nature's test (the herd immunity) (A Work of Poetic Journalism on COVID-19)

(Picture credit: dukehealth.org)

every now and again
in it's Gaian form of self-regulation,
the Earth throws us a curveball,

the present one being in the form of
severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2),
the cause of the COVID-19 disease,
more popularly known as the coronavirus,
the result of which is the ongoing global pandemic.

this is
nature's test,

and
presently
in the United Kingdom,
we are failing.

it is a near-inevitability
that at some point
we will come into
contact
with the virus.

i work
two different jobs,
both of which involve dealing with
members of the public.

(you wouldn't think
there was a virus
doing the rounds:

"Are you not entertained?")

I am someone who faces
the fair possibility of exposure,

and have resigned myself
to the knowledge of
that potential outcome,

but what I object to is

our government bodies' lackadaisical approach.

Schools are due to close in Northern Ireland for at least 16 weeks,
but not with immediate effect,

and

the elderly are recommended by the UK government to
self-isolate for up to four months.

There's a clear correlation between
those estimated timeframes.

Northern Ireland's First Minister Arlene Foster,
ever the one to cover her back,
as evidenced with the recent RHI Inquiry,
wiping away the tracks
should something come back to bite,
says she she is
"taking my advice from the Northern Ireland Chief Medical Officer,"
so there's someone to
pass the buck onto
should push come to shove.

Her colleague Peter Weir,
the Education Minister for Northern Ireland,
argued that such a decision would be
"counter-productive from a public health point of view,"
despite the pleas of the Archbishop Eamon Martin.

For the present,
they,
like Robin Swann, Health Minster for Northern Ireland,
who spoke after a meeting with
UK Health Minister Matt Hancock
and
NI Chief Medical Officer Michael McBride,
will
"continue to be led by the science."

Not that they particularly cared about the science before,
cherry-picking their usage of it
if and when as it pleases them
to take that stance,
adopt that attitude,
policy,
especially where the
Petition of Concern is, well,
concerned.

Foster's words about aiming to
"flatten the peak of the virus' impact,"
startlingly echo those of
the UK's Chief Scientific Advisor, Sir Patrick Vallance,

(the same "Sir Patrick"
UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson repeatedly referred to in his
speech last Thursday),

when speaking on Radio Four's Today programme on Friday:

"Our aim is to try and reduce the peak,
broaden the peak,
not suppress it completely;
also, because the vast majority of people get a mild illness,
to build up some kind of
herd immunity
so more people are immune to this disease
and
we reduce this transmission."

Although the UK Health Minister Matt Hancock has argued otherwise,
that this is not the official state policy,
the fact is that this looks like
damage control for a potentially risky strategy
and that
the cat has indeed been let out of the bag.

The figure that has been bounced around is

60%.

60%
is the number that has come out
in relation to reports emerging that
ministers wanted as many as
60% of the population to contract the disease
in a bid to prevent it spreading further
among the more vulnerable of our population.

The aim appears to be
to prevent a second wave
of the disease coming round
next winter.

Although,
as usual,
our leaders in Northern Ireland
are disagreeing with each other,
Stormont will fall in line
somewhere between Parliament and the Dáil.

Arlene Foster,
in an instance of politico doublespeak,
within the same statement
emphasised the swift action of the Executive, being there
"right at the start of this process...
to act quickly and proportionately to public health,"
but also the need to take the time to make a decision,
"next week we will be revisiting some of the other issues but
it's important that we do everything in a timely fashion.

Deputy First Minister for Northern Ireland, Michelle O'Neill,
has aired concerns about this, but
in a classic Sinn Fein move,
says one thing publicly and does another behind the scenes.
Although admitting the situation is
"under review," that
Northern Ireland should
"err on the side of caution" and that
"now is the time for action,"
she is part of the joint decisions
between OFM, DFM and the various other departments,
which they insist are based upon scientific evidence.

For all intents and purposes,
the official stance remains unopposed.

It follow then that,
with caution being thrown to the wind
and our province's historical predisposition towards ignorance,
that Northern Ireland is following the
precedent set out across the rest of the United Kingdom.

All of a sudden,
in light of what has been presented,
the Prime Minister's words that
"many more families are going to lose loved ones before their time,"
which could be praised for their cadence and honesty,
take on a far more sobering tone.

As repeatedly emphasised by the World Health Organisation,
a swift all-encompassing, cross-departmental governmental action in tackling an outbreak
has proven to be the most effective measure of approach.

