Andrew Cartmel's Blog, page 27

Waving Goodbye to Playboy

I've been reading Playboy magazine for decades... yes, for the articles (as the old joke goes). It was by far the best of all the men's magazines, with an unbeatable edge over both the sleazier, more explicit skin magazines (Penthouse) and the stuffier, old-fashioned men's mags (Esquire).

It was also one of the titans of magazine publishing, a genuine classic which got so many things right that it was able to continue for decade after decade, unchanged in its fundamentals. In this respect it was like the New Yorker and the National Geographic, which are also among the very few magazines I could be bothered to read. Playboy was solid, beautifully designed and it always worked. Like a vintage Rolls Royce.

When I heard that Playboy was planning to drop its nude photographs, I didn't think that was a bad thing. I figured the main difference it would make is that I could now leave the magazine lying prominently around amongst my current reading matter without receiving a scolding from my more feminist friends.

Indeed, I was rather looking forward to the new Playboy, and when I saw the first issue (March 2016), with its attractive matte cover, I eagerly bought it in a spirit of cheerful curiosity and optimism.

What I was expecting was the same old Playboy, minus nudity. What I hadn't realised was that the magazine had been completely redesigned and reconceived (or perhaps I should say misconceived).

There are good things about the magazine. The main articles are strong – an interview with Rachel Maddow; fiction by Don Winslow. And the cover is in some ways reassuringly traditional, featuring a scantily clad, fresh faced young woman, Sarah McDaniel. She's been photographed by Theo Wenner, but is posed so she appears to be taking a selfie. This, along with the Snapchat style strapline on the cover — "heyyy ;)" — is so achingly, and meretriciously, trying to be down with the kids that it made me think irresistibly of Poochie in The Simpsons.

But that's the least of the problems here. To my mind, you could get rid of the nudes, but there were certain essential aspects of Playboy you couldn't dispense with. For example, the Playboy Advisor. This feature has doled out anonymous and authoritative advice for decades. Not just about sex and relationships, like every other magazine, men's or women's, but on any topic the reader was concerned about. Food, drink, hi-fi, cars, fashion, travel, etiquette, social mores... its remit was unlimited and the genuinely expert advice it offered was spot on; and each issue featured a dozen questions, with pithy, witty, well informed and valuable answers,  making for fascinating reading.

Well, it's been replaced by a non-anonymous high profile writer, the aptly named Rachel Rabbit White, who is not an expert in anything. She responds to a single question per issue. About sex. In other words, a traditional agony aunt in a feature which is now just like every other magazine, men's or women's.

Other regular features have got the axe, like Raw Data (riveting statistics, cheekily presented). And there's also no letters page, presumably so as to smooth the transition — and not provide a forum for the tens of thousands of angry, hurt and betrayed readers who are going to rail against the destruction of their beloved mag.

But worst of all, the cartoons are all gone. Presumably they're too old fashioned — plus it's true that they don't work with the new layout. My solution to this would be to scrap the new layout. The cartoons were an essential part of the Playboy mix, and key to its popularity and longevity.

The bitter irony here is that Playboy has adopted its new look specifically in an attempt to capture the market share of magazines like Maxim. And one of the things Maxim got right when it launched, and which allowed it to become established and successful, was the inclusion of cartoons. 

God knows what is going to happen to all those great cartoonists, including Gahan Wilson, Harley Schwadron, Sidney Harris and P.C. Vey, who are now pretty much out of work. The New Yorker still uses cartoons, but Playboy was always the best paying market. So a whole generation of talented artists are out of business and will no longer be able to pay their bills.

Never mind. On the evidence of this first new issue, Playboy soon will be out of business, too. They have traded in a vintage Rolls Royce for a Prius Hybrid.

(Image credits: (Most of these links also feature interesting articles about the end of the traditional Playboy.) The March 2016 cover is from the Mirror website. The iconic October 1971, a groundbreaking image featuring African American model Darine Stern is from 680 News. The ever amusing College Issue, October 2015, is from BBC News. The rabbit head is from Miss Open. The December 2015 cover, one of the last of the old school Playboy, sniff, is from Pixhost via DL-Home. The December 1953 cover — the very first — is from USA Today. Poignantly, Marilyn now seems to be waving goodbye to Playboy.)

