Top 10 Films of 2009

1) The White Ribbon
In a world of droll melodrama and spectacular CGI, Michael Haneke avoids all short cuts while creating this engaging, beautiful film. Shot in monochrome, and set in a remote, feudal German village in 1914; the story follows a quiet teacher as he investigates a series of mysterious, brutal acts perpetrated upon the townspeople. The winner of this year’s Palme D’Or, The White Ribbon will surely go down as one of the most important films of the decade.

2) A Single Man
Colin Firth is extraordinary as George, a University professor whose gay lover has been killed in a car crash. Prevented from attending the funeral, George decides to take his own life; but a series of interactions with students, strangers, and best friends makes him think twice. Tom Ford’s debut feature is a melancholy but undeniably stunning and lavish affair.

3) Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans
Werner Herzog – the man who dragged a ship over a mountain – has transformed Abel Ferrera’s schlock classic into a characteristically odd, but utterly wonderful, masterpiece. Nicholas Cage is back on form as the ‘bad cop’ who is too busy running from gangsters, hiding his drug addiction and protecting his prostitute girlfriend to deal with the mounting homicides in his city.

4) A Serious Man
After an epic cinematic masterpiece (No Country For Old Men) and a frenetic screwball comedy (Burn After Reading) everybody was assuming the Coen’s third film in as many years would be a lifeless and tired affair… but it might be the best of the three! Exploring the tribulations of a quiet, middle American Jewish man, this is certainly their most personal film in recent years; but the maturity of the characterisation and comic timing make this one of the finest films in their entire catalogue.

5) Frozen River
Courtney Hunt’s debut is a raw and thrilling film that fell victim to Slumdog Millionaire’s inexplicable whitewash at this year’s Oscars. When her husband runs away with all the family money, Ray Eddy realises that she can no longer afford the new trailer home that her two boys have been dreaming about. Her primal desperation drives Ray to extreme criminal measures in order to care for her children. The appearance, pace, and tone of this film make it one of the finest debut features of recent years.

6) Where The Wild Things Are
Five years in the making, Spike Jonze’s take on Maurice Sendak’s famous children’s story has finally been released. The film is intimate, sumptuous, and laugh-out-loud funny. James Gandolfini and Lauren Ambrose shine as two sulking Wild Things with childish relationship issues; and newcomer Max Records is fantastic in the central role. The film is slim on plot, but the ‘look’ of the film and the depth of the characterisation are utterly engaging.

7) Let The Right One In
With two Twilight films released in the space of one year and a flashy HBO series, True Blood, invading our homes, it was a relief to find that some people still care about the importance of the vampire myth and are unwilling to exploit it’s latent sexuality. This chilling Swedish film follows the dull and unromantic tribulations of a vampire, the hauntingly attractive Eli, who struggles to find enough blood to stay alive. Centring on Eli’s friendship with the young boy in her apartment block, Tomas Alfredson’s film avoids all the Vampire clichés, and in so doing gets much closer to the important themes of the myth than any of these vacuous pretenders.

8) Up In The Air
While Thank You for Smoking was largely ignored by critics, and Juno was attributed to screenwriter Diablo Cody; Up In The Air is Jason Reitman’s chance to establish himself as an important American filmmaker. The story follows Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) as he deals with the prospect of settling down in his dull American town after years of living in the skies as a travelling businessman. The film is hysterically funny and yet languid and thoughtful; and it is undoubtedly one of the best Studio films of the year.

9) In The City of Sylvia
Jose Luis Guerin is renowned for his quiet and patient ability to watch reality wander past his camera (rather than following the action around and cutting out all the slow bits like most filmmakers). Ironically, this film is all about following… as a young man follows a beautiful girl, his fantasy ‘Sylvia’, around the sun-soaked, clattering city of Cherbourg for one afternoon. Shot in real-time, the film uses this simple device to explore the spontaneity and romance that hide around every corner… if only we would take the time to search for them.

