Best Books I Read in 2021

After somehow managing to rack up a personal best of 40 books in one year, there were plenty of possible choices for my favourites of 2021, so this may get a little long. But here they are…

Men At Arms/Soul Music – Terry Pratchett

The best City Watch book (so far) immediately followed by the best Death book (so far). Sir Terry at the height of his powers.

First, the motley crew of characters introduced in Guards! Guards! returns along with a diverse batch of new recruits – troll, dwarf, woman – who stumble upon a murder mystery and must put their differences aside to solve it as unrest grows around Ankh-Morpork.

Discworld’s trademark mix of whimsical takes on fantasy tropes and thoughtful commentary on real life is evident here, as assassin Edward d’Eath goes to extreme lengths to ensure destiny’s path runs smoothly while the Watch learn how to effectively police the city’s melting pot of cultures and races.

And there’s a talking dog.

In Soul Music, Death takes another break from his day job to find out what it all means (you know, life, the universe and everything, etc) so his granddaughter Susan must follow in his skeletal footsteps after discovering her unusual ancestry.

Meanwhile, harpist Imp Y Celyn tries to make it in the big city and accidentally invents a new form of music, with rocks in, which has a powerful and supernatural influence on its frenzied listeners.

The two storylines run parallel for most of the book and it’s not entirely clear how the Discworld equivalent of a rock star biopic and Susan’s unusual coming-of-age tale will connect but they’re plenty entertaining enough on their own merits, and the point their paths eventually cross is cleverly done, then the climactic concert brings everything to a head in spectacular fashion.

Mr Loverman – Bernadine Evaristo

Barrington “Barry” Walker has been married for 50 years to Carmel, who has long suspected he’s been cheating on her. And she’s proven right, but not in the way she expects.

Barry has been seeing childhood friend Morris for years, before he even met Carmel, but the unaccepting culture of the time forced him to keep the love affair hidden and the longer he was married, the harder it became to tell her about it – but now, at 74 years of age, the truth is finally about to come out.

It would be so easy for this tale to be told in an insensitive, lurid, melodramatic fashion which focuses on the heartbreak of the situation above all else. But instead, we are dropped into Barry’s mind as he tells us the story of his life in a way which straddles the line between cheeky lovable rascal and selfish git. He’s an entertaining raconteur and both sides of his double life are vividly envisioned.

Though he is our viewpoint for the bulk of the book, Carmel has short, poetic chapters placed at precise moments which interrupt Barry’s narrative and express her hurt, her anger, and – still, despite everything – her love for the man she’s spent her entire life with.

Evaristo fully explores the complexity of these characters and relationships and the external factors which impacted them. Impressively, she does so in a way which seems effortlessly light and breezy and full of humour, with the same deep-seated compassion and empathy on display in Girl Woman Other just as evident here. No sermonising or belaboured point-making is needed – everything she wants to say is made clear in the way her characters behave.

The Nickel Boys – Colson Whitehead

A short, sharp shock of a novel. After adding a magical-realist twist to the Underground Railroad in his Pulitzer Prize-winning book of the same name, Whitehead strips away all artifice and surrealism to lay bare the full horror of a racist reform school in Florida – and wins the Pulitzer again.

Kind and curious teenager Elwood Curtis’ life is thrown off course by a misunderstanding which sends him to Nickel Academy, a segregated prison pretending to be a school which brutally mistreats the boys on its black campus (based on a real facility).

The optimistic youngster’s strong belief in the teachings of Martin Luther King, injustice always being punished and people being fundamentally good gets broken down by the arbitrary punishment system of the ‘academy’ and the suffering inflicted on him and his classmates, but his friendship with world-weary teen Turner helps both of them keep going.

Tense and tear-jerking passages build to a gripping finale as Elwood gathers evidence of the school’s cruelty and hopes to tell the world about the crimes the system is trying to keep quiet. A poignant look into the future shows how their time at Nickel affected the survivors who still struggle to come to terms with their trauma.

War Doctor: Surgery on the Front Line – David Nott

Not all heroes wear capes. Some wear scrubs.

David Nott reels off extraordinary anecdotes from the many months he spent performing medical procedures in war zones, and brings us into the middle of the most stressful situations imaginable.

You may be wondering how he ended up in that specialised profession, why he would volunteer to take time off from his London doctor duties to experience such traumas abroad, and why, after each narrow escape from death, he would keep voluntarily throwing himself back into the fray.

He’s happy to answer all of these questions and describe – with unassuming modesty – the heroic lifesaving work he’s done, not just in the operating theatre but also in helping young Syrians escape their bombarded homeland.

Speaking of surgery, it may be a little redundant to say this is not a book for the squeamish. Some of the operations are described in eye-watering detail and pose all manner of nightmarish life-or-death scenarios I never could have imagined before, with one involving a foetus which is so upsetting that Nott spends a few paragraphs warning us about it before he describes what happened in as clinical a way as possible in an attempt to minimise the reader’s distress (it doesn’t work).

I’m eternally grateful that people like him exist and show such unfathomable courage to help protect the innocent bystanders (and, sometimes, the fighters) caught up in these terrible conflicts.

This is Not Propaganda: Adventures in the War Against Reality – Peter Pomarentsev

What the hell is going on?

Rampant disinformation being spread online constantly, facts being intentionally ignored in favour of baseless speculation and lies, people making a concerted effort to rewrite history as it’s still happening and trying to make the truth seem frivolously unimportant.

Pomarentsev’s book digs into all of the nagging concerns which have been troubling me – and all of us – recently and delves into where it’s coming from, with incredible access to experts, frontline reports from those fighting the tide of twisted truths, and a bleak account of the state of the world with glimmers of hope peeking through. And his Dad grew up in Soviet Russia, so he’s well aware of the deceptive tricks deployed by power-hungry tyrants with malicious motives to gain and maintain control.

Alarming and eye-opening but also oddly reassuring in that it shows how others are experiencing this disorientation and dedicating immense time and effort into investigating the causes and combatting them. Whether they will succeed is another matter entirely…

Human kind: A Hopeful History – Rutger Bregman

If all that sounds a bit hopeless, Bregman is here to offer a different perspective on human history which suggests we are, fundamentally, a lot nicer than we tend to think.

His alternative account of the past requires no distortion of the truth but instead focuses on overlooked facts which show humanity’s underlying decency and busts myths about oft-repeated cautionary tales which are rolled out whenever people talk about our innate selfishness and hidden barbarity.

A soothing read which does not downplay actual examples of corruption and mass murder in its attempt to persuade us we’re mostly actually good, but puts them into a context which suggests that they are outliers.

He makes such a convincing case that I went through 500-odd pages without thinking ‘Hang on, but what about X? This is nonsense’.

Poignant paragraphs have popped up in my head quite often whenever things started seeming too bleak in the months after finishing it.

The Devil and the Dark Water – Stuart Turton

2021 had been rather heavy on non-fiction for me, so a hefty page-turning, genre-bending thriller was sorely needed.

Turton devises an ingenious murder mystery set on a doomed sea voyage in the 1600s. The Sherlockian detective is accused of murder and jailed below deck, so his loyal bodyguard has to figure out whodunnit – and, of course, there is no shortage of suspects.

Many on-board are convinced something supernatural is afoot and an atmosphere of Gothic dread gradually builds with each increasingly-inexplicable event that punctuates the Salaam’s journey, so that one expects the story to lurch full-tilt into horror at any point or wonder whether these monstrous deaths and bad omens have actually been caused by human hands.

The plotting becomes rather labyrinthine but each side character is so memorable that it’s fairly simple to follow how their personal plans, loyalties and desires cross with everyone else’s, even as the betrayals and coincidences and consequences pile up.

I felt clever at guessing one twist before anyone else in the story had cottoned on, then rather foolish when half a dozen other sleights of hand which had gone unnoticed were revealed.

Honourable Mentions: The Louder I Will Sing – Lee Lawrence, Melmoth – Sarah Perry, The Baron in the Trees – Italo Calvino, One Summer: America 1927 – Bill Bryson, The Constant Rabbit – Jasper Fforde, Anti-Social: The Secret Diary of an Anti-Social Behaviour Officer – Nick Pettigrew,

2020’s Top TV

More time than usual spent indoors meant more time to catch up on some of the most acclaimed shows on telly. These were my favourite TV shows of the year.