Trumbo by John MacNamara

This movie is catnip for people, like me, who are fascinated by screenwriting. Dalton Trumbo was one of the great writers of the golden age of Hollywood. In his towering ability, his speed, his prolific output and his cynicism, he is reminiscent of Ben Hecht.

But unlike Ben Hecht, Trumbo fell seriously afoul of the great red witchunt of the 1950s for his communist sympathies and ended up being blacklisted. Which meant, at the height of his career, he could no longer work in Hollywood... or could he?

Trumbo is a joyous, terrific movie which tells the tale of how Trumbo circumvented the blacklist. Out hero is played by Bryan Cranston, famed as Walter White in Breaking Bad, a fearless actor who has no hesitation in making himself look physically pitiful — indeed, he seems to revel in it.

The film grippingly follows the rollercoaster ride of Trumbo's career. He's the highest paid scriptwriter in Hollywood when he is destroyed by vindictive commie-haters like the despicable gossip columnist Hedda Hopper. Hopper is brilliantly played by Helen Mirren, just part of a peerless cast, including Michael Stuhlbarg — who was so excellent in Steve Jobs — as Edward G. Robinson.

The only problem with the movie is that a lot of famed movie stars are among the characters. How do you cast someone to play John Wayne or Kirk Douglas? Well here we have David James Elliott and Dean O'Gorman, both of whom project some of the physical presence of the originals. But in the case of O'Gorman I felt Douglas's distinctive voice was all wrong.

Never mind, this is an exhilarating, heartbreaking movie. And one of the few I've seen which does a great job of depicting family life. Trumbo obviously had a wonderful wife (played by Diane Lane) and kids, and when you see them lose their house in the country it's a real jolt. On the other hand, watching Trumbo win not one but two Oscars while he's on the blacklist is wicked fun. Also, seeing John Goodman as a hack producer chasing a commie-hunter out of his office with a baseball bat is priceless.

Trumbo is written by John MacNamara, a prolific TV writer, and based on a book by Bruce Cook. It's directed, perhaps surprisingly, by Jay Roach who is best known for the Austin Powers comedies. MacNamara and Roach do a great job, and there's a dynamite score by Theodore Shapiro.

A wonderful film, and you don't have to be a screenwriting aficionado to love it.

(Image credits: Thank you, Imp Awards for the posters. The book cover is from Amazon.)

Deadpool by Reese, Wernick, Nicieza and Liefeld

The thing that most immediately intrigued me about Deadpool was where the hell the character got his name. But it turns out its derivation was exactly what I thought: a dead pool is a betting syndicate wagering on who's going to die first. It's already been the title of a film — The Dead Pool was the fifth and final Dirty Harry movie.

This Deadpool is a Marvel superhero; yes, another one. He kills bad guys with guns and swords and his main gimmick is that he can regenerate when he's wounded. Actually, his real main gimmick is that he breaks the fourth wall. In other words, he addresses the audience.

The comic book Deadpool was created by writer Fabian Nicieza and artist Rob Liefeld. This film was scripted by Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick (who co-wrote Zombieland), and directed by Tim Miller.

Deadpool's chief virtue is its sense of humour — the opening credits are just hilarious. And it maintains a sleazy, snarky tone throughout which sets it apart from other Marvel extravaganzas. It is also distinguished by deliberately gory and extreme violence. My main reaction to this was to notice how ineffectual it was compared to similar material in Kingsman.

Kingsman was a way better film. At first I thought this was because it was a spy movie, and so it was more rooted in reality than a superhero story. But actually the reason it was better was because it had a plot and characters.

The premise for Deadpool, on the other hand, is terribly scant. Mercenary Wade Wilson (Ryan Reynolds) is turned into a super powered mutant but the process renders him hideously ugly — in terms of the movie's makeup, this basically means he looks like John Malkovitch. Wade wants to get the mad scientist responsible for his plight to repair his looks. And in the meantime he's steering clear of the girl he loves, Vanessa (Morena Baccarin, who was great in Homeland and V).

Given that's all we've got to go on here, the action scenes rapidly run out of steam and the humour, admirable as it is, just isn't enough to power the movie. Ultimately a negligible endeavour. But Ryan Reynolds is surprisingly good.

(Image credits: The posters are all from Imp Awards. I particularly adore the one which attempts to repackage the movie as a date flick for Valentine's Day.)

