The nominees for the 81st Golden Globe Awards were announced on Monday 11th December, with Greta Gerwig’s Barbie the most-nominated of the films chosen by the Hollywood Foreign Press Association.

Warner Bros’ Barbie was nominated across 7 categories, including Best Director, Best Screenplay, Lead Actress and Supporting Actor, with 3 nominations in the Original Song category for “Dance the Night Away”, “I’m Just Ken” and “What Was I Made For?”.

Justine Triet’s multi-time European Film Awards winner and the recipient of the 2023 Cannes Palme d’Or, Anatomy of a Fall, was nominated in both the Best Motion Picture – Drama category as well as the Best Motion Picture – Non-English Language category, as was Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest. The latter was also nominated in the Best Original Score – Motion Picture category alongside The Boy and the Heron, which is a leading name in the Best Motion Picture – Animated category beside Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse.

The 2024 Golden Globes will take place on 7th January 2024, and will be broadcast in the CBS in the US and in the UK on Paramount+.

The nominees for the 81st edition of the Golden Globe Awards (2024) are as follows:

Best Motion Picture – Drama
Anatomy of a Fall
Killers of the Flower Moon
Maestro
Oppenheimer
Past Lives
The Zone of Interest

Best Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy
Air
American Fiction
Barbie
The Holdovers
May December
Poor Things

Best Motion Picture – Non-English Language
Anatomy of a Fall
Fallen Leaves
Io Capitano
Past Lives
Society of the Snow
The Zone of Interest

Best Motion Picture – Animated
The Boy and the Heron
Elemental
Spider-Man Across the Spider-Verse
The Super Mario Bros. Movie
Suzume
Wish

Best Director – Motion Picture
Bradley Cooper (Maestro)
Greta Gerwig (Barbie)
Yorgos Lanthimos (Poor Things)
Christopher Nolan (Oppenheimer)
Martin Scorsese (Killers of the Flower Moon)
Celine Song (Past Lives)

Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Motion Picture – Drama
Annette Bening (Nyad)
Lily Gladstone (Killers of the Flower Moon)
Sandra Hüller (Anatomy of a Fall)
Greta Lee (Past Lives)
Carey Mulligan (Maestro)
Cailee Spaeny (Priscilla)

Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy
Fantasia Barrino (The Color Purple)
Jennifer Lawrence (No Hard Feelings)
Natalie Portman (May December)
Alma Pöysti (Fallen Leaves)
Margot Robbie (Barbie)
Emma Stone (Poor Things)

Best Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role in any Motion Picture
Emily Blunt (Oppenheimer)
Danielle Brooks (The Color Purple)
Jodie Foster (Nyad)
Julianne Moore (May December)
Rosamund Pike (Saltburn)
Da’Vine Joy Randolph (The Holdovers)

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Motion Picture – Drama
Bradley Cooper (Maestro)
Leonardo DiCaprio (Killers of the Flower Moon)
Colman Domingo (Rustin)
Barry Keoghan (Saltburn)
Cillian Murphy (Oppenheimer)
Andrew Scott (All of Us Strangers)

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Motion Picture – Musical or Comedy
Nicolas Cage (Dream Scenario)
Timothée Chalamet (Wonka)
Matt Damon (Air)
Paul Giamatti (The Holdovers)
Joaquin Phoenix (Beau Is Afraid)
Jeffrey Wright (American Fiction)

Best Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role in any Motion Picture
Willem Dafoe (Poor Things)
Robert De Niro (Killers of the Flower Moon)
Robert Downey Jr. (Oppenheimer)
Ryan Gosling (Barbie)
Charles Melton (May December)
Mark Ruffalo (Poor Things)

Best Screenplay – Motion Picture
Justine Triet, Arthur Harari (Anatomy of a Fall)
Greta Gerwig, Noah Baumbach (Barbie)
Eric Roth, Martin Scorsese (Killers of the Flower Moon)
Christopher Nolan (Oppenheimer)
Celine Song (Past Lives)
Tony McNamara (Poor Things)

Best Original Score – Motion Picture
Jerskin Fendrix (Poor Things)
Ludwig Göransson (Oppenheimer)
Joe Hisaishi (The Boy and the Heron)
Micachu (The Zone of Interest)
Daniel Pemberton (Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse)
Robbie Robertson (Killers of the Flower Moon)

Best Original Song – Motion Picture
“Addicted to Romance” by Bruce Springsteen
“Dance the Night” by Mark Ronson, Andrew Wyatt, Caroline Ailin, Dua Lipa
“I’m Just Ken” by Mark Ronson, Andrew Wyatt
“Peaches” by Aaron Horvath, Michael Jelenic, Eric Osmond, John Spiker, Jack Black
“Road to Freedom” by Lenny Kravitz
“What Was I Made For?” by Finneas O’Connell, Billie Eilish

Cinematic and Box Office Achievement
Barbie
Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3
John Wick: Chapter 4
Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part 1
Oppenheimer
Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse
The Super Mario Bros. Movie
Taylor Swift: The Eras Tour

For the full list of television nominees, please visit the Golden Globes website.

The winners of the 2023 European Film Awards were announced live from Berlin, Germany on Saturday 9th December, with Justine Triet’s Palme d’Or winner Anatomy of a Fall receiving a number of major accolades, including Best European Film.

The European Film Academy announced 11 different films from as many as 10 different countries as winners across a wide range of categories, whilst also honouring a number of individuals for their contributions to the form. English actress Vanessa Redgrave was honoured with the European Lifetime Achievement award, with Spanish film director Isabel Coixet being rewarded for European Achievement in World Cinema.

Anatomy of a Fall was the most celebrated of the stacked line-up of films, winning the award for Best European Film over fellow nominees Fallen Leaves, Green Border, Me Captain and The Zone of Interest, as well as picking up awards for European Director, European Screenwriter, European Editing, and European Actress, the latter of which was won by Sandra Hüller who was nominated twice in the category for Anatomy of a Fall and The Zone of Interest.

The awards ceremony was streamed live and in full via the European Film Awards website, with replays still available.

The winners of the 2023 European Film Awards (EFAs) are as follows:

European Film – Anatomy of a Fall
Fallen Leaves
Green Border
Me Captain
The Zone of Interest

European Young Audience Award – Scrapper
Longing for the World
One in a Million

European Discovery – Prix Fipresci – How to Have Sex
20,000 Species of Bees
La Palisiada
Safe Place
The Quiet Migration
Vincent Must Die

European Documentary – Smoke Sauna Sisterhood
Apolonia, Apolonia
Four Daughters
Motherland
On the Adamant

European Animated Feature Film – Robot Dreams
A Greyhound of a Girl
Chicken for Linda!
The Amazing Maurice
White Plastic Sky

European Short Film – Hardly Working
27
Aqueronte
Daydreaming So Vividly About Our Spanish Holidays
Flores Del Otro Patio

European Director – Justine Triet (Anatomy of a Fall)
Aki Kaurismäki (Fallen Leaves)
Agnieszka Holland (Green Border)
Matteo Garrone (Me Captain)
Jonathan Glazer (The Zone of Interest)

European Actress – Sandra Hüller (Anatomy of a Fall)
Eka Chavleishvili (Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry)
Alma Pöysti (Fallen Leaves)
Mia McKenna-Bruce (How to Have Sex)
Leonie Benesch (The Teachers’ Lounge)
Sandra Hüller (The Zone of Interest)

European Actor – Mads Mikkelsen (The Promised Land)
Thomas Schubert (Afire)
Jussi Vatanen (Fallen Leaves)
Josh O’Connor (La Chimera)
Christian Friedel (The Zone of Interest)