The Good Place – “You’ve Changed, Man”/“Whenever You’re Ready”

Copyright: NBC

The start of the year saw two of the best comedies of the last decade bow out with emotional finales that highlighted the importance of self-improvement. One of them had to answer a very tough question: how do you end a series set in an infinite afterlife?

And yet, The Good Place found a satisfying way to say goodbye to the fantastic foursome it followed for four seasons on a wildly-unpredictable journey through the Great Beyond, putting an emphatic and emotional full-stop on their potentially-endless experiences.

The show maintained its unusual mix of hangout comedy, twist-heavy serialised storytelling and philosophical musings on humanity and morality right to the very end, even provoking a few tears as each character found a zen-like inner peace.

Though initially focusing on how Eleanor (Kristen Bell) could bluff her way into staying in the titular realm despite not deserving to be there, The Good Place evolved and changed several times over the years, often at dizzying speed.

It championed kindness and teamwork and compassion without ever feeling cheesy or preachy, puzzled over big existential questions without ever forgetting that it is first and foremost a goofy sitcom, and critiqued the merit-based system of good and evil that sorted souls into their forever homes of heaven or hell without ever mocking any particular religion.

Eleanor was a selfish, amoral mess of a person when she died, but her character developed a lot over the last four years, as did anxious and booksmart soulmate Chidi (William Jackson Harper), namedropping self-obsessed socialite Tahani (Jameela Jameel) and empty-headed sports bro Jason (Manny Jacinto). Even non-corporeal guides Michael (Ted Danson) and Janet (D’Arcy Carden) were profoundly affected by their bond to this group.

Just how much they had grown as people and non-people was made heartwarmingly clear in the finale, which saw our heroes confront a terrifying concept, one that everyone has thought about and struggled with at some point, with acceptance and grace. The series stopped short of saying ‘The real Good Place was the friends we made along the way’ but its final message wasn’t too far off that.

It was also, to be absolutely clear, still hilarious, even when these characters parted ways for the last time.

Continue reading “2020’s Top TV”

The Best Books I Read in 2020

Much more time for reading this year helped me easily meet my annual goal of 25 books in 12 months for the first time in a while, even reaching 33 overall. Here were my favourites…

All The Pretty Horses – Cormac McCarthy

all the pretty horses

My first experience with Cormac McCarthy was a failed attempt to read Blood Meridian – which, in hindsight, was as foolish as trying to climb Everest before making it halfway up Pen Y Fan.

Two chapters of dense, labyrinthine prose describing violent savagery with words that may not have appeared in print since the Old Testament were enough to prompt a swift retreat, leaving the book to gather dust on the shelf.

A cautious but more successful sojourn into No Country For Old Men followed, which featured similar glimpses into the darkest aspects of humanity but, this time, such bleak musings were expressed in a taut and simple style to give the book the pace of a thriller that left any head-scratching ambiguities until the very end.

So now to All The Pretty Horses. Knowing what Mr McCarthy’s work often involved, I spent the early sections braced for impact, expecting every turn of the page to bring some unforeseen woe upon young friends John Cole and Lacey Rawlins as they ran away from their Texas home and made their way into Mexico to begin a new life.

This self-imposed tension gradually eased away and a realisation dawned that instead of brutality, there was great beauty, and instead of nihilistic insights into the depravity of human souls, there was much joy and hope and even – *gasp* – romance???

Lengthy passages which described in intricate, awe-inspiring detail the panoramic views of plains and mountains that the pair pass through on their journey made it easy to imagine the unspoiled landscapes and get immersed in the scenery.

Snappy dialogue between the two teenagers established a realistic and believable bonhomie full of subtle warmth and humour(!) which was complicated by the arrival of a mysterious third person who crosses their path.

What comes through clearest of all in this novel is Cormac McCarthy’s deep-seated fascination with and affection for the old-fashioned grandeur of life on the frontier, even though it’s fading by the time the book is set (1947) and he must at some point, somewhat inevitably, explore the grim underbelly of this idealised lifestyle that will cause his naive protagonists much pain and heartbreak.

Continue reading “The Best Books I Read in 2020”

2019’s Top TV: Best of the Rest

FROM THE ARCHIVES: This post has been dug out of the drafts because, despite being unfinished (I wanted to do more in-depth write-ups about Succession season two and His Dark Materials series one but struggled to find the right words), the sections that are complete were worth publishing because they feature a few turns of phrase I’m particularly proud of and highlight great shows that I rarely, if ever, talk about in the real world.

Continue reading “2019’s Top TV: Best of the Rest”

The Best Films of 2020 so far AKA A tribute to the cinema experience

You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone. There was plenty of time during the lockdown to reminisce and miss what used to be considered mundane. My favourite of those little luxuries, aside from delving into a bookshop and resurfacing hours later laden with piles of weighty tomes, was going to the cinema.

In the two months before this ordinary activity was made temporarily impossible, and the echoing piano note that plays at Cineworld as the lights go down and the trailers start began drifting in and out of my head at random for weeks on end, there were plenty of moments that highlighted exactly why the cinema experience can be so comforting and exhilarating.

For example…

PARASITE

parasite

Despite being hyped to high heaven for almost a year before it reached the UK, this Oscar-winning genre-bender still managed to exceed all expectations, and the first viewing has already become a cherished memory.

But before that historic win, it was hard to find anywhere nearby which bothered to screen it – still, this presented a good excuse for a day trip. And so, after passing a pleasant morning in Bath and wishing the town centre of where I lived was even half as lovely, I sought out a small cinema called, fittingly if rather unimaginatively, The Little Theatre.

After squeezing into the red-hued foyer – briefly filled to overflowing by a three-person queue – and picking up the tickets from a friendly clerk, buying supplies from the other counter – so close to screen one that you could pick and pay for your snacks while leaning out of the screening’s door if need be – and climbing up stairs along a wall covered in a slapdash floor-to-ceiling collage of posters, I was thoroughly charmed by the place before I’d even sat down.

A crowd had gathered outside the fully-booked screen two while waiting for the previous film to finish, which changed the atmosphere from cosy to cramped but provided a golden chance for some eavesdropping – a lifelong hobby that everyone has but doesn’t like to talk about.

When we were at last allowed into a room decorated like it was still 1935, nestled into our plush seats and waited for the lights to dim, it almost didn’t matter whether the film was actually any good or not – this was nice enough.

The fact that it was actually good – amazing, in fact – did help, though. So, too, did the reactions from an audience who were (mostly) loving every minute of it – the exception was an elderly couple who sat next to me stone-faced as the credits rolled before one of them remarked ‘Hmm. Quite strange. Not sure what the fuss is about’.

Walking outside afterwards into the sunshine feeling energised and light-footed, I hovered around the entrance for a while, listening to the giddy gabbling of other cinemagoers talking about their favourite moments and feelings, reluctant to leave this joyous little bubble that would pop as soon as I walked away towards whatever the day had in store for me next with a big stupid grin on my face.

Right, enough of this lengthy preamble, these are the actual moments that stuck in the memory, described in vague and hopefully not-too-spoilery detail.

Continue reading “The Best Films of 2020 so far AKA A tribute to the cinema experience”

The Best Weird and Wonderful Shows of 2019

The ever-growing flood of new TV programmes that fill our screens every year has allowed for all manner of series with high-concept premises full of potentially-alienating oddities to find a small audience or even become a critically-acclaimed hit.

Visionary showrunners have been given more leniency than ever to take huge creative risks and set their ambitions sky-high in a bid to bring something truly original and new to viewers, or to put their own spin on well-known tropes and make them feel fresh and exciting.

These are some of my favourites from the past year.

Mr Robot – “Unauthorised”/”Method Not Allowed”/ “Proxy Authentication Required/”Conflict”

Mr Robot Season 4 b
Copyright: USA Network

There is an immense sense of relief felt when an unpredictable, ambitious and often-experimental TV series manages,  despite the pile of questions to answer and storylines to wrap up in an increasingly narrow time-frame looming large and causing much concern, to stick the landing.