Geographically speaking,
as an island we have an advantage over the mainland,

but still the point remains that
over here we're taking an altogether different outlook,
one which could lead to a very dangerous and costly situation.

Anthony Costello, paediatrician and former WHO director,
said that the UK government was
out of kilter
in looking to
herd immunity as the answer.

Quoting WHO Director-General Dr. Tedro Adhanom Ghebreyesus,
he said,
"The idea that countries should shift from
containment to mitigation
is wrong and dangerous."

(A brief disclaimer must be mentioned before I delve into this section.
With all the misinformation going round,
the last thing I want to do is become
a scaremonger.
However,
I will proceed,

choosing to use the following figures
so as to emphasise the seriousness of the situation.)

Let's pose the hypothetical situation that
the United Kingdom achieves
herd immunity.
60% of the population would need to
get ill or immune,
but it could need
as much as 70% or more
in order to achieve that status.

(at this stage,
I decided to take a walk with the dog.
truthfully,
i was shaken by the
numbers and statistics
I had worked out.)

In the scenario figuring in
60% of the UK's population,
which sits presently at 66.44 million people,
39.864 million people, approximately 40 million people,
would have to become
ill, infected or recover
in order to achieve
herd immunity.

Applying the
mean mortality rate
as estimated by the World Health Organisation of
3.4%
to the sum of 39.864 million,
you reach the figure of

1.355376 million.

That is the
potential number of deaths
in the United Kingdom
in a possible scenario
which would see COVID-19
spiral out of control,

and
that is perhaps
not even the worst case scenario.

(The formula by which I came to this conclusion is taking the population number (PN), multiplying it by 0.6 (60%) of population infected (PI), dividing that sum by 100 and further multiplying it by 3.4, the mean mortality rate (MMR) of 3.4%.

Thus, in basic mathematical terms: 66.44x0.6÷100x3.4=1.355376.)

Apply the same formula to
Northern Ireland,
37168.8,

and to
our neighbours
in the Republic of Ireland,
98532,

who,
as a bordering country
we also run the risk of contaminating.

Now,
obviously these scenarios are not taking into account
the effective quarantine measures which
would no doubt be implemented to
target and control the flow of the disease
before it reaches that stage,

and
there are also many variables involved,
such as the morality rate,
which fluctuates on the basis of
the age and outstanding health conditions of the individuals involved,

but
when it comes to viruses
you are playing with fire,
and
it is wise
not to stoke the flame,
but to
smother it and choke it out.

I do not believe it will reach this stage,
but as evidenced above,
even a small fraction, proportion
of the figures stated,
is a disaster.

Another day has passed and
we have seen a spike of
no less than 330 newly-confirmed cases of
coronavirus.

As stated by the WHO themselves,
it is
"very early to make any conclusive statements
about what the overall mortality rate will be,"

but
it is still
a concern
nevertheless.

Martin Hibberd, Professor of Emerging Infectious Diseases,
department of Pathogen Molecular Biology at the
London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine,
said,
"I do worry that
making plans that assume such
a large proportion of the population
will be infected (and hopefully recovered and immune)
may not be the very best that we can do."

This statement becomes
more prescient
when one thinks of
the possibility of
genetic mutation,
COVID-19 changing it's make-up into
something altogether more powerful.

As indicated in the microbiology research article
'On the origin and continuing evolution of SARS-CoV-2,'
using a sample of 103 available SARS-CoV-2 genomes,
the scientists involved identified not one but two major types of the virus,
the minor S-type (~30%) and the major L-type (~70%).

Although the L-type evolved from the ancient S-type,
it is the L-type which transmits or replicates faster in human populations,
accumulating more mutations that the ancestral S-type,
and thus the L-type might be more aggressive due to
potentially higher transmission and/or replication rate.

So, from this evidence we can see already that
two strains of SARS-CoV-2 exist.
Although more prevalent in humans,
it is unclear whether the L-type evolved from the S-type
in humans or the intermediate animal hosts,
or whether the L-type is more virulent than the S-type.

What this shows is that,
although at an early stage to be making
any definitive conclusion,
there is the potentiality for the virus to evolve,
and the possible emergence of
yet another more virulent strain
emphasises the need for further
immediate and comprehensive studies into the subject.

I understand the logic
of
the government's approach,
especially as regards
an already emburdened National Health Service,
the financial implications on the state,
encouraging people to self-isolate
and wanting to get this over and done with
so we can move on to tackle other issues such as
Brexit.

