An ongoing archive
Books I’ve read in 2024
The Great God Pan and Other Horror Stories (1890-1936, Arthur Machen) – A bunch of gems in here, including the titular story which Stephen King called maybe the greatest of its kind in the English language. I liked it a lot. I was pleasantly surprised how timeless a lot of the writing is. Definitely recommended for the horror fan in your life.
Things I Don’t Want to Know and The Cost of Living (2013 and 2018, Deborah Levy) – Volumes 1 and 2 of novelist Deborah Levy’s ‘living memoirs’. I read the second volume first because Billie Piper chose it as her one book to take on Desert Island Discs, saying it was the best thing she’s ever read on the subject of being a woman. I enjoyed both, but really loved Cost of Living. Melancholy, inspiring, and written in this uniquely pithy but highly palatable style. I only wished it was longer. I’m hoping her novels are of the same quality.
Postcards From The Edge (1987, Carrie Fisher) – Some really lifelike writing about drugs which put me on the verge of panic at points. The characters are so well drawn and the dialogue is great. Good stuff about relationships. Pretty lacking on the story front, but I liked it and plan to check out Fisher’s other writings some day.
The Big Sleep (1939, Raymond Chandler) – This was a little less than I expected. Marlowe is a cool character, and there’s a lot of great dialogue, but the mystery itself left me cold. I’d recommend this mainly as an interesting snapshot of a particular time and place which has since become the stuff of modern legend.
Dune (1965, Frank Herbert) – This blew my mind. Everything is just perfect. The writing feels so fresh and timeless. The structure (particularly the use of the historical interludes) is ingenious. The setting and world of the story is so imaginative and fascinating to explore. The plot is riveting, inspiring, and harrowing in equal measure. But what amazed me most was the way every single character felt like an actual person with genuine personality and complexity. It’s so important in grounding the whole experience in reality and drawing out the many meanings in the story, which are themselves timeless and endlessly relevant. Without this psychological depth of characterisation, so many grand, elaborate science fiction/fantasy stories ultimately fall flat. I’m not the biggest sci-fi/fantasy guy for this reason, but I absolutely loved Dune. Maybe my favourite read of the whole year. It was very difficult not going straight onto the sequels, but I wanted to keep this perfect experience for a while. Baron Harkonnen for Antagonist of the Year!
Beneath the Underdog (1971, Charles Mingus) – I had high hopes for this. Mingus is my favourite jazz musician, and it starts off great. I particularly liked how it was written more like a novel, narrated by a spirit observing Mingus’s life, rooting for him at his lows and cringing at his mistakes. But soon enough it turned into one of the most baffling books I have ever read. Basically, once you get past the early childhood sections, you may as well be reading bad erotica. The number of chapters which devolve into graphic sex scenes honestly must be seen to be believed. Jazz music barely even features in. There are scattered moments of real profundity, but for the majority of it I just could not understand the point, and almost gave up several times. In a way, I’m torn, because it is a stylistically interesting approach to the autobiography, and undeniably provides a certain window into Mingus’s mind… I’m glad I finished it but there just isn’t much I can recommend here.
Revival (2014, Stephen King) – Going into this, I knew nothing except that it was a more recent King work which r/stephenking frequently touts as being one of his best, and specifically having one of his scariest endings. I love King already, so expectations were pretty high, but unfortunately this didn’t really work for me. It’s a strange one; at first you have no idea where it’s taking you as you aimlessly explore the protagonist’s early life in this little American town, and then move on to his miserable adulthood. I liked all that stuff a lot. Funnily enough it was when the horror elements came in that the book started to lose me. These aspects seemed so disconnected from what came before that I was strangely disappointed when they took over for the last quarter or so before culminating in an ending which, while disturbing enough, didn’t strike me so much as an homage to other works in the genre as plainly derivative. Perhaps I’d have felt differently if I hadn’t read The Great God Pan so recently prior to this (on King’s recommendation, ironically), but there you go. Overall, I’d still recommend it, particularly for non-horror fans looking to get started on King or the genre, but it was like two books woven together, one I liked quite a bit, one that just didn’t do it for me.
The Time Machine Did It (2004, John Swartzwelder) – Not content with having written more episodes of The Simpsons than anyone else, this Swartzwelder feller has also got a bunch of absurdist detective novels to his name. This is the first one. Reading it was the closest I’ll ever get to being inside Homer Simpsons’s head, i.e. extremely stupid, highly enjoyable.
Invisible Man (1953, Ralph Ellison) – This was another famous classic which happily soared past my high expectations. It’s so well written, with this surreal, dreamlike quality wherein the protagonist is barely able to take a single step without running into some new nightmarish misunderstanding or inexplicable confrontation. I don’t think I’ve read anything which so well captures the feeling of paranoia, the sense of fundamentally not belonging, being lost in a strange place unable to count on anyone. It’s utterly tragic and pretty unforgiving, almost a horror book at times – like the Battle Royal, and the hospital sequence which still haunts me – but can also be curiously funny in its cruel plot and often unhinged characters. Ellison’s command of dialogue and voice is perfect. The titular, nameless narrator is in my running for book Protagonist of the Year. Just an amazing character. Sometimes you read a novel and really feel you’ve shared something. I actually missed this book after finishing it.
Wise Blood (1952, Flannery O’Connor) – Maybe the truest example of dark comedy I’ve ever known. This book is flabbergasting. O’Connor’s writing is so precise; she’s never analytical, just descriptive, bluntly and hilariously so. The writing holds the characters at arm’s length, like they’re animals in a zoo, the deeper meanings of their actions always just out of our reach. It’s very short with a pretty relaxed pace, so I spent the first four-fifths wondering where it was going before reaching a series of concluding events that seriously shocked me. I was actually near tears after finishing it, which almost never happens with me. It really is as disturbing as it is funny. A strong recommendation, but not for the faint of heart. I’m both excited and anxious about reading more of O’Connor’s work.