This was especially true in the case of Mr Robot, which, in its final season, revealed something so enormous that it shifted the viewer’s entire understanding of the show and cast the rest of the series in a completely new light. Twice.

Creator/writer/director Sam Esmail originally envisioned this psychological conspiracy thriller as a film and had planned out the ending from the start, so he’s been able to deploy such surprises regularly over 40-odd episodes, though he saved the best and biggest for last. More impressively, they seem to come out of nowhere yet make a satisfying amount of sense once the shock has worn off.

It’s always been hard to predict exactly what the final episode of Mr Robot would even involve or look like. The series began as a topical commentary on our growing unease with capitalism and mistrust of the wealthy, as cyber-security engineer Elliot Alderson (Oscar-winning actor Rami Malek, playing an absolute blinder in his breakout role) is recruited by the titular character into an anarchist group of hackers that want to erase everyone’s debt by breaking into the bank accounts of a global mega-corporation.

The first season, which was a critical and commercial hit, focused on this monumental task before it became very clear that Esmail was far more interested in exploring the effect that the huge stress and strain of carrying this hack out was having on Elliot and other F Society members than the hack itself.

For half of season two, the thriller aspect disappeared entirely and episodes became introspective, slow and confusing, cloaked in an atmosphere of suffocating paranoia and dread as the drama delved deeper inside Elliot’s mind while expanding the show’s scope and spending more time with characters that had been sidelined during the hack preparations.

The pace eventually sped up again, though not quickly enough to stop a lot of viewers switching off, then Mr Robot found an ideal balance of its psychological strangeness, far-reaching conspiratorial plot and mercilessly-tense high-stakes drama as it entered season three and achieved a level of all-time-greatness which it managed to maintain right to the final shot.

Answers arrived with pleasing regularity, the ever-changing dynamic between Mr Robot and Elliot found new ways to entertain and intrigue, the playful experimentation of the series found higher and higher peaks to reach, and the setup for the grand finale fell into place.

So, yeah, it’s been quite a journey – and even as the end was in sight, it was never entirely clear how this would all conclude. No-one could have predicted that the last batch of episodes would be inspired by that classic British TV tradition of the Christmas special.

In the fourth season, Elliot and pals prepare for a final reckoning then suffer an exhausting and almost implausibly-eventful Christmas Day over a mid-season stretch of five draining, exciting, and revelatory episodes which put them and us through the emotional wringer before reaching a sort of bittersweet catharsis.

Even the steady tying up of loose ends that follows this climactic high point leads to a few last-minute swerves before the series bows out with an unexpected but perfect finale.

After going through so much with these characters, it’s hard to say goodbye, especially to Elliot, who has confided in us as we’ve accompanied him during a time of tremendous upheaval in his life. Rami Malek’s exceptional performance combined with consistently stellar direction, brilliant writing and ingenious storytelling has helped us feel everything he felt on every step of his journey.

Shows like Mr Robot are why I watch TV. Endlessly unpredictable, hugely empathetic, gleefully audacious, visually striking and cinematic, universally well-acted and profoundly moving. I can now recommend it to everyone without hesitation – and any rewatches will feel like an entirely new experience.

Watchmen – “She Was Killed By Space Junk”/”This Extraordinary Being”/”A God Walks Into A Bar”

Watchmen
Copyright: HBO

Something about Watchmen wasn’t grabbing me and I couldn’t figure out what.

Every aspect of it was done with an exceptional level of polish and skill, from the amazing direction to the pulsing music to the remarkable acting to the eye-popping style and colour to the careful construction of its weird alternate world that follows on 30 years from the end of the acclaimed graphic novel.

And yet, I wasn’t loving it. I watched the first two episodes with much admiration, a lot of curiosity and a whole lot more confusion but it wasn’t quite working even though it should be right up my street.

Thank goodness, then, for Jean Smart, As FBI agent Laurie Blake, she interrupts a police investigation of a murder believed to be committed by a group of white supremacists who have turned diaries left by pattern-masked anti-hero Rorschach into their Bible.

Before she arrives, retired police officer Angela Abar (Regina King) is struggling to come to terms with a sprawling mystery opened up by the victim’s death – and doling out plenty of close-quarters vigilante justice as her costumed alter-ego Sister Knight.

Everyone wears masks in Watchmen – even the police, because the Rorschach-masked racists targeted cops in a series of brutal killings, so officers’ identities are now top-secret. Racism is the hot-button issue causing much of the conflict in the series, in place of the Cold War concerns that its source material commented on, and it is explored with sensitivity and horror.

This makes the whole show sound very serious, which it sort of is, and po-faced, which it absolutely is not.

The creative team behind the show, including LOST‘s Damon Lindelof, gleefully introduces bizarre moments, out-there ideas and sudden tonal shifts into each episode as the writers tell a fairly simple story in a roundabout, meandering way which intrigues as much as it baffles. Interludes focusing on an eccentric, elderly English gentleman played by Jeremy Irons are weird and inexplicable even when compared with the rest of the show.

Initially, this quirkiness frustrated more than it entertained, but the third episode’s introduction of Laurie is when everything started to fit together.

Acting as a concrete link between the show and the graphic novel, offering a new perspective on what we’d been shown so far as well as providing a welcome way for the series to explain, at least partly, what the hell is going on, she anchored a cleverly-structured and hugely-enjoyable episode that led to an odd-couple team up between her and Angela.

From then on, I was all-in.

The way the season’s self-contained story plays out is akin to someone chucking all the pieces of a jigsaw on the floor at once before slowly assembling them in a scattershot fashion which prevents the entire picture from being made clear until the very end.

Along the way, there are fantastic flashback-heavy episodes which each focus on a different character and further our understanding of the Watchmen world in exciting and unexpected ways, with moments that make disparate elements of the plot click together neatly.

The paranoia and trauma that Looking Glass (Tim Blake-Nelson) keeps hidden with a mirror mask and laconic southern drawl is delved into while we get the first good glimpse of the villainous Seventh Cavalry’s plans, a dizzying black-and-white trip into the past showing the hidden history of an early vigilante is one of the most impressive hours of TV in the entire year, and Angela’s time in Vietnam yields plenty of revelations before becoming the focus of an episode that is strongly reminiscent of LOST‘s best.

So, despite a tepid reaction at the start, Watchmen won me over and I’m glad I stuck with it.

The OA – “SYZYGY”/”Mirror, Mirror”/”Overview”

the oa season 1
Copyright: Netflix

Similarly, the gap between my opinion of The OA after its first episode and its last is enormous, going from indifference to adoration.

This genre-hopping tale began with the return of missing blind woman Prairie Johnson (Brit Marling), who is now able to see perfectly and unwilling to talk about what happened to anyone – except for a group of students and a teacher from the nearby high school that she brings together, asking them to believe her no matter how odd her story may sound.

The time she spent missing in action, held captive with five other people under the menacing eye of (hello to) Jason Isaacs, was the focus for much of the first season, which floated along with the dreamy atmosphere of a vaguely-spiritual low-key indie movie spiked throughout with scenes of horror before culminating in a final scene which put the high school group’s belief in Prairie to the ultimate test and potentially pushed the viewer’s own suspension of disbelief to breaking point.

The meditative and quiet feel of the first season was abandoned almost entirely in the second for a refreshing change of pace, location and mood, a stronger sense of fun and playfulness, and even a different main character, with a plot that seemed more straight-forward at first but turned out to actually be quite the opposite.

The OA calmly and confidently built an intriguing premise while introducing strands of an obtuse but fascinating mythology which was developed in bewildering scenes of jaw-dropping weirdness that lingered long in the memory.

These eyebrow-raising moments were grounded with a cast of characters that could be hard to care about at first but soon became fully-rounded realistic human beings, and it was hard not to be invested in their plight as they went on intense metaphorical and literal journeys.

If this all sounds a bit vague, well, that’s because it’s best to know as little about the series as possible before pressing play.

This show was, like Mr Robot and Watchmen, the impressive result of a bold and singular vision being fully realised and brought to the screen. Plus, it was truly unlike anything else on television and unlikely to be repeated.