Black Sails by Levine & Steinberg

Black Sails comes from the same studio, Starz, which is responsible for Spartacus. It's a pirate saga and at first, as we watch two sailing ships joined in battle on the open sea, I was concerned that we might not be in for the same impressive levels of female nudity as featured on Spartacus. 

I need not have worried though; the pirate ship was soon anchoring in port and the crew was off to the local brothel. And indeed, before episode one had concluded we could shout "ahoy" to some girl-on-girl action. The brothel locale also allows for an episode featuring one of the finest screen credits ever — 'Hand Job Pirate'.

Lest it seems that I'm wholly preoccupied with Black Sails for its admirably prurient content, I must hastily add that it's brilliantly written. Created by Robert Levine and Jonathan E. Steinberg (who previously worked together on the TV series Jericho, which Steinberg created), Black Sails is an intelligent and beautifully fashioned drama. 

For a start, it is deeply concerned with the politics and economics of piracy, which is something I've never seen on screen before. The first three episodes are written by Levine & Steinberg and they've done a marvellous job — although, chaps, no buccaneer in 1715 would use the word "input".

Two out of three of the first episodes are directed by Neil Marshall, who is very similar to Danny Cannon in that he's a British director whose work on the big screen never moved me greatly, who then went on to carve out a truly illustrious career in American television. 

Marshall has also directed for Game of Thrones and Hannibal. His work here is impressive, though in episode one it's not sufficiently clear that the pirate's "fence" Richard Guthrie (Sean Cameron Michael) is wounded by a stray shot, or that his daughter Eleanor (Hannah New) is bruised — important plot points, both.
The show looks absolutely ravishing — pale blue sea, golden beaches, silver palm fronds in the moonlight, the green silk wall paper in a whore's bedroom...  the colours are so gorgeous that I am longing to see it on Blu-ray. The outstanding production design is by Wolf Kroeger, a distinguished talent who won a Bafta for his work on Michael Mann's Last of the Mohicans. The cinematography is by Lukas Ettlin and Jules O'Loughlin.
 
The story is brought to life by a smashing cast led by a swashbuckling Toby Stephens (who has played James Bond in BBC radio adaptions of Ian Fleming), an engagingly weaselly Luke Arnold and a smouldering Jessica Parker Kennedy. The excellent music is by Bear McCreary, now working on Agents of Shield and Outlander.

I just love Black Sails — and even forgive it for having achingly anachronistic phrases like "shorthand" and "time frame" in the dialogue. It has the finest sea battle I've ever seen on screen in episode V — there's also a fine one in episode VIII — and I'm so impressed I won't mention dialogue like "Incoming" and "Fire at zero range". Oh, whoops — I just did... Never mind, this is a terrific show even on the basis of its short first season, and promises still greater things — on top of everything else, it turns out that it's a sly and carefully crafted prequel to Treasure Island. Great viewing ahoy. Set sail, me hearties...

(Image credits: The clever suggestive-of-skull-and-crossbones poster is from Imp Awards. The skeletal ship is from Fast Co Create where there's an interesting article about the title sequence. The shot of New and Kennedy together is from Screen Rant. The solo shot of Parker looking so fetching among the bedclothes is from the very useful Black Sails Wikia. The portrait of her is from Pinterest. The army of skeletons — yay! — is from Sinful Celluloid.)

Game of Thrones by Martin, Benioff & Weiss

I've come rather late to the Game of Thrones party. People have been raving about this TV series, and recommending it to me, ever since it debuted in 2011. But events have conspired to prevent me watching it up until now. (Okay, I was too cheap to buy the boxed set until it turned up in a charity shop at a bargain price.)

Having watched the first couple of episodes, though, I was completely hooked. Once I'd seen the first two seasons I sincerely concluded that this is the greatest serial television drama ever made. Of course, I am an admirer of Breaking Bad, The Wire, The Shield, Rome, etc. but none of these have the epic scope of Game of Thrones.

The series has its origins in a sequence of (huge) novels collectively entitled A Song of Ice and Fire, the first of which is A Game of Thrones. They are the work of George R. R. Martin, a fantasy and horror writer whom up until now I principally knew through his riverboat-vampire novel Fevre Dream. 

George R. R. Martin has also served his time in the television trenches, writing for the 1986 revival of The Twilight Zone and doing a lot of the heavy lifting on three seasons of the series Beauty and the Beast (1987-1990). 

