Great Expectations: British Postwar Cinema, 1945-1960

I was recently invited to contribute an essay to the book Great Expectations: British Postwar Cinema, 1945-1960, which was produced in conjunction with an extraordinary retrospective at the Locarno Film Festival. I jumped at the opportunity, particularly because I was asked to write about Basil Dearden, whose socially conscious films provide a vivid snapshot of the changing face of Britain as it emerged from the war, and whose work in general is severely underrated. I received my copy of the book this week and it is wonderful to be included in such a beautifully produced edition alongside so many writers I admire. The book contains essays on over thirty filmmakers plus overviews of the British film industry in this era, and it should provide an invaluable watchlist for anyone looking to explore this fascinating era of cinema.

The book is available to purchase here.

Caught Stealing in Sight & Sound

Caught Stealing takes place in New York’s Lower East Side in 1998. It’s a milieu that Darren Aronofsky knows well, as this is where he made Pi (1998), the imaginative feature that kickstarted his directorial career. Since that attention-grabbing debut, Aronofsky’s path has taken some unpredictable turns. One the one hand, he has established himself a filmmaker with a proven track record for directing actors to Oscar contention in modestly budgeted star vehicles like The Wrestler (2008), Black Swan (2010) and The Whale (2022), but he’s also been prone to taking wild leftfield swings in films like The Fountain (2006) and Mother! (2017); pictures that seemed designed to alienate as many audience members as they intrigued.

Read the rest of my review in Sight & Sound

Young Mothers in The Skinny

Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne established their reputation through their intense portraits of individual protagonists, but after splitting focus between two characters in Tori and Lokita, they have now made their most expansive film yet. Young Mothers introduces us to a group of teens living in a shelter for young mothers and mothers-to-be, and it’s the brothers’ first true ensemble piece. It’s also one of their finest films.

Read the rest of my review at The Skinny

Late Shift in Sight & Sound

Floria (Leonie Benesch) is exactly the kind of person you’d hope to see appearing at your bedside during a hospital stay. A dedicated and efficient nurse, Floria approaches those in her care with patience and empathy, providing a calming reassurance to the lonely and fearful. She remembers to bring lollipops for children visiting their mother, and she takes the time to sit and look at dog photographs with an elderly man who has no visitors, even if we can see in her face that her mind is buzzing with the countless other things she needs to be doing right now. In every respect, Floria is a model healthcare professional.

Read the rest of my review for Sight & Sound

Dying in Sight & Sound

Matthias Glasner’s Dying unfolds in five chapters and an epilogue, and the fourth of these chapters is entitled ‘Der Schmale Grat’ or ‘The Thin Line’. The line in question is the tightrope that artists walk between making work that is accessible to the masses while remaining steadfast in their pursuit of truth. Fail to hit that fine margin, composer Bernard Drinda (Robert Gwisdek) warns, and you’re left with nothing more than kitsch, which Bernard describes as the dismal result when “the feeling doesn’t reach to reality.”

The character of Bernard may be speaking for the writer-director, who spends three hours navigating a series of perilously thin lines and constantly reaching for a vivid sense of reality. When Glasner opens Dying on the sight of an old woman sitting in her own faeces while her husband wanders around half-naked and oblivious to her plight, the stage seems set for a pitiless examination of the indignities of old age, à la Amour (2012) or Vortex (2021), but his film moves in unpredictable ways which reflect the complex and contradictory nature of these characters. Glasner finds comedy amid the tragedy, and pathos in the mess of life.

Read the rest of my review at Sight & Sound