feel unfocused and self-indulgent. The story seemed more interesting in theory than in execution; while the ending is striking, it’s suggestive of a thematic purpose which I didn’t feel the movie had actually developed. I have a sense of missing something, like maybe I should watch it again, but at the same time I have no desire to. I’m also not sure what I think of the extreme rewriting of history in this case. For one thing, the subject matter here is neither recent enough nor sufficiently common knowledge in the mind of the general audience for it to read as pure fiction. When Hitler is killed at the end of Inglourious Basterds, we understand it instantly as a purposeful artistic decision, whereas most people surely think that Amadeus is more or less a true story. While that isn’t the movie’s fault exactly, it does make me further question the point of the whole thing. Why did it have to be about these people? What’s it actually trying to say about that reality by fictionalising it? I don’t know.

Ingrid Goes West (2017, Matt Spicer) – The cast keep this alive, and I actually loved a lot of the characterisation, but I wish the script had been given one more do-over. You really get the sense that they wrote themselves into a corner at a certain point; after a while it just fizzles out. But I’d like to see more from this director.

Defending Your Life (1991, Albert Brooks) – A sweet film with some great moments and a hopeful, inventive depiction of the afterlife. Meryl Streep is inhumanly lovely in this. It may be a tad underbaked, but the romance actually worked well for me since she reminded me of my ex-girlfriend Anna – shout out to Anna!

Rocky III (1982, Sylvester Stallone) – I think I went through a second puberty watching that training montage on the beach. Maybe the most pumped up sequence ever captured on film. Mr T is really scary in this.

Raging Bull (1980, Martin Scorsese) – I have seen this before, about ten years ago as I began my film-bro awakening, but it didn’t make a real impression on me. More than anything I remember loving the title and the poster. Now, at the ripe old age of 29, I definitely appreciated it more. This film is pure emotion; it’s almost entirely concerned with charting the emotional ups and downs of the protagonist. Other characters exist and act more or less solely to consider, protect, and react to Jake’s emotions. It’s just that they aren’t the kinds of emotions that movies like this typically focus on, nor are they expressed or dramatised in the typical way, so I think I missed it as a youngster. On this viewing, Jake at all times read to me as a being of pure seething, directionless self-loathing; that aching desperation to be someone other than yourself, someone better; and the fear of being finally alone. It’s an amazing and harrowing performance. The whole thing is easily on par with Taxi Driver, which I used to think of as being on its own level, and my favourite by Scorsese. But the emotional rawness of Raging Bull is really unique, and I love the relative subtlety and simplicity of its presentation. I read somewhere that it was once voted the best-edited film of all time, too, and yeah, it’s beautiful in that respect too. Just a wonderful work of art.

Three Women (1977, Robert Altman) – And people say David Lynch is abstract. I have absolutely no idea what I was seeing here.