But Game of Thrones was developed for television ("created") by David Benioff and D.B. Weiss — known as Dave and Dan to their co-workers. Weiss has a background as a TV producer while Benioff has a number of impressive screenwriting credits on feature films, starting with Spike Lee's 25th Hour (which was also based on Benioff's novel) and the Brad Pitt epic Troy. 

Benioff and Weiss have written numerous key episodes of Game of Thrones and they're bloody good at what they do. George R. R. Martin contributes one episode per season and these are also pretty damned marvellous.

But then so is the whole show, a combination of gripping family dramas, royal court intrigues, quasi-medieval history, sword and sorcery and horror. It has a genuine sense of wonder to it. Oh yes, plus lashings of sex and nudity. 

In fact Game of Thrones became famous/infamous for "sexposition", the use of sex and nudity to keep the viewer interested while presenting exposition in dialogue. To be fair though, I don't think this was as calculated or contrived as viewers like to claim. Although it certainly works.

Game of Thrones is a masterpiece of storytelling. It scores in every department. Not just the writing, but the directing, design, photography (mostly digital, though the first version of the pilot was shot on 35mm film), makeup, costumes, sfx and music. But a special word must be said about the cast, which is uniformly spectacular, right down to the young children.

I was at a party last night where someone told me she hadn't watched Game of Thrones because she "doesn't like science fiction." Well, leaving aside the small fact that it isn't science fiction (it's fantasy, folks, there's quite a difference) there is the big fact that Game of Thrones is simply superlative drama, and utterly addictive.

Try it and you, too, will be hooked. Even if you "don't like science fiction."

(Image credits:These bits of 'wallpaper' were taken from Ace Show Biz.)

Hannibal by Thomas Harris and Bryan Fuller

The great American novelist Thomas Harris forever changed the face of crime fiction with his book Red Dragon. In it he introduced the concept (and term) serial killer, as well as the notion of a troubled police profiler who has disturbing insights into violent crimes and those who commit them. 

These tropes have become so omnipresent — indeed, tiresomely almost de rigeur — that it's strange indeed to remember that they all come from that one novel and that one (brilliant) writer. Thomas Harris has had as profound an effect on crime fiction as Hammett and Chandler (who between them invented the private eye story as we know it).
 
Perhaps not surprisingly, Harris's fortunes in terms of screen versions of his work have been mixed. Red Dragon was brought to the screen by Michael Mann, a top notch writer-director. But that adaptation didn't maintain sufficient fidelity to the original. It changed the title (to the anodyne Man Hunter) and even changed the spelling of Hannibal Lecter's name (I ask you – "Lektor"?). However the next Thomas Harris movie was Silence of the Lambs, extremely well directed by Jonathan Demme from a truly first rate script by Ted Tally, who did respect the subject matter. And it was a blockbuster.

This was followed by Hannibal directed by Ridley Scott, who managed to screw things up royally by changing the ending of Harris's book. The less said about that, the better. Then came a remake of Red Dragon, with the proper title restored and a much more faithful treatment of the book — thanks again to a script by the excellent Ted Tally. 

Finally there was the film Hannibal Rising, which I rate very highly (many would disagree); I certainly think it is superior to Harris's book — the weakest in the series. (But then Hannibal Rising was conceived as a film, and Harris wrote the script first. It only became a book later, a very thin and underpowered one, presumably because no one could dream of of missing out on the chance of a cash-in.)

When I heard that there was going to be a TV series called Hannibal, I feared the worst. But I am delighted to say I was wrong, wrong, wrong. On the evidence of the first series, Hannibal is smashingly, stupendously good.

The show is based on Red Dragon, or rather "based on the characters" in Red Dragon. We still have Hannibal Lecter, everybody's favourite cannibal psychopath, along with Will Graham the eerily insightful profiler, Jack Crawford the stalwart FBI chief, and Freddie Lounds the sleazy opportunistic tabloid journalist. But the stories weaving these characters together are fresh and new (and top-notch). 

Plus there have been some intriguing and very cool changes wrought on the characters. Graham (played by Hugh Dancy) is now on the autistic spectrum. Crawford is African American (played by an impressive Laurence Fishburne). And, most brilliantly, Lounds is now a scheming redheaded woman (the Canadian actress Lara Jean Chorostecki).