European Screenwriter – Justine Triet, Arthur Harari (Anatomy of a Fall)
Aki Kaurismäki (Fallen Leaves)
Gabriela Lazarkiewicz-Sieczko, Maciej Pisuk Agnieszka Holland (Green Border)
Johannes Duncker, Ilker Çatak (The Teachers’ Lounge)
Jonathan Glazer (The Zone of Interest)

European Cinematography – Rasmus Videbæk (The Promised Land)

European Editing – Laurent Sénéchal (Anatomy of a Fall)

European Production Design – Emita Frigato (La Chimera)

European Costume Design – Kicki Ilander (The Promised Land)

European Make-Up & Hair – Society of the Snow

European Original Score – Markus Binder (Club Zero)

European Sound – Johnnie Burn, Tarn Willers (The Zone of Interest)

European Visual Effects – Society of the Snow

European Lifetimes Achievement – Vanessa Redgrave

European Achievement in World Cinema – Isabel Coixet

Eurimages Co-Production Award – Uljana Kim

Honorary Award of the EFA President and Board – Béla Tarr

European Sustainability Award (Prix Film4Climate) – Güler Sabancı

In this Movie List from The Film Magazine, we are looking at these movies in particular. The films that have spoken to us as a culture, have lasted long in our public consciousness, have been present for many a warm Christmas memory. These films are all under one hour in length – you can find our feature length selection in our 50 Unmissable Christmas Films list – and must be exclusively festive in nature. These are the most important, the most memorable, the most beloved, the 10 Best Christmas Short Films.

Follow @thefilmagazine on X (Twitter).

10. Frosty the Snowman (1969)

Rankin/Bass are one of the most famous animated short producers in film history, their contributions to seasonal fare living long in the public consciousness of those in the United States and beyond since their releases more than fifty years ago. The animation of this production house was so beloved that Jon Favreau famously fought for it to be paid tribute to in his 2003 Christmas film Elf (a unique aspect of this contemporary live-action film that separates it from many of its competitors). Rankin/Bass’s legacy is one that continues to find fondness generation after generation.

Frosty the Snowman was the final animated short made for (and released on) television that Rankin/Bass released in their most popular decade, the 1960s, and the first of a few Rankin/Bass films to make this list.

Based on the song of the same name by Walter E. Rollins and Steve Nelson, this 1969 version of the seasonal tale is harmless and fun, animated with all the soft lines and wholesome glow of the best Rankin/Bass films. It tells of a snowman and a small girl being pursued by a magician for the snowman’s magic hat, and aside from a few slightly scary scenes offers all the warmth and heart of the season.

Recommended for you: 5 Reasons ‘Elf’ Is a Gen Z Christmas Classic

9. Olive, the Other Reindeer (1999)

This uniquely animated Christmas musical released by Fox Television and Flower Films just before the turn of the century is as star-studded as it is lovely.

Based on the 1997 children’s book of the same name by Vivian Walsh and J. Otto Seibold, which in turn was based on the misunderstanding of the lyric “all of the other reindeer” as “Olive, the other reindeer” in the Christmas song “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”, Olive, the Other Reindeer follows Drew Barrymore’s titular Jack Russell Terrier who travels to the north pole to help pull Santa’s sleigh when it is discovered that Blitzen is injured and unable to fly.

Nominated for an Emmy for Outstanding Animated Program, the seasonal short is stylish and beautifully brought to life by the voice actors, with the type of story that will bring plenty of smiles to faces, especially at Christmas. There’s even a song by Blitzen’s cousin Schnitzel, voiced by R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe. What more could you need?

Napoleon (2023)
Director: Ridley Scott
Screenwriter: David Scarpa
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Vanessa Kirby, Tahar Rahim, Rupert Everett, Paul Rhys

Almost a quarter of a century after his swords and sandals epic Gladiator became a critically acclaimed cultural phenomenon and Oscars Best Picture winner, Ridley Scott re-teams with one of its stars – one of this generation’s leading actors and a multi-time Academy Award nominee, Joaquin Phoenix – to revisit another of history’s most written about leaders, Napoleon Bonaparte of France. With more historically accurate locations and just as many period-appropriate costumes as in his turn of the century fable, this life and times of France’s great-then-disgraced general should be a lot more affecting than it actually is. This bullet point journey through Bonaparte’s rise and fall from power doesn’t make powerful comment on the corruption of man, nor does it evaluate the emperor’s influence on war or peace, on Europe or France or the United Kingdom or Russia. In fact, it doesn’t say much at all…

It would be difficult to chronicle Napoleon’s story and fail to capture the imagination in one way or another. This is one of history’s most important figures, an emblem of power and greed. His various roles in post-revolution France took him across continents, saw him as the figurehead of coups, and brought about the deaths of more than one million people. His was a life filled with so many historically significant events, moments, and decisions, that anyone with so much as an Encyclopaedia Britannica could recount his story with at least some drama, shock and awe. The issue with this $200million film is that the script does little more than precisely that, recounting the significant moments of his leadership as if listing them out of a book, with a cheap and at times barely legible love angle tacked on to evoke empathy and provide commentary on the events that come fast and often with little context.

Joaquin Phoenix tries his best. He dominates every scene, embodying a character he clearly sees as more of a creature than a man. Under his spell, Napoleon Bonaparte is worthy of attention, a character whom we are desperate to investigate, to interrogate. But the film doesn’t allow for that. As we depart the beheading of Marie Antoinette in revolution-era France to first meet our subject, Phoenix is not unlike a lion with his jaw clenched, his eyes glazed, his uniform as extravagant and symbolic as a mane. There is so much promise held within this introduction – a potentially world-shifting performance, some spectacular wardrobe work, effective framing and blocking – and instead it sadly becomes emblematic of a film that leaves so much of its potential unfulfilled.

The bullet point journey through Napoleon’s conquests, political manoeuvres, and exiles, requires an emotional core for any potential audience to attach to, and it finds that in the would-be emperor’s marriage to his beloved Josephine. Vanessa Kirby embodies the infamous leader’s muse as if a witch who has cast a spell, and the Oscar-nominated performer’s turn is at times just as beguiling as Phoenix’s. Together, they never hit the highs of some of their other on-screen relationships (Phoenix in Her, Kirby in Pieces of a Woman), nor is their relationship as moving as that presented by Mel Gibson and Catherine McCormack in Braveheart, or as lustful as that presented by Omar Sharif and Julie Christie in Doctor Zhivago. There isn’t even a sense of dangerous plotting as underlined by the incestuous relationship hinted at between Phoenix and Connie Nielsen in Gladiator, which at least provoked a reaction. In Napoleon, Phoenix and Kirby are believably brought together, but they are far from enchanted by one another, and as time passes and events occur, you expect that to become part of the commentary on Napoleon’s lack of humanity, but it doesn’t. Napoleon instead frames this relationship as the beating heart of its subject, as the primary motivating factor, the biggest achievement, the biggest regret. And the film only takes brief moments to dissect this, or even present a valid argument as to how the relationship motivated the man to achieve otherworldly horrors. Theirs is a story that runs parallel to the story of Napoleon’s “achievements”, evolving from time to time but largely suffering from the same “this happens and then this happens and then this happens” that plagues the rest of the tale.

Beyond the limitations of David Scarpa’s screenplay, which was no doubt limited in its potential by the vast period of time it sought to cover (a period of more than 25 years), and the effects this has on Claire Simpson’s editing and pacing of the film, Napoleon does achieve a lot cinematically. First and foremost, the costume work is spectacular. David Crossman and Janty Yates’ work in costuming is nothing short of stellar, and a glimpse at the level of quality many expected a modern Ridley Scott historical epic to achieve. Everyone looks unique and period-appropriate, but the smaller details on the limited selection of main characters are worthy of the biggest screen possible and plenty of critical acclaim. Similarly, the production design by Arthur Max is a significant factor in bringing cinematic qualities to scenes that are otherwise inconsequential or at least far from unmissable. The party and governmental scenes are where the latter shines the brightest, some sequences decked out and presented as if the period’s great paintings.

