Oscar Nominations 2021

I don't know if it's because I'm getting older or because we've all been cooped up in our houses for most of a year, eyes closed and fingers in ears as we try to imagine everything being not quite so fucked for a few hours, but the passage of time has lost all meaning to me.

When the Oscar nominations dropped last week, it barely even registered with me how odd it was to be starting awards season two months later than usual, or even that it was two months late: you could have told me it was still January and I probably would have taken an embarrassingly long time to question it.

But at any rate, this is where we are: the slimmest pickings the Oscars may have ever seen. There definitely seems to have been a scramble for worthy qualifying films this year, such that the final selection is taking monumental amounts of piss when it comes to the whole '2020 release' thing. And of those that have been chosen, some in particular seem to have attracted a lot more awards than any sane person would have attributed in a normal year.

But hey, I guess if there was a year where only one film was made, I suppose it would probably win a record share of Oscars, even if it did lull everyone into a gentle doze.

Best Picture

The Father

Well let's get things rolling with what may be the most egregious example on the list. Us Brits aren't to expect The Father on our screens until mid fucking June. June! 2020 release, my arse. Like Parasite, a seemingly arbitrary number of months have just been stapled onto the American release date, only this time they've gone too far and landed the film way past the point where anyone will still care, rendering the entire exercise pointless.

It is interesting to scroll through this list and see that none of the films here are what I would traditionally describe as bait, for what might be the first time ever. Turns out when cinemas aren't going to be open during awards season, all those crusty-old Spielberg-directed Meryl Streep biopics magically vanish into the aether, who'd've thought. That being said, of all the films on this list, this is the one that probably feels the most baity, or at least certainly looks the most baity at a distance.

It sounds very much like an acting film, if that makes any kind of interpretable sense. Just two big name actors, Olivia Colman and Anthony Hopkins in this case,  acting at each other for ninety minutes. It's not necessarily a bad thing, and the IMDb blurb was enough to win my interest over with musings on life, death, memory, and other existential concepts, but it still seems like the kinda thing that was more comfortable on stage.

It's definitely gunning for some Oscars, I suspect Best Actor and Actress, but I don't think it's much of a threat to the other Best Picture nominations. Oh shit, maybe it is bait then. Ah well, better luck next time.

 

Judas and the Black Messiah

The first of the three entries that have been released over here, although just barely in time for the nominations. Shame that it had to do so as one of those £15 digital rentals that make the fatal mistake of thinking most people watch films with their entire family at all times: a hivemind family where no-one has individual tastes or ever wants to just watch their own thing. It also doesn't account for eternally single film bloggers like me. Hello!

Not to mention, I happily spend £5 or even £10 in some cases to watch a film at a cinema where it's presented in the best possible format, but now I have to spend three times that amount to watch it on my comparatively shitty home setup? For the same price they're asking, I could at least buy a Bluray copy to keep permanently and watch as often as I like, and that's assuming I buy it brand new at release without waiting for a sale.

I don't have anything against pay-per-view digital rentals as a concept, but they've got to be more realistic with the pricing, especially when Netflix and Prime offer a months-worth of unlimited film and TV content for less. No wonder piracy's an issue.

But I digress. I have checked out Judas and the Black Messiah and it does stand up to most of its hype. It's a film that's really made by its performances, with Daniel Kaluuya oozing charisma as the revolutionary leader, while LaKeith Stanfield convinces with his emotionally torn double agent. Jesse Plemons and Martin Sheen are also worth a mention for their particularly slimy villains, and Dominique Fishback as Hampton's fellow revolutionary sister and girlfriend, who in a particular scene at the end manages to communicate so much with naught but a single facial expression.

Crucially, Judas succeeds in crafting a genuinely enjoyable and entertaining experience out of pretty heavy subject matter, which makes its emotional punches hit all the harder as we reach the horrifying ending.

It's a strong film for sure, and the added relevance of George Floyd and the BLM protests from the past year only adds to its power. In terms of predictions, I wouldn't consider it the front runner for Best Picture, exactly, but I think it does stand more of a chance than several of the films on this list. Despite the diversity shown in the awards this year, we know from previous years the Academy rarely awards the top prize to a film quite this politically galvanised, often aiming for safer, more crowd-pleasing affairs (see Green Book vs Blackkklansman from 2019), so I wouldn't be surprised if Judas is snubbed for something that doesn't make the Academy feel quite so guilty.

Mank

It occurred to me at the time that through sheer lack of competition this year, Mank was in a position to be quite the darling at the Oscars. This was offset slightly in my mind when I watched it and saw how rubbish it was, but there was still enough boxes ticked and an empty enough playing field that I was braced for it getting a couple of nominations.

A couple, mind you. Not fucking ten.

Between this and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, what is it with dull, plot-less nostalgia trips about old Hollywood based to varying degrees on real life where the main character just potters around doing stuff with little in the way of any major obstacles and the event that should be the entire point of the story crammed into the final few minutes and getting ten Oscar nominations?

I recall being asked on the podcast at the time whether I thought Mank was Oscar bait, and I still stand by my diagnosis that it isn't, or at least wasn't intended to be, but I can't deny it certainly looks that way now. There are definitely some very Oscar-friendly elements here if we start to break it down: romanticising Old Hollywood, a film about filmmaking, a revered and prolific actor (Gary Oldman) playing a real life 'troubled' figure in history, a subject matter centred on a weakly controversial topic that makes old Academy voters feel like the stories edgy even though it really isn't (in this case, the writing credit for Citizen Kane, despite both parties being dead and no-one giving a shit, compare to say the Watergate scandal in The Post which stopped being controversial decades ago).

Again, I get that there wasn't much to choose between this year, but for a film that feels so underwhelming and mediocre, the elements this film has been nominated for is mind boggling: Direction, Production Design, Sound, Original Score, Makeup and Hair, Costume, Cinematography, plus of course Lead Actor and Actress and Best Picture. 

As always, period piece means seemingly automatic nominations for Production Design, Costume, and Makeup and Hair, but other technicals continue to baffle. How has a film as sonically forgettable as Mank been nominated for Original Score and Sound? As for cinematography, outside of being shot in black and white, I can't think of anything notable or even particularly interesting about Mank's cinematography.

Do you know what it hasn't been nominated for? And this is the most telling: screenplay. For all the "flash" (and I use that term very loosely) that Mank has in its production values and acting and directing talent, it still can't distract from the fact that at its core, it's a boring uneventful story. A man sits in a bed and types on a typewriter, and every now and again he goes and mooches around a film studio and yells witty verbose insults at people the film assures us were famous Hollywood figures. That's it, that's all there is. You sit there bored out of your mind for two hours waiting for it to pull some kind of punch that will bring it all together, and it never comes.

The sad thing is this whole film started as a screenplay written by David Fincher's late father, that he has realised on screen in his memory, which maybe explains why no-one stepped in to improve the plot, but I'm sorry David, your father's script just isn't very interesting. And all the Gary Oldmans and black and white cinematography in the world cannot rescue that.