It’s really good, basically, but any recommendation must come with the unfortunate caveat that it has no ending or resolution, because Netflix cancelled The OA right after it concluded its second season with what must surely be the most audacious out-of-left-field premise-upending cliffhanger ever aired, only just past the halfway mark of Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij’s five-season plan.

Even though I can only imagine what might have been, I don’t regret watching it and would say that it’s worth a look if anything in the previous paragraphs piqued your curiosity.

Russian Doll – “Nothing In This World Is Easy”/”Ariadne”

russian doll
Copyright: Netflix.

This smart little series is like Groundhog Day for the 21st century, as Nadia (Natasha Lyonne) dies on the night of her 39th birthday party and suddenly, somehow, resets the clock, staring into the bathroom mirror earlier that night confused, wild-eyed and very much alive.

And so begins a dark comedy of errors following Nadia as she stumbles her way towards figuring out what’s happening to her, one death at a time. Whenever the loops begin to feel dull and overly-repetitive, the show breaks away into something different or introduces a new complication, so the series flies by.

Nadia herself is thoroughly entertaining, enlivened no end by Natasha Lyonne’s energetic performance, and watching her try to cope with the existential mind-fuck she’s unwillingly become part of is hilarious and endearing. The show thoroughly enjoys playing with the possibilities of its premise and with the viewer’s expectations.

Though most of the deaths are slapstick pratfalls played for laughs, the series gets unexpectedly grim and unnerving at times, and even rather touching.

The ending is conclusive enough for these eight episodes to work well as a self-contained miniseries but there are still plenty of questions about the strange, vaguely-metaphorical time-loop Nadia’s stuck in which could be explored in a second season.

Legion – “Chapter 23″/”Chapter 27”

legion 3a
Copyright: FX

Earlier this year, I pondered at length about whether Legion and, to a lesser extent, WestWorld could “recover from their sophomore slumps, fix their flaws, and soar to new heights in the future”.

It turned out that answer, for Legion at least, was a resounding ‘sort of’.

With an end in sight and fewer episodes to play around in, the psychedelic superhero series made an effort to cut down on the number of confounding tangents it went on and tried to tell an actual cohesive story.

Beginning with the introduction of time-travelling mutant Switch (Lauren Tsai) gave the series a new focus and an excellent way to re-join David Haller (Dan Stevens), now leading a cult after escaping Division 3 and doing his best to avoid being re-captured.

This was the only show on television where introducing time travel to the plot actually made everything less complicated. Switch provided a much-needed impartial viewpoint of a cast of characters that were all unreliable in their own ways and, as unlikely as it sounds, she stabilised a series that was going increasingly off-the-rails, and provided the basis for some of the season’s finest moments.

Her powers became a desperate last hope for David, who hoped to use her to go back and stop the mind of his younger self from becoming infected by The Shadow King. But, as any Doctor Who fan will tell you, trying to change history can have horrible consequences. In Legion, repeated journeys through time disturbed the slumber of blurry, nightmarish demons that feed on minutes and hours, as demonstrated in an amazing episode-long battle against the little blue blighters where reality begins to crumble and random moments are suddenly cut sh

The welcome and long-awaited additions of Stephanie Corneliussen and Harry Lloyd as David’s parents allowed the series to show the mega-powerful mutant’s origin story as well as that of his greatest enemy.

Meanwhile, Syd (Rachel Keller) worked with the charming but monstrous all-powerful mutant Amal Farouk (Navid Negahban) aboard a zeppelin piloted by a robotic clone of her dead friend and a group of moustachioed robots to track down her reality-bending lover after his misguided attempt to save her by messing with her mind backfired.

Standard stuff, really.

Legion’s characters-as-chess-pieces issue still reared its head on occasion, with some only being reintroduced just to advance the plot with little fanfare or depth before being literally shoved into a box or jettisoned before the final showdown.

Overall, though, these final eight episodes brought the series to a satisfying and suitably surreal close.

Best Miniseries of 2019

There was a brief and wonderful period in late spring of this year where four top-tier miniseries all aired around the same time.

Though none of these could be considered an easy watch by any stretch of the imagination, they each showed in different ways the benefits of giving visionary writers and directors a few hours each to explore tough and complex issues through very human and hard-hitting stories.

Then, towards the end of the year, an entertaining globe-spanning crime drama provided some much-needed light relief.

Chernobyl
Chernobyl. Copyright: Sky/HBO.

Chernobyl

This HBO-Sky co-production is a perfectly-realised and expertly-told dramatised account of the Chernobyl explosion, its aftermath and its causes (in that order) with stellar performances from the entire main cast – even the dad from Friday Night Dinner.

Chernobyl shows us authoritative figures so infuriatingly stubborn that they will not listen to reason or evidence of disaster even when it is staring them in the face. It then explores the horrific cost that this dangerous combination of ineptitude and ignorance can have on innocent people who have been kept in the dark about the danger they’re in or threatened if they dare to even think about disobeying orders.

After a forensic minute-by-minute big-budget recreation of the explosion itself, the show follows nuclear scientist Valery Legasov (Jared Harris) who has been brought in by the Soviet higher-ups to offer advice about the clean-up operation even though they fully intend to disregard everything he says.

Luckily, Boris Shcherbina (Stellan Skarsgard) is slowly convinced by Legasov’s panicked protests about the severity of the incident and convinces his bosses to reluctantly listen to the expert.

Meanwhile, Lyudmilla Ignatenko (Jessie Buckley) fears for the safety of her firefighter husband who was right at the forefront of the radioactive inferno and is now deteriorating rapidly in intensive care.

The show’s creators prided themselves on factual accuracy, using well-researched books and records of first-hand accounts along with new information that has only recently come to light. Sticklers for detail would enjoy the accompanying podcast where they explain which moments are fact, when they decided to use dramatic licence (and why), and which bits were slightly toned down because the full truth would have been less believable.

There is a grim glamour to many cinematic scenes, like the ash falling over residents watching the aflame plant from what is now known as the Bridge of Death, the gas-masked clean-up crew hosing down the evacuated city streets, and the helicopters flying dangerously near to the gaping abyss where the reactor used to be.

It is fascinating, compelling, deeply moving television that brings the full horror of the unprecedented nuclear catastrophe to life and vividly illustrates the old saying ‘Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it’. It is a timely warning for viewers to beware attempts by people in power to cover up or deny man-made environmental disasters.

When They See Us 1
When They See Us. Copyright: Netflix.

When They See Us

Another true-life tale told with immense empathy and skill, When They See Us follows five innocent boys who each spend several years in prison after being coerced into confessing to horrific crimes that they did not commit.

A jogger is raped and beaten in Central Park on the same night that Kevin Richardson (Asante Blackk), Antron McCray (Caleel Harris), Yusef Salaam (Ethan Herisse), Raymond Santana (Marquis Rodriguez) and Korey Wise (Jharrel Jerome) are running through a different part of the park with other kids causing minor mayhem.

The NYPD arrest them and spend days trying their hardest to mentally break down these children who just want to go home in scenes that are blood-boiling and gruelling to watch.

The young actors do an astonishingly-good job at expressing the confusion and desperation that their real-life counterparts felt in the police station and in the trial that followed, then the actors playing their adult selves (Justin Cunningham, Jovan Adepo, Chris Chalk, Ato Blankson-Wood) do equally-fine work showing how they struggled to adapt to life on the outside after being locked up for so long.

Again, we see authority figures ignoring reality to suit their own awful agendas and the traumatic consequences this has on innocent lives. Writer/director Ava DuVernay shines a spotlight on an enormous racially-motivated miscarriage of justice that is symptomatic of a much wider problem and tells the story of the so-called Central Park Five with care, sensitivity and fury.

It is an incredible and important achievement that deservedly became a big hit for Netflix and, judging by the online reactions, shocked, outraged and upset everyone who watched it.

When They See Us packed its biggest punch in the last of its four episodes, which focuses on poor Korey Wise, who ended up suffering the most due to wrongly being tried as an adult. Jharrel Jerome, the only actor to play the child and grown-up version of his role, is – well, every word I can think of putting here would sound like hyperbole but isn’t.