Ridley Scott must be commended for his role in bringing this to life, too. Some shots are of the highest cinematic calibre, a master clearly touching on the greatness that has been foundational to his visually impressive career to date. His party scenes are filled with life, there are unique physical qualities to many of the major historical figures at play in the story, and he seems intent on ensuring that not a single battle is presented in as bland a fashion as many other director’s have long since settled. His work with cinematographer Dariusz Wolski in the capturing of cold, of fog, of early morning winter sunrises, imbues the piece with a sense of reality and ensures that nobody can be bored by the achievements held within each frame. Some sequences, such as the one in which Napoleon takes Moscow, are worthy even of a highlight reel that includes The Duellists, Alien, Blade Runner, Thelma & Louise and Gladiator.

As has often been the case in more recent Scott movies, there are also shots, scenes and sometimes even entire sequences that seem absent of his once unique and form-topping touch. Early on, it is easy to be removed from the reality of the time period courtesy of poor CGI, such as that showing Joaquin Phoenix riding a horse on a beach or large crowds resembling AI renditions more than actual people. The picture is also so awash with greys that it seems more like a mid-2000s early digital filmmaking release than even Scott’s own from that era. Some night time shots are utterly spectacular, and seem to be of the same school as those celebrated in Jordan Peele’s Nope, but there are vast periods in which everything looks washed out, and it is almost certain that minutes of this film will be barely legible (too dark) to anyone who eventually watches it at home.

Ridley Scott has spoken a lot in the press tour for Napoleon about how his movies do not need to be historically accurate. When a film seeks to explore something thematically, personally, or ideologically, then Scott is most certainly correct. Film is art, and art seeks truth rather than fact. Gladiator worked because of this perspective, because of how it abandoned fact in search of the truth held within the myth. But Napoleon doesn’t do that. It presents moment after moment from the history books, often inaccurately out of negligence as opposed to deeper purpose. There is no doubt that a lot of care and artistry can be seen on screen in Napoleon, but that negligence will be the story of this film: a movie that could have been great, that could have meant something, that could have simply been accurate, and ended up being none of those things. Like Napoleon himself, Napoleon thinks itself as greater than it is. It isn’t insulting like Ridley Scott’s idea of Napoleon firing canons into the Great Pyramid of Giza was to historians the world over, but it does offer only glimmers at its full might. Some individual pieces are greater than the whole in this instance, and what a shame that is. This should have been special.

Score: 15/24

Recommended for you: Ridley Scott Films Ranked

The Old Oak (2023)
Director: Ken Loach
Screenwriter: Paul Laverty
Starring: Dave Turner, Ebla Mari, Claire Rodgerson, Trevor Fox, Chris McGlade, Col Tait, Jordan Louis, Chrissie Robinson, Chris Gotts, Jen Patterson, Arthur Oxley, Joe Armstrong, Andy Dawson, Maxie Peters

“There’s no shame in love.” More people ought to remember that.

Renowned social realist Ken Loach has returned to the screen in 2023 at the age of 87 to direct what is believed to be his final film. The director, whose previous work has earned him two Palme d’Or awards (Best Film awards) from the Cannes Film Festival, as well as a further thirteen nominations across five decades, follows his workplace rights drama Sorry We Missed You with a tale about Syrian refugees moving into one of the United Kingdom’s forgotten towns. The Old Oak, written by Loach’s usual collaborator Paul Laverty (a former human rights lawyer and the screenwriter behind 2016 Palme d’Or winner I, Daniel Blake) and titled after the local pub of this unspecified North East location, is a typically realistic depiction of the people living outside of the cities most-often thought about, those with voices from beyond the small group that we ordinarily hear from.

Shot in beautiful Kodak film stock, complete with that crisp unmatched definition and the odd scratch mark, The Old Oak is a uniquely cinematic film that highlights the beauty of capturing life (both in how it is made and through a character in the film who has an interest in photography) whilst speaking with truth on the act of struggling through it. It is a poignant, meaningful, and in parts self-reflective film that illustrates Loach’s talents for presenting truthful stories and directing believable performances from untrained and unknown actors. It is a drama with enough dour reality to make you cry and enough faith in humanity to make you cry all over again, a typically Loachian blast of emotion that you won’t want to miss.

That’s the sugar. Here’s the medicine…

It’s 2023, and if you’re not aware of the state of forgotten towns with £8,000 homes and entire families going without heating or electricity just so they can feed themselves, then you need to wake up. People who’ve lived in the same street for fifty years are maintaining gardens next to boarded up houses, entire postcodes are being quietly abandoned by their local councils. More than one in four children (29% to be exact) are living in poverty, that’s 4.6million children in the fifth richest country in the world. People are too embarrassed to leave the house, are walking around in clothes that are decades old, are struggling to make ends meet. The United Kingdom is falling apart, but all we ever hear from the billionaire-owned news media is ‘fear the foreigner’, ‘they’re coming on boats’, ‘they’re taking your child’s spot in school’ – recently, it has been a lot to do with asylum seekers “faking their homosexuality to gain access to the UK”. It’s always point down, point to the side; your neighbour’s your enemy, not us. Meanwhile, a headline in The Telegraph, a UK newspaper owned by channel islands billionaire Frederik Barclay (who is worth £6.4billion and has a yacht stationed in Monaco that costs £4million per year to maintain), reads that “Ken Loach has become a tiresome, humourless parody of himself”. Funny, because from where many of us are standing, he is the only one speaking truth to power.

In a film industry that was disembowelled post-2008 financial crash by a conservative government selling off anything it could at massively reduced rates to its mates – the closure of BAFTA-LA, the reclassification of “British film” into something so vague that a number of Mission: Impossible films have been classified as “British” and thus earned tax reductions, the current crisis of the British film industry being held together by Hollywood interests, and the transition of the UK from a world power in cinema to a post-production house – has ensured that voices from underprivileged backgrounds have less frequently found their way to the screen, and that they have even more infrequently found any kind of traction with audiences. A national cinema that once so proudly boasted a number of top directors making financially successful and critically acclaimed films about their own nation – the results being the likes of Brassed Off (César Best International Film winner), The Full Monty (4-time Oscar-nominee, 1-time winner for music), Little Voice (Actress in a Supporting Role nominee at the Oscars), This Is England (Best British Film winner at the BAFTAs), and Trainspotting (Oscars nominee, BAFTA winner for screenplay) – has been reduced to London-centric pseudo-independents or stereotypical tales of monarchy, the majority of fresh projects now destined for television anyway. There have been a number of interesting and exciting outliers, but these films are the exceptions that prove the rule, the filmmakers who once seemed like natural hitmakers forced to settle for television deals (as was the case with a recent Shane Meadows project) or simply stop making stories about their area altogether. The fact that the guy who directed Kes in 1969 is the only person who can get a film made in the North East and screened nationally is a sad indictment of the film industry; think of all those voices we’ve missed out on, all those people who could have felt seen for the first time in their lives.

The Old Oak is everything it was described as being in the opening paragraphs of this piece. It looks beautiful, and it brings attention to the art of capturing and the joy of watching in a way that you can’t help but to understand as self-reflection from one of the great filmmakers in the United Kingdom’s history. It features all the hallmarks of top class social realism both in how it’s made and the story that it tells – Syrian refugees are presented as if a parallel to UK miners during the mining strikes of the 1980s, which is particularly emotionally resonant to those familiar with the people and places affected by the closures of the mines. The performances are naturalistic, at times incredibly moving. But it is also the same clenched fist call to arms that Loach’s best work has always been; a ginormous megaphone for the people living on the fringes, the people who have been forced to think that their lives are meaningless. It’s a celebration of who we are and an indictment of the forces that cause friction between us through pointless wedge topics. The Old Oak is artistically accomplished, intricately written, and phenomenally well-directed, but as is the case with every single Ken Loach movie, it is more importantly representative of a feeling amongst people who are not heard in newspapers, are not broadcast in television debates, are not represented in any other form of accessible modern day art or any of our modern day media.