In terms of awards, I can't fathom Mank winning the Best Picture: Mank is the worst of the three films here I've seen by quite a margin, and if the other contenders here are as good as I've heard, then Mank is surely the dullest of the lot. Maybe it'll snag some of the other more minor awards like Costume and Makeup/Hairstyling, but even then, Mank isn't the only period film this year, and being up against Emma in both categories, it's not the eldest period setting either.

As I pointed out earlier, the similarities between Mank and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood are many and intriguing, and while Tarantino's snoreful epic had an equal number of nominations, it only won two relatively minor statuettes, and I predict a similar fate for Fincher's effort.

I've previously referred to Once Upon a Time in Hollywood as 'three hours of cinematic wank'. Well, let's just say this was two hours of cinematic Mank.

Minari

I'm guessing this was the fault of Sundance back in January last year, but I feel like I've been hearing about Minari for absolutely ages. With a UK release date of April 2nd, it's actually coming out right in the middle of awards season, which is pretty orthodox when you think about, but just with the timings of the pandemic, especially with the displacement of the Oscars ceremony, and it feels like we've been waiting for Minari a lot longer than usual.

I've been hearing a lot of good things, particularly from the Letterboxd community, and if I were to pick the most likely winner (and the format usually indicates that I do), my gut says Minari has the strongest chance. I can't put my finger on why exactly; just something tells me this is going to be the one. I suppose it might help that it's got a non-white cast which gives the Academy the chance to look progressive. But maybe that's a cynical way of looking at it; maybe the Academy will give it Best Picture because it's a genuinely enjoyable film.

It's also completely possible it won't win at all, rendering all of this a moot point. Shame it's not out yet or I might have something more interesting to say.

Nomadland

It's looking like a post-results day release for this one, so once again, little to say here. What I can say is Frances McDormand is fantastic, and if her performance in this is anything like as good as in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, then I'm sure she'll have no problem winning another Best Actress award. Again, gut feeling tells me this will be one of the frontrunners, but I have very little to base that on, other than it being highly-praised but still relatively unpolitical compared to other nominations on the list, and that Frances McDormand's in it. Well, we'll just have to wait and see.

Promising Young Woman

IMDb is reporting 'May 2021' for a UK release date, so once again I'm at a loss for any meaningful input and will be until post-ceremony. With violence against women being a particularly hot topic here in the UK in the wake of the Sarah Everard case, you'd think now would be an ideal time to finally release a film like this, or would trying to capitalise on the zeitgeist like that maybe feel too exploitational? (not that Hollywood's above that kind of thing)

Regardless, it's a film I've been hearing about for a little while now, and perhaps the film on this list that I'm most disappointed hasn't come out yet cause I'm genuinely intrigued by it. Of all the Best Picture nominations, this one feels like it has the most passionate support among filmgoers, or at least among the filmgoers I hang out with, and my trusty gut is telling me this will be another top contender duking it out with Nomadland and Minari. But then like Judas, could it perhaps be too incendiary for the safe, crowd-pleasing Academy?

Sound of Metal

We're not getting this one until May either, so that makes four films on this list that aren't even coming out in time to make use of the Oscars hype, which to me just beggars belief. 

From the bits and pieces I have gathered about Sound of Metal, both in passing and through cultural osmosis, it does sound really interesting and I'm actually pretty excited to see it. A story about a heavy-metal drummer losing his hearing is not only is a great starting concept (with echoes of Whiplash in themes of pursuing an artistic obsession to a mental and physical breaking point), but also has tonnes of potential for interesting use of sound and vision to convey the horrors of losing a sense, especially amidst an environment of sensory overload.

While I'm personally won over by the concept, I'm definitely surprised it's ended up on the shortlist. Something about it seems un-Oscary, I suppose, but I'd struggle to put into words exactly what I mean by that. How convenient. In a more normal year I suspect it wouldn't have made it, perhaps snagging a couple of technicals and then showing itself out, but then I suppose one of the advantage of a year like this is that smaller, more interesting films like Sound of Metal get a chance to shine when maybe perhaps they wouldn't.

The Trial of the Chicago 7

The last film on this year's shortlist is also the third and final one that I've been able to see, and as it turns out, my favourite of the bunch. Trial of the Chicago 7 is the second directorial effort of Aaron Sorkin's, lauded writer of snappy dialogue, and so what better genre to try his hand at than a courtroom drama, where audience engagement lives or dies on the dialogue. And as the writer of A Few Good Men, one of the great courtroom dramas, Sorkin's effort turns out about as good as you could expect.

These courtroom scenes are, as you'd hope, where the film really shines, with each member of the ensemble cast getting their chance to shine, most memorably Sacha Baron Cohen's smart-mouthed comic relief and Mark Rylance's genial lawyer, not to mention one of the most hateable film characters since Percy in The Green Mile: Frank Langella's villainous Judge Hoffman.

Outside of the courtroom, we also see glimpses of the corruption going on amidst the trial, as well as the escalating events of the riot that landed them there, revealed in snappily edited flashback as the titular seven recount the decisions and actions that led to the chaos, and of course the police brutality they were met with in return.

Between Sorkin's razor-sharp dialogue and his blood-pumping/boiling scenes of rioting action, Trial of the Chicago 7 is a surprisingly exciting and entertaining film, considering its dry-sounding premise, and the time absolutely flew by watching it. As mentioned above, this is my favourite of the nominations I've seen, and so by default I guess is my pick for Best Picture. In terms of actual predictions, it hovers somewhere around the middle for me. It feels like the kind of thing the Academy would enjoy, being both a period piece and a script-heavy story. And of course the courtroom drama is one of those classic formats that remind Academy voters of that lovely Old Hollywood period they love so much. On the other hand though, the police brutality that sits at the heart of the story and the deliberate parallels it draws with recent events might make it a little too spicy for the Academy's top prize.

 

Ranked Predictions (from most to least likely winner)

1. Minari
2. Nomadland
3. Promising Young Woman
4. The Trial of the Chicago 7
5. Judas and the Black Messiah
6. Mank
   
7. The Sound of Metal 
8. The Father
   

Best Original Score

As someone who is literally listening to the Tenet soundtrack as he writes this, and hasn't stopped listening to it since it came out in early September, and may not have loved an original film score before as much as he has loved this one, can I just say, quite simply:

What.

The.

Fuck.

I'm also quite displeased at the lack of The Trial of the Chicago 7, which I thought had some pretty excellent music, especially in its montage scenes. As far as I can tell based on the soundtracks page on IMDb, those were licensed cues, so that's almost certainly why, and if so, this was the same reason why Blade Runner 2049 got snubbed back in 2018, which was an incredible shame considering the original compositions on there were some of the best tracks Hans Zimmer's ever done. But alas, this is a jig I've danced before.

I wonder if Tenet's been disqualified because of its inclusion of THE PLAN, the credits song written by Travis Scott (specifically for the film, mind you). Maybe some adjustments to the rules need to be made: as long as there's an original composition in the soundtrack it should be eligible, but then arbitration can only be made based on those original tracks, so any licensed tracks just get ignored. Tenet and Blade Runner 2049 would be laughing, but maybe Trial of the Chicago 7 and something like Baby Driver would fare worse.