The Thief of Always (1992, Clive Barker)– I didn’t actually realise what this was when I started it. Sometimes things end up on my reading list, I come to them years later, and I have no idea how they got there. Then my mental problems compel me to finish them. But Clive Barker will always have my attention after Books of Blood alone, and I guess he wrote (and illustrated!) this children’s novel. It was cool. I’d have absolutely loved it when I was the right age (which is probably, I’m saying, eight to ten years old?). It’s not quite on the level of e.g. Coraline or The Witches, but Barker is so wildly imaginative, his imagery always sticks with you, even in this less intense format. Give it a go if you’re the parent of a cool-ass kid.
To the Lighthouse (1927, Virginia Woolfe) – The first Woolfe I’ve ever read and I absolutely loved it. It’s not an easy read; her stream-of-consciousness style is so granular in its focus, and so relentlessly, casually insightful that I found myself having to stop and digest or even go back and re-read a lot more than usual. The plot somehow manages to be both miniscule and epic in scale, achieving a kind of mythological quality. That whole middle section just blew my mind. At the time of writing (late July 2024) I think this is the best I’ve read so far this year. Beautiful, perfect, masterpiece!
You Like It Darker (2024, Stephen King) – I may be an SK simp, but even putting aside my joy at a new release from the man, I’d say there’s a lot to love about this collection. There was only one genuine miss for me (The Turbulence Expert, for those keeping score) and everything else was fine-to-great. Personal highlights were Rattlesnakes, Danny Coughlin’s Bad Dream, and most of all The Answer Man, which is essentially a perfect short story in my eyes, and very moving. Many of the stories deal with older characters, themes of ageing and looking back over one’s life, which given the context, lent the whole thing a really bittersweet feel. It’s not his greatest work overall, but an easy recommendation from me.
Death and the Penguin (1996, Andrey Kurkov) – I thought this was pretty good, very low key, but enraging, funny, and sad in equal measure. The penguin is really great.
Harold (2023, Steven Wright) – I absolutely loved this. Pretty much as soon as I found out Steven Wright had written a book I had to go out and get it. Well, I stayed in and got it, because I order most of my books online, and secondhand when possible to save money. But the point is that I had to. Steven Wright’s comedy is so inimitable. I can’t even describe it without coining a new word: pithygnant. I related a great deal to the protagonist of Harold (Harold), and really the word protagonist is selling him a little short, because practically every word of this book is describing something he’s either imagining, thinking, or perceiving – sometimes all three at ones. I mean once. Maybe I really do have ADHD, assuming Steven Wright does, because judging from this book there are many similarities in how we mentally experience life. While reading Harold, I just couldn’t see anyone failing to enjoy such a delightful, profound, relaxing, uplifting, and all-round pithygnant slice of literary magic, and that’s because I was holding it real close in front of my eyes so as not to miss anything. I’m recommending this to you as enthusiastically as I can without us being in the same room.
Piranesi (2020, Susanna Clarke) – I’m a big admirer of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell, in spite of my inability to finish it at the time of writing this (September 2024). How many things can you say that about? But I’m pleased to say I got through Piranesi extremely quickly. It’s clearly something of a response to the great size and scale of her previous novel: focused, pointed, and simple. Some may find it too simple. I found it beautiful. Dreamy, relaxing, sweet, and just a little eerie. Another hearty recommendation from me.
Red Dragon (1982, Thomas Harris) – I wasn’t quite expecting to love this as much as I did. I just couldn’t put it down. I think only Jurassic Park ate up as much of my time more quickly. The creativity, the dialogue, the confidence and efficiency of the writing are all great, but what really got me was the characters. Harris has so much empathy for these people who have been so damaged by the world. There’s a real sadness to it all. Everything matters so very much. I’m genuinely in awe of the novel’s insight into people, how close each of us supposedly normal folks are to the kind of behaviour and mentality exhibited by those we label as monsters, how society perpetuates these cycles of horror. It’s really made me aware recently how strong a force that kind of empathy could be in our world. I was already a pretty big fan of the Hannibal TV show as well as the films they made which were actually good, but as is so often the case, the original source material is far and away the best expression of the initial idea. Profound, gripping, and tragic – essential reading in my opinion.
The Silence of the Lambs (1989, Thomas Harris) – As much as I did enjoy this, and also couldn’t put it down, for me it ultimately didn’t have much on Red Dragon. It’s just as fascinated with the psychology of its characters as that book was, but said characters just weren’t quite as engaging this time around. Lecter is so inscrutable, and Starling is so relentless, you don’t really learn a whole lot about them by the end that you didn’t get at the start. And Buffalo Bill, I mean, I do appreciate that it was a different time and Harris made a few overt efforts to address the transphobic/homophobic implications, but he still comes off pretty badly. He gets so much less characterisation than Dolarhyde that he’s basically just repulsive and queer and that’s it. Everything to do with him is just so gross and unlikable. It makes for pretty good horror, but the difference in empathy was distracting and disappointing. Still, it’s hard to deny the quality of the dialogue and the expertly drawn tension; I guess we’re all really here for those Lecter/Starling scenes and they do deliver. It’s just a great idea, crazy to think it hadn’t been done before.
Honey, Baby, Mine (2023, Laura Dern & Diane Ladd) – Recently I was listening to Laura Dern on Ted Danson and Woody Harrelson’s podcast. She was plugging this book that compiles conversations between her and her mother over a series of daily walks they took after her mother was incorrectly told she had only six months to live. A great premise. But to be honest I found it kind of boring and disappointingly light on wisdom. Not that there isn’t wisdom in here, but just not much I felt I haven’t already obtained in my own life (in no small part through conversations with my mother). It also kind of made me frustrated that I myself am not a rich Hollywood actor whose de facto godfather happens to be David Lynch. Still, this family do seem like real nice folks.