It is perhaps a little too optimistic for anyone living through the circumstances depicted, but in that way it is a celebration of the lives that continue through the mud that is routinely thrown on them. It is also clear that we are living in a time when wealth disparity has poisoned all corners of our consumption to such an extent that this film won’t be seen by anyone unwilling to have their limited perspective on life widened, so The Old Oak likely won’t change the public narrative either. But The Old Oak is important, and it will be remembered. It will be renowned for its unique artistry and eventually celebrated for how Ken Loach has once again captured how so many of us feel.

Ignore what the naysayers spout for they do not know the weight that you carry in your bones when you live a life like those depicted in The Old Oak. Ken Loach just made another very important film.

Score: 23/24

The year is 1995, and the child is me.

I can never verify how much of the above tale happened, or which parts of it I have embellished over the years, but the story is true. I specifically remember being told that the flower Gene Wilder’s Willy Wonka drinks from and then takes a bite out of wasn’t real food, and I consequently went through the thought process of wondering what else in the film wasn’t real and who made all of those things. I can’t remember if prior to that moment I thought everything in films was a historical document of a true story, or whether I had any thoughts about them at all, but I know that watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory was my light-bulb moment, my transition from being a baby into being a child, my moment of consciousness. 

The wonderment I found that day has been one of the most lasting and rewarding aspects of my three-plus decades on this planet. Each time I feel like my flame for cinema has been extinguished (by life, by society, by corporatisation, by existential threats to the theatrical experience, by politics), it has been sparked back into life by miraculous feat of cinematic artistry after miraculous feat of cinematic artistry. As I’ve grown and learned and progressed, I have been inspired, have been nurtured, and have been guided by film. 

With so many life-shaping, existential experiences to recall, and so many lessons learned and viewpoints shaped by this wondrous moving picture art form, I find myself in the same place I began: wide-eyed and cross-legged, jaw agape, entirely present. 

In this moment of absolute consciousness, the following ten films are what I have long deliberated to be the best of all time. These films are form-shaping, movement-defining, genre-topping pieces, each from remarkable filmmakers who were able to capture lightning in a bottle by making something greatly artistic and intellectually rewarding, something emotionally and contextually resonant. These films challenged convention, rewrote popular thought, established rules and in most cases broke them, and together they are the thousands of films I have experienced, the entire historical context of the industry I have studied in great depth, the more-than a quarter of a century of consciousness I have dedicated to the form. These are the 10 Best Films of All Time by me, Joseph Wade.

Follow me on X (Twitter – @JoeTFM

10. Casablanca (1942)

Casablanca Review

The modern Hollywood blockbuster is a monumental part of the cinema experience, and one of the reasons you’re reading this article and I’m writing it. Some of the classics that have lit up the big screen and revolutionised the form are Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jurassic Park, and The Dark Knight. While Buster Keaton’s timeless action-comedy The General (1926) has had perhaps the most direct influence of any film in history regarding contemporary studio filmmaking – many of its scenes still borrowed from and replicated to this day, its train scene being paid homage to in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny and Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One in 2023 – it is Michael Curtiz’s Casablanca that can be found most prominently across many modern thrillers, actioners, and superhero movies.

Curtiz’s romantic drama is perhaps the most overlooked film of all time regarding the size of its influence on modern filmmaking. There are sequences, set in the markets of Casablanca, that are almost directly copied in Star Wars and the Indiana Jones movies, and the film’s themes of good, evil, and the people in between being forced to choose a side, is a foundational aspect of every successful modern studio blockbuster. While the romantic themes of Casablanca may be lost in most mainstream tentpole releases in the 2020s – a sorry loss that we should fight to get back – the foundational parts of its script, and particularly the way it is presented, shot, and constructed in the edit, are ultra modern and ever-present in our current day cinema. You can watch Casablanca more than eighty years after its release and experience the same pacing as modern success stories like Top Gun: Maverick, which given the releases of the time and the size of the equipment used to film and edit them, is a remarkable achievement. 

Beyond the technical achievements and revolutionary ideas that caused its influence to be so long lasting, Casablanca is a powerful and emotive film. Humphrey Bogart soars to new career heights as a romantic leading man, Rick Blaine, the owner of Rick’s, a jazz bar in the titular Moroccan city of Casablanca. To think that he wasn’t thought charismatic enough to be a romantic lead during this era is remarkable in retrospect, but this performance is one that corrected that mistake and laid the foundations for one of the great romantic careers in Hollywood history. His character is reunited with an old flame, Ilsa Lund (played with all the natural fierceness that Ingrid Bergman imprinted onto every single one of her characters – she is arguably an even more powerful screen presence than Bogart), and the pair accidentally set light to old feelings. As it’s World War II, the Nazi forces of North Africa are an ever present threat to the two leads and their romance as well as the way of life of the entire cast of supporting characters. The USA was just entering the 2nd World War during the events of Casablanca, and the nation is romantically presented as a distant beacon of hope in the film; the promise land that the Statue of Liberty so gloriously signified to the millions of refugees and immigrants that made their way to the shores of New York and beyond at that time. 

This film features a lot of what we’ve all grown to love about the golden era of Hollywood, and even the biggest movies of today, but it is unique for the very reasons that it remains memorable and iconic so many decades later. It is tragic with a small glimmer of hope, Hays Code era romantic but not asinine, and features two of the most legendary screen actors of all time in all of their transatlantic accented best. No matter what you’ve heard of Bogart and Bergman, they’re all that and then some. Better still, they’re presented in that sumptuous black and white of the era, through risk-taking and modern cinematographic techniques, through the astonishingly detailed set design that you can’t help but to marvel at, and scored to perfection in a composition by Max Steiner that could very well be included on a very short list of movie scores to have helped build the foundations of Warner Bros. 

Casablanca is the archetypal Hollywood movie, the very best of a list of classics that includes Gone with the Wind and It’s a Wonderful Life. It is everything that the myth of Hollywood represents, a pristine example of cinema that captured the anxieties and the hope of its time like few other films managed to do, and told it in such a universally appreciated way that we can still feel forced to the edge of our seats and moved to tears in an entirely new century. Even with our modern understanding of the United States having been shifted to better understand non-white perspectives of its past, as well as the global perspectives of its present, Casablanca’s romanticised outlook on its nation, war, hope, and love, ensure it remains a culturally significant and artistically monumental Hollywood movie release, a shining light of the cinematic form.

9. Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

Singin’ in the Rain is the epitome of Golden Era Hollywood: vast soundstages dressed beautifully by experts in the field, lit with all the glow of the sun; once in a lifetime performers offering timeless qualities that you just don’t see anymore; a self-reflective narrative that pokes fun at the studio system; a happy time at the movies that keeps the conflict manageable and the highs universal, so even the little ones can enjoy themselves. This is Hollywood cinema; romance, music, colour and beauty, projected for all to see. 

The film stars Gene Kelly in the midst of his decade of superstardom. He’s a unique talent – a ballet dancer with movie star good looks, the kind of smile that could steal a nation of hearts – and the only person who could take a combination of songs discarded from other productions and make it into something irreplaceable within the annals of cinema history. He is the anchor around which everything floats, the fulcrum of the entire movie, the superstar upon whose back this entire era seemed to rest. Watching the Gene Kelly of the 1940s or 50s in the 2020s will have the same effect it did seventy years prior: the magic will simply pour out of the screen, drowning the noise of your every day and lighting up your endorphins time and time again.