Korey’s horrendous journey – bouncing from prison to prison, recovering from unprovoked attacks and spending months in solitary confinement where all he can do is relive the moments that brought him there and daydream about the people he loves – is gut-wrenchingly powerful and vivid. Jharrel is the main reason why this hour-and-a-half set a new personal record for ‘most frequently moved to tears by an episode of TV’.

The When They See Us Now special of Oprah Winfrey interviewing the cast and the actual people who experienced this nightmare acts as a fitting coda. It gives a glimpse of the process that brought this story to the screen and, most importantly, shows the lasting impact it has had on the men who are doing what they can to find happiness after having their youth and innocence stolen from them.

the virtues
The Virtues. Copyright: Channel 4

The Virtues

“Fucking hell” – a phrase uttered many times while watching The Virtues in varying tones of shock, disgust, horror and awe.

Here’s why.

Joe (Stephen Graham) is struggling to cope after his ex and her new partner decide to move to Australia with his son, so he heads home to Ireland to reunite with his sister Anna (Helen Behan), meet his sister-in-law Dinah (Niamh Alger) and face the source of some traumatic memories which are flickering into his head more and more often, while Dinah struggles with issues of her own.

These jumbled fragments of Joe’s past, shown in grainy camcorder home video-style footage, relate to his time in the care system before he ran away to Liverpool, and are similar to writer-director Shane Meadows’ own traumas which he himself has spent years uncovering. Here, he pours that intense pain into his work, creating a masterpiece that slowly builds to a final act which causes a visceral reaction.

Heart rates will rise, stomachs will be full of butterflies, mouths will hang agape and breathing will be completely forgotten – based on my own experience, anyway. This comes at the end of a series of lengthy and moving scenes of Joe talking to his son before he leaves, of Joe on a self-destructive night out, of Joe and Anna catching up after so much time apart, of… well, you get the idea.

However, it is not a humourless four-hour dirge – there are a few pockets of warmth to balance the unpleasantness, mainly from Anna’s barbed insults and her family’s gentle home life which plays out on-screen in a way that seems relatably genuine.

In fact, it all feels very real. The high calibre of acting, script, improvisation and direction mix together to make this feel more like peeking into a window than like watching TV, so absorbing and convincing and lacking any feeling of artifice that the arrival of an ad break felt like being slapped awake mid-dream.

Special mention must go to Stephen Graham, who puts himself through the wringer to give a raw performance that goes to such emotional extremes that it’s difficult to imagine it as acting at all, and to Niamh Alger, who doesn’t appear until the miniseries’ halfway point but quickly becomes just as heart-rendingly vital to the drama as Joe.

The Virtues may well be the best British drama of the year.

Years and Years
Years and Years. Copyright: BBC.

Years and Years

It says a lot about 2019’s TV offerings that a drama which focuses on a family in the near future coping with all manner of far-reaching political, environmental and sociological catastrophes is one of the more light-hearted entries on this list.

In clumsier hands, Years and Years could have ended up feeling merely like a box-ticking exercise of every big issue we currently face – global warming! Donald Trump! The banks! Refugees! China! Populist right- wing politicians gaining power! Robots replacing human jobs! Et cetera!

However, Russell T Davies is instead more concerned with the mundane and everyday but no-less-important issues facing the Lyons clan – marriage, parenting, jobseeking, birthdays, new year celebrations – than the international crises which are pushed into the background until they directly affect this tight-knit family.

Such a small-scale focus keeps things grounded while the world of the show becomes increasingly futuristic and chaotic, and it allows the drama to play with sci-fi concepts without turning into an absurdist dystopia. Indeed, the most worrying thing about Years and Years is that the dystopia it depicts feels all-too-probable.

The sprawling storyline starts with Rosie Lyons (Ruth Madeley) giving birth to the newest member of the Lyons family around the same time as the first public appearance of politician Vivienne Rook (Emma Thompson), whose populist I’m-just-like-you attitude prompts a surge of support from people including Rosie that could see her become the next Prime Minister – but her motivations may be more sinister than they first appear.

Meanwhile, Danny (Russell Tovey) finds a soulmate during a time of great upheaval, Edith (Jessica Hynes) refuses to slow down her activism efforts after ending up on the front line of a disaster, Celeste (T’Nia Miller) and Stephen (Rory Kinnear) are caught off-guard by their teenage daughter’s announcement about her true self, and grandmother Muriel (Anne Reid) just wants everyone to get along and visit her occasionally.

There is a slightly cheesy but giddily-enjoyable moment every episode where a character turns to stare into the middle distance and say something like “Ooh, bloomin’ ‘eck, if it’s like this now, what’s it gonna be like next year? Can you imagine???” and the camera slowly zooms in and the Murray Gold score that makes his work on Doctor Who seem subdued by comparison builds and builds and builds and off we go, flying through a montage of news footage and snippets of family life that covers 12 months in two minutes.

The same score plays over such dramatic episode-ending moments like the threat of nuclear armageddon, panic in the streets over the onset of another global financial crisis, and, er, Rory Kinnear angrily driving over a bike. It works better on the screen than in writing, honest.

Giri Haji
Giri/Haji. Copyright: BBC.

Giri/Haji (Duty/Shame)

If all of the above sounds a bit bleak and hard-going, there are eight hours of pure entertainment waiting on iPlayer for all to see.

The BBC’s drama department was on a roll this year, with a string of compelling one-offs like The Victim and The Capture, but Giri/Haji may have been the best of the bunch – it was certainly the most enjoyable.

This smartly-written crime drama follows Kenzo Mori (Takehiro Hira) as he leaves his Tokyo family for an undercover mission in London, where he must stop a gang war kicking off back home by tracking down his brother Yuto (Yôsuke Kubozuka). The long-lost sibling was missing and presumed dead until a Yakuza gangster’s nephew was found with a samurai sword through his stomach and Yuto suddenly became the main suspect.

Kenzo’s investigation into the British capital’s criminal underworld collides with the lives of Sarah (the reliably-excellent Kelly McDonald) and Rodney (scene-stealer Will Sharpe) who are dealing with their own personal troubles which add plenty of unpredictability into the mix.

It’s surprising, daring, fast-paced and, most of all, a hell of a lot of fun to watch, switching between moods and genres with impressive ease and always eager to add stylistic flourishes to its storytelling that delight and never feel pretentious.

Underneath all the bursts of violence, flurry of sarcastic quips and offbeat moments of extravagance lies a big, beating heart. The writers’ subtle sentimentality and empathy for their characters prompts more than a few gentle tugs at the heartstrings by the end of the series. This motley crew could have easily turned into exaggerated caricatures but instead they feel like real people that are worth caring about and are missed after the credits roll for the last time.

Well, most of them feel like real people. The Cockney gangster boss (Charlie Creed-Miles) is just a shouty, sweary, scenery-chewing ham who acts like he’s still in Peaky Blinders – and we should all be very thankful for that.

Legion, WestWorld, and the curse of the sophomore slump

Copyright: FX

After their first seasons premiered to rave reviews, two of my favourite TV shows of the decade received a far more muted and mixed reception when they returned last year.

New episodes of Westworld and Legion contained all of their best qualities but also intensified the flaws which had been easier to forgive back when the series were new and exciting.

This led many viewers and reviewers, including myself, to consider abandoning them, and even briefly ponder whether either had ever been top-quality TV or if their complex narratives and pretty visuals had been masking a lack of substance and depth all along.

The following ramble is an attempt to examine where both went wrong and whether it’s worth giving them the benefit of the doubt when they come back.

WestWorld is a ludicrously-expensive sci-fi Western about the robotic hosts of a futuristic theme park becoming sentient and rebelling against their human masters, and Legion is an introspective and psychedelic superhero drama about a mega-powerful mutant’s attempts to control his abilities and his sanity while attempting to save the world.

They both expanded in scope and ambition last year, with WestWorld branching out of its wild west theme park to show the full impact of the AI rebellion while Legion changed its central question from ‘Has David gone mad?’ to ‘Has the whole world gone mad?’