Olive Kitteridge (2008, Elizabeth Strout) – I wasn’t planning to include things I’ve already read/watched before on this list, but here I feel the need to. I first read Olive Kitteridge about ten years ago, and I liked it a lot then. Much of it has stuck with me ever since – for one thing, it was consciously quite an influence on the novel I’ve been writing since 2022, particularly its non-linear, short story-style structure. Reading it as a 28-year-old, I was nothing short of amazed at its insights into love, ageing, and the feelings and relationships between people. Real life exists in this book. As a more mature writer myself I can also better appreciate what a deeply skilled writer Strout is technically. Her prose and dialogue are just perfect. In short, this is an absolutely beautiful book which I am quite comfortable calling my favourite novel ever. READ IT.
Bullshit Jobs: A Theory (2018, David Graeber) – I got into a massive David Graeber kick in the latter part of this year – check him out on YouTube if you haven’t already. This seemed like the best place to start with his bibliography because for about two years now, I have been supporting myself in a fairly soul-destroying job that I very quickly came to realise is at least 70% bullshit. In that context, this book hit me like a freight train. I cannot stress enough how damn accurate it is. It’s incredibly gratifying to read something that encapsulates so many of my own thoughts and feelings, written years before I experienced them. I am happy to report that this man has more or less single-handedly radicalised me. Even if you’re lucky enough to love your job, even if you disagree with anarchist or anti-capitalist thinking, even if you hate books, I still think there is so much you could get out of this. It’s super readable, short, funny, and fascinating. Big big recommendation from me.
The Master and Margarita (1967, Mikhail Bulgakov) – (currently reading)
Debt: The First 5000 Years (2011, David Graeber) – (currently reading)
Films I’ve watched in 2024
Bones And All (2022, Luca Guadagnino) – I loved this film. It’s the first Chalamet performance I’ve seen where I really felt he was playing to his strengths. All the actors are fantastic, actually. It’s probably the best-acted film on this whole list. If you’re looking for a film that truly straddles romance and horror then I highly recommend it.
Alligator (1980, Lewis Teague) – Fun but not quite fun enough. The alligator was satisfyingly big.
The Hudsucker Proxy (1994, the Coen brothers) – This didn’t entirely work for me. The Coens are my personal favourite living directors, but I think it is just a little too irreverent to be as long-winded as it is, and too long-winded to be as irreverent as it is. Maybe I was just in the wrong mood. I’d be willing to try again some day because Coen comedies can sometimes miss me on the first watch. I think Jennifer Jason Leigh’s performance sort of sums it up: I’m definitely impressed and pretty entertained by what I’m seeing, but there’s a distance and artifice that keeps me from really caring. Because it is the Coens, it goes without saying that the production, cinematography, and dialogue are all excellent, so I’d recommend it for those alone.
Tales from the Crypt Presents: Demon Knight (1995, Ernest Dickerson) – I thought this was awesome. Billy Zane!
Wonka (2023, Paul King) – It’s only been a couple of months, but I remember basically nothing about this. It seemed like it had good intentions, but there’s just so very little of Roald Dahl in there, and I don’t think Chalamet was quite right, and the music was super forgettable, so yeah. A really ugly visual style too. And the Hugh Grant stuff – I mean, come on now.
Mean Girls (2024, Samantha Jayne and Arturo Perez, Jr.) – I was in absolute despair watching this.
Poor Things (2023, Yorgos Lanthiomos) – I thought this was shockingly funny, but otherwise kind of shallow considering the great effort that clearly went into its production. For me, it was entertaining enough but less than the sum of its parts, which probably bothered me more than it usually would because of the more serious subject matter it seems to be going for. Weird parallels with Barbie, actually.
Drive Away Dolls (2024, Ethan Coen) – I was drunk as a skunk, but I know I laughed a lot. Boilerplate Coens but with more sexual themes. Recommended if you’re looking for a light and quirky comedy.
Late Night with the Devil (2023, Colin and Cameron Cairnes) – I was pretty into this until the closing moments. I feel like so many horror films go for twists and shock value when they’d benefit more from simply committing to the core idea just five or ten percent more. A decent watch, but just see Ghostwatch instead.
Dune: Part Two (2024, Denis Villeneuve) – An extremely awesome film. One of the most convincing and absorbing fictional worlds I’ve ever experienced. I definitely recommend it from a purely aesthetic point of view because it’s just that well executed, but all the performances are impressive too. This is the first thing I’ve seen Austin Butler in, and he kind of blew my mind. Javier Bardem is also a highlight. Unfortunately, like the first film, it did leave me a little flat in terms of the characters. I think the emotional impact of this story really suffers when you strip away the psychological complexity of the novel. Villeneuve is going for this ultra-slick vibe when I think Dune is really all about the particular, human details. It’s a Shakespearean tragedy, a story about normal people who happen to be living amazing lives in the distant future, and this movie’s characters didn’t feel human enough to me. The ending was straight up disappointing for that reason, because it’s banking on an emotional investment that just isn’t there. It’s not perfect, but as modern blockbusters go, still essential viewing.
Perfect Blue (1997, Satoshi Kon) – Beautifully animated and very creepy. I liked the music a lot too (except the insane choice for the credits). Not the most amazing story, and perhaps less than the sum of its parts, but I’d recommend it if you’re looking for something disturbing and stylish.
Wild Strawberries (1957, Ingmar Bergman) – This was the first Bergman film I’d ever seen. I thought it was beautiful. The acting is brilliant. The final shot brought me to tears. A simple story, but really creatively told, and deeply heartfelt. Strong recommendation from me.
Nosferatu (1922, F.W. Murnau) – My favourite thing about this was actually the performance by Gustav von Wangenheim. He’s so outrageously happy in the first act that I actually believed his fear and confusion, and felt for him once things got bad. I didn’t know a silent film character could be so endearing and entertaining (without being an actual clown). The man who plays Knock is also great, as is the woman playing Ellen. Many of the shots are beautiful and inspired, and in general I appreciated the vibe a good deal. I was also pleased by the ways the story diverges from the novel, making for a smaller scale but equally eerie take on Dracula. I especially liked the idea of the vampire as a plague; this really is one of the most unapologetically revolting depictions of vampirism ever, utterly lacking in glamour or sex appeal, just all-out evil, alien, and wrong. Orlok looks pretty ridiculous at times, especially when he’s running around carrying his coffin under his arm, but even these moments add to his uncanniness. He is a haunting and one-of-a-kind creation.