In Singin’ in the Rain, Kelly plays a silent era film star whose career is about to meet an unfortunate end due to the advent of sound. He meets Debbie Reynolds’ party performer with a voice of gold in a chance meeting and the two court for the duration of the film’s runtime, her rise to relative superstardom coming as fast as Kelly’s relative fall from it. It’s all singing and dancing and pursuing the one thing you’ve been told you’re good at just because you believe it might one day work out for you; a Hollywood story about Hollywood that inspired youngest-ever Best Director Oscar winner Damien Chazelle on La La Land and Babylon; a type of self-aware American Dream narrative that doesn’t yet seem poisoned by the lost wars, anxieties and terror of the decades to come. 

Perhaps best of all, it is so fist-clenchingly uplifting. You truly feel the ecstasy of each career-orientated achievement just as the characters do. The music is, of course, vital to achieving this, and so far as original soundtracks go there are few (if any) better. From “Good Morning” to the titular track “Singin’ in the Rain”, this film is as loaded with classic songs as the best films of the era, as any era that followed, an often imitated but never duplicated success story.

As an adult, there are few viewing experiences that can show you something new, or fresh, or better than before, but witnessing Gene Kelly at the height of his powers is one of those experiences. His presence in Singin’ in the Rain is the realisation of all he brought to cinema in the ultra modern On the Town (1949) and the classic stage ballet on film, An American in Paris (1951). He isn’t the only glowing aspect of this cinematic marvel, but he is breathtaking, astounding, simply incomparable. Unmissable. 

Singin’ in the Rain was made in-part in tribute to the classics of the early Hollywood musicals, such as those by Fred Astaire (Top Hat, Swing Time), and continues to serve as inspiration for a wide variety of films to this day, from the entire plot being the basis of Downton Abbey: A New Era (2022) to the “I’m Just Ken” musical segment from Barbie (2023). But, as an artefact of Hollywood at its most sumptuous, timeless and expansive, it is perhaps even more special; arguably the greatest Hollywood studio movie of all time.

Recommended for you: Where to Start with Gene Kelly

The filmmaker, of British and American heritage, has offered elements of filmmaking genius as wide ranging as Stanley Kubrick and Steven Spielberg, Ingmar Bergman and Akira Kurosawa, to develop an individualistic mix of old-school philosophies and modern sensibilities. He has made a name for himself as the only director in Hollywood who can guarantee a runaway financial success of the billion dollar category in the increasingly perilous waters of high-budget productions of original stories. In many ways, Nolan has become a franchise in of himself, a filmmaker so recognisable that he is given top billing in trailers and on posters, someone who has become as synonymous with cinema as John Ford, Martin Scorsese and Alfred Hitchcock.

With over two decades of filmmaking experience, Christopher Nolan is still relatively young when compared to other directors with similar success, and therefore each release remains important to the director establishing himself as an author of the screen, his ideological approach of individualism and thematic ruminations on time each still in their relative infancy even within his prolific and reputable output.

In this edition of Ranked, we at The Film Magazine are breaking down all of Christopher Nolan’s feature releases to rank the films of one of the world’s most recognisable directors from worst to best in terms of artistic merit, public perception and critical reception.

Follow @thefilmagazine on X (Twitter).

12. Following (1998)

Christopher Nolan’s debut feature Following (1998) is as identifiably Nolan as his most expensive and expansive work. It is shot on film stock, brought to life by a narrative taking place across three timelines, and is focused on assessing the role of man and his position in the world.

A feature debut made on a relatively shoestring budget was never going to make for the ultimate representation of the director’s vision for cinema, but Following (1998) does offer an intriguing first glimpse of a filmmaker on the precipice of a history-making career, this characteristically mind-altering, Tarkovsky and Bergman-inspired piece being an interesting and challenging start to a filmography that would go from strength to strength.

11. Tenet (2020)

Tenet Review

Christopher Nolan’s often adventurous concepts reached their most opaque with Tenet (2020), the story of a secret agent sent through time to solve a crime and save the world. Starring John David Washington and Robert Pattinson, Tenet is as sharp-suited as your typical James Bond movie, only more adventurous in its thematic explorations and visual presentation.

Tenet is arguably the most arthouse of all of Nolan’s releases post-Following, bringing visual and theoretical concepts to the screen in a manner very few filmmakers have ever been allowed to do on such a high budget. Christopher Nolan offers fights in which one character is moving forward in time and the other is moving backwards, story twists that explore themes of destiny similar to those found in Interstellar, and continues to shape his catalogue of movies about men lost to worlds they don’t belong in.

Tenet was expected to unite audiences and critics in a celebration of the cinema experience after a tough year of closures, but was instead met with a divisive reaction. For all of Tenet’s achievements, and how bold it can be considered to be, this imaginative summer movie was ultimately a case of the humanity that bonds us to screen stories taking a backseat to the director’s lofty concepts, Tenet lacking the same humanity as better Nolan films.

Recommended for you: Christopher Nolan’s Cinematic Chores – Understanding ‘Tenet’

In this edition of Ranked, each of James Ponsoldt’s films – from Off the Black in 2006 to Summering in 2022 – is being compared and contrasted to judge which are the best and which are the worst in terms of artistic achievement, emotional resonance, critical reception and audience perception. These are the James Ponsoldt Movies Ranked.

Follow @thefilmagazine on Twitter.

6. Summering (2022)

There are glimmers of James Ponsoldt’s typical late summer mood in Summering, and a number of ideas that seem like they could truly take flight in another lifetime, but James Ponsoldt’s first feature film in five years is by far the worst of his relatively short filmography; a film of barely threaded together metaphors that loses all direction and focus as each unrealistic moment is followed by another.

As has been typical of Ponsoldt’s time as a director, the performances in Summering are largely good. The film is centred upon four girls, all of whom add their own unique dynamics to the group and are directed to accentuate their better qualities as performers, while the adults involved also turn in layered and nuanced portrayals that are too good for the quality of film they are in.

The key issue here seems to be that the film loses track of every good idea it ever has; it drops the ball so many times. It’s confusing, not because it’s too profound or deep or interesting, but because every moment of manifested anxiety that the film is attempting to portray is tackled with such a lack of nuance or creativity – then is forgotten about or contradicted – that it becomes frankly nonsensical.

There are hints of the spirit of Ponsoldt’s better work in Summering, but given the quality of work the director was able to produce on television after The Circle (2017), this 2022 film is a huge disappointment.

Recommended for you: 10 Must-See One-Shot Films

5. The Circle (2017)

The Circle Review

When Netflix announced a Tom Hanks-produced movie about internet privacy starring Emma Watson and John Boyega was to arrive on their streaming service in 2017, a lot of people were positive about what was to come. Unfortunately, what came was one of the biggest misses of James Ponsoldt’s career. Bad performances, a patronising story, below standard CG effects and an overall sense of what could have been made for a lacklustre offering.

It seems that the director often went missing when the film needed visual inspiration or an injection of character, and it was clear that he felt much less comfortable in the movie’s concept-driven formula than he had in his previous character-driven work.

The Circle at least makes sense (mostly) and isn’t entirely void of positives, but it is a red mark against an otherwise impressive character-driven filmography.

Oppenheimer (2023)
Director: Christopher Nolan
Screenwriter: Christopher Nolan
Starring: Cillian Murphy, Robert Downey Jr, Emily Blunt, Florence Pugh, Matt Damon, David Dastmalchian, Dane DeHaan, Josh Peck, Rami Malek, David Krumholtz, Benny Safdie

“We knew the world would not be the same. A few people laughed, a few people cried, most people were silent. I remembered the line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita […] ‘Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ I suppose we’ve all thought that, one way or another.”