Both seemed so buoyed by the praise and success showered upon their first batches of episodes that they went from confident to cocky, and this arrogance was their downfall.

WestWorld used a clever bit of narrative trickery in its first season that made the episodes slightly hard to follow but ingeniously disguised a major twist. It then made the ill-advised decision to replace this storytelling device in season two with a different one that made the episodes just as hard to follow but served no purpose other than to wrong-foot anyone trying to come up with theories about how the plot would play out.

Tellingly, two of the best new episodes were ones that told a single, self-contained story – one about the founder of the company that created the park and the other about a Native American host discovering that the life he’s lived has been a manufactured lie.

Meanwhile, the first episode of Legion is one of the most head-spinningly disorienting viewing experiences ever broadcast and after watching it, anyone would be forgiven for thinking that making sense of the show would be a fool’s errand and that the series could never cohere into something understandable.

And yet, during the seven episodes that follow, things do begin to make sense, there are plenty of eureka moments and, as the season concludes the viewer feels, just like the show’s protagonist, that they finally have a clear sense of what’s what, to the point where the entire season could be easily summarised in a couple of succinct sentences.

It feels like being pushed into the deep end of a swimming pool before being pulled slowly back up to the surface…. but then, just as you’re getting your bearings on dry land, season two comes along, ties rocks to your feet and shoves you back in.

Introducing a time-skip, a warning from the future that may not even be reliable, a new setting, a new framing device, and new characters who often seem to be weird-for-the-sake-of-weird all at once adds a lot of hazardous new balls for the writers to juggle, and, while it’s certainly impressive that the show managed to recapture that initial feeling of dizzying uncertainty, it was far less successful at tying everything together in a satisfying way the second time around.

In fact, it does the opposite, frequently bumbling along on bizarre tangents and adamantly refusing to progress the plot and explain itself in simple terms.

Near the end of the first season, a sensible and clear-headed character gives a straightforward summary of what exactly has happened to David, which felt like giving a flask of cool, clean water to a man dying of thirst. Something similar happens near the end of season two, though this explanation is far less helpful because it’s being provided by a character who is bonkers and unreliable, so this time it feels like a man dying of thirst gratefully drinking from a flask that’s actually full of gravel.

When watching something which so clearly prides itself on confounding the audience, there is a very fine line between exhilaration and exasperation – Legion and WestWorld crossed that line repeatedly during their sophomore efforts.

However, despite all this, there were plenty of moments which showed off all the reasons why these shows gained such enormous critical acclaim in the first place.

WestWorld fulfilled every promise set up by its brilliant first season finale – namely, more theme parks, a look at the outside world, and a step-by-step guide to how the robots fight back against their creators – while revealing intriguing new details about the park’s past and again concluding with a finale that brought the show’s storyline to an exciting close-of-chapter and opened up many exciting possibilities for the show’s future.

Two of Legion‘s best episodes ignored its obtuse plot entirely to explore its two central characters in a way that was insightful, moving, and executed with the surreal visual flair and unusual storytelling that makes the show stand out from anything else on TV, and its final episode included a showdown for the ages with an ending that flips the entire series on its head.

Its aforementioned framing device – a series of short, offbeat lectures examining the concept of delusions, how they are formed, how they spread, and how difficult they are to counter – illustrated the season’s themes well, examined the psychology of the show’s characters intensely, and even performed a subtle psychological experiment on the viewer themselves which made these sequences linger in the memory long after the episodes ended.

Speaking of themes, WestWorld’s pseudo-philosophical monologues on humanity and the nature of the soul were back with a vengeance, but when Sir Anthony Hopkins isn’t around to deliver them with just the right amount of gravitas and menace, they sound a bit daft and, dare I say, pretentious.

Some of the surprises in WestWorld began to ring hollow – one ‘this human character is actually – *gasp* – a host?!!!1′ twist was unpredictable, exceptionally well-done and opened up many exciting possibilities for the show’s story, while another reveal of that same twist with another character in the very same episode was equally unexpected but seemed entirely random and perfunctory, making no discernible difference to… well, anything.

Both series struggle with two-dimensional characters. In WestWorld, Dolores became much less interesting when she went on the warpath, and Maeve’s single-minded goal to find her daughter alternated between thrilling and boring.

In Legion, every character other than David or Syd feels more like a chess piece than a person, only used to advance the plot and then quickly forgotten about until they’re needed again, which makes it difficult to care about them. Big life-changing things happen to Cary/Kerry, Ptonomy and Melanie which are then either ignored or hastily-resolved, and the show’s ADHD tendency to wander off to something else when it becomes bored of an idea makes it unclear if these things will ever be revisited.

Re-watching a TV show can be fun to relive its best moments and notice details that were missed the first time round but it shouldn’t be mandatory, and it is arguably insulting and unfair to ask the viewer to invest another 10 to 11 hours of their time just to figure out what the hell is going on.

As you can probably tell, it’s the flaws which really stick out when I’m reminiscing about these shows, which is a real shame because their numerous good points shouldn’t be overlooked or dismissed.

This experience is not new to me. Mr Robot, another of my newest favourite shows, dialled up the confusion and frustration throughout its second season before concluding on a note that left many things unanswered, but then came back with a stunning third season that built on everything that had come before, provided sorely-needed answers and clarity, and recaptured the thrills of its first episodes while bettering them in astonishing and unexpected ways.

So, there is hope – a naive, perhaps overly-optimistic hope – that WestWorld and Legion will follow in Mr Robot‘s footsteps, recover from their sophomore slumps, fix their flaws, and soar to new heights in the future.

Fingers crossed…

Best episodes: WestWorld – “The Riddle of the Sphinx”/”Les Écorchés“/”The Passenger”, Legion – “Chapter 12″/”Chapter 15″/”Chapter 19”

(Note: This post was originally written in late 2018 but left to lounge in the drafts folder unfinished. As Legion‘s third and final season is about to air in the UK, now seemed like a good time to tidy this up a bit and release it into the world. The third season is getting good reviews so Past Me’s ‘naive, perhaps overly-optimistic hope’ may well be coming true.)

Thoughts on the 2019 Oscars’ Best Picture nominees

This year’s bunch of Best Picture nominees has been criticised for being rather lacklustre, with some suspecting that leftovers from the newly-announced-and-hastily-scrapped Best Popular Movie category were shoehorned in instead of more-deserving entries. After accidentally missing one of last year’s films and, despite my best efforts to complete the set, repeating the feat again this year (Vice disappeared from all nearby cinemas shortly after it arrived), here are some thoughts on each of the other 2019 nominees, plus a few suggestions for what could have been nominated as well as – or even instead of – them.

Black Panther
Copyright: Marvel Studios

Black Panther: This list is certainly not without surprises or controversial choices, but the biggest is that a superhero film could win Best Picture.

There is a strong case to be made in its favour. It deals with heavier themes than the usual blockbuster beat-’em-up, it is blessed with a memorable score from Ludwig Gorranson, impressive direction from Ryan Coogler and great performances from its cast – particularly Michael B. Jordan, who plays a conflicted villain with depth and scene-stealing swagger. Plus, in terms of cultural significance, it was one of the most talked-about films of last year and it made more than a billion dollars with an almost-entirely-black cast.

Seeing it on the Best Picture list provokes a feeling of disbelief but it’s an undeniable achievement, even though The Dark Knight or Logan probably should have gotten it first.

bohemian rhapsody
Copyright: Fox.

Bohemian Rhapsody: Is a stellar performance and a well-directed concert climax enough to deserve a nomination? Not really, no.

Rami Malek gives everything he’s got in an admirable and pretty-damn-good attempt to replicate the charisma and star power of Freddie Mercury, carrying the rest of the film towards its show-stopping ending which is choreographed with undeniable attention to detail which makes the experience immersive and truly joyous.

However, everything leading up to that Live Aid recreation rarely rises above the level of enjoyable fluff which quickly fades from memory, and although it’s fun to see the creation of Queen’s biggest hits, and the band’s argument with their manager about the titular song is a great scene, overall it ends up feeling like a cross between a jukebox and a filmed Wikipedia page.

It’s enjoyable entertainment but it’s not one of the best films of the year.