10) Sugar
Half Nelson is surely one of the finest American indie films of the decade, so it is fair to say that Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck’s second feature was a highly anticipated film. Miguel ‘Sugar’ Santos is a young Cuban baseball player invited to play in the NBL. His journey takes him from a conservative farming family in Alabama to the bright lights of New York City, and from the hopeful optimism of a young sportsman to the embittered solemnity of an immigrant who has given up on the American dream. The story is masterfully told, and proves that this exciting filmmaking duo is no one-hit-wonder!

REVIEW: Nowhere Boy (dir. Sam Taylor-Wood)

Cast: Aaron Johnson, Kristen Scott Thomas, Anne Marie Duff, David Morrisey, David Threlfall, Thomas Brodie Sangster

It must be said that British cinema did not promote itself especially well at this year’s London Film Festival. ‘Don’t Worry About Me’ and ‘Kicks’ failed to make any positive mark on the critics and audiences that turned out to see them; and while ’44 Inch Chest’ and ‘The Disappearance of Alice Creed’ boasted fantastic casts and gritty aesthetics, they were poorly written and suffered a similar fate.

Fortunately, festival organiser Sandra Hebron had one more card up her sleeve for the closing gala… ‘Nowhere Boy’. The film explores the teen years of one of the nation’s most beloved yet mysterious musical figures… John Lennon. The project has been developed by Ecosse (perhaps the most British production company around after a host of period dramas and adaptations of English romantic novels) and written by Matt Greenhalgh, an experienced television writer who recently wrote the critically acclaimed ‘Control’ (about another one of the nation’s most beloved musical figures, Ian Curtis). Finally, the film is directed by Sam Taylor Wood, a member of the Young British Artists, who was inspired to take the position by her late friend (and perhaps the most universally beloved British filmmaker of the modern era) Anthony Minghella. The result is an unusually British film that proves our national cinema can still match any bastion of filmmaking (from Hollywood to Paris) for quality, integrity, and passion.

‘Nowhere Boy’ deals with Lennon’s childhood, from the reunion with his prodigal mother to the advent of The Beatles. Lennon (Johnson) was constantly in trouble at school for bullying, playing truant, and reading ‘illicit’ magazines. He subsequently had a very strained relationship with his strict, positively Victorian Aunt and legal guardian, Mimi (Scott Thomas). His only friend through these years was his loving and free-spirited Uncle George (Threlfall); so when George dies of a heart attack, John decides it is time to seek out his mother.

Julia (Marie Duff) turns out to be a wild, fun-loving young woman, so when John gets suspended from school he hides the fact from Mimi and spends his days listening to ‘rock and roll’ and learning the guitar with his mother. Julia’s husband, Bobby, and Mimi eventually stamp out this brief glimpse of hope and happiness; and what follows is a destructive and passionate story of confused love, and the difficulties of forgiving people for things you have already forgotten.

John blames Julia for leaving him again, and escapes into the exciting new world of ‘rock and roll’ by founding The Quarrymen with his school friends. He meets Paul McCartney, who joins the band, and they begin to find success. But John’s heart is poisoned by the unanswered questions about why his own mother couldn’t raise him, and it is clear he cannot be happy until he understands his past.

After a cathartic and explosive argument, Mimi, Julia, and John seem ready to repair their broken family. But then a tragic accident wipes out yet another chance for John to find respite from his emotional torment. This is not dealt with in a morbid light, however, as John’s reaction to the situation proves how much he has grown as a man over the course of this short but important episode of his life. He doesn’t hide away or become needlessly destructive; he is mature and hopeful, and he directs his anguish into his songs. By the end of the film, John has moved out of Mimi’s home and is leaving for Hamburg with his “new band”. He promises to call Mimi when he arrives there, which he does… and he calls her every week for the rest of his extraordinary life.