On the complete flipside, you know what is eligible and received a nomination and absolutely does not deserve it? Let's see if you can all sing-a-long: it's Maaannnnkkkk.

Fucking Mank? Who the fuck is listening to the Mank soundtrack? Mank's soundtrack is so inconsequential, if you'd asked me about it I would have said it didn't have one. Someone lobbied hardcore on that nomination. Buncha inbreds wouldn't know a good score if smacked them round the face!

 

Best Original Screenplay

As I kinda alluded to earlier, I think Judas and the Black Messiah owes a lot to its performances, and while that's not to say it was badly written, far from it, I think something like Trial of the Chicago 7 was much more impressively written, I suppose. For a film that is so dialogue driven, as courtroom dramas often are, the writing has to be absolutely razor sharp. Of course, this is Aaron Sorkin we're talking about, one of the industry masters of this kind of dialogue and exposition-heavy stories, and while "Aaron Sorkin is a good writer" is hardly a fresh take, it doesn't make him any less deserving of a statuette.

I've heard some people call out the cheesiness of the ending, and while I'd agree it was quite a lurchingly abrupt end to the narrative, I'm not sure I'd call it cheesy. It's certainly set up throughout the story and it makes a pretty substantial point that gets right to the heart of the protagonists' original protest. I can see why some people might not be as thrilled though, it does kinda feel like the film's just gotten bored and declared "right that's your lot, I'll tell you the rest via text dump, now leave me alone!"

 

Best Actor in a Supporting Role

Interesting that both LaKeith Stanfield and Daniel Kaluuya are here as supporting actors and not as leads. Kaluuya you could argue I suppose, but was Stanfield not the protagonist? It's hard to know what to make of such a distinction, especially when Judas has no nominations in the leading actor/actress categories so I guess no-one was the lead? I'm not sure I'd even class the film as an ensemble particularly, so who knows what's happened here.

For what it's worth, of the two of them I think I enjoyed Daniel Kaluuya more, and of the three performances here I've seen, I suppose he'd probably be my top choice. As much as I loved most of the acting in The Trial of the Chicago 7, and not that I don't think Sacha Baron Cohen was very entertaining in his role, on the contrary he was very enjoyable as the comic relief, are we just going to completely overlook Frank Langella's performance as Judge Hoffman?

I don't know how much of his impact was just the things he said (i.e. Sorkin's dialogue) versus the actual performance, but the man's gotta be doing something right if I'm literally shouting at him from my sofa as he dishes out yet another completely vile, contradictory ruling on a trial he's already decided the outcome of.

Mark Rylance is also very likeable as their lawyer, a beacon of level-headed sense in a courtroom ruled over by an incompetent megalomaniac. If either of these two had been nominated, they'd absolutely be my first choice, but in their absence, Cohen, Kaluuya and Stanfield are all worthy picks.

Best Sound

Ah, warmest of welcomes to the Best Sound category, making its debut this year. May Best Sound Editing and Best Sound Mixing forever rest in peace in their pointless, unnecessary graves. Separate graves, of course, cause you know, they're so different and distinct.

Suppose I can't really make fun of it anymore, the Academy actually fixed one of my suggestions. This may be the last joke I ever make about Sound Editing and Sound Mixing. I mean, it probably won't be because I'm very unoriginal, but still, last time I can make a relevant joke I suppose. Now we just sit and wait for everything else I've ridiculed the Academy for over the years to get reversed, presumably starting with Meryl Streep having her acting nominations forcefully taken away from her.

Prediction-wise, nothing's necessarily jumping out at me. Greyhound has the advantage of being a war film, which often lends itself to interesting sound design, but then also I feel a strong case can be made for Sound of Metal, which is about a drummer going deaf whilst playing in a heavy metal band, which not only makes it a story inextricably linked to sound but also gives it a lot of opportunities to play around with mixing and experimental audio effects.

You know what film shouldn't be here though? I'll tell you what, why don't I let you figure it out? 

 

Best Film Editing

The Trial of the Chicago 7 had some really neat editing, and while I can't say it should win without having seen the others, I think it's a worthy nomination. That's it. That's all my thoughts on the subject. Were you expecting a joke or something? Not everything has to be funny you know.

Sheesh. 

Best Visual Effects

Well Mulan can get in the bin for a start. I know this is gonna sound weird coming from me, but the most notable absence here is Marvel; normally one of the big superhero blockbusters routinely finds its way into the visual effects nominations. Which kinda just reinforces what a weird year it's been, with none of the big expensive summer blockbusters that often find themselves here.

Well, almost none. The big news here is Tenet, which is also for me the clear winner. Say what you like about Nolan, but one thing he's got absolutely nailed to the rotating floor is effects. Not only does Nolan do so many of his effects practically, but he also doesn't allow that for even a second to restrict his ambitions, and in fact he pushes himself and his crew to achieve some of the craziest stunts in recent cinema. And when it comes to Tenet, just take your pick of exquisite setpieces: the Protagonist's inverted fist fight with himself, cars driving backwards at speed on the Estonian highways, an elaborate rolling truck heist, or maybe a real Boeing 747 jumbo jet crashing into the Freeport? Even little things like bullets being 'dropped' in reverse from the table into characters' hands, something you'd think was just reversed footage, was achieved with hidden strings pulled through the character's costumes (arguably an over-engineered solution if you want to get cynical about it).

Tenet was a flawed film, and while people can criticise the writing or sound mixing as much as they like and I'd be inclined to agree, when it comes to action spectacle, Tenet packs an absolute punch, and I'd be shocked if anyone disagreed that it fully deserves the visual effects Oscar.

 

Best Animated Feature Film

Pixar has two entries this year, because apparently they don't win quite enough. Of the two, Soul is of course the clear winner, and while it pains me to have the equivalent of the arsehole jock team win this award, there's no denying Soul was a fantastic film and worthy of the praise it receives. And Soul will win, because it's Disney Pixar, and since that only narrowed it down to two, it's the notably good one rather than just the perfectly fine one. Cause this is what happens when a studio has enough of a stranglehold on an art form that people think their output is all that exists in the world of animation.

But hey, let's play the game and at least entertain the idea of the Academy not being completely predictable when it comes to animation.

Pixar's runner-up effort Onward was, as above, perfectly fine, although certainly nothing special and if the western animation scene was any more diverse this film would have disappeared beneath the waves. It's nice to see classic stop motion is still seeing some representation in the form of Farmageddon, with Aardman being seemingly the only other major studio besides Laika keeping the art form alive. I never got around to seeing Farmageddon, although I genuinely did consider it, but if it's as charming as Aardman's other efforts, or even its uninspiringly-named predecessor Shaun the Sheep Movie, then it's placement on this list is deserved. While there's been a stop motion entry on most of the last few year's Oscar rosters, none of the have won since Curse of the Were-Rabbit in 2005, so it would be pretty awesome if Farmageddon won just for the sake of variety, and to prove that stop motion is still an equally valid and vivid art form alongside 3D computer animation.