However,
this strange choice of inaction
is also, paradoxically, a quick fix-it strategy,
a rope-a-dope snare of a trap
that is the equivalent of leaving the floodgates open,
letting the terrorist into your city to catch a thief,
instead of an offensive force of active suppression,

and one that
I feel
could cost the lives
of many people.

We still do not even know
the true extent
of
the virus' prevalence,
existence.

In order to perform
a complex operation on the abdomen,
you do not use a machete to
carve out someone's gallbladder,
wrap them up in Sellotape
and hope for the best.
You perform laparoscopy, comprehensive keyhole surgery,
with careful precision, and
stitch them up appropriately.

Although
I don't envy
the Prime Minister
his position,
unfortunately his attitude appears to be
that the cost of human life
is a necessary sacrifice
that he is willing to make
in the pursuit of his strategy
towards the ultimate goal,

endgame.

The great question is
how many
potentially
tens of thousands of individuals
could be affected
before the government decides to
do something about it?

"Europe has now become the epicentre of the pandemic..."
Again, a quote from
Dr. Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus.

Italy, France and Spain
are now on lockdown,
even the United States have
extended a blanket travel ban
from Europe to the US,

and yet
Britain plods on,
business as usual.

In the year when Britain is supposed to be
celebrating in reassuming her autonomy,
this could turn into a calamity,
a potential catastrophe.

Already
I can feel the weight
on my back and shoulders,
knowing what could happen.

Every day that passes by
gives the disease time.
It is like having
an open door into your house,
and the guest is more than willing
to accept the invitation of
we, the welcoming hosts.

I am not a scientist,
a mathematician,
a professor
or a statistician,

nor can I claim to be
an expert on these matters
in any way, shape or form,

but
what I am
is a

citizen,

a citizen
who cannot argue
with the evidence
before his very eyes,

and
as a citizen,

I urge,
and cannot emphasise enough,
in the strongest possible terms,
for

swift, immediate action

on the part of our governments
and
our Prime Minster,

not tomorrow,
not the day after tomorrow,
not next week,
not in a fortnight,
not in a month,

but

now,

right now.

Signed, Callum J. McCready, March 16, 2020

(As I typed this out, the number of reported cases in the United Kingdom jumped up again. According gov.uk, "the risk to the UK has been raised to high.")

something in the air (COVID-19)

there's
something in the air.

the irony is not lost of me
that as soon as i get
some relative stability
there's a global pandemic,
an outbreak brought by the
emergence of the coronavirus.

but,
as i said in my reply in
an email to my manager following
the cancellation of my shift,

"this whole thing's bigger than any one person."

it's affecting everything.

shit, there's even
coronavirus pornography.
yes, that is a thing,
and one i fairly predicted.

how interesting that upon
initial detection by Li Wenliang,

(may he rest in peace.
self-isolation may not have saved his life,
but he may have saved those of his family.
your courageous example is one to follow;
i too saw it coming...)

he was warned by Wuhan Police
to stop "spreading rumours" about
an illness that resembled SARS on We Chat,

(prophets are often
treated as pariahs
before being sadly
proven right)

(prove me wrong)

because one of the more curious
symptoms of this disease has been
the mass hysteria and spread of misinformation.
the ignorance displayed in
our varying responses is
staggering.

without being dismissive of
the legitimate concerns of the issues involved,

it is an endemic indication of
how utterly clueless and stupefied we are in tackling
the first major, all-encompassing international crisis
since the 2007-08 financial collapse of the economy that
our grand solution to the problem is to
run to the supermarkets and bulk-buy in large
all the immediately available stock of toilet paper.

the slightest flip of a switch
triggers thoughts of
harbingers,
the threat of an impending apocalypse,
and of all the potential threats
they think of
the dangers posed to the rectal orifice,

if God really loves you
he'll let you wipe your arse
with the leaves off of a tree.

it shows us all how truly
insecure we are in our minds,
and how we lack the
autonomy and independence
as a species that we so
desperately crave.

i wake up most mornings
with a slight build-up of gack and phleghm
due to the winter cold and
the previous evening's cigarettes,
so when I'm on the glider
on my way to work
I can't cough beneath my hand,
blow my nose or clear my throat
without people looking at me sideways,
eyeballing and rubbernecking.

the commonplace is now seen as a potential red flag,
normal traits treated as worthy of stigma.

even if it's only
2 or 3 a day,
it's a hard time
to be a smoker.

all of a sudden
people have woken up to
the importance of hygeine.
Howie Mandel's World of Cleanliness
doesn't seem so zany now,
does it?