The performances are predictably excellent. Anne Marie Duff was spectacular in Shameless, and she brings the same rough, dazzling beauty to Julia. David Threlfall is one of the most wonderful acting talents in Britain, and it is just a shame that his character has so little screen time. The finest performance by some margin, however, is that of Kristin Scott Thomas. She is powerful and alluring and yet delicate and easily hurt; it is a really extraordinary performance. Aaron Johnson also holds his own amongst some of the finest actors in Britain. At first he struggles to find Lennon’s unique accent, but eventually he picks it up. However talented an actor he is, however, there is no getting away from the fact that Johnson’s physiology is far too boisterous to capture the character of one of music’s most geeky-looking icons. There is no doubt that John Lennon could be a tremendous bully and a self-centred, stubborn man (this was evident throughout his life), and he was, of course, ruthlessly anti-establishment; but he did this in a quiet, clever, and subversive way, and it is difficult to align this with the brash, Brando-esque strut that Johnson brings to the character.

Perhaps the most surprising thing is how traditional the structure and aesthetic of the film are. When Steve McQueen made ‘Hunger’, it was obvious we were dealing with a piece of art, or political portraiture, rendered through the medium of commercial cinema. Taylor Wood could have brought a similar branding to this project, but ‘Nowhere Boy’ is a traditional film that just happens to be made by a first-time director who makes video-installation art in her day job. There are flashbacks to early-childhood which employ some interesting editing devices and unusual lighting, reminiscent of the legendary dream sequence in Bunuel’s ‘Los Olvidados’, but aside from that the film looks more like ‘Diner’ than ‘Performance’.

The script is beautifully written. The relationships between Mimi, Julia, and John are so beautifully crafted and natural. Aside from one sudden jump (when Mimi and Julia suddenly become friends so that the domestic situation can be resolved and Julia’s death feels even more tragic) the script is unwaveringly realistic and perfectly paced. There is really no need to have any strong feelings for John Lennon or The Beatles whatsoever to enjoy this film. Indeed, you are never especially conscious of the fact that this is supposed to be John Lennon. It is only when we meet Paul and George that we are reminded, and even then it is short-lived. This is not a biopic in the mould of ‘Walk The Line’ or ‘Ray’; it is the story of a troubled childhood and a determined and strong-minded young man who uses his love of music to overcome a bitter and uncomfortable domestic past.

REVIEW: Where The Wild Things Are (dir. Spike Jonze)

Cast: Max Records, Catherine Keener, James Gandolfini, Lauren Ambrose, Chris Cooper, Paul Dano, Forest Whitaker

Maurice Sendak’s 1965 children’s classic ‘Where The Wild Things Are’ is one of those primal, infallible texts that hints, harmlessly, at the Dionysian chaos and fury that lurk beneath the surface of our manicured lives. And who better to bring this warped and wonderful story to the big screen than the ‘realiseur’ of Charlie Kaufman’s rambling scripts, the possessor of a juvenile, ‘Jackass’ sense of fun, and the inventor of a raw and powerful aesthetic that defined a generation of skateboarding, Sonic Youth fans… Spike Jonze.

Jonze draws us into Max’s childish world with an incredibly intimate and volatile opening section, before Max escapes to his fantasy realm, which is all natural light and awkward camera framing. Max Records – a changeable, quiet, but passionate boy – is nothing like the two-dimensional rascal of Sendak’s book. He possesses a boundless love for his mother and sister, but if they fail to pay him enough attention he exhibits ferocious jealousy. Jonze explores these childhood quirks in a simple, affectionate, and ruthlessly honest way.

Once we enter the fantasy world, Jonze substitutes the dark, menacing visual imagery of Sendak’s book for more vibrant palettes and dusky settings. Allowing nature to take its course during filming, Jonze spared little thought for temporal consistency, choosing instead to just shoot whenever he felt like it. The result is a story world that seems to exist in some endless sunset, where the wild things sleep in daylight and stay up all night by the fire.

The forest locations were chosen specifically because they were burnt out and presented the art department with a clean slate. But for all the bewitching beauty of the colourful flowers and misplaced snow, there is still a barrenness to the settings that mimics the emptiness at the heart of the Wild Things. All they want is for Max to keep the sadness away.

The Wild Things of the book – all spiny fur, sharp teeth, and primordial ‘group think’ – are now cuddly, soft-furred creatures from the Jim Henson workshop. They are wonderfully well-rounded individuals with pride and fear and dependency issues. While CGI has been used on their faces, Jonze was adamant that the creatures should be real puppets because he wanted to see the sand trapped in their soft fur, and sense their ‘weight’.