Christopher Nolan’s period piece about the destroyer of worlds J. Robert Oppenheimer probably won’t make you laugh, but it might make you cry, and it is almost certain to leave you in a stony silence. The renowned British-American filmmaker has captured the very essence of the famous Oppenheimer speech and has used it to chronicle the story of arguably the most transformative moment of the 20th century: the development of the first atom bomb. In doing so, he has made a $100million all-star summer blockbuster film that is capable of taking your breath away – not just because of the unique visual effects, the use of first-ever black and white IMAX stock, or the real explosions he somehow got permission to film, but because of the effectiveness of how he captures war-time anxiety and the existential dread that comes with acknowledging our world’s seemingly permanent state of conflict. Nihilism has never been seen on such an epic scale.

If the respected director’s lockdown-era release Tenet was focused too much on its concept and not enough on its characters, Oppenheimer is a step in the opposite direction. Cillian Murphy is locked to the centre of the screen for much of the film’s 3-hour runtime, his presence transforming as the weight of his character’s scientific contributions do, the pace of his dialogue delivery slowing as he goes through a series of traumatic events. His is a performance to remember, a masterclass in the microexpressions that film captures better than any other medium, a great portrayal of a real-life figure that must be considered in the same realm as Denzel Washington’s Malcolm X and Daniel Day Lewis’ Abraham Lincoln. The eye is naturally drawn to both the uniquely reserved charisma of Murphy’s portrayal and the methods through which Nolan and cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Dunkirk) emphasise the character’s presence. It is truly remarkable how the most extraordinary thing about this mega-budget film isn’t some meticulously planned long take or spectacular action sequence, but is instead the human face.

Ginormous, bigger-than-ever IMAX reels have been sent to the few cinemas that can present them, and yet Nolan only brings attention to the capabilities of his relatively huge frame in dispersed moments that represent his central character’s clarity. He presents the vistas of New Mexico like shots from John Ford westerns for example, expressing Oppenheimer’s admiration for the eventual site of his nuclear experiments and thus enforcing a narrative of natural beauty in relation to human destruction, and yet the focus of his visual storytelling is less on the composition of shots and more on the technicalities of them. Much of the film is shot in the darkness of night, for example, which brings attention to how Oppenheimer illuminates near-black in a way we haven’t seen before. It is a truly staggering piece of work that brings out the details in required scenes and helps to better express the colours that are present. Perhaps most importantly it requires you to see the film in its primary environment, the cinema. Attempting to get the same experience at home, even with a 4K version of the film, will simply be impossible.

Additionally, there’s a whole story strand that is filmed in black and white. For this, Kodak developed a brand new, exclusive type of IMAX stock just for Oppenheimer, and the result is one of the most crisp and well-defined presentations of colourless cinema since Hollywood’s golden era, only in even higher definition. Focused in these moments on a very good but never quite spectacular Robert Downey Jr performance, the technique paints his character’s black and white view of the world in a quite literal sense, reinforcing Nolan’s more committed approach to character in this film and gifting Oppenheimer another uniquely cinematic quality.

Brand new film stock, better-than-ever night-time work, a renewed focus on the beauty of black and white composition in a mainstream studio movie; from a technical standpoint, there’s no debating that Oppenheimer is thrusting cinema forward. In terms of creative choices, however, there are fewer reasons to be excited.

Oppenheimer is largely set in small, confined spaces like classrooms, with as many as a dozen characters occupying a room, and yet they’re never presented in one ever-moving mass like in Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon, nor are they blocked to emphasise dynamics like Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope or Vertigo. The camera is often placed between opposing sides, with cross cuts used to present information, but rarely does Nolan leave the comfort of eye level. Perhaps the size of the IMAX cameras (which are much larger than ordinary cameras) impacted the ability to creatively stage and expressively present these scenes, but in a film that does so much technically and promises so much visually, there is an air of disappointment that comes with watching minute after minute of characters simply talking at one another.

The character-first approach to the visual storytelling ensures that Oppenheimer isn’t just a continuous dump of historically significant information, and the performances of the absurdly stacked cast of recognisable faces are very strong across the board. Even beyond the main players Cillian Murphy and Robert Downey Jr, there are the deeply troubled and vulnerable portrayals by Florence Pugh as the communist lover of the film’s lead, and Emily Blunt as Oppenheimer’s knowing and stern wife. David Krumholtz, known for his roles in The Santa Claus and 10 Things I Hate About You, offers an exceptional physical performance as Oppenheimer’s long-time friend Isidor Rabi, while Benny Safdie (Good Time) is radiating the same gravitas as some of his directorial work. Every recognisable name, from Josh Peck to Rami Malek, gets their moment here, Nolan using their fame to help us remember the myriad of significant characters that populate this story. And yet it is the ever-reliable Matt Damon as Lieutenant General Leslie Groves who seems to have the most significant impact of all the supporting characters, his performance as the tough guy with a glint in his eye being perhaps the most memorable of them all. From the moment he steps into frame, the narrative is shunted forward, Damon’s presence large enough to forge its own space in an otherwise tight character study.

Christopher Nolan has spoken a lot about his primary influences being Stanley Kubrick and Ridley Scott, and Oppenheimer certainly has elements of each. There is the same densely packed information and surgical precision that you might expect from Kubrick, and the same approach to grim fates told through all-star casts that you might see in Scott’s films. It even shares the same criticisms that are often levelled at these two masters: that there’s a distance, emotionally, to the story they’re trying to tell.

Ludwig Göransson’s score does a lot of heavy lifting regarding the heart of the piece (and is an otherwise masterful composition), and the actors are clearly all on form, yet this very specific character study – the most focused character study of Christopher Nolan’s career – doesn’t quite take you on the emotional rollercoaster that the director was able to shape in Dunkirk and Inception. For all that it leaves you heavy in the chest, it doesn’t lift you up and then take you to the point of tears; it feels like a story, a constructed piece of cinema, something further away from the nucleus of truth that Nolan was able to find in Interstellar‘s universally recognisable presentations of loss and regret.

With Oppenheimer it is abundantly clear that we (as an industry, as a filmgoing public) judge filmmakers like Christopher Nolan on a completely different scale to other filmmakers. This story, while somewhat distant to the emotive truths of our collective existence, is engaging throughout, it offers some exceptional performances, and most significantly it is important. Oppenheimer is a film that has thrust the form forward, that has broken new ground within a restrictive studio system, and has done so whilst re-evaluating the American myth of both J. Robert Oppenheimer and the atom bomb. It is a massive budget studio release that demands to be seen on the big screen, but it tells of a part of human history you could hardly argue as marketable. That such a film like this exists is a miracle forged by the artistry of its director, and the depth of undertaking that the film offers is frankly incomparable in the contemporary space. Oppenheimer is not perfect, but it is art. This is what cinema can be.

Score: 21/24

Recommended for you: Christopher Nolan Films Ranked

She was, in her twenties, the youthful star of the so-called ‘true American independent’ – that being movies not funded by subsidiaries of large corporations such as Fox Searchlight and Miramax – and was a driving force behind the mumblecore movement that brought to prominence a number of writer-directors working in improvisational environments such as Joe Swanberg and the Duplass brothers.

Despite being a prominent figure within the mumblecore movement and earning her stripes as an actor under larger-budget directors such as Noah Baumbach on Greenberg (2010) and Frances Ha (2013), it wasn’t until Greta Gerwig was in her early thirties that the her reputation caught up with her talent. By the time Lady Bird was released, Gerwig had as many as ten writing credits already to her name, five of which were stories or screenplays for feature-length movies. With a credit as co-director already in her repertoire from the 2008 micro-budget romantic drama Nights and Weekends, her semi-autobiographical solo directorial debut cemented her on the path to becoming one of the world’s most-beloved and most-respected filmmakers of this generation.