"If you're happy and you know it
wash your hands!"

In the land of the plague,
the autistic man is king,

always prepared for
these contingencies.

i'm pissed because
my Japanese wrestlings shows in
the month of March
have been cancelled for the foreseeable.

even the monkeys are fighting
over a pot of yoghurt
in a street in Thailand.

i went into the City Centre yesterday
to pick up a pair of black hi-tops that didn't fit me,
and contrary to the usual, tired old quote,
"Belfast is buzzing,"
by comparison, it looking more like
a dead zone.

"This town (town)
is coming like a ghost town."

conversation with a barista
about the lack of trade,
both of us working in
different public places,
waiting for Boris Johnson to
shut the country down,

(Hello, Prime Minister,
how's your Brexit
going?)

if they were really serious about containment
they would have put the place on lockdown
well over a couple of months ago,
barred all incoming from China
(I was handling such things
in a warehouse off the Boucher Road),
but they, like everyone else,
were only thinking about money,
and now it's got to this stage.

even I've had to combat
some of my own prejudices and paranoia.
i have held sneaking suspicions about
the Chinese government for years,
and refuse to visit the country
on the basis of it's animal rights issues,
specifically the barbarous consumption of dog meat,
but this mild form of xenophobia
has been dispelled though
my conviction of their response once
things became clear.

parties attaching themselves
to whatever issue's pressing,
is of interest to the wider public,
political opportunism
hiding behind faces that care
the ulterior motives and
their own particular spin,

i myself am
guilty of this sin.

it might well get to the point that
it is necessary for
a temporary suspension of democracy:

try as i might,
it's hard to deny
that it's impossible to go on
business as usual.

i personally have no fear of this disease.
i'm not worried about me,

(my people survived the Famine.
COVID-19 ain't got got a thing,
and

I'm a writer who
likes to exercise,
goes weeks and months at a time
without heading out;

solitary confinement
means nothing to me.)

i'm as fit as a fiddle,
in the peak of health,
and a good immune system,

(eat clean,
be healthy)

but
i do worry about the elderly,
pregnant women and children,
potentially vulnerable members of our society.

I hear old people argue, undecided
whether it's the hot or cold weather
that spreads the disease, before
settling amicably on the wind.

this thing will pass,
blow over with the breeze,
but it's what's left behind,
the damage in it's wake
we should be concerned
about.

(even as i'm sitting here,
I've got notifications through that
all Scouting related events,
including weekly meetings and projected camp,
are to be cancelled.)

Increasingly I get the feeling
that this disease
has yet to reach it's peak.

i always try to read between the lines,
remain calm and measured
in the face of adversity,
high-intensity situations, emergencies,
keep a level head.

originally i was dismissive,

"I'm sick of hearing about Coronavirus!"
"It's a hullaballoo!"
"Coronavirus, my arse!"
"Watching Coronavirus unfold is like
a really shit game of Pandemic."

But now that it's the real thing,
I'm starting to wonder.

it's certainly not without importance,
major implications for
me and my family.

i have this theory,
not based upon science but instead
one of my strange beliefs,
that moderate exposure to
things bad for you is ultimately good for you.
it strengthens your constitution,
encourages the activity of your antibodies.
with light smoking,
the carbon monoxide being combatted
increases the power of your lungs and their capacity.
i'm never out of breath on a run,
and the chemicals inhaled are
probably that bad that
they fight, counteract
those of the virus.

but that's probably a myth,
a useless coping strategy for anxiety,
and cannot be claimed to be based on
any legitimate truth,
so
don't take my word for it.

i also have this other theory
which i discussed
over the phone with my friend,
that many of us might already be
infected,
but that it's effect is almost
like that of a benign parasite,
most of us being more or less immune,
but that we are simply host-carriers
passing the virus on
to other people.

As my social media accounts,
that ever-reliable source,
font of knowledge
in this day and age
testify, proclaim,
people have gone crazy.