James Gandolfini and Lauren Ambrose are the star attractions in this band of creatures. Gandolfini’s animalistic pride made Tony Soprano one of the best-loved characters in television history. He was a cuddly killer – a cheerful, doting, cold-blooded gangster – and Carol isn’t so very different. He is the wild thing that welcomes Max into the group, but his pride makes him a sensitive, volatile, and dangerous creature. Lauren Ambrose’s sulking, passionate teenager was an achingly engaging and beautiful character in Six Feet Under; and she brings the same bittersweet melancholy to KW.

Their relationship is the most wonderful thing about this film. Unable to comprehend the more ‘adult’ factors that complicate relationships, Max creates petty arguments between them… such as “you trod on the ‘head’ part of my head” and “this is why I don’t like playing with you any more”. However seemingly complicated adult relationships become, they rarely involve anything more complex than these childish impulses towards guilt and jealousy. Carol and KW are two adults engaged in a relationship that exposes how childish they really are, and that is something I am sure most adults could relate to.

Dazzling or Dizzying? A Christmas Carol 3D Premiere

Last night saw the breaking of a few festive world records in a decidedly Dickensian Leicester Square. Firstly, opera singer Andrea Bocelli lead the largest Christmas Carol ‘sing-along’ from the Square, as revellers across London joined in after the official ‘turning on’ of the Christmas lights. Then Disney, in collaboration with Sky Movies HD, hosted the largest ever ‘3D premiere’ for their new film ‘A Christmas Carol’.

Anyone who worries that Christmas has sold its soul should have headed to central London last night: Disney have bought the entire centre’s Christmas lights, so Jim Carey’s performance-captured face will be staring down at us from all over the shopping district until the dawn of 2010. But in Disney’s defence – and not wanting to cry ‘humbug’ too loud on this joyous occasion – the premiere was a success and certainly helped to kick off 2009’s Christmas season. Sky presenters Alex Zane and ???? Huk buzzed around the red carpet spreading Christmas joy as showers of fake snow wafted across the Square, and gaggles of rosy-faced carol singers cheered the waiting crowds. Even Jim Carey did his festive best, breaking the world record for the bushiest, most friendly-looking beard ever sported by a Hollywood A-lister at a European Premiere.

As well as being the biggest 3D premiere to date, ‘A Christmas Carol’ is an especially important 3D film because it is the first of its kind to also adopt Robert Zemeckis’ beloved ‘performance-capture’ technology (as seen in Polar Express, Beowolf, etc).

From the opening shots of the film it is clear that Zemeckis is going to take every opportunity to show off his new toy, ‘3D performance-capture’. After a stuttering start – where we are supposed to be dumbfounded by the sheer height of a candle stick and the awesome length of Scrooge’s fingers – the camera rises up over Dickensian London and swoops across the city in a brilliant and truly exhilarating roller-coaster ride. Disney 3D has now truly arrived.

It is also clear from the opening moments, as Scrooge (Carey) steals the pennies from the eyes of his dead business partner Jacob Marley, that this film is not heading down the Jim Henson route. As Scrooge traipses back to his lonely townhouse on Christmas eve, he is confronted by Marley’ ghost, who warns him that he is destined to an eternity of torment if he doesn’t change his ways while he is still alive. Performance-capture was invented for moments like this. Marley is brutally realistic and yet still fantastic and cartoon-like enough to prevent children and those of a timid disposition from screaming down the aisles away from the screen. It is genuinely unsettling, and I am sure a few parents will have a bone to pick with the censors, but Zemeckis, Carey, and Oldman can always be trusted to add just enough crazed humour, funny facial expressions, and comic timing to stop the tone sliding too far towards horror.