Sherlock, Jr. (1924, Buster Keaton) – Straight up expert entertainment. What Keaton is doing here remains jaw-dropping even today, and it’s been ONE HUNDRED YEARS. I highly recommend this.
M (1931, Fritz Lang) – Officially the oldest film with sound I’ve ever seen. I was really impressed by the way it tells the story; it’s a true procedural, with basically no protagonist, which sells the paranoia and atmosphere of a city haunted by a serial killer very effectively. All the performances are great and there are some very chilling sequences. I especially loved the little ways it introduced the killer. It is a few minutes too long in my opinion, but overall, I’d recommend it.
Onibaba (1962, Kaneto Shindō) – This film kicked my ass. The nameless mother-in-law is my favourite character I’ve seen in a while. As I write this (May 2024) she is leading the race for cinematic Protagonist of the Year. Nokubo Otowa gives an all-time great performance; so hateful and world-weary. “I have never seen anything really beautiful since the day I was born.” She, and the film as a whole, is a perfect example of how much mileage you can get out of nothing more than a few characters making decisions which are at once shocking and perfectly sensical – the very actions we need to see in order for us to understand them one layer deeper, our intrigue always growing with each passing discovery. It’s pure drama. The film is also an utter masterpiece of setting and atmosphere, so, so beautiful-looking in black and white. I almost didn’t want to leave its hellish yet jarringly peaceful world of grass and water. The whole thing has a really mythic quality; it’s going deep, and I don’t even think I got all the meaning lurking under the surface. The music works perfectly too, I kept thinking about the main drum motif afterwards. There’s even a comedic angle to a lot of what’s happening too. Overall, I laughed, I recoiled, I gasped. A completely excellent film which I recommend wholeheartedly.
The French Connection (1971, William Friedkin) – This was a much simpler film than I was expecting, but I enjoyed it very much. The acting was great, and all the extended tailing/chase sequences are amazing. Ending’s a bit of a let down, though.
The Juniper Tree (1990, Nietzchka Keene) – This wasn’t at all what I thought it was going to be. Of course I only watched it because it stars a 20-year-old Björk(!) but it ended up a thought-provoking slice of Icelandic myth in its own right. An almost unbearably simple film on the surface, but full of strange meaning, with some surprisingly chilling moments.
Four Flies on Grey Velvet (1971, Dario Argento) – Suspiria is a favourite of mine, but this is my only other Argento film thus far. What the fuck is going on in this movie? It’s one third complete nightmare and two thirds some kind of funky musical comedy. Argento’s approach to horror sequences is so distinct; his imagery and setpieces get under my skin like virtually nothing else I’ve ever seen. I just wish the movie surrounding these scenes was as arresting. At least Suspiria has Jessica Harper for you to follow. The protagonist of this film is terrible. I think the film actually knows he’s an ass, but I was still left wondering… why? Anyway, for all its crappier elements, the ending genuinely surprised me, and any horror fan should watch on principle because again, for me, the scary parts are basically perfection.
Deep Red (1975, Dario Argento) – It’s certainly an improvement over Four Flies in terms of story and characters. I particularly liked David Hemmings playing a pretty unusual protagonist for this genre. He very much sold me as a genuinely believable regular joe who just can’t leave the mystery alone, likeable but endearingly frustrating in that yelling at the screen kind of way. But at the same time I was overall disappointed. The setpieces here just didn’t hit like the best parts of Four Flies or Suspiria. And while the music by Goblin was really cool, unlike in Suspiria I didn’t feel it matched that well. Like it actually distracted me from the scenes more often than not – maybe part of why I felt very little of the addictive dread I usually get from Argento. I wish I could combine the strengths of this and Four Flies into one film because they’re fundamentally very similar.
The Seventh Seal (1957, Ingmar Bergman) – I was very, very taken with this. I don’t really know what to say. It’s so human. I may try to come up with more to say later, but for now, all I can say is you should absolutely watch it. Death is easily my Antagonist of the Year so far.
Love Lies Bleeding (2024, Rose Glass) – A really visceral film. I totally bought into the style and setting (except for one distractingly silly-looking wig), found the plot satisfyingly twisty, and the amorality of the characters was intriguing. All the performances are strong – Kristen Stewart especially, unfortunately I think this was actually the first time I’ve seen her in a non-Twilight film, but she made for a brilliant lead. It’s also technically excellent, especially the sound design and the use of music, and genuinely romantic. But it’s also quite an angry and sometimes cruel film, and I wasn’t sure what to take away from it in the end. Maybe it’s just meant to play as pulpy entertainment before anything else, but I felt some of the darker subject matter could have used more exploration. The main villain in particular felt undercooked, sort of at odds with the more interesting material, and as a result the ending wasn’t as powerful as it should have been. Overall, I’d still recommend it and want to see more from Rose Glass.
Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992, David Lynch) – Twin Peaks is what got me into David Lynch in the first place, in around 2011, and I’ve deeply loved his work ever since. When, to my utter disbelief, The Return came out with EIGHTEEN HOURS of new episodes, entirely directed and co-written by Lynch, I was extremely pleased. Watching that weekly was probably the best experience I’ve ever had with a television show. By now I’ve seen all his films multiple times, but for some reason it’s taken me this long to get around to the actual Twin Peaks movie! It doesn’t help that it’s currently almost impossible to find in the UK for some reason, except on DVD. I guess the idea lacked some urgency to me because it’s a prequel, so I thought I couldn’t be missing much, and I always heard it was divisive. Well, no surprise really, but I thought this was amazing. It’s an extremely emotionally charged film (once David Bowie teleports into space, the entire movie U-turns, and the actual protagonist arrives, I mean). Lynch’s style is obviously highly evocative in itself, but this has the added benefit of being part of a series, bringing all the emotional baggage of the surrounding stories to a hysterical, mind-bending peak. Practically every scene involves someone crying and screaming at the camera. Sheryl Lee is profoundly, fantastically brilliant as Laura. She had a tall order because this was the first time we would ever get to truly see the legendary character alive on screen, and she has to manage all these distinct relationships and their accompanying aspects and personas. It is a real tour-de-force performance; as I write this, probably my choice for Actor of the Year. Like much of Lynch’s work it’s also a real masterpiece of sound and music. I watched it at home with my headphones on, and you really feel every moment, the little silences, the ambience, and the parts where the soundtrack goes completely insane. The Pink Room sequence especially is simultaneously one of the most awesome and shocking things I’ve ever sat through. Overall, I’d recommend it very highly, but if you’ve never seen the show I have absolutely no idea what you’d make of it. I’d like to think it would still work – maybe even work better in some ways? – but it could be a nightmare. There’s only one way to find out.
Yojimbo (1961, Akira Kurosawa) – The first Kurosawa film I’ve watched, and I recommend it unreservedly. It starts off a little slow, but Toshiro Mifune is so unbelievably cool that you stay invested. Then there’s a midpoint reversal I found equal parts surprising and brilliant, after which I spent basically the entire rest of the film grinning. The final act is just a perfect action thriller, genuinely nail-biting, super entertaining, and way ahead of its time (I saw so much of Die Hard and similar classics in this). I watched this by myself and still cheered out loud at several points. Yet there’s also a real maturity to it; unlike most modern action films, it never overlooks the meaning of the conflict. It’s also extremely well shot. This is one I’m definitely going to show to friends and family. I can’t wait to watch it again, and to check out more Kurosawa.
Opera (1987, Dario Argento) – This is more like it! It’s the first Argento film I’ve seen that, if not quite rivalling the overall effect of Suspiria, at least lives up to it in terms of craftsmanship – maybe even surpasses it. There are some really impressive sequences, and the violence is… effective, to say the least. The beginning is particularly great. Really, I was fully on board for the whole first hour or so, but it does lose a bit of steam towards the end. I appreciated the fact it actually tried for a conclusion though, because his other films always have these hilariously abrupt endings. Opera is going for something a little different for this otherwise formulaic genre, and though it’s undeniably strange, I found it unexpectedly thought-provoking. I don’t know why I’m so fascinated by this man’s disgusting freak movies, but if you are too, this is a happy recommendation from me.
Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024, George Miller) – In case you spent 2015 living under a rock, Mad Max: Fury Road is the best film of all time, and seeing it at the time was easily the most thrilling cinema experience my friends and I had ever had. Of course I wanted to like Furiosa too, but sadly my honest reaction was largely ‘do not want’. We all know this film didn’t need to exist, but I found myself actively wishing that it didn’t. To me, the world building in Fury Road works specifically because it’s all in the background, flying by in a blur of half-noticed details as we’re propelled through the film at breakneck speed. Furiosa is the opposite. It dwells, for an interminable runtime, on all the aspects of the setting we caught fleeting glimpses of in Fury Road, and yet adds basically nothing new to the table. I really do think the creative philosophy of this film is not that different from something like Solo: A Star Wars Story, which hilariously provided unnecessary backstory to a character who was cool specifically because he was mysterious, right down to the origin of his surname(?!) – albeit this at least has much more interesting action scenes, and was clearly made with passion. I just didn’t want to know that Furiosa prefers a buzzcut because some weirdo once nearly molested her. I didn’t want to know where she got her robot arm from. I didn’t want to know that she had a friend who died and it made her furious. It’s the same old problem with prequels. Like, Immortan Joe in Fury Road is presented as a sickly, dying dictator who is so past his prime that he has to resort to wearing plastic muscle armour to appear healthy from a distance. Yet Furiosa, set twenty years earlier, has him looking exactly the same. Shouldn’t he have been healthier? Wouldn’t that have been more interesting, and have made more sense? Shouldn’t his clothes at least have been different, especially considering the strong emphasis on scavenging and customised outfits in the world of these films?? I can’t understand it. And his voice was all wrong, too! (I love Immortan Joe, so his depiction here really bugged me). But even so, all that would be negligeable if this film, like Fury Road, had characters who I cared about, and a story which was engaging. Instead it has Anya Taylor-Joy glowering at things and Chris Hemsworth basically playing an evil Thor. Tom Burke is there for a minute to stare at things too. I like those actors as much as the next guy, but they’re overexposed these days, and casting Taylor-Joy as a hardcore warrior capable of overpowering Tom Hardy in a fistfight is just a bad idea. She did do an eerily good impression of Charlize Theron’s voice, but I could have seen that on Graham Norton. I can’t call this an outright bad film. It’s really well made and mostly entertaining. But I personally just can’t find much to recommend here that wasn’t already done way better by the same people, nearly a decade ago.
Autumn Sonata (1978, Ingmar Bergman) – My third Bergman film, and an odd choice because you can tell it’s a culmination of various aspects of his career. It’s also the first role of Ingrid Bergman’s I’ve ever seen, which feels kind of wrong for the same reason. I guess I’ll have to work backwards with her. But my mum wanted to watch it with me, which proved fitting for a story all about mothers and their children. Thankfully our relationship is much better than the ones depicted here. I mean, this is practically a horror film. It’s so, so nerve-racking and sad. There’s one line at the end which made my jaw drop and stay dropped for longer than any murder scene or jump scare. An incredibly intimate experience. The acting is so amazing, and you’re so lulled by the softness of the beginning scenes that by the time it all kicks off, you genuinely forget that what you’re seeing is fictional. I thought it was an interesting contrast to Wild Strawberries, which was made by a filmmaker in his late 30s but is all about nostalgia and the potential for grace at the end of one’s life, whereas Bergman was 60 when this film came out, and it’s brimming with despair and regret. Yet there’s still a sense of the aching love and hopefulness that runs through both Wild Strawberries and The Seventh Seal. Just as masterful as those films, for me this is an easy recommendation, but not an easy watch.