With bold creative choices and colourful characters exemplifying Greta Gerwig’s legacy on the big screen over the past fifteen years, hers is a catalogue of work that is easy to fall in love with and necessary to evaluate.

This is the Greta Gerwig Essential Collection: a celebration of this woman filmmaker’s capabilities to evoke unique personas, empathetic characterisations, and moving stories across all budgets and screen sizes.

“My true north is talkies about ladies.”
Greta Gerwig

Nights and Weekends (2008)
Directors: Greta Gerwig, Joe Swanberg
Writers: Greta Gerwig, Joe Swanberg
IFC Films | Film Science

Nights and Weekends was one of the more popular productions of a movement many came to refer to as ‘mumblecore’. Mumblecore was a small independent movement that occurred away from the eyes of the big studios and featured largely improvised personal stories about the everyday lives of its characters, with no issue or task considered too big or too small to put into the finished presentation.

It was called ‘mumblecore’ because, often, the sound quality was poor and the actors would improvise so much and so often that they sometimes failed to make sense. The result was an often maligned but incredibly realistic representation of everyday life through the eyes of the filmmakers, making Nights and Weekends not only the first true insight into Greta Gerwig’s filmmaking sensibility for more developed women characters, but also one of the first widely released movies to take a peer into her soul as a creator of art.

“You kiss harder than I recall… you smell the same.”

Greta Gerwig and co-writer/director Joe Swanberg play the lead characters Mattie and James, making Nights and Weekends a truly personal artistic endeavour in every sense that a movie could be considered one – they are writers, directors, producers and actors.

In the movie, the filmmaking duo play a couple trying to make a long-distance relationship work while each of them tries to forge their own way in the world via studying and/or the development of their career. This is essential to Gerwig’s catalogue for this reason: it is an ultimately personal venture that already has the makings of her true themes as a filmmaker – those being: struggling to understand who you are, wanting to find spiritual fulfilment, and longing to find a place in the world.

Here, those themes and the emotions that the character goes through are incredibly raw, as is the photography, which has since become typical of Joe Swanberg projects. This places the success or failure of the film on the shoulders of its leads, and Gerwig shines under the pressure to deliver an honest and compelling portrayal that shows, even early in her film career, exactly what she is capable of.

In an interesting side note, Joe Swanberg has revealed that the film’s very intimate sex scenes were shot at the end of filming and all but finished any possible future collaborations between the pair due to the arguments caused.

Greenberg (2010)
Director: Noah Baumbach
Writers: Noah Baumbach, Jennifer Jason Leigh
Scott Rudin Productions | Focus Features

“All the men out here dress like children and the kids dress like superheroes.”

Greenberg marked the beginning of Greta Gerwig’s collaboration with writer-director, and future partner, Noah Baumbach, the man with whom she’d go on to make several other films.

“I was thinking this morning that I’ve been out of college now for nearly as long as I was in, and nobody cares if I get up in the morning.”

What Greenberg represented to Gerwig was a coming-of-age. The actress was a lead character in a movie with huge pulling power – mostly Ben Stiller who was fresh off the back of late 2000s hits Madagascar (2005), Night At the Museum (2006), and Tropic Thunder (2008) – and was showcased as a talent, not restricted to being a simple and uninteresting device through which the plot and Stiller’s character were seen. She excelled, and despite the movie panning with audiences, the darkly humorous undertones of the film were appreciated by critics who had begun to realise Gerwig’s potential even under the weight of star power that Stiller had brought with him.

Perhaps most interesting in regards to this Essential Collection is how Greta Gerwig’s somewhat trademarked sense of shameless ownership over herself, her body and her characters was still present in this more glamorous and aesthetically-concerned film in such a way that lost none of her appeal or raw edge.

It is easy to link Gerwig’s performance in this relatively big production to the Gerwig present in the much smaller Nights and Weekends, both in terms of character portrayal and character development. Her character is lost and wanting more from life in both movies, the only major difference being that in Greenberg her character’s partner is also these things, making for a more tragically comic presentation we’ve now come to associate with all Noah Baumbach films.

Damsels in Distress (2011)
Director: Whit Stillman
Writer: Whit Stillman
Westerly Films | Sony Pictures Classics

“Seven Oaks is the last of the Select Seven to go co-ed. An atmosphere of male barbarism predominates. We’re going to change that.”

Damsels in Distress marked a departure from Gerwig’s roots in realistic and ultimately honest independent dramas as the actress led a cast including Lio Tipton and Aubrey Plaza in this Whit Stillman dark comedy about fraternities, depression and general college life in the United States.

It was a departure that gained the actress notoriety of a new kind, this time for her portrayal of the always tough to master act of dry humour. And, despite the movie’s generally outlandish nature, Gerwig and her writer-director Stillman were praised for managing to balance the comedy with true moments of emotion that were thought-provoking and even inspiring.

“There’s enough material here for a lifetime of social work.”

In an interview published by ANS on YouTube, Greta Gerwig declared that her mother (who is a ‘psych nurse’) was personally appreciative of the manner in which this movie tackled issues regarding pressure at college and the high levels of depression and suicide on campuses, which is of course to the credit of all involved with regard to its sensitive subject matter. It is this tackling of such themes that makes Damsels in Distress so interesting, and makes Gerwig’s performance a stand-out in how different it is.

This movie could have been considered a calculated risk, and was one that ultimately paid off with audiences and critics. To this day it remains a large departure from her more raw and less polished roles of years gone by, and is essential to her career per that circumstance.

Arthur (2011)
Director: Jason Winer
Writers: Peter Baynham, Steve Gordon
Warner Bros.

“If you look in the corner, you can see one dirty brick.”

Arthur is the only major studio movie that Greta Gerwig has ever held a leading role in, and for that reason alone it must be considered a part of her Essential Collection.

Jason Winer’s re-telling of the classic British movie of the same name was mostly assembled at Warner Bros with the intention of being a star vehicle for rising comedian-actor Russell Brand, the man who played the movie’s titular character. With a supporting cast that included Helen Mirren and a host of famous celebrities in cameos, the studio wanted a relatively unknown talent to play as Brand’s on-screen love interest and Greta Gerwig was cast.

Her role as Naomi is lacking in a lot of the aspects that typical Gerwig characters often excel in, and, as a result, the character and performance weren’t quite the hit that Gerwig had proven herself capable of. The filmmakers and the studio wanted a safe bet, and as such Gerwig’s performance was limited to reactions of shock and confusion – her character arc was ‘fighting off the boy she actually likes’ until she falls in love with him. Gerwig was restricted.

The typical rambling delivery and more messy elements of the Gerwig’s typical portrayals had helped to boost her appeal, but in Arthur she was limited to being an ‘alternative pretty girl’, something that Gerwig was visibly less comfortable doing.

Despite the movie being set in New York City, the same city she had (to this point) spent most of her adult life and filmed most of her movies, Gerwig was understandably lost and never really sought to capitalise on what was arguably her breakthrough mainstream role; evidence, perhaps, of her frustration at the opportunities offered within the piece.

Arthur has, as a result, become little more than a glimpse of the typical young, ‘different’ and ‘interesting’ romantic partner of a leading man that she could have become had she chosen to pursue less-personal projects as her star power shot to prominence. It is the ultimate example in Gerwig’s filmography as to why some actors and actresses shouldn’t make the move from the independents of New York to the studio system of Hollywood, an essential part of the Greta Gerwig Collection for this reason.

Lola Versus (2012)
Director: Daryl Wein
Writers: Zoe Lister-Jones, Daryl Wein
Groundswell Productions | Fox Searchlight

Fresh off their success with the understated East Coast independent film Breaking Upwards, in which writers Zoe Lister-Jones and Daryl Wein co-wrote, directed and starred, the filmmaking duo were afforded a more comfortable budget for 2012’s Lola Versus. With Gerwig making waves courtesy of Greenberg (2010) in particular, it made logical and financial sense to cast someone with her acting style and drawing power in the central role. In many ways, this marked Greta Gerwig’s return to her routes as a solid lead character actress in an understated East Coast independent passion project, and was reminiscent of her time working alongside the Duplass Brothers and Joe Swanberg.