As for Lecter himself, he is played by the magnificent Mads Mikkelsen, quite recently sighted being menacing in a sausage-dog print shirt in Charlie Countryman. And the big change for his character is that, whereas Lecter was already behind bars when we first met him in Harris' novel, here he is still a free man (or monster). In fact, by a very dark irony, he is working in close collaboration with the FBI team. He's even Will Graham's shrink.

There are some flaws in the show. It specialises in fantasy and dream (or nightmare) sequences but it also specialises in grand guignol shocks. And sometimes it's difficult to tell the two apart. So when a killer's victim, whom we believe to be long dead, suddenly grabs Will Graham's arm (a swipe of a memorable scene from Andrew Kevin Walker's script for Seven) it rather spoils the impact if we initially think it's just another one of Will's waking dreams.

Also, the gruesome subject matter is just a little hard to take. Of course, a Hannibal Lecter story is going to involve some grisly murders. But the problem with a weekly show of this nature is that there's going to be one of these pretty much every episode. (They are not all, I hasten to add, committed by Hannibal — the FBI team investigates a wide range of suspects.) For me and my delicate sensibilities there is a danger that this could be a little too much. That was why I ultimately couldn't watch Law and Order: Special Victims Unit — I couldn't handle a lavish attrocity every week.

In the case of Hannibal, all this means is that it is ideal for watching an episode a time, interspersed with less intense material (Castle, please step forward) instead of box-set binge viewing.

But, when all is said and done, this is an exceptional show and, despite its subject matter, very beautiful. It is shot in amazingly stylish heightened colours — all bright red autumn leaves and blood splashes — by cinematographer James Hawkins. And there is an outstanding, churning, eerie, avant-garde music score by Brian Reitzell which I will be seeking out on CD. And possibly even vinyl.

But above all, the writing in Hannibal is superb. The series was developed for television by Bryan Fuller, who previously created Dead Like Me (on the strength of Hannibal, I've just ordered both seasons of this from Amazon). Other writers on the team include Chris Brancato, who wrote the period gangster movie Hoodlum (which also starred Laurence Fishburne) and the wonderfully named Jim Danger Gray.

Oh yes, and the episodes are named after posh cullinary terms like Apéritif, Amuse-Bouche and Potage.

Tasty. And moreish.

(Image credits: All the posters are from reliable old Imp Awards.)

Best Films of 2015

Good lord, what a great year for movies! I keep hearing people moan about the decline of cinema, but as far as I'm concerned we're going through a golden age. 

The only problem is cutting down my long list of outstanding films (39 titles) down to a reasonable size. Last year — in 2014 — I listed 14 movies, this year I think I shall allow myself the luxury of 15. This tendency could get us into serious trouble by 2099 when I'm a brain sloshing around in a jar of nutrient solution with internet access. And so are you.

So let's start by dropping the movies that just aren't going to make the cut: Max is a dog — no, not a bad film, a film about a dog. Traumatised army dog from Iraq busts a blackmarket weapons ring. Old fashioned, sentimental and soppy. I loved it. But if I included it, goodbye street cred. 

Also being dropped: Age of Adaline: It shouldn’t be good, but it is. Beautiful photography. Harrison Ford is great. Blake Lively is phenomenal. But her romantic lead… I mean WTF? The Gambler: Lovely music, terrific pace. But look at the competition!

Self/Less: Ben Kingsley becomes Ryan Reynolds. Distinctly a cut above. Excellent science fiction thriller. Just not quite...  Seventh Son: Excellent sword & sorcery thriller with a script by Steven Knight. Even Jeff Bridges’s silly accent doesn’t sink it. Great Marco Beltrami score. But see note above about street cred... Unfriended: Genuinely gripping and innovative. A really clever low budget horror movie. Some of the killings are stupid — face in blender — but it still triumphs.

Diary of a Teenage Girl: Funny and surprisingly moving. The animation was excellent. Mortdecai: An adaptation of Kyril Bonfiglioli's classic Charlie Mortdecai novels which comes close to pulling it off. Surprisingly fine fun. Johnny Depp is on the rampage in Terry-Thomas mode, but Paul Bettany is magnificent as Jock.

Tomorrow Land: Very enjoyable and clever, way better than the trailer would lead you to believe. The Visit: A startling return to form by M. Night Shyamalan. Its great virtue is that it’s funny. Focus: I really enjoyed this con-man caper. Margot Robbie is spectacular. John Wick: Another dog-centric film. A fantastic Keanu Reeves revenge thriller. Splendid ending.  