Then we've got WolfWalkers, the latest film from Cartoon Saloon which had a limited release here, but between COVID restrictions and work, I never got a safe opportunity to see it, much to my frustration. It is available on Apple TV, but since I refuse to get Apple TV, I'm just praying that it'll be rereleased when the cinemas reopen here in the coming months. Cartoon Saloon are one of the few major western studios still making traditional hand-drawn 2D animation, and by god have they got a talent for it. Their animations are filled with not only some of the most beautiful hand drawn animation outside of Studio Ghibli (hey, maybe even better than), but also an enduring heart and soul of human creation. Their films never feel like squeaky products in the way Pixar often does, but instead actual genuine works of human art. Song of the Sea in particular is an absolute visual feast, full of imaginative designs and richly textured environments, and truly one of my favourite films of the last decade. And it made me cry, which I admit with absolutely no shame.

Refreshingly, Wolfwalkers seems to have attracted quite a lot of attention (or maybe I'm just hanging out with the right people) and seems to have been the most publicised of Cartoon Saloon's releases so far, so there is still a remote chance that it could win, even though it won't. False hope is still hope, and what's more it can be the first step towards a day of real hope.

To clarify, Soul is still a great film in its own right, and might even be the best film here, but I'm sick of Pixar winning nearly every single year simply because they're Pixar and the only animation studio most people can name. My point is even if Soul was subpar, it would still be on this list and would probably still win, and that's the problem here.

The Oscars are about politics rather than quality at this point anyway, so fuck it, Wolfwalkers should win, even if it isn't as good as Soul. This is a political stance: ¡Viva la animación 2D!

 

Best Actor in a Leading Role

To be fair, Gary Oldman's performance was by far the most interesting and engaging part of Mank so this is probably one of the few nominations it deserves. For a film that is made up almost entirely of scenes of Gary Oldman typing and scenes of Gary Oldman getting drunk and yelling at old-timey Hollywood people who I'm apparently supposed to recognise, it is at least commendable that the latter scenes are generally enjoyable, and that's pretty much entirely down to Oldman's delivery, so credit where it's due: I mean I literally gave this film an extra half star on Letterboxd purely for Oldman's performance alone.

The most notable nomination here though is for Steven Yeun's, which makes him the first ever Asian American Best Actor nominee. So that's pretty rad. Speaking of diversity, this year's selection is pretty racially well rounded I would have said, with three out of the five picks being people of colour. Riz Ahmed in particular is a joy to see among these ranks as he has long been a well known and liked British actor and personality. Most notably starring in the pitch black satire Four Lions, he's also been a long time campaigner for diversity in film and TV, especially for British Asians and Muslims, so it feels fitting for his efforts to be finally receiving more mainstream recognition.

 

Best Director

Considering recent (well, ever-present I suppose) controversies in regards to the lack of female directors in both the film industry generally and in the Best Director Oscar nominations specifically, (particularly with Greta Gerwig's absence last year for Little Women) it's pretty cool to see not one but two whole female directors in this year's list.

Hey, it doesn't sound like a lot, and I guess it truly isn't, but for a ceremony as creaky and old-man-dominated as the Oscars this feels like a pretty big step. And what's more it doesn't even feel like pandering cause as far as I've heard Nomadland and Promising Young Woman are genuinely great, well-made films.

Since, again, it is the only film here I've seen, it'd be remiss of me not to mention Mank and its absolute lack of directorial flair. I would consider Fincher to be somewhat of an auteur, maybe not in an in-your-face way like Wes Anderson or Tim Burton, but if you look at films like Seven or Fight Club, or even more recent works like Gone Girl or The Social Network, there's this kind of broody atmosphere and rich visual texture that really makes his films stand out, and there's just... none of that in Mank. You wouldn't even know it was Fincher just from watching it. Not saying that being auteur is the only mark of good direction, but as previously mentioned Mank is a boring mess soooo there's really not much going for it direction-wise at this point. 

 

Snubs and Notable Omissions

Unsurprisingly, it's been a bit of a weak year for film overall and while there are a fair number of deserving picks here, there are also a few notable omissions, made particularly conspicuous by just how slim their competition was.

While I personally wasn't particularly engaged by it, I am surprised Boys State didn't get a nomination for Best Documentary considering the acclaim it got and its current sociopolitical relevance. Alternatively, Feels Good Man, a documentary I enjoyed a lot more, also wasn't nominated, perhaps because the Academy doesn't understand Internet culture and so had no clue what the film was about, despite it also having a lot of sociopolitical relevance.

Spike Lee's Da 5 Bloods, as well, I thought would have made more of an appearance, being one of the few other big lockdown releases, but has received only a nomination for its score. I've read some middling reviews of it, but it's not like that's stopped the Academy before.

The most notable absence for me is Never Rarely Sometimes Always, an incredibly powerful and honest portrait of the logistical, societal and bureaucratic nightmare of trying to get an abortion in America, especially as a teenager. It's quite an understated and lowkey film experience, instead full of many moments of quiet contemplation, but its titular scene still manages to put you through the emotional wringer, unfolding in one unbroken take where Autumn tells us through gradually escalating tears everything we need to know about her situation with nothing more than those four titular words. For me, Best Actress and Best Picture nominations should have been a no-brainer.

But of course, there's one film I've not seen mentioned here at all, whose exclusion absolutely shocks and appals me. Honestly, I feel slightly sick inside. One film stood head and shoulders above everything else that came out this year, nothing even came close. It impressed not only at the box office but with audiences and critics alike. I speak of no other than Sonic the Hedgehog. Where is it, Academy? Where's Sonic's Best Actor award? Sonic's witty remarks and pop culture references hit me where I live and made me cry like a little girl. Where's his statuette, Academy? 

Where's. His. Statuette.

 Welp, that's your lot. Join us next month for the results rundown and hopefully my thoughts on Minari. And apparently nothing else.

Ciné Rambles' Top 5 Films of 2020

Well, it's certainly been an interesting year. One for the history books. I won't dwell too much on this year's cataclysmic events like I'd ususally do in these intros, since I'm sure everyone's acutely aware of them already, not to mention exhausted by them. Suffice to say, it's been a year of hardship and suffering, and a reinforcement of some of the uglier sides of the human condition, from both the politicians who run our countries and from the otherwise normal people who cannot think of anyone other than themselves.

So I don't know about you, but I could do with a bit of cheering up this festive season. This year more than any other, escapism has been high in-demand, and while the ball landed squarely in television's court this year, there have still been a number of standout films worth celebrating from the desolate remains of what was once a pretty promising 2020 release slate: the shiniest of the cinematic gems that kept us going through the strife.

Last year's rules are still in play, so only films that begun their wide UK release in 2020, and while I did make a reasonable effort to catchup, there will of course be films I missed (although I think this year's list is pretty agreeable). And if you're intereseted to see how the rest of this year's films stacked up, you can peruse the full ranked list here.

5. Portrait of a Lady on Fire - Céline Sciamma

Perhaps a little lower on the list than most people would have gone for, but hey it's still on the list, what do you want from me. This film seems to have really struck a chord with a lot of people, and while I did really enjoy it, I probably should preface that I don't quite love this film as others do, or at least not yet. My opinion may climb on a rewatch, but for now, Portrait of a Lady on Fire is a really solid fifth place.