The performance-capture also enables the creation of some interesting ‘ghosts’. The ghost of Christmas past and present are very different creatures (the former being a breathy, timid torch, the latter being a robust Bacchus in flowing robes) but they both bear an unsettling resemblance to Scrooge (and Carey voiced all the ghosts). Zemeckis therefore gets closer to Dickens novel than most previous adaptations by hinting at the subconscious nature of the visions: after each escapade Scrooge finds himself falling out of bed, and it is more transparent than ever before that the old man is actually just suffering from guilty hallucinations.

Unfortunately, the 3D does not work as fluidly as the performance-capture; and apart from that opening section it just feels cumbersome and unnecessary. Occasionally the filmmakers feel the need to force the extra dimension upon us by sticking a pointless inanimate object (a door knob or somebody’s ear) in the immediate foreground so that the main action seems further away. This is jarring, annoying, and will draw any film fan out of the story because it is so unnatural and completely against the basic rules of filmic language.

This annoying ‘look at our 3D technology’ element reaches it’s zenith in a completely inexcusable, ten minute chase through the streets of London during which Scrooge is miniaturised and forced to escape from equine demons. For periods of this chase I was sure Zemeckis had literally been lifted footage out of Ice Age and coloured it in differently. It is insincere and childish, and after all the hard work Pixar have done creating meaningful films that can be universally enjoyed, ‘A Christmas Carol’ is only a ‘film for all ages’ because it has some things adults might like (that children most likely wont) and vice versa.

Jim Carey’s performance is perfectly reasonable, but it is only his good judgement and taste in projects that is stopping him falling down the Mike Myers wormhole. In projects like this he just does what he does, and while we cannot fault him for creating yet another entertaining, absorbing, and energetic creation, there is nothing fresh or unique to really commend it either.

Bob Hoskins… isn’t in the film; and any critic who claims his role added “nostalgia, warmth, and spirit” to the project is lying because they like Bob Hoskins too much. The only other actor who registers in this film (but has been cut out of the publicity, presumably because he isn’t as cheerful looking as Hoskins and Firth) is Gary Oldman. In his role of Bob Cratchit, Scrooges humble clerk, he helps to give the film a sense of honesty and calm; and in his haunting role as Jacob Marley he provides the most viscerally and realistically terrifying moments of the film.

In the spirit of corporate Christmas, I couldn’t possibly end this review without a word from my sponsors, Sky Movies HD, whose involvement in last night’s event was pivotal. Christmas is the only time of year when a middle-aged accountant from Luton will turn to his family and say, “lets watch ‘Mary Poppins’… as a family!” So what better time of year to signup to Sky and enjoy some Christmas classics in the company of your loved ones.

REVIEW: The Girlfriend Experience (dir. Stephen Soderbergh)

Cast: Sasha Grey, Chris Santos, Mark Jacobson, Glenn Kenny

Chelsea (Grey) is a ‘smoky-eyed’, high-class escort in New York City. She charges rich businessmen thousands of dollars, by the hour, for her company; but it isn’t the sex that they are paying for – they could go to any old hooker for that – it is ‘the girlfriend experience’. Chelsea lives in a sumptuous, open-plan apartment with her real boyfriend Chris (Santos), a personal trainer who is supportive of her career choice. Chelsea seems fairly content, but the life she has chosen is a transitory and hollow one, and she is clearly incapable of finding any real peace or solidity.

And that, in a nutshell, is the premise of ‘The Girlfriend Experience’: it is an opportunity to observe the emotional vicissitudes of one of life’s most mysterious creatures, that elusive succubus, the ‘woman of the night’. It is certainly an interesting project; and there is a lot to commend it in the pace and tone of the film, the performances of the leading players (both of whom are novices) and the way these performances are expertly captured by Soderbergh and DoP Peter Andrews. But unfortunately the film doesn’t seem to add up to the sum of its parts. The world of escorting might seem to be both glamorous and romantic and yet sordid and guttural; but Soderbergh is determined to avoid these polarities, and he concentrates on the mundane empty, loneliness of this world. Unfortunately, in so doing, he creates a cold and detached film that fails to really grip the viewer or persuade us that this is a story we should care about.