Spy: In a great year for spy movies this rollicking comedy was a near miss. Really good, really funny, and with a proper serviceable spy story as its foundation. The Last Witch Hunter: This was genuinely high quality. I was amazed. Vin Diesel, all is forgiven. Or at least some things. But, as with Max and Seventh Son, I couldn't show my face in this town again if this was one of my films of the year. Plus, there are 23 titles to ruthlessly drop. So, onwards... 

The Gift: Originally (and more accurately) titled 'Weirdo', this was written and directed by and starred Joel Edgerton. Nerd-revenge suspense movie. Goes a bit off the rails towards the end, but very gripping.

Okay, we are now definitely in it-hurts-to-lose-them territory. Paddington: A kids movie, but splendid in every regard. Birdman: Baffling yet terrific. A lot of people will be annoyed that this doesn't make the list... But a man has to do what a man has to do... Ricki and the Flash: Excellent, affecting family comedy-drama beautifully directed by Jonathan Demme. Great script by Diablo Cody — I’m ready to forgive her for Jennifer’s Body. At last. I think.

 Macbeth: Visually striking version of Shakespeare's tragedy. This one almost makes it into the top list purely on the strength of Marion Cotillard's performance. She is stunning as Lady M. If I was handing out awards for best actress, she'd win hands-down. Legend: Another landmark lead performance with a terrific Tom Hardy as both Kray twins.  Ant-Man: Very funny, zany and inventive. The leaden Marvel continuity stuff was the only dull aspect. 

Far from the Madding Crowd: Very effective remake. Carey Mulligan is truly splendid. And Matthias Schoenaerts, who played the psychotic hood in The Drop last year (another dog movie!) is again excellent. Spectre: the new Bond just misses out because it wasn't quite as good as Skyfall.

All right, wake up at the back of the classroom, we finally arrive at the top-films-of-the-year list... 

No Escape: Under this anodyne title lurks a modern classic. Owen Wilson's family is caught up in a terrorist uprising in South East Asia. Utterly gripping, incredibly suspenseful and entirely effective. Piers Brosnan is tremendous, though he’s given a rather clunky speech near the end.

Woman in Gold: Concerning the recovery of the Klimt painting stolen by the Nazis, this is really engrossing. Helen Mirren is terrific. Ryan Reynolds, so often bland, is startlingly good. Produced by Kris Thykier. 

Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation: Hands down the best film in the franchise so far. But for one rubber-mask reveal, it would have been perfect in its own Mission: Impossible way. It also has the finest soundtrack music of the year, thanks to the immensely talented Joe Kraemer.

A Most Violent Year: A tense and suspenseful Sidney Lumet-style crime pic set in 1970s New York. The awe-inspiring Oscar Isaac strikes again. Survivor: A gem of a movie: a first class, nail-biting spy thriller set in London — and vastly better than Spooks, a similar tale which came out at the same time.

The Martian has to be included because it's Ridley Scott's finest movie since his wonderful, early days. A worthy adaptation of Andy Weir's masterpiece of a novel.

Kingsman: Like I said, a great year for spy movies. This is rude, intensely violent, hilarious, and exhilarating. Knock Knock: Keanu again, as a married man victimise by hotties. Terribly powerful and distressing. Black Hat: Excellent and criminally under-rated computer-hacker thriller. Wei Tang is very touching. I loved the sequences of electrons scurrying along a microchip like rats under the floorboards.

Okay, folks, we're heading for the Top Five. But just before we get there, a tip of the hat to Bridge of Spies: Absolutely wonderful. Great script. And it's Spielberg’s best since Schindler’s List.
 
Right, into the Top Five we go, with The Salvation: A fabulous Danish Spaghetti Western shot in South Africa. Mads Mikkelsen is perfect as a Spaghetti Western hero. The photography is perhaps the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. A classic. Man from UNCLE: I loved it — one of the finest films of the year. I loved every moment of it, except for Solo’s sandwich. The bread wasn’t convincing.

Very near the top is the welcome return of the Road Warrior in  Mad Max: Fury Road: Absolutely dazzling. Charlize Theron with a shaved head, Brendan McCarthy's car designs, ravishing photography, breathtaking stunts. What's not to love?

Top Three time. Is the suspense killing you? Okay, at Number Three we have Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Apart from the rather dud title (a tradition through most of the series) this was simply majestic. I loved every minute of it.