“I think to love yourself you have to learn to love other people.”

Lola Versus wasn’t very well received, with criticisms of its over-use of ‘quirkiness’ being a major part of this. It was, for all intents and purposes, a well disguised New York rom-com which buried itself beneath a cleverly constructed character study the likes of which Gerwig had always been attracted to as an actress.

The movie’s small budget helped in many ways as the recognisable cast featuring the likes of Joel Kinnaman, Bill Pullman and Hamish Linklater among others, was set up as background noise to the focused character story we were presented with: the personal development of a late 20s woman reeling from the break-up of her engagement.

It was a role typical of her career, only this movie seemed more based in obvious humour and irony than most of her other films, something that Gerwig’s portrayal of awkwardness and doubt leant itself to in a way that makes the character endearing despite the movie lacking in other respects.

Should you want to experience Greta Gerwig’s potential as a leading woman, this would be one of the films to watch, for she offers just a little more quirk and readiness than she does in most of her other performances and is the focus of almost every single scene.

Frances Ha (2012)
Director: Noah Baumbach
Writers: Noah Baumbach, Greta Gerwig
RT Features | Scott Rudin Productions | Pine District Pictures

“I’m not messy, I’m busy.”

Every artist has a standout piece of work within their oeuvre and, for Greta Gerwig as a screen performer, Frances Ha is it.

Playing the role of Frances – a lost, confused and not-quite-adult late-20s woman – Gerwig’s entire career seemed destined for the role that she is credited as co-writing.

Gerwig did, as could be expected, perform the role of Frances with the same raw edge and almost self-deprecating honesty of her earlier years that, when combined with the New York setting, story, and the film’s black and white photography (from Sam Levy, the would-be director of photography on Lady Bird), made the movie not only the standout of her career but also one of the standout east coast independents of the decade.

“Sometimes it’s good to do what you’re supposed to do when you’re supposed to do it.”

As part two of her four-part collaboration with Noah Baumbach, and the first of their official off-screen relationship, Frances Ha radiates a trust between the two filmmakers who seem to have such an affinity with their own writing material that the presentation of it (through the framing, the edit, the acting, and so on) is given the freedom of its black and white pallet or Gerwig’s free-moving physical style.

In many ways, the movie is an authentic representation of the person Gerwig has presented herself as being throughout the years, both inside and outside of film. The story is challenging, the performance vulnerable, the photography unique and the soundtrack so very New York. What’s more is that the character is self-deprecating, dishonest with herself, lost and confused. Gerwig had been acting and writing similar characters that represented the lives of struggling women artists in their twenties for much of the previous decade, but this film seems to be the crescendo of that stage.

Importantly, for Gerwig and many of her fans who have been drawn to her as an on-screen personality over the past fifteen years or so, Frances Ha is another one of her films about young women – ‘a talkie about ladies’ – and therefore a true passion project.

Frances Ha Review

Mistress America (2015)
Director: Noah Baumbach
Writers: Noah Baumbach, Greta Gerwig.
Fox Searchlight | RT Features

“She was the last cowboy. All romance and failure.”

Beginning as a free and unashamed libertarian with a taste for fine art, food and parties, Greta Gerwig’s character Brooke is seen by central protagonist Tracy (Lola Kirke) to be the embodiment of New York’s more commercial representation as a centre for arts, fun, sex and rock and roll, and even goes so far as to partake in each of these things throughout their first night together. But, as the characters grow closer and Tracy’s idolisation of her could-be sibling (via their parents’ marriage) begins to wain, Brooke becomes more grounded and vulnerable, even perhaps relatable, and the now seemingly semi-autobiographical characterisations that Gerwig’s more recent characters have displayed – being on a lost path, struggling to come to terms with adulthood, a longing for a place to belong – become apparent, the film going on to offer an interesting evolution to many of Gerwig’s previous characters, not least that of Frances in Frances Ha.

“It would feel like the home everyone would want to raise their kids in.”

Diving into her thirties with the weight of societal expectation weighing heavily on her shoulders, Greta Gerwig’s Brooke attaches her own thoughts of a free and spiritually-enlightening life to, among other things, including a TV show much like the real-life actor-writer’s failed ‘How I Met Your Mother’ spin-off ‘How I Met Your Dad’, and a project to open a New York City restaurant – an idea that has little by the way of focus and echoes the troubles that Frances was encountering in Frances Ha regarding the fight between pursuing her dreams and the all-too-adult capitalist notion of working for money that can put food on the table.

Gerwig herself described Brooke during an interview with AOL BUILD as being “super performative and always putting on a show”, expanding to describe her as ‘living in a movie that’s in her head’. This somehow manages to make her character both dislikable and completely relatable at the same time, and gifts Gerwig the chance to push through lengthy monologues that seem to come more often than in any of her other Noah Baumbach collaborations.

From a writer and producers perspective, this movie showcases the focus that Greta Gerwig shares with Noah Baumbach regarding the stories they want to tell and the themes they wish to present. It’s an artistic ‘New York film’ in every sense of the word, from its intriguing synth soundtrack that pays homage to the 80s movies that served as the film’s inspiration, to its hopeful representation of despair and anxiety, right through to its semi-autobiographical and subtly humorous story and its colourful yet focused presentation.

Lady Bird (2017)
Director: Greta Gerwig
Writer: Greta Gerwig
A24 | Universal | Focus Features

In Mistress America, Greta Gerwig stepped away from the spotlight to become a supporting character, and in Lady Bird she removed herself from it altogether, focusing exclusively on the writing and directing of this intimate and personal semi-autobiographical coming-of-age film.

“I want you to be the very best version of yourself that you can be.” – “What if this is the best version?”

This was Greta Gerwig’s big introduction to the mainstream. Lady Bird touched many a woman who was going through, or had been through, the trials and tribulations of growing up, dealing with family drama, and wanting to be self-dependent but having no idea how to do that. The film was nominated for five Academy Awards, including the 2018 Best Picture and individual nods for Gerwig’s work in both the Director and Screenplay categories.

Unsurprisingly, Lady Bird featured all the hallmarks of Gerwig’s earlier work. The story was densely packed with emotion and relatability, and the kinds of quirks Gerwig had long portrayed across her acting career. The direction was steady, like that of a much more experienced hand, capturing the simplicity of teenage life like few had done before. She worked with Frances Ha director of photography Sam Levy to photograph her Californian hometown, and cast the generation-defining awards favourite Saoirse Ronan as the movie version of herself.

This was a film about relationships. Friends, boyfriends, mothers, fathers. It felt as real as those low-budget camcorder movies she had started in, but it looked like the more expensive and timeless work she’d starred in under Noah Baumbach. This film was raw and at times a bit dirty, and at others was representative of many of Gerwig’s hopeful and daydreaming lead characters. Lady Bird was the culmination – the ultimate representation of Greta Gerwig’s journey as an artist.

Lady Bird Review

Greta Gerwig has long been a filmmaker who strives to share the troubles of her generation and gender through her art. Her performances have been honest and raw, and seem completely unique to her, while her passion to craft stories of her own seems to take prominence over celebrity and financial success. She is, head to toe, an artist of cinema; a self-titled author of the moving picture art form. Perhaps most importantly, she has striven to achieve her own visions no matter how far away from the studio system they may come to life, and her continued passion to empower women in the industry make her an admirable and inspirational filmmaker whose work outlined in this collection will likely be appreciated by any like-minded reader of this piece for generations to come.

Updated 14th July 2023. Originally published 1st July 2016.