In any character-focused romantic drama, it's the acting and direction that make or break the film, and I think a lot of Portrait's success is down to these two crucial elements. Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel are phenomenal as the leads: their passion for each other is so believable, and their interactions throughout the film are brimming with a really genuine chemistry that's often quite rare in the genre.

Céline Sciamma's direction, too, pulls all the elements together to create a film that feels surprisingly relaxed, even calming at times with its beautiful beach-side setting and small, intimate scale. And yet beneath it all, every scene is loaded with emotion, both joyous and melancholy alike, be it in subtle subtextual flickers or in powerful frissonic creschendos. The final scene in particular left me with a bittersweet pit in my stomach, and even, almost, some tears.

So any reason why it's not higher up the list? No, not really. Potentially a bit of overhype may have crept in, as I only managed to see this last month and I've been hearing about this film since at least February. I mentioned at the top, I suspect my thoughts may improve further on a rewatch, and it's certainly something I'm looking forward to. Now I just have to wait for the Criterion bluray to get a region B release... (pretty please).  8/10, High Recommendation

 

4. Tenet - Christopher Nolan

Tenet will probably end up making a lot of other people's lists just out of sheer lack of competition, but even in a busier year I think I'd find it difficult to leave it off. It's without a doubt the weakest film here objectively speaking, but something about it just keeps drawing me back in: I've really not stopped thinking about it since I first saw it, and that was four months ago. We have discussed Tenet on the podcast, and I will be doing a big ol' post going into more detail on my thoughts at some point next year, so for now I'll try my best to summarise.

There are a lot of reasons to dislike Tenet, and I'd probably agree with most of them. The characterisation is laughable, in fact we don't so much have characters as we have cogs to turn the plot. We have a villain who wants to destroy the world because he's evil, and a man who wants to stop him because he's been told to: it's all a bit lacking in emotion and human motivation. The plot and time travel mechanics are frequently obtuse and either underexplained or not given enough time to be taken in, and yet the film constantly patronises its audience for not being able to keep up, in a way that's quite reminiscent of Primer, a film which thoroughly pissed me off for this exact reason.

And yet, Tenet also has some of Nolan's best action sequences yet (and that's saying something), both on smaller scale scenes like reversed one-on-one brawls, all the way up to a for-real plane crash and a truly breathtaking truck heist. Underneath it all, we have what might be my favourite film score since Blade Runner 2049, maybe even better than. From The Mandalorian to this, Ludwig Göransson is fast becoming my new favourite film composer, and here his soundtrack pulses with a frantic energy that pushes every action scene into overdrive, imbued with backwards rhythms and ticking clocks and looped sirens; it's the Dunkirk score on crack, an ever-present reminder that time is running out and every precarious, death-defying scenario could bring everyhing crashing down. POSTERITY, 747, TRUCKS IN PLACE, FAST CARS, RAINY NIGHT IN TALLINN. If you haven't already, go listen to these tracks and you'll see exactly what I mean.

Tenet is everything you've come to associate with Nolan's films, but pushed to the extreme, both the good and the bad. The result is a film that I, and many others, have found a lot of issues with, and yet I just can't ignore how much this film excites me every time I think about it. That's got to be worth something, right? 8/10, High Recommendation

3. Soul - Pete Docter

A pretty late entry in the year, but it counts. While Pixar has made their fair share of mediocre sequels and Good Dinosaurs over the past few years, they still have the capacity to deliver phenomenal animated features, and Soul is up there with their best.

A comparison to Inside Out, director Pete Docter's last film, is pretty inevitable, as on paper both films are on different sides of the same coin: one exploring the human mind and one exploring the human...well, soul. It's not really fair to judge either film as a comparison to the other, since they are doing their own distinct things, but since I did rewatch Inside Out this Christmas period anyway, I figured I should probably mention it.

I still really enjoy Inside Out and it retains a lot of that emotional power it had on my first viewing, but I do like Soul more. For me, a big part of it was that I went into Soul expecting a big sad moment like in Inside Out and other recent Pixars like Coco and Onward, and was pleasantly surprised when I realised Soul didn't have one and, more to the point, didn't need one.

Soul is a lot more of a relaxed, easy-going experience, and I actually really appreciate that. In some ways it feels like a more mature film: there's almost something quite transparent about the way Inside Out tries to pluck at your heartstrings, while Soul has realised that it doesn't need to be emotionally devastating to be profound or memorable. In fact, despite dealing with concepts of life and death and even the meaning of existence, Soul's story feels very low-key and almost unburduned by the weight of its existential concepts. Instead, Soul's message is all about appreciating the small details of life and the value of simply being, and existing in the world.

There's also some gorgeous animation on display, particularly in the Great Before, where entirey metaphysical concepts are rendered visually in a way that live action could never even attempt. Even the Great Beyond, a relatively simplistic design inspired by A Matter of Life and Death, through its animation and sound design mananges to fully communicate a truly unnerving existential dread while still maintaining a beautiful, yet disquieting simplcity not unlike a black hole.

Soul is exactly the kind of meaningful, optimistic content we all need right now, and it made me want to just lie down in a field somewhere and take in the smell of the grass and the currents of wind moving across my face and listen to the birds sing in the distance. Which was quite a shame considering the circumstances. 9/10, High Recommendation

 

2. The Lighthouse - Robert Eggers

Man, it feels like I watched this film in a different era, let alone a different year. I saw this for the first time when I met a friend for the afternoon in London: we saw it with about forty other people crammed into the tiny screen at BFI Southbank centre, a sold-out screening. Inconceivable now, but back then it was just a normal year.

Considering how 2020's release slate was all but wiped out from April onwards, it's probabaly no surprise that the top two slots came from the first quarter of the year, which I suppose is unusual considering often it's the end of the year when the big hitters are released. 2020 became less a year of anticipating which film would shine brightest and more if there was anything left to compete with these early champions that set the bar so high.

The first of these was The Lighthouse, which quite prophetically is all about being confined to a small building and isolated from the rest of the world. Broadly speaking a horror, but thats proabably a debatable point depending on how you define the genre, and The Lighthouse kinda straddles several genres anyway.

The best way to decribe it is a film of textures. The movietone ratio and black and white photography go hand-in-hand with the production design and period dialogue to give the film this air of scratchy authenticity, that only amplifies the opressive atmosphere created by the purgatorial setting. Special mention also goes to the film's haunting, nightmarish soundscape that drenches every scene with an encroaching malaise: the roar of the waves, the creaking of wooden floorboards, the thundering fog horn, the screams of seagulls.

Together, it creates a powerful paranoia that imbues every scene with symbolic suggestion. Is it just an argument about cooking? Just a fight with a seagull? Just a lighthouse, even? Or is there something more mythical at work beneath it all. Soon the lines between reality and insanity are blurring, and you know nothing good can possibly come from this as the characters hurtle towards their fates.