It was a hard-fought battle for the top spot. I was seriously tempted to give the honour to Steve Jobs with its exquisite Aaron Sorkin script, fine direction from Danny Boyle and a riveting performance (in a top ensemble) by Michael Fassbender. The other day I had to chose between seeing Brooklyn for the first time and Steve Jobs for the fifth time. Guess which won?

But in the end, the title of Film of the Year goes to Sicario with its fascinating and impressive script by Taylor Sheridan, bruising, brilliant direction by Denis Villeneuve, a menacing and moody score by Jóhann Jóhannsson and a stellar cast led by the unsurpassable Emily Blunt. And fine behind-the-scenes interviews by Celeste Bronfman-Nadas. If you haven't seen Sicario, go and see it. Now.

(Image credits: all the posters are from Imp Awards.)

The Revenant by Smith & Iñárritu

A revenant is essentially a ghost and the film The Revenant tells the tale of Leonard Dicaprio as a frontiersman, Hugh Glass, who virtually returns from the dead. It is directed by Chilean prodigy Alejandro Iñárritu (who last gave us the weird, wonderful and unforgettable Birdman). And it looks to be a major critical and commercial success.

The Revenant goes on for two and half hours but it is really only about half a movie. The scant narrative badly needs some kind of major subplot to bulk it up and provide contrast, but there is none. Consequently this film just keeps hammering away at the same nail and, despite all its mayhem, becomes monotonous, dull and repetitive.

It is a tale of survival and, ultimately, revenge. But after the spectacular opening, which features a fearsomely effective battle sequence, it is clear where the movie is going and the story remains linear, predictable and finally tedious. 

There are no surprises, no variety, nothing to relieve the relentless singlemindedness. The result is a gruelling ordeal instead of an exciting adventure. After 150 minutes, the viewer is simply left weary.

This is despite an impressive cast full of fascinating faces, with Tom Hardy as a really memorably nasty villain. And Iñárritu is a director of almost crazed brilliance and originality — there's a stunning dream sequence in which Glass sees his murdered wife dying before him and her soul leaves her body in the form of a tiny bird taking wing.

There's also ravishingly beautiful location photography, mostly shot in the wilds of Canada, using only natural light and, unusually, filmed in story order. Extreme weather often made it a very tough shoot ("Every day was like a bear attack," says Iñárritu.) But the splendour of nature eventually palls. (Did I mention it's two and a half hours?) Plus there's ample animal cruelty on display — hardly surprising, given the setting and period. In this respect the movie is sort of a companion piece to In the Heart of the Sea.

I also disliked the ludicrously modern dialogue here. There's lots of this, but the thing that bugged me the most was the constant reference to the characters' weapons as "rifles". In fact, I think these are smooth bore muskets — whereas a rifle has a helical groove in the muzzle, called rifling, which improves accuracy. Anyway, the dialogue seems wrong and phony.

There's quite a lot of subtitles in the film, translating French and Pawnee, but where they are really needed is for a lot of Tom Hardy's lines in English, which are often incomprehensible, thanks to the silly accent he's affecting.

The film is based "in part" on a novel by Michael Punke, which in turn was inspired by real events (Hugh Glass did exist, had a fascinating life, and there's more than one book about him). The script is by Mark L. Smith (who wrote The Hole, directed by Joe Dante) in collaboration with Iñárritu .

But if you want to see this sort of film done right, watch Jeremiah Johnson, with a script by John Milius and Edward Anhalt. That's a properly crafted film, well written, and provides a satisfying and entertaining experience for the audience. It also actually does have rifles.

(Image credits: Surprisingly, only three posters at Imp Awards. The striking book cover is from Good Reads.)

The Force Awakens by Kasdan & Abrams and Arndt

My favourite Star Wars movie has always been The Emperor Strikes Back, largely thanks to a dazzling script by Lawrence Kasdan (based on an earlier draft by the late Leigh Brackett, a distinguished female science fiction novelist and screenwriter). 

Kasdan is also responsible for Raiders of the Lost Ark, Body Heat and Grand Canyon. It is wonderful news to report that he is back on the new Star Wars flick.

And what a flick it is. It's such a great film that I think it has actually supplanted The Empire Strikes Back in my estimation as the best of Star Wars. 