Red, White & Royal Blue (2023, Matthew López) – This film has the exact vibe of a ‘00s Disney channel movie, but it also has an intimate shot of Prince ‘Henry’ gently pushing the US President’s penis into his butt as they gaze meaningfully at each other. Reality collapses and we enter a pleasant dream world in which Texas Democrat Uma Thurman and her gay, half-Mexican son can win a second term. I found myself wanting a completely serious and realistic exploration of this premise, a full alternate history. It could be an HBO miniseries. Amazingly, right at the end of our viewing, we caught the breaking news about Trump’s guilty verdict in the hush money trial. It was a real sobering moment.
Challengers (2024, Luca Guadagnino) – This is how it’s done. Far and away the best I’ve seen in a long while in terms of recent releases. I had practically forgotten how it actually feels when a cinematic experience truly hits – it’s somewhere between the shared excitement of a theme park ride and the intimacy of a great conversation. Our screening was small but decently full, and the crowd were eating it up; you could just feel it. For me, every aspect was excellent, from the music to the editing to the direction to the acting. Each choice the film makes in these areas is bold and idiosyncratic in its own way, but carried off with such palpable confidence that you can’t help but be won over. But for me the writing stole the show. The screenplay just works in a way that is rare to see these days. It was so nice to be reminded that a good movie can thrill its audience just as effectively through the decisions of the characters and the timing with which information is revealed, as through the use of audiovisual spectacle, action, violence, or sex (although this film employs each of these to great effect, too). One moment towards the conclusion is such a strong example of setup and payoff, it should be studied for years to come. We genuinely could not believe what we were seeing. Hilarious, uncomfortable, provocative, meaningful, and expertly executed.
Totally Killer (2023, Nahnatchka Khan) – It’s not funny, it’s not interesting, it’s not scary, it’s not remotely original or creative. The performances and characters are insultingly low effort. I’m not joking when I say I do not consider this kind of thing to even be a film. It’s nothing but the shameless regurgitation of pieces you’ve seen a million times before, delivered in the most condescending way possible, and with all the energy and enthusiasm of a brick wall. Avoid at all costs.
No One Will Save You (2023, Brian Duffield) – There was a lot here that I admired. The setting and setup were very appealing, and I was pretty engaged throughout, especially once I understood just what the film was doing. I did lament the lack of proper horror visuals at first – there’s a lot of ugly washed-out colour grading, and I wish everything in the house had been way darker – but there is some good imagery and cool ideas towards the end. That’s it really; I was just happy with the many ways that this film is at least trying to be interesting and creative, even if the end result is pretty light and thin. This will suit you if you’re looking for basically a mishmash of several classic Twilight Zone episodes, done up with modern visuals, in a pretty skillful and stylish way.
May December (2023, Todd Haynes) – A film of pure characterisation, light on plot, but dense and rich all the same. It’s really nothing more than the three main characters bouncing off each other for two hours. Each is intriguing and complicated in their own way, and though we learn a good deal by the end, the core mysteries are never solved. What is really in these people’s hearts? I found it highly entertaining, strangely comedic, brilliantly acted, and profoundly sad all at once. There’s an edge of the tongue-in-cheek running through it all, and part of me feels the subject matter may have deserved a wholly serious approach. But ultimately it worked to leave me with a strong sense of injustice, which I think was the point. A really solid recommendation.
The Holdovers (2023, Alexander Payne) – What a lovely film. Top-to-bottom wonderful. Paul Giamatti was particularly great. I adore characters like his, who are so absurdly unlikable on paper that the focus of the story really just becomes a question of how and when you’re going to end up loving them. It was also one of the most engrossing and immersive experiences I’ve had with a film recently. I was so absorbed and convinced by the world it creates, which was all the more impressive since I was on a plane at the time. I can’t really imagine anyone disliking this. Watch it!
Longlegs (2024, Osgood Perkins) – Another one I liked a lot. Seeing this (alone) was a spontaneous decision by me, having just partaken of some legal Canadian weed, only to arrive at the cinema too late to make the Kinds of Kindness showing. What better context in which to experience the latest movie to be touted the scariest of all time? I can’t say I was massively scared at the time, but I was really engaged. Maika Monroe’s character was a nice surprise; I doubt I’m alone among other probably neurodivergent people in finding her shockingly relatable, and a pretty different kind of protagonist for this genre, not to mention Monroe’s excellent acting. As for Nicolas Cage, I mean, all I can say is that his performance here is truly Lynchian, in a way that few things actually are, and very special. The ending had me very upset. Overally much of the imagery and ideas have stuck with me ever since – especially that doll with the shroud, which my mind seems to see lurking in every dark corner recently. Not perfect, but easily one of my favourite new horror films in ages. Feels destined to be a modern classic.
Elvira: Mistress of the Dark (1988, James Signorelli) – This sort of reminded me of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure if it wasn’t directed by a certified freak and instead of Pee Wee it starred a stripper dominatrix vampire or whatever it is Elvira is actually meant to be. If that sounds like your cup of tea then check this out, because nothing else on Earth will ever match that description.
Female Trouble (1974, John Waters) – I was pretty stoned, but I must say I laughed an awful lot at this. It features what must be some of the most gloriously stupid scenes ever filmed. My main takeaway was that I really do need to watch Pink Flamingos already, but I was also shocked to identify a few similarities certain aspects of this film share with the novel I’ve been working on for the past few years. Right now I truly don’t know what to make of that comparison.