A Star Is Born
Copyright: Warner Brothers

A Star Is Born: Ah, now this is how to do an excellent musical. Instead of just one good performance and one good set-piece, A Star Is Born is impressive all the way through – especially so during its flawless first hour – and features several standout performances.

How the hell did Bradley Cooper managed to direct a film so well on his first attempt while also singing in a completely different voice, performing songs like a convincing rock star and giving an astonishing performance as Jack? It honestly boggles the mind and probably makes other actors seethe with jealousy.

Pop superstar Lady Gaga successfully manages to play someone who’s never stepped foot on a stage and has lightning-in-a-bottle chemistry with Cooper which makes their relationship entirely believable, putting the audience through the wringer as their honeymoon period turns sour and leads to embarrassment, arguments and tragedy.

Of course, a musical is nothing without its songs, and from the first hype-building guitar chords of Alibi to the gut-punch power ballad I Will Never Love Again via the juggernaut that is Shallow, this film has plenty of original earworms and tearjerkers.

blackkklansman
Copyright: Focus Features

BlacKkKlansman:  The unlikely story of a black man infiltrating the KKK one sounds like perfect material for a film. There’s plenty of laughs to be mined from the situation but  underneath it all is a sobering, angry and timely examination of racism in America.

Ron Stallworth (John David Washington) comes up with the idea to join the KKK as an undercover cop, communicating with Klan members including its chief David Duke (Topher Grace) over the phone and sending his white colleague Flip Zimmerman (Adam Driver) to face-to-face meetings.

Spike Lee manages a difficult tonal balancing act and his cast are adept at switching between the humour and the horror of the situation. One memorable example of the latter comes when Flip joins a KKK screening of the racist propaganda piece Birth of a Nation while Ron visits a meeting of black activists and hears the story of a mentally-handicapped black kid being attacked by a crowd after being wrongly-convicted of rape. Earlier on, the bemused reactions of Ron’s colleagues when he calls the Klan for the first time to begin his infiltration are hilarious, but every scene with Flip trying not to blow his cover while in the midst of Klan members is extremely tense and discomforting.

Parts of the story have been fabricated, but unlike the fabrications in the true stories of fellow nominees Green Book and Bohemian Rhapsody these changes aren’t detrimental to the film, and during its final moments it forgoes fiction entirely to show recent real-life consequences of the violent, hateful bigotry the Klan thrives on and spreads.

This emphatic full-stop left the cinema audience in an uneasy silence as the credits rolled.

the favourite
Copyright: Fox Searchlight

The Favourite: A tragicomic period drama with caustic c*nt-strewn one-liners and a bitter lesbian love triangle at its heart makes this a fairly unlikely Best Picture contender, though perhaps no more unlikely than the 1950s sci-fi aqua-bestiality romance that won Best Picture last year.

National treasure Olivia Colman has the time of her life playing the wild mood swings of Queen Anne, Emma Stone has just as much fun speaking in a surprisingly-good English accent and turning her innate likeability into something more sinister, while Rachel Weisz takes great glee in delivering dialogue with such razor-sharp spite it’s a wonder the other actors don’t walk away bleeding.

The film has an unusual and uneasy atmosphere which takes some getting used to, but it’s laugh-out-loud funny and even has an unexpected poignancy behind all the in-fighting.

It won’t win, but the fact that it’s even on this list is a minor miracle.

Green Book
Copyright: Universal

Green Book: This was a big crowd-pleaser at my screening and it’s easy to see why. Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali are a very likeable duo and spending two hours in their company is good fun as they bicker and banter their way through the Deep South on a concert tour.

Mahershala plays Dr Don Shirley, a classical musician touring the Deep South who is complex and conflicted and changes noticeably during the course of his journey across America. Viggo plays Tony Lip, an Italian-American bouncer based on a real person who apparently walked and talked exactly like a stereotype and managed the remarkable feat of going on a supposedly-life-changing trip and returning home as damn-near exactly the same person he was when he left.

The exploration of racism and other social issues of the time rarely gets deeper than surface-level – though expecting a light-hearted buddy movie to be like BlacKkKlansman may be slightly unfair – and the intense disgust Tony displays towards black people at the start of the film all-but-disappears the moment he meets Dr Don, immediately removing most of the conflict and the whole point of the film.

But like I said, it’s a big broad crowd-pleaser, the sort that would fit comfortably on a Sunday afternoon TV schedule, bolstered by two central performances which make it easy to ignore its shortcomings.

I’m not surprised it’s nominated but I’d be annoyed if it wins.

Roma
Copyright: Netflix

Roma: Could the Academy overlook the fact that this is -*gasp* – a Netflix film and give it the highest honour in the movie business?

Fingers crossed.

Director Alfonso Cuaron applies the cutting-edge visual effects and aural wizardry he mastered in Gravity to an intensely-personal family drama based loosely on his upbringing, and the results are astonishing.

In his previous film, such tools were used to make jaws drop and eyes boggle but here they do the opposite, immersing the viewer so thoroughly in the recreation of 1970s Mexico he’s created that the CGI is unnoticeable, and the sound-work only draws attention to itself during those double-take moments of realisation that noises of a plane flying low overhead and people chatting right behind you are from the film and not from the screening room.

Over a series of day-in-the-life vignettes, Mexican maid Cleo (teacher-turned-actor Yalitza Aparicio in what is, incredibly, her first-ever role) attends to the needs of a middle-class family as their life and hers undergo seismic changes.

Truth be told, the film’s languid pace would have tempted me to check my phone if I’d watched it at home on Netflix – curse my ever-shortening attention span – but seeing it on the big screen in the dark forced me to acclimatise, to just sit there, stay still and let it wash over me. It’s easy to be lulled into the gentle rhythms of a pleasant, charming, and fairly easygoing drama, stunned by the simple beauty of its camerawork and grow fond of the family it depicts.

Then, suddenly, cracks appear in the family’s foundations, minor issues snowball into full-blown crises and a societal unrest which had been rumbling in the background dramatically interrupts Cleo’s life – and the film soars into the sublime.

After being initially impressed by it but otherwise slightly unsure what all the fuss was about,  Roma completely overwhelmed me as it threw one obstacle after the other at its characters and captured their reactions to these tragedies in lengthy sequences so believably-performed that it felt almost intrusive to watch these vulnerable moments up-close.

The film has the same feeling of a documentary – albeit one with impossibly-high production values and a world-class writer-director at its helm – impassively observing moments of relatable mundanity and extraordinary power in equal measure.

Some have dismissed it as arty-farty and pretentious because it’s subtitled, slow, and in black-and-white, but it isn’t, it’s full of heart and passion, with an enormous amount of evident care, affection and attention to detail bringing every single scene to life.

This is my pick for Best Picture winner. (A Star Is Born is a close second.)

BONUS ROUND – And the nominees aren’t…:

It seems odd that the follow-ups to to La La Land and Moonlight are absent from this list. Perhaps the Academy decided to take needlessly-extreme precautionary measures to prevent what happened last time a Barry Jenkins film and a Damien Chazelle film were nominated for Best Picture ever happening again, or perhaps not.

Either way, it’s a shame. Poor, ignored First Man, shut out from all but a few technical awards, not even getting an expected Supporting Actress nom for Claire Foy (her slot in this category seems to have gone to Marina de Tavira from Roma instead and it would be difficult to argue against that decision). A touching portrayal of grief and stoicism disguised as a thrilling space adventure failed to put many bums in seats, but its balance of quiet family moments and dizzying IMAX-worthy spectacle was extremely well-done and deserving of more acclaim.

Meanwhile, it’s wonderful that If Beale Street Could Talk bagged nominations for cinematography and soundtrack (both are also areas where First Man deserved recognition, but I digress). After seeing the film, I was stunned that neither of the central couple had been recognised – Regina King is excellent as Tish’s mum but the entire film rests on the swoon-worthy and movingly-tragic relationship between Tish (Kiki Adams) and Fonnie (Stephen James). The film overall isn’t quite as good as Moonlight for a myriad of minor reasons – a fiery inter-family dynamic full of potential for further drama is introduced early on but never revisited, Tish is surprisingly passive after Fonny is jailed, the character-staring-into-the-camera trick is reused far too often – but it’s still better than half of the stuff on the actual Best Picture list.