The Lighthouse is rich in potential meaning, but while there is plenty of room for audiences to discuss and debate their intepretations, the film still works on a literal level as a tale of deteriorating lucidity amongst men trapped at sea, so while it's still definitly closer to art-house than mainstream cinema, it retains a level of accessibility that not only endears itself to general audiences, but will keep them coming back for more. 9/10, High Recommendation

 

1. Parasite - Bong Joon-Ho

Surprising absolutely no-one. I mean, even if Corona hadn't happened and this year's original lineup of films proceeded as planned, I'd still be willing to wager Parasite would be sitting here on top. Seemingly every viewer and critic on the planet has unanimously adored this film and as far as I'm concerned it's with very good reason, because it's really not that often that a film as finely crafted as this one comes around. Not only is it a masterfully-assembled, genre-defying work of cinema, it's even managed the rare triumph of being accessible and appealing enough to the western masses to find mainstream success without sacrificing any of its artisitc integrity at all, instead merely telling a well-told story that is recognisable and translatable across all nations and still exciting at the same time, to the point that even people who don't watch foreign/subtitled films gave Parasite a shot. Even the Acadamy loved it enough to give it the first ever Best Picture award for a non-english language film, and they're not exactly known for their diverse taste in film.

I do insist on keeping these top fives spoiler free, and so if you want to hear some more in-depth and specific comments I have on the film, you can watch our Parasite discussion from the podcast here, and if you haven't seen Parasite yet you absolutely should check it out, no questions asked. In the meantime, I'll do the best I can here.

There really are very few things to speak ill of, and overall it's one of those beautiful experiences where the more you think about any given detail, the more meaning and intricacy and subtext you discover. The one thing I will say is that on the second watch the film becomes a little unbalanced pacing wise; after quite a significant event which feels like it should be more of a midpoint, we go almost immediatly into the climax, which still works but considering how fresh and drastic the shift in status quo is, it feels like maybe a little more down time inbetween these moments, perhaps playing with the new precarious scenario, could help break up the tension a bit and even out the last half hour, pacing-wise (Hopefully that made sense for the people who've seen the film). But this is a minor quibble on an otherwise near-impeccable product. Any other element you care to name is phenomenal. The ensemble cast? Fantastic. Cinematography and editing? Beautiful. Production design? Exquisite. The writing? *chef's kiss* And at the centre of it all is a director wielding complete elegant mastery over his craft. 

Bong Joon-Ho is up there with Park Chan-Wook as one of the finest directors of South Korean cinema, and while Parasite is far from his first hit, this definitly feels like a consolidation of all his past achievements into one magnum opus that's put him squarely in the spotlight. And now the world watches and waits for his next move with breathless anticipation. 9/10, High Recommendation

And so the gaping maw of 2021 lays ahead, promising more misery and frustration, no doubt. For me, this year will be a game of 'how many of the delayed 2020 films are gonna get pushed back to 2022', with a bonus round of 'count the dying breaths of the golden age of streaming'.

Well, who knows what state the world and the film industry will be in this time next year. It's an incredibly hard time to be optimistic, but I'm sure no matter what happens, we'll all find our own ways to pull through, and the ever-enduring human spirit will defeat the roughest of what the year has to offer.

For what it's worth, I wish all of you readers a happy and prosperous 2021, and a great big thank you as always for reading (and listening), and I hope you'll return for many more ramblings in the new year!

Star Wars: A Ranked Retrospective - Episode II

Welcome back to my ranking of The Skywalker Saga. Last time, we covered the very worst of these films, but today things are gonna start getting a bit more positive.

#6) Revenge of the Sith
Regardless of how much you hate the prequels, most people generally agree that Sith is the strongest of the three. Which isn't exactly a glowing achievement, I'll grant you, but I do think this film is a lot better than people give it credit for, and the separation between it and Clones and Phantom is significant. For one thing, this is probably the most exciting and action-packed of the prequels, which doesn't automatically translate to better, but in a series called Star Wars, I'd consider it a significant factor. Similarly, this seems to be the most stylish and visually vibrant of the prequels, with the opening shot of the battle over Coruscant a particular highlight. Yeah, it's not got the charm of the OT's model shots, but if you're going to go CG, go all out, and that's exactly what this first shot does as the camera weaves between hundreds of Republic and Separatist cruisers, showing off the sheer scale and spread of the battle, with a manner reminiscent of a historical epic.

Lucas's direction has also improved. It's still not very good, but having watched them back to back, it's definitely not as hideous as Clones, although the problem with Sith's delivery isn't so much about being wooden as it is about being overly hammy and melodramatic. In particular, Ian McDiarmid seems to be having a great time as Palpatine, who was always a bit of a pantomime villain anyway to be honest, and Hayden Christensen is...well, he's certainly trying! Natalie Portman still seems to be struggling but I'm sure I saw at least one emotion in there, somewhere. There is still one perplexingly awful "love" scene between Anakin and Padmé, but I guess to make up for how few there are, they made it possibly the worst one yet. The lines don't even sound like they connect to each other, as if Lucas just threw a bunch of sonnets at a cement mixer and picked out whichever scraps of paper survived.

You know what is good though? Obi-Wan and Anakin's chemistry. Yes, I know every fucking line of McGregor's has been memed to shit, but do you know why they capture our hearts so much? Because it's banter. It's rare in a Lucas script, I'll grant you, but Anakin and Obi-Wan have a genuine rapport with each other, and you can believe that they're good friends. They talk like friends, they quip like friends, they tease each other like friends, and when Obi-Wan has to defeat Anakin on Mustafar, I can really believe how upset he is.

On a related note, the opening sequence where Anakin and Obi-Wan rescue Palpatine from The Invisible Hand is probably the closest any of the prequels get to reproducing the fabled 'Star Wars feel' that makes those OT films so enjoyable, in that the tone and scenario of the sequence are actually pretty similar to some of the ones you'd find in New Hope or Jedi. Stop me if any of this sounds familiar: the core group of protagonists infiltrate a heavily defended enemy base with a specific objective to reach and a half-baked plan that they keep improvising as they go. It's also got the same sense of humour, the cheesy one-liners and snarky dialogue and banter between the protagonists, and it's got a constantly evolving sense of peril. There are flashes of this formula elsewhere in the prequels admittedly, probably the next closest being the retaking of Theed Palace in Phantom, but it just doesn't have the charisma or character chemistry to make it work nearly as well as it does here in Sith, where it ends up being one of the highlights of the film.

This film does go off the rails eventually, of course, but what I found surprising was how far into the story the film got before it happened. The set up to Anakin's turn to the dark side actually makes a lot of sense. As sloppily as it may have been executed in Clones, we know that Anakin has a past trauma about losing his mother to the Tusken Raiders, and was too late to save her despite acting on a premonition he had of her in danger. So it makes a lot of sense for him to get obsessively paranoid about losing Padmé when he has similar premonitions about her. His tension with the Jedi council also makes a lot of sense, if you consider even from the very beginning they were sceptical of training him, and Anakin has always seemed to be held at an arm's length from the rest of the Jedi, ironically because they feared that he would be too dangerous, which then drove him towards wiping them out. Like that's actually good writing. And when his trust in the Jedi order is wavering, along with the lies fed to him about the Jedi trying to take over and the chance to save Padmé, it actually makes a lot of sense that Anakin lashes out at Windu, considering as well his impulsive nature. From that point onward though, it falls apart. Immediately swearing allegiance to the Sith and taking on the Vader moniker? Nuh-uh. He's not there yet. He's still travelling downhill, but he is far from reaching the bottom. But no, we go straight from that regrettable impulsive decision straight to evil bastard within about a minute. Even then, maybe we could swallow it with the melodrama of the thing if it weren't for...