I've now seen The Force Awakens more than once, and it is particularly remarkable in that it's almost as enjoyable on repeated viewings. There is very little dip in the pleasure of watching it, despite knowing what will happen next.

I attribute this to an amazingly well crafted script in which something interesting, unexpected or gratifying is always taking place, each new scene smoothly replacing the old one. 

I guess this might also have been an attribute of Raiders of the Lost Ark, but the film I'm really reminded of is Chinatown (written by Robert Towne) in which I felt every scene was great.

Kasdan has co-written The Force Awakens with director J.J. Abrams, who has also done a wonderful job on shooting the movie. They were working from an earlier draft by Michael Arndt (Toy Story 3). And of course the characters were created by George Lucas.

Much credit must also be given to an amazingly good cast, newcomers Daisy Ridley and John Boyega in particular. It's very much to the film's credit that so much of it concerns women and black people — two kinds of human being who seemed to be virtually off George Lucas's radar.

Brits actress Daisy Ridley is especially magnificent. She comes close to carrying the movie single-handed. Which is why it's so invidious that in the flood of toys and merchandise exploiting the film, there are virtually none featuring her character Rey. Sexism is alive and well, folks. (Though business acumen seems to be stone dead — people could make a vast fortune selling Rey stuff.)

I had always defended George Lucas's three prequels (Phantom Menace and whatever the hell the other two were called — "Sith"-something and Something-or-other "Clones"). But I'm afraid those days are over. The Force Awakens is such a good movie it shows up how wretchedly mediocre those earlier efforts were.

One last thing — I am generally not a fan of 3D, but this film actually looks pretty good in that format. And it isn't even true 3D; the movie was shot in 2D and retrofitted. So, go figure...

(Image credits: All the posters are from Imp Awards where, not surprisingly, there were particularly rich pickings.)

In the Heart of the Sea by Leavitt, Jaffa & Silver

Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver, thanks to their stunning work on Rise of the Planet of the Apes, are among my most admired screenwriters. 

When their scripts have been rewritten by other hands, however, the results have not always been so stellar. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes was fine, thank heavens. But elsewhere some vital spark was lost, to say the least.

Jurassic World was one such rewrite of a Jaffa & Silver script and, despite it being a huge hit, I thought it was weak and unsatisfactory. 

In the Heart of the Sea is another script of theirs which has been considerably rewritten and it's a complete stinker, so much so that I was startled to see their names come up at the end. The bulk of the writing credit (or possibly blame) goes to Charles Leavitt, who had previously done such excellent work on Blood Diamond.

In the Heart of the Sea tells the true (-ish) story of the ill-fated Nantucket whaling ship Essex, which was sunk by a sperm whale in 1820 (go, whales!). The incident provided the inspiration for Herman Melville's 1851 novel Moby Dick — you may have heard of it.

The gimmick for the movie is that the ship's adventure, if you can call it that, is framed by Melville (Ben Whishaw) hearing the story from an old salt (Brendan Gleeson) who was on the Essex when he was a kid.

The film gets in trouble immediately with an introductory voice-over by Melville talking about the "global demand" for whale oil. People in 1820 simply didn't say things like "global demand". I personally would  have used some phrase like "a thirst by all nations."

Worse is to come, though. As the Essex sets sail a priest on the dock gives a sermon where he talks about our species "evolving." No, really. Need I point out that Darwin's Origin of the Species, which introduced such concepts, wasn't published until 1859? And even then, the last place you'd be likely to find them was in the mouth of a Nantucket preacher.

But the really fundamental problem with In the Heart of the Sea is that its creators don't seem to realise that making a movie with whalers as heroes is like making one with child-killers as heroes. The audience's sympathy lies emphatically with the poor, slaughtered cetaceans.

The ships crew are a pretty unsympathetic and feebly sketched lot, anyway. Cillian Murphy's character Matthew Joy is clearly supposed to be having a battle with alcoholism, but this just gets muddled and forgotten about (and that bottle he steals — doesn't it change colour from red to blue? Continuity, please).

The conflict between the first mate Chris Hemsworth and the captain Benjamin Walker is somewhat more successful. But really the only effective thing in the movie is Gleeson's painful (and cathartic) confession of an act of cannibalism. This I attribute to the Jaffa & Silver draft of the script.

In the Heart of the Sea is a dog. A sea dog. Some nice 3D, though.

(Image credits: The movie posters are from Imp Awards, as usual.)