Have they ever thought about
what happens when it all runs out
and that there's the
possibility of food shortages because
everyone hit the panic button?

there's preventive measures
that can be implemented,
but it is almost an inevitability
that in some way
we will all come into contact
with this thing,
a possibility for which
i am resigned.

but, at the end of the day,
life goes on.

eventually,
perhaps by the end of the year,
all of this will be over.

as the World Health Organisation says,
echoing High School Musical,
"we're all in this together."

for the present,
it is our civic duty
to protect those most in danger,
be a little more selfless and a little less selfish,

(you don't need 20 litres lactose-intolerant milk
because of it's longer-lasting shelf life,
those who legitimately require it do,
you greedy hoarder!)

and to
behave responsibly.

(Written by me, on Friday the 13th.)

The Intermittent and Compulsive Viewer: Gauging Audience Perspective in Relation to Emotional Response (An Essay on Film Theory)

(Credit: The Society of the Spectacle Reconsidered, John Clark, Fifth Estate)

The intention being, with this a (relatively) short essay, I will be exploring a recent theory as regards our relationship as viewers to given piece(s), and how that may or may not break us down into one of two potential categories as a viewer. I would like to write a book on art theory, but though I have more than a few years under my belt I feel such things are for seasoned veterans, and comparatively speaking I am still in a stage of relative youth, so for the meantime, I would simply like to share some recent thoughts.

I was out walking my dog in the park across the road one morning about two or three weeks back, and I got to thinking about some of my favourite movies and how often I watch them. Mulling over this, I came home, wrote some stuff down, and as suggested by the long-winded title and the previous paragraph, I have identified two separate categories:

(i) The Intermittent Viewer - a viewer whose experience of a given piece is on an Intermittent basis, but without frequency or regularity. For instance, it might be a work one especially enjoys or admires, but only sees once every year or two at the most. 

(ii) The Compulsive Viewer - a viewer whose experience of a given piece is on a Compulsive basis, with frequency and regularity. For instance, their enjoyment or admiration of a given work or piece is such that they can, and do, watch something several times a year.

We each possess something of both in our psychological makeup and how we experience, enjoy and appreciate art. However, as I will show, I would imagine it tends to be that most will lean towards one or the other, and I wish to explore what that tells us about ourselves through our emotional responses. Taking a sample of a (provisional) list of my ten favourite films (which I will decline to name, as that's something for another day), I will now use myself as an example to elucidate upon my theory.

(i) The films in my sample of ten which I watch on an Intermittent basis elicit certain emotional responses within me so that it is only possible for me, however much I admire them, to watch with long spells and gaps in between. I am someone who has such a cerebral response to art that the audio-visual stimulation of my senses takes control of my entire mental and physical self (when it's doing it right). In the cases of the two films I view Intermittently, one of them creates abject terror and horror to a degree that I am exhausted, traumatised on some level, and haunted. The other is a picture of such exquisite poetry and tragic beauty that I am a blubbering wreck by the end of the thing. I love and admire and respect both films immensely, but they carve me hollow from the inside out, so much so I know I can only watch them Intermittently in order to gain the full feeling, experience, of what they do to me, and for me, as a viewer.

(ii) The films in my sample of ten which I watch on a Compulsive basis elicit the kind of emotional responses which resonate with me in such a way that I can return to them time and time again. Indeed, my very favourite, which for me is the complete synthesis of everything good about the medium of cinema, I would say I've seen well over a hundred times. Out of my sample, eight of the films identified fall into the category of pictures I can watch Compulsively. Two are gutbusting comedies which have me in stitches every time, along with an additional resonance that elevates them. Three are international pictures not in the English language which are prime examples of auteurs at the peak of their powers daring to do something different within the medium. One, though fairly recent, is now widely considered to be an American classic, and another by an American though made in Britain is a work which still startles with the level of provocation on display to this day.

You can speculate till the cows come home as to which films I am talking about (as I say, another day, but I imagine it might be soon enough...), but judging from the 8-2 split in my list of ten, by my definition I am (no surprises, really) a Compulsive viewer. It doesn't make the eight in the Compulsive category necessarily better than those two in the Intermittent category, and although I would argue I have become a more Intermittent viewer in recent years, the evidence speaks for itself in favour of the Compulsive. 

So what's this broo-ha-ha mean anyway? What's it's all about (Alfie)? By working off the two identified categories I have suggested, you can figure out something of your psychological typography, your perspective, as an audience, towards art, in this case film, through your emotional responses. Perhaps the fact there is an element of pain involved in my relationship with the two Intermittent films suggests I associate them with negative feelings, whereas the eight Compulsive movies, though each challenging in their own way, I connect to positive emotional responses, and that as such I favour the positive over the negative? It's an interesting approach and different angle to my understanding of art, and the self, which I hadn't previously pondered over. 