The. Fucking. Younglings.

Again, everything to do with the younglings has been memed to death, and it doesn't take a genius to see how misguided and tonally kinda fucked up that is for what is basically a kid's film, but you know what, I get it. This isn't a pleasant story; it has to go there at some point. But not with Anakin. That's the problem with it. Like I said, Anakin isn't there yet, he's still at the top of his descent and should still be a somewhat good character. If I were writing this, I'd have Anakin shut himself away somewhere straight after the Windu scene and have some kind of breakdown as he comes to terms with what he's done. Meanwhile, the clones, which are faceless non-characters that are directly under the command of Palpatine, can go and do all the child-murdering in the Jedi temple, which is not only a lot more emotionally plausible but keeps Anakin as relatable as he can possibly be at this point, and it would sell the Shakespearean kinda tragedy angle that Lucas is going for a lot better. It is just straight-up inconceivable that Anakin goes from being an essentially good but haunted character who just wants to save his wife during the birth of his child(ren) to an unfeeling and unconflicted child-murdering machine within maybe an hour tops of in-universe time.

The other big problem for me is that Sith's entire plot about Anakin being manipulated by Palpatine makes no sense when you realise that prior to this film, there is very little relation between Anakin and Palpatine: they barely interact in either of the previous two films. And yes, there's a three-year gap which maybe The Clone Wars series plugs (but it doesn't count since it was made afterwards: that's called a retcon, boys and girls) where this might have been explored, but coming to Sith straight from Clones and being told Anakin is super-close best buds with Palpatine is baffling. Especially when Anakin randomly drops a line to the effect of "my allegiance has always been to the senate." WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? You've been a Jedi for the past thirteen years of your life; the closest you have ever gotten to politics is six inches inside the senator of Naboo!

#5) The Force Awakens
We have now crossed the threshold of 'bad' Star Wars, a term I'm still somewhat at odds with, and into the realm of 'good' Star Wars. I know a lot of people would draw this line a lot later, but no,there are at least five really solid Star Wars films, and here we have the weakest of them, The Force Awakens. After growing up with the OT and the prequels, when the lines of 'good' and 'bad' Star Wars were much more clear cut (to the point that a list ranking them like this was almost pointless), the announcement of a new trilogy made by Disney was met with a lot of trepidation, changing to tentative optimism when the trailer dropped and actually wasn't half bad. How refreshing it was when Awakens turned out to be not only a genuinely enjoyable blast of a film but also managed to recapture the same 'feel' of the OT and the magic of Star Wars which I only then realised had been so sorely missing from the prequels. Then a couple of days passed and we all collectively realised the reason it felt so much like the OT was because it was the OT: a flashy remake of A New Hope, to be precise, but with heavy use of the Find and Replace tool. Luke becomes Rey, Tatooine becomes Jakku, Ben Kenobi becomes Han Solo, Vader becomes Kylo and the Death Star becomes Starkiller Base. And that's just a sample; I nearly wrote a post back in the day exploring just how much of Awakens was just blatantly stolen from New Hope before I realised everyone and their stuffed Ewok was five steps ahead of me.

Of course, flashier doesn't mean better, just more polished and expensive. And when you make everything bigger and better, the cracks that existed in the original also become bigger and more problematic. The one that bothers me the most is Starkiller Base. Now, the Death Star has always been a bit of a hangup, even in the OT: in New Hope, we can just about accept that the Empire has the power and money and influence to build a space station the size of a small moon with the power to destroy planets. But with its swift destruction, plus the death toll and the presumed economic hit that surely accompanied it, you'd think the Empire would be dissuaded from trying it again. So when in Jedi they've just built another one in a fraction of the time and even larger in size, which is then also immediately destroyed, you'd think that any other Empire wannabes might be wise to avoid building such colossal and surely expensive battlestations in future, and that maybe future Star Wars writers might try coming up with something a little more original for their future instalments rather than just more planet-destroying superweapons. So then Awakens comes along with Starkiller Base, a Death Star that is to the first one in size what Jupiter is to Earth, with the ability to destroy five planets at once. This, ladies and gents, is how you raise the threat in the laziest way possible. "Look, it's five times as deadly, so its five times the threat". Except it isn't though, is it? Because while the ability to blow up one entire planet at once is quite a formidable threat for an audience to get behind, just simply upping the number of planets doesn't actually elevate the threat to any new level. The graph of 'number of planets that can be destroyed at once' against 'threat level' is not directly proportional: it's got to be at least logarithmic! And before you ask why I'm trying to illustrate my point with statistics graphs, may I remind you you are reading a ten-thousand word retrospective on Star Wars: I feel like most people who've read this far into such a document have at least some understanding of graph theory.

It's difficult to fully explain, but I guess if you imagine you were watching a thriller and one of the villains enters and says "I shot a hostage". Everyone's really shocked because this is a significant shift of the status quo, and now the blood being shed is innocent and what-have-you, but then if the same character comes back in and says "I've shot another four hostages" it just doesn't really have the same impact. You're certainly not five times as shocked, that's for sure. Starkiller Base isn't any more powerful or formidable plot-wise than the original Death Star except for being slightly more efficient. OOoooOOOOoooOoooOO, I'm so scared.

What also doesn't help was in A New Hope even though we never actually saw the world of Alderaan, we knew its emotional significance to Leia and so we still felt pretty bad about its destruction. In Awakens, even though we see people on the planet screaming as they see the blast approaching, we still feel nothing because we don't know who any of them are or why they're of personal importance to the main characters (spoiler alert, they aren't). Yeah, everyone's like "it sucks those planets got blown up", but there's nothing akin to Leia having her entire home, family and friends killed that made us feel something. Otherwise it has about the same emotional impact as a star destroyer being taken down. It's just flashy effects more than anything relevant to the story. Not to mention, which planets did they destroy? What were they called? Because they were never established other than just simply containing the Republic in some fashion, and so we have no real connection to them. Somehow the stakes actually end up feeling lower than they did in New Hope. Maybe if they'd destroyed Tatooine or Bespin or Coruscant we might have felt something, but then that would just be cheap manipulation. At least Starkiller Base was the last we saw of the Death Stars.