In between clients, Chelsea meets with friends, fellow escorts, and business advisors (many of whom are actually clients) in a bid to develop her business and become more successful. She gives a sleazy but influential sex-critic a ‘free sample’ in return for favourable reviews and business opportunities; but his review turns out to be nasty, and she also notices some of her clients cavorting with fresh-faced escorts. Chris is also trying to become more financially independent by taking on a management position at a gym, but the economic downturn makes this extremely difficult. These stressful tribulations are clearly having an effect on their relationship, as Chris seems to be the only person who cant get a ‘girlfriend experience’ out of Chelsea. When Chelsea meets a mysterious and charming new client, a screenwriter from LA, she decides to go away with him for the weekend despite Chris’s protestations. With their relationship in tatters, Chris goes of for a ‘boys trip’ to Vegas with a rich client, and Chelsea is stood up by the client, who returns to his family in California.

The lead performance is certainly worthy of merit. Sasha Grey is a fascinating young woman: a veritable legend of the porn industry with a passion for the French New Wave, Oscar Wilde, and transgressive art. She has been featured in radical fashion shoots, including artwork for a Smashing Pumpkins album, and was listed in Rolling Stone Magazine’s Hot List 2009. It is fair to say, then, that Grey is not your average porn star; she is a ballsy, passionate, and irresistible creature, and you cant help but be drawn into her quiet, mysterious, transgressive charm. This is her feature film debut – and it should be noted that she is a porn star playing an escort, so she probably didn’t have to dig too deep into her Stanislavski handbook – but she manages to come across as completely controlled and yet natural to a fault; and on the few occasions that high emotion are required, she is quite breathtaking.

The look of the film is effortlessly effective, but surely nobody doubts Soderbergh’s intimate understanding of the language of film. The whole film carries a sort of documentary aesthetic (unsteady camera movements, uncomfortable close-ups, inconsistent sound, etc) but it remains subtle and unobtrusive throughout. Soderbergh knows exactly how long to allow the actors to improvise, and exactly how long to leave the camera rolling. Awkward silences never grow too awkward, and shot lengths/ composition choices are juggled and varied often enough so that the film, despite its dreary subject matter, never looks dull or uncinematic.

The film is told through a fractured narrative, although this is never really forced upon us either. This fracturing works because it forces us to accept the circularity and repetitiveness of Chelsea’s world. Chelsea thinks she is on a linear path, and she is heading for some magnificent future where everything will be ok; but she is a tragic figure, incapable of recognizing her own flaws, and she is destined to stumble through the same mistakes and uncertainties throughout her troubled life. The way this hopelessness is weaved into the narrative should probably feel like a triumph for the film; but unfortunately it is not a ‘hopelessness’ filled with pathos or tragedy, it is a cold and empty hopelessness that doesn’t arouse any emotions in the audience.

Another upsetting thing about this film is the purposeful timing, and the effect it has on the character development. The story occurs in the lead up to the 2008 Presidential Election, and also in the midst of the economic downturn, and Chelsea and Chris are both in the business of listening to rich executives talk for one hour at a time. Soderbergh mistakenly saw this as a clever and interesting way to ram some fairly obvious and painfully obsolete economic and political drivel down our throats. While films about Obama and the economic crash will someday be essential, there had not been enough time to consider them as historic events when Soderbergh was making this film, and so his dealing with them feels crass and topical. Furthermore, the decision to spend so long listening to coke-sniffing, whore-loving executives talk about the abomination of higher taxes for the rich removes any hope of Soderbergh getting to know his characters, let alone taking the time to introduce them to us!

REVIEW: Everybody's Fine (dir. Kirk Jones)

Cast: Robert De Niro, Drew Barrymore, Sam Rockwell, Kate Beckinsale

Frank Goode has spent his entire life making rubber coating for the telephone wires that run along America’s railways. As a result, he has developed an illness from decades of breathing noxious fumes. But more importantly, he has never taken the time to appreciate his own four middle-aged children. When his wife dies, Frank realises that she was the only point of contact between himself and his children. Her death strips him of his comfort, and grants him a rare and precious opportunity to peer inside his own past and find out where he lost his way.