Down With Love (2003, Peyton Reed) – This film is pretty odd. There’s a lot of The Hudsucker Proxy in its lavish modern recreation of the aesthetics and filmmaking of an older era, and its deliberately convoluted plot and characters. It makes a pretty bold writing choice towards the end which genuinely left me feeling kind of stupid, because I realised I had straight up missed an important story beat. The only other time I remember that happening on such a scale was when I watched Jojo Rabbit and didn’t realise Scarlett Johansson died until after the movie was over. If I just spoiled Jojo Rabbit for you, consider yourself lucky because I think that movie is horrible. But yeah, I don’t know if it’s my fault or the movie’s when that happens. I did enjoy Down With Love but think I need to watch it again to make my mind up and really absorb it. I suspect I may just not like screwball comedy remakes that much… It’s like they’re cartoony but not cartoony enough. Give me Austin Powers, give me John Waters, give me Pee Wee.
Bottle Rocket (1996, Wes Anderson) – This was pretty sweet. I’ve always liked Luke Wilson, I mean who doesn’t like Luke Wilson, but I can’t remember ever seeing him in a proper lead role before. He was great. Maybe Hollywood backed the wrong Wilson brother? I like Owen Wilson too but Luke is definitely the stronger actor. Anyway this film is chill and low-key to the point of almost being forgettable. What saves it is the personality and the direction. Crazy how confident Wes Anderson was out of the gate. A very mild film but if you’re in the right mood, you may well love it.
The French Dispatch (2021, Wes Anderson) – I liked Bottle Rocket but this is more my speed. Incredible to see the evolution in Anderson’s style but also the consistency he’s held to over the years. His films have become basically giant living storybooks. I mean watching this is actually so much like reading a magazine, it really must be seen to be believed. Who else would ever even have thought of doing this? It’s also the rare anthology film that not only makes creative use of the format, but never feels jumbled or unfocused. The stories are all great and all of one whole piece. I found it totally beautiful and an amazing achievement on par with his very best (Tenenbaums, Budapest, and Mr. Fox, for my money). If anything my only complaint is the sadness it made me feel for the fact that the actual magazine itself never existed in the real world. And honestly I would have liked even more linguistic nerdiness. Strange how few films actually discuss language and writing considering how fundamental they are to the medium.
Trap (2024, M Night Shyamalan) – In a word: confounding. In two: hilariously confounding. And here’s a few more: I thought this was refreshingly watchable, knowingly ridiculous, and insultingly cheap all at the same time. Quite impressive really considering its primary raison d’ȇtre appears to be simply to advertise the director’s daughter’s music. My viewing companions were very unimpressed, by the way, but it did give us plenty to talk about after. I can’t recommend it in full sincerity, but I can see you really enjoying this if you fit either of the following two descriptions: people who have been following Shyamalan’s absolutely insane career as closely as I have and people who have never seen a movie before.
Don’t Look Now (1973, Nicholas Roeg) – I was disappointed! After recently enjoying the short story, I took the opportunity to see this with a friend at the London BFI. I’ve known about the ending for years, and finally witnessing it in context was truly great, especially with a large audience (many of whom clearly had no idea what was coming). But to us the rest of the film just felt like kind of a waste. There are certain moments of great atmosphere and intrigue, interesting stylistic flourishes, and some good performances, but it didn’t seem to add up to much more than Donald Sutherland walking around Venice and frowning. I suppose when it first came out it was more shocking and different, but I still don’t really get what many people see in this. Maybe it’ll work better on me when I’m a bit older (27 at present, for those keeping score).
The Substance (2024, Coralie Fargeat) – Let me begin by saying I did very much enjoy this from start to finish. It is almost overwhelmingly engaging and entertaining, and stylistically speaking, I’ve never seen anything quite like it before. Much has been made of it as this really visceral and disgusting body horror, but to be honest I did not find those elements particularly special or affecting. It struck me as more of a satirical comedy than anything. Relatedly, why does the internet feel the need to declare any horror film that is even remotely interesting to be the scariest/most nauseating/most disturbing of the year/decade/millennium etc? It’s like a horror film can’t just be good, or it’s not worth talking about. Probably self-consciousness because the genre is inherently transgressive/taboo so has to work harder to get people vocal about it. Anyway I did feel that The Substance’s first hour or so was basically perfect and that was admittedly exciting. The word ‘masterpiece’ was actually floating around in my head. I was just so impressed by the filmmaking style and very intrigued by the turns the story was taking. But somewhere along the line I began to feel the distinct encroachment of schlock. That term is hard to define but I feel I know it when I see it. It’s a sense of shallowness, disingenuousness, or cheapness, related I suppose to the idea of a film being exploitative; basically choosing to go for surface-level appeal over something more substantial. Like (SPOILERS) as soon as Demi Moore was in full Gollum/hag mode I felt some of the meaning was being lost in favour of spectacle. It just made me check out ever so slightly on the emotional/intellectual level, which previously I had been fully on board with. Then you have the whole MONSTRO ELISASUE (!!!) section, which is obviously fun, but has the same problem. The makeup is so extreme I lost the actual character, and I know that’s intentional to some degree, but why didn’t they want to maintain a stronger throughline of empathy with Elisabeth? The film is also intentionally longer than expected, with many false climaxes, which is fine in principle as long as the story moves and develops sufficiently to justify the runtime. In this case though, while the spectacle keeps getting more and more intense, the actual plot kind of stalls and begins to repeat itself. Like there’s that huge fight in the apartment that does not really advance the core conflict and seems to mainly revel in watching this elderly/disabled person be utterly savaged. Then the only difference between e.g the sequence where Sue is disintegrating at rehearsal and the one where MONSTRO ELISASUE is disintegrating onstage are basically quantitative rather than qualitative. The character is at her lowest – that’s the beat – the only difference is this time she is even more physically monstrous, now there are even more people witnessing it, now it goes on for even more time and there’s even more blood and so on. It reminds me of many modern blockbusters which indulge in like three different endings that are basically just successively larger and more visually exhausting versions of the same story beat. It doesn’t work nearly as well as building more tightly to a climax that is actually revelatory and uniquely purposeful. At least the film’s concluding image is the perfect one, but it could have come a good 15 mins earlier and I would have felt more satisfied. Still, Fargeat clearly wants to overwhelm us and that’s okay. Overall, not the deepest film, nor the most coherent satire, but it’s a fucking blast and I look forward to her next offering.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992, Fran Rubel Kuzui) – If you’re interested in experiencing some mesmerizingly bad dialogue then look no further.