There are other niggles with the film, but on the whole, Awakens is a pretty solid and entertaining Star Wars film, even if it is just wearing a New Hope skin suit. If the OT didn't already exist, Awakens would probably be considered one of the best space fantasy blockbusters of its time. Of course, without the OT it wouldn't exist at all, so that's a paradox, but you get what I mean. Ultimately, while it didn't do much new, I do appreciate the logic of Awakens: that Star Wars fans had been let down so many times before and were nervous of how Disney was going to handle it, that Awakens essentially stood to prove that Disney understood the material and how a good Star Wars film should be, before they ventured forth and paved their way with a new story. Which is why it's such a shame to look back now and see Disney didn't have a fucking clue what they were doing.

#4) Return of the Jedi
Ok, things are starting to get a bit more serious now as we enter into OT territory. Originally, I was gonna spend a bit of time talking about the various changes that have been made to the OT but as with most things, the word count ballooned, and now I'm going dedicate an entire post specifically to them. So in the meantime, if you're wondering why I'm not mentioning Greedo shooting first or the dance scene at Jabba's palace or the blinking ewoks, don't you worry, it's coming.

Most people seem to be in agreement that Jedi is the least good of the OT, and while there are many factors as to why that is the case, I wonder if it's worth speculating that maybe some of the negativity towards Jedi comes from people watching it at the end of Star Wars marathons, and who are maybe starting to tire. Jedi is the longest of the OT by about ten minutes, and probably the most languidly paced, which isn't a bad thing, but it is the only one of the three where the action just kinda stops for a while in the middle, and if you've just sat through New Hope and Empire back-to-back immediately beforehand like I and many other fans do when we rewatch these, I think it's understandable that Jedi comes off as maybe the least exciting of the three. Which is still the equivalent of saying "this gold bar is probably the least shiny in the vault".

Now I have a bit of a rocky history with Jedi. When I first saw it as a three-year-old, I was mildly traumatised by the Rancor and its door-related demise. Not in like a bad way, in a perfectly healthy three-year-old-watching-a-mildly-scary-film kinda way. Plus I ended up developing a phobia of slugs at some point in my childhood (unrelated to Star Wars) and Jabba kinda freaked me out as a result. So for the longest time, I refused to watch Jedi, going so far as to read the novelisation instead of subjecting myself to the film again. I did revisit it eventually and of course I was completely fine, and I found myself kinda fascinated by the film, in the same way most people do when it comes to nostalgic horror.

So until very recently I kinda had Jedi on par with Empire in my mind as the best Star Wars films. Adding to that was, ironically, the Jabba the Hutt sequence at the beginning, because it's the best glimpse we ever really got into the seedy underbelly of bounty hunting and organised crime in the Star Wars universe, an area which I've always found a lot more intriguing than the 'evil Empire versus Rebels' plot and that I'd always wished we had a film entirely based around. Luckily, that's pretty much exactly what The Mandalorian is, and it's a big factor as to why I love that series so much. Oh, and Solo, which sort of does it too but really... rubbishly.

Today though, while the Jabba the Hutt sequence is still a highlight, it doesn't save the film, which definitely starts to suffer once said sequence concludes. There's definitely a sense of running out of ideas in Jedi. Some complain that the Jabba sequence is too long, and while I don't agree as such, I think it's still very deliberately there to kill some time. The Empire, in particular, seems to be running on creative fumes. As I mentioned above, the threat is just another Death Star (but don't worry guys, it's marginally bigger than the old one OOOooOOooOo), because the Empire has seemingly either run out of ideas of how to be threatening or have learned nothing from the first one (or both). And in another masterstroke of strategy, the Emperor is gonna be staying on the station too. And then a trap is set for the Rebels which involved letting them know the location of the new Death Star and the details on its shield system, and even consciously allowing them to sneak past the Star Destroyers guarding Endor. A very cocky move considering the Empire's track record, and while I get this was a plot to convert Luke to the dark side, it feels like the Empires not even trying to win at this point.

But then this isn't really about the Empire, this is about trying to conclude a trilogy of films with the biggest baddest threat of all and just not really knowing how to top what's come before. Not to mention contriving a way by which the Empire can be somehow permanently defeated in one fell swoop, and so taking out the new Death Star and also the Emperor if you fancy it and you're not doing anything else was about the best they could manage, like this is just some big ol' game of intergalactic chess.

Speaking of the Emperor, I know he's a beloved meme and the highlight of the prequels, but has anyone thought about how silly he is? His existence is important story-wise to motivate Darth Vader's arc, sure, but he's essentially a pantomime villain. Sitting in his chair looking like a witch, cackling like a witch, just saying evil things in his silly little raspy voice, it's very difficult to take him seriously and, let's be honest here, until the prequels came about this guy had zero character really. He's just the big bad evil guy, and has basically no real role or development otherwise. People complain about Snoke having no character or interest outside of being just a gross looking evil guy, but to be honest, both are about as complex as each other and their best contribution to their respective trilogies is being killed as part of the real villain's arc.

Let's circle back to the Death Star quickly. The last real complaint I have is there's something very slapdash about the final battle to destroy the second Death Star. Firstly, all the major characters are either on the Death Star confronting Mean Mr Palpatine or down on Endor taking part in a much more exciting setpiece. Yeah, I know Lando's leading the fleet, but that's my point really isn't it, it's Lando: a recent addition to the core group who's really one of the more minor characters in the series if you really think about it, so no wonder he's left to do the obligatory space fight while the rest of the crew has fun down in the forest. So there's this feeling that the Battle Over Endor is almost more of a formality than it is an exciting part of the story.

And do you remember when the Death Star was activated for the first time and blew up Alderaan and it was this really shocking moment? And do you remember when the second Death Star first activates and destroys some random Rebel cruiser and it's just kinda "ok cool." There's a theme developing with this particular post, but again, who was on that ship? Why did they matter? Yes, I get they're Rebels, but to us they're nobodies. Other than the faction they were aligned with there was nothing that separates that ship from every other ship that's being blown up. Hell, that one A-Wing that takes out the Executor has a thousand times the emotional impact and that's almost entirely because we see the guy in his final moments. That's all we really need.

Plus when the shield finally is down (by which point I'd like to point out the Emperor and Vader are already dead), the actual attack on the Death Star also feels so rushed and arbitrary. It's just "go in, establish the minimum amount of peril by showing the radar dish getting knocked off, into the reactor, one little pew pew, and then back out." It takes maybe two minutes and there's just no emotional connection there at all, it just feels like its ticking the box, like the editor's going "yeah, we know how this turns out. Let's just get on with it."

I gripe, but this is still the OT we're talking about, and Jedi is still a damn fine film with plenty of great moments. For all the campiness of the Emperor, the final showdown with Luke, Vader and Palps is one of my favourite sequences of the entire series, with its fantastic music swell as Luke finally snaps at Vader and battles him out from underneath the platform, the great visual representation of Luke's contemplation as he looks between Vader's dismembered stump and his own mechanical hand, and of course, Vader's fantastic (and SILENT) moment where he chooses between his son and his master, all utterly supreme.

And you know what? The Ewoks are fine too. Have a heart.

But Jedi is the weakest of the OT, and I think that's a fairly uncontroversial opinion. Unlike next week's hot take, which I think most of you have already foreseen. Hoo boy, this is going to be fun.

Tune in next week for Episode 3 of Star Wars: A Ranked Retrospective!