As his four children make their excuses to avoid visiting him for a reunion dinner, Frank decides to head out on an ill-advised (in fact downright forbidden as far as his doctor is concerned) road trip to surprise his unwitting cubs in their natural surroundings. In Frank’s eyes this can have nothing but cheerful and fulfilling consequences; his successful, grounded, and thoroughly happy children couldn’t possibly have anything to hide from their loving, if slightly distant, pater right? Wrong.

As Frank travels the length and breadth of Whitman’s beloved country, he watches the great American Dream crashing before him and hurling the wreckage at his feet. He discovers that his wife had lied to him about his children’s successes, and neglected to tell him about their multitude of frailties and failures. His artist son, David, is nowhere to be found in New York; and his only truly successful child (Amy, an advertising executive) is too busy juggling a failed marriage and trying to find out what the hell has happened to David (he was last heard from in a Mexican jail) to pay her long lost father any attention. Robert, supposedly a renowned conductor, actually plays a timpani drum at the back of the orchestra; and Rosie, a “famous dancer”, is a single mother tending a bar in Las Vegas.

The most painful thing about this slow crumbling illusion is the pitiful desperation with which each child tries to conceal their failure. Frank is heart-broken by the realisation that his children would rather lie than be honest with him; and he comes to realise that this is essentially his fault. But through determination and a new found humility, he is able to bond the family together again, and as he stands before his wife’s grave delivering an update on how the kids are doing, he is able to honestly reflect that… everybody’s fine.

Whatever Kirk Jones set out to do, he has created a truly sparing and beautiful film. There is plenty of humour and melodrama to keep commercial audiences happy, but beneath that there really is a depth of emotion that is quite devastatingly affecting. Frank’s realisation that he is the main source of antagonism in the lives of the four children that he has spent his whole life supporting is brutal, but the fact that there is no real opportunity for resolution is even more heartbreaking. It is too late to help his children improve their lives, and it is too late to witness them becoming the individuals they are now. All that is left for Frank to do is let the past slip away and try to enjoy an uncertain but comfortable future now that the illusions have been obliterated.

There is also a deep emotional resonance in the stories of the four children. For most of the year, we are confident in the conviction that the endless struggles and compromises that fill our daily lives are actually part of the fabric of modern life; but then we all have those awkward meals and visits when our parents ask us why we aren’t happier or more successful, and it is at these crushing moments that we suddenly feel like we have failed in some way. It is a painful but inspiring reminder that ‘Life’ is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted; and this universal truth is etched on the faces of Frank’s desperately fragile children, especially Sam Rockwell, who is superb as the childish but shy musician.

But more than anything else, this really is a powerful, elegiac ode to America: The Place Where Nobody Feels At Home. Some of the greatest films about nations are made by outsiders – Alan Parker, a born and bred Londoner, created two of the greatest films about 20th century America with Mississippi Burning and The Life of David Gale – and Kirk Jones achieves a similar result with Everybody’s Fine. Frank is a blue-collar man who has spent his life working in a factory while his wife and country lie to him about successes at home and abroad. He has buried himself in his work and allowed the American Dream to whisk him away from the gritty reality of life. When he finally wakes up and takes a look outside his cave – and takes off on the railways and highways that he, in a sense, helped to build – he realises that he lives in a nation of alienated and scared souls travelling from place to place. This is the tangible sense of loneliness at the heart of the film. Frank’s speciality was telephones, but everything about the American Dream is innately ‘tele’ – spread over great distances with no real connection or community to link it’s disparate elements.

Finally, and so inherent to the success of the film, is the performance of Robert DeNiro. He has been an absorbing, brooding New Yorker for four decades, but his attempts at expressing a more sympathetic side to the human condition have often fallen short. Perhaps largely as a result of his age, rather than a conscious change in his style, his performance in this film is wonderful. The powerful and stubborn DeNiro of Raging Bull is still hiding in the ridges and wrinkles of his aged face; but he is stooped in a softening pathos for the entirety of the film, and we cannot help but fall deeply under the spell of his quivering frowns and tear-filled eyes. If DeNiro was the John Wayne of New Hollywood, then this is his The Quiet Man.