Queer (2024, Luca Guadagnino) – Guadagnino is on a crazy streak right now. I thought this was fantastic. Daniel Craig completely disappears into the role. I cried, I laughed, I pondered the meaning of life and love and self-denial and delusion. Beautiful stuff, highly recommended.
Killer Condom (1996, Martin Walz) – We watched this purely on the basis of its title as part of a Halloween marathon and it turned out to be one of the most unusual things I’ve seen in recent memory. A German-language pisstake noir about a hard-boiled gay NYPD detective named Luigi Mackeroni investigating a series of murders carried out by penis-eating condoms. It’s at once shockingly progressive, amazingly stupid, and quite horrible specifically in its treatment of one character who is basically every negative stereotype about trans women rolled into one. Overall I have to say I was hardly able to look away the entire time. I feel I must recommend it for this, but yeah that trans stuff just did not sit well with me, so fair warning there.
The Stuff (1985, Larry Cohen) – Very very disappointing. The lead character is easily the worst protagonist I’ve encountered this year. He’s far from passive or anything, like he certainly gets the plot moving – many scenes involve him bursting into random people’s offices and immediately acting as if he owns the place – but the movie seems to completely misread how irritating and uncharismatic he is. It’s just the weirdest attempt to do that kind of smart aleck, slick wiseass character that falls completely flat. All the characters, actually, are terrible. There’s a romance plot which is very pathetic. The plot as a whole is very boring. The satire is thin, it’s not funny, it’s not scary, and it’s vaguely anti-yoghurt which made me MAD!!!
Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001, Simon West) – Twenty-three years later, this is unintentionally hilarious. I had a good time.
Anora (2024, Sean Baker) – Wow! I have clearly been sleeping on Sean Baker. This is a completely wonderful film, easily my favourite new release since Challengers. I typically watch so much genre stuff (and just straight-up trash) that I had almost forgotten what it’s like to see a film that is simply about actual real life human beings in all their silliness, joy, pain, and cruelty. (I really need to resume my Bergman-watching!) I’m not exaggerating when I say films like these are one of the only things that can restore my faith in humanity after a bad spell of cynicism. Anora is an extraordinarily honest story, free of judgement, rich with pitch-perfect performances and beautifully subtle characterisation. Just go see it – let it take you away, let it play with you, let it sweep you up and manipulate your expectations as it does so expertly, let yourself sit and think about it for the next few days and then go and recommend it to everyone else as I will be. Probably my favourite of the whole year so far – and seeing as it’s November 12th as I write this, I wonder if anything else can top it…
Saturday Night (2024, Jason Reitman) – Great cast, great staging, great cinematography, great music, and a clear passion for the subject matter, yet the final product is almost instantly forgettable. It amounts to a largely plotless string of mildly uncanny impersonations and allusions to more interesting stories that I guess you’re meant to just look up on Wikipedia later. It’s bizarrely lacking in comedy, to boot. You can have all the reverence in the world for your subject matter, but a film still needs to be about something.
House (1977, Nobuhiko Obayashi) – Easily the most delirious film I have ever seen in my life.
Super Mario Bros. (1993, Rocky Morton and Annabel Jankel) – Did somebody say ‘delirious’? We put this on expecting an easy hatewatch but I honestly enjoyed it quite a lot. There is something beautiful in its complete unwillingness to actually adapt anything from the video games, even if that ambition was presumably born from fear and cynicism on the part of the producers. I guess they thought there wouldn’t be an audience for a more faithful rendition (whereas an entirely unfaithful rendition would be a surefire hit!). Among this movie’s other delights, it’s really really amazing to see Dennis Hopper play Bowser. Whoever made that happen deserves a fat pay rise. This is basically a less violent, more confusing Total Recall, only instead of Arnold Schwarzenegger, the hero is this guy:
I have to recommend it because there will never ever be another film quite like it. I like unique stuff like that. Recently they made a really accurate Mario movie that I wasn’t interested in at all. Being a producer must be hard.
Cobweb (2023, Samuel Bodin) – This movie certainly isn’t bad. In fact it’s objectively pretty good, with a certain amount of style and creativity. Unfortunately I found it boring, insubstantial, and not scary. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood. But I like Lizzy Caplan a lot and she was great as always.
¡¡¡¡¡¡¡TOP TEN!!!!!!!
It’s getting pretty close to the end of the year, we’ve just moved house, and I am living in a pile of boxes. So this seems as good a time as any to rank my personal ten favourite books and films that I experienced in 2024. They aren’t necessarily the best, just my favourites. (Note I am leaving out Olive Kitteridge because it was technically a re-read.)
Books
- To the Lighthouse (1927, Virginia Woolfe)
- Dune (1965, Frank Herbert)
- Harold (2023, Steven Wright)
- The Cost of Living (2018, Deborah Levy)
- Invisible Man (1953, Ralph Ellison)
- Red Dragon (1982, Thomas Harris)
- Bullshit Jobs: A Theory (2018, David Graeber)
- Wise Blood (1952, Flannery O’Connor)
- Piranesi (2020, Susanna Clarke)
- You Like It Darker (2024, Stephen King)
Films
- Anora (2024, Sean Baker)
- Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me (1992, David Lynch)
- Challengers (2024, Luca Guadagnino)
- Yojimbo (1961, Akira Kurosawa)
- The Seventh Seal (1957, Ingmar Bergman)
- Wild Strawberries (1957, Ingmar Bergman)
- Onibaba (1962, Kaneto Shindō)
- The French Dispatch (2021, Wes Anderson)
- Longlegs (2024, Osgood Perkins)
- The Holdovers (2023, Alexander Payne)
To my dedicated readers, I offer my deepest gratitude, and the hope that 2025 give us all yet more to be thankful for.
Lots of love,
George