It’s tremendously difficult to create performances as quiet, nuanced and believable as the ones given by Ben Foster and Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie in Leave No Trace but such feats are often unfairly overlooked for louder, more attention-grabbing fare. The pair play a father and daughter, Will and Tom, who live off-grid in a Portland forest but their bond is tested once the authorities intervene and take them into social services, leading to Will’s mental health issues intensifying and Tom wondering whether a life of solitude is what she really wants. Every year, there’s at least one film which critics and other movie buffs repeatedly hail as an unseen and woefully-underappreciated modern classic, and this year’s was Leave No Trace. On this occasion, they were right.

Best Books I Read in 2018

This is a shorter-than-usual look back at my most memorable reads of the year, mainly because this time, there were only a few books that were so good that they motivated me to put fingers to keyboard and rattle off a few hundred words about the immense enjoyment gained by reading them.

That’s not to say that the other books were bad – some were alright, some were good and some were great – but even the best of this bunch ended up relegated to the Honourable Mentions.

Exit West – Mohsin Hamid

EXIT WEST.jpg

Four months into the year, I was happy with what I’d read so far but at the same time was yearning to find something truly exceptional, something that would knock my literary socks off and linger in my memory for months afterwards.

Then, completely ignoring the old saying ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’, I picked up Exit West from a Waterstones display table and impulse-bought it, with no regrets.

Hamid writes in such a smooth and simple style that beginning a sentence feels like being swept along in a strong current and 70 pages pass in the blink of an eye.

This short novel was consumed in three long gulps and there was a long break between the second and third ones because, in less than 200 pages, I’d become so attached to Saaed and Nadia and concerned for their safety and happiness that I was afraid to continue.

As I flicked my fingers over the thin wedge of paper that remained between me and the last lines, I found myself taking a deep breath, not quite ready yet to dive back in and face whatever Hamid had in store for the couple.

Their journey is the heart of the book.

We follow them from the minute they first meet, just before the occasional military skirmishes in their unnamed Middle-Eastern city escalate into full-blown civil war and their lives are changed forever.

Around the same time, strange doorways appear all over the city, mysterious portals offering a tempting escape to an unknown elsewhere.

These doors are a clever device that allows Hamid to streamline their journey, as he’s less concerned with how they get from A to B and more focused on how living in an unfamiliar land affects them, their relationship, and the attitudes of that country’s native population.

Throughout their tale, he offers a timely exploration of how the world could deal with the increasingly-high number of refugees that seek sanctuary abroad and of the uneasy relationship between them and local residents who see their arrival as an unwelcome intrusion.

He has an exceptional way with words, sketching out the lives and histories of his protagonists, and of other migrants who tempt fate by travelling through the dark doorways, in just a paragraph or two through prose that is clear, compelling, and often full of warmth and melancholy.

When I did, at last, dive back in and allowed myself to be swept through the concluding chapters, I found an ending that was sweet, sad, hopeful, and poignant.

This Is Going To Hurt – Adam Kay

this is going to hurt

This collection of diaries, which were written while the author worked as a junior doctor, describe in vivid detail the realities of being part of an increasingly mismanaged and under-funded National Health Service.

Adam’s sarcastic and morbid sense of humour chimed perfectly with my own and lead to a lot of laughs, but this humour does not hide how harrowing and exhausting the day-to-day life of a doctor can be; the toll his job takes on his friendships, relationships, and his mental and physical well-being is made abundantly clear.

Frustration and anger bubbles under the surface of several entries – frustration at needless bureaucratic changes that cut costs and make worker’s lives harder, and anger at the health secretary’s clear lack of empathy or understanding for those working in the medical profession.

You would have to have a heart of stone not to sympathise with him or share his concerns by the end of the book, when the reason why Adam hung up his stethoscope for good is revealed.

It moves from hilarity to tragedy to horror and back again at lightning speed but the tone never feels too jarring or inconsistent.

As an unexpected extra, it also taught me at least a dozen different ways that pregnancies can go horribly wrong, in graphic detail, so that’s… something.

 

Cannery Row – John Steinbeck

cannery row

This novella follows the lives of a motley crew of characters surviving the Great Depression of the 1930s in a small working-class Californian town.

The same compassion, eye for detail, and knack for creating realistic and flawed characters which made Of Mice and Men the best book that English teachers made us read in high school can be found here in abundance.

Full of affection, warmth and wit, the threadbare story of homeless man Mack and his friends trying to throw a party to thank their kind-hearted marine biologist friend Doc unfolds like a series of interlinking anecdotes that play out over the course of a few weeks.

In that time, Steinbeck makes the titular town come alive by filling his pages with vivid sensory detail,  believable and fully-realised characters, and a keen understanding of how unemployment and poverty can affect a tight-knit community.

The blurb for this edition of the book wisely uses the novel’s very first paragraph to convince would-be readers to give it a go, and it’s difficult to think of a better way to do the same here, so… enjoy:

“Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, a stink, a grating noise, a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream. Cannery Row is the gathered and scattered, tin and iron and rust and splintered wood, chipped pavement and weedy lots and junk heaps, sardine canneries of corrugated iron, honky tonks, restaurants and whore houses, and little crowded groceries, and laboratories and flophouses. Its inhabitants are, as the man once said, ‘whores, pimps, gamblers, and sons of bitches,’ by which he meant Everybody. Had the man looked through another peephole he might have said, ‘Saints and angels and martyrs and holy men,’ and he would have meant the same thing.”

 

If Only They Didn’t Speak English – Jon Sopel

if only they didn't speak english

At the end of another year of political insanity that overturned every notion of what was thought to be acceptable behaviour in both the American and British governments, it was nice to have this book on hand to dip into whenever it all got a bit overwhelming.

The BBC’s North America editor Jon Sopel, who at times reports the news from the other side of the pond with an ever-so-slightly raised eyebrow and noticeable smirk which suggest that even he can’t believe the absurdity of what’s going on over there, has written a useful guide which explains the various conditions in America which led to Donald Trump winning the 2016 Presidential election.

The buffoonish businessman’s triumph left many people completely gobsmacked, but Mr Sopel argues, with a calm common-sense approach that feels sorely-needed at such a chaotic time, that we could have easily seen it coming if we’d stopped thinking of America as being at all similar to the UK.

If they didn’t speak English over there, he suggests, we would treat it as an entirely foreign land, and in doing so we would better understand its many problems and complexities.

Through a mixture of short history lessons, the occasional flash of dry wit, and interesting anecdotes from his privileged press position that allows him entry into every presidential conference and onto Air Force One, he gives an in-depth overview of America’s issues with guns, God and government, plus the causes of the anger and anxiety which surged in parts of the country, and the new president’s worrying penchant for bending or entirely ignoring the truth.

Concepts which had been vaguely familiar to me became easily-understandable, law cases and wars which I’d seen referenced innumerable times but never fully researched were simply-summarised and their effects described in a way that was easy to follow but not intelligence-insulting, and many alarming but enlightening facts and figures were revealed and filed away into my memory vaults for later use.

Though the book describes massive, deep-seated issues which are hugely concerning and extremely difficult to fix, I felt oddly reassured by the end of it, because it succeeded at doing exactly what it set out to do – give the reader a better understanding of America’s issues and how on Earth a man like Trump became the most powerful person on the planet.

Reading this book was part of my new effort to consume more non-fiction, which began when I noticed a few embarrassing blind-spots in my cultural and historical knowledge that I’m now very keen to cover up. Now that I ‘get’, to some extent, what’s going on in America, I need to fully comprehend what’s going on closer to home, so perhaps it’s time to finally tackle the enormous, daunting paperbacks of Tim Shipman’s Brexit-tastic All Out War and Fall Out that have been gathering dust on my bookshelves…

Honourable Mentions: Train Dreams – Denis Johnson, Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine – Gail Honeyman, Kings of the Wyld – Nicholas Eames, Reaper Man – Terry Pratchett, All That Man Is – David Szalay, Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki and his Years of Pilgrimage – Haruki Murakami,