At risk of sounding like a belittling educator (Lord knows I had enough of those!) giving you a homework assignment and a stupid 'how-to guide' as a copout in place of a definitive article, here's some simple guidelines to doing it yourself if you want to give it a spin:

1. Do up a list of some of your favourite films. Doesn't have to be The Real McCoy or require too much thought, just a little something to work with.

2. Assess the relative frequency and regularity with which you watch them. If it's more regular (multiple times within a year), then it's Compulsive. If it is less regular (once within a year to two year period), then it is Intermittent.

3. Tally up both categories and see the result. As you can see with my 8-2 split, it was definitively in favour of the Compulsive over the Intermittent. 

As I said, I have been mulling on-off over a book on art theory at some point in the future. While I have maybe about six or eight different theories (The Element of Chaos, The Law of Paradoxes, etc.) I've started to develop the groundwork on, I still think it's the kind of thing you need to give a little before you can make a legitimate statement of authority. At least, that's my experience of things. 

Either way, I've been needing to grease the gears and get the juices flowing again, so I thought I would share this with y'all. Cheers.

The Top Twenty Films of the 2010s

(Photo credit: Toru Yamanaka)

For lack of a better image and not being too good on the graphic design front, I've decided to use a photograph of Hayao Miyazaki smiling as the cover for this article, because I like Hayao Miyazaki, Hayao Miyazaki makes me happy, and Hayao Miyazaki smiling makes me smile, so all round, shiny happy people, right? Brilliant! Let's go!

At the end of one decade, so begins another (frig sake, I sound like Boris Johnson yapping on about Brexit!). We're in the midst of Oscar season, and all this talk about the best films of 2019 got me thinking, "What are the best films of the 2010s?" 

This was a significant decade for me, as it was my first full decade as an adult, and for much of that period I dedicated myself to reviewing as many movies as I could. I don't know the exact number, but it would be well into the hundreds. So, I would like to think there was some vested interest on my part and that I'd be able to comment with a semblance of legitimacy. 

Before I get underway, a few things should be stated:

1. When I say in the title "Top Twenty" know there has been a little bit of flexibility applied when ti comes to this. There are twenty entries, but in all twenty-three films are appraised, as I feel they are most representative of both my opines and where they stand in the wider scheme of things. One of these entries includes three films, so as to accommodate a whole trilogy, and another features two similarly-themed pictures, addressing related topics and issues. Also, hey, it's my list!

2. My opinions as and when a number of these films came out can be found in the back catalogue/archive of my blog. However, I am taking retrospective opinion into account, and what I mean by that is that the movies making the grade here are the ones which have stayed with me. So, I may have liked a particular work over that of another upon initial release, but in hindsight my opinion might have changed. That plays a key part in my overall judgment.

3. This list is composed of not only films I reviewed or discussed upon initial release, but films I have also seen in the years since. The proportion is 18:5, so most of these works I have discussed in depth, but there were others that haven't which I viewed more casually, but felt could not be ignored.

4. As I am 'semi-retired' as far as film criticism (after having the best intentions to balance my own artistic endeavours with film criticism, I chose to sacrifice the latter to pursue the former), it must be said that from 2017-2019 I do not possess so much as full a perspective as the years previous. Put simply, the volume of movies I watched saw a massive diminution, being stuck in the thick of writing my debut novel, Cat's Miaow (which is finished now. Like, legitimately this time.). That said, I did see a number of films which really moved me and are represented on this list.

5. It is presented in ascending order (#20-#1) for these purposes, so least first, most last, etc.

And so, with all that in mind, let us commence battle. Round One! Fight!

#20 - Once Upon a Time in Anatolia (Nuri Bilge Ceylan, 2011)

I watched this film a few years ago, and although I liked Nuri Bilge Ceylan's Uzak, I was not expecting this whatsoever. It really snuck up and took me by surprise. On paper the plot, a police investigation of the search for a corpse led by a suspect who was drunk at the time of the body's burial, and thus has a hazy memory as to it's location, is rather simple, but it's about so much more. As the group work through the night, this philosophical and blackly humorous film is as much about the musings and observations, the lives of the individuals involved. With it's languorous and meditative pacing, beautifully shot in rural small towns, villages and the hillside of the Anatolian steppe, it's a unique and fascinating picture that is hard to forget once seen.

#19 - Manchester by the Sea (Kenneth Lonergan, 2016)

Despite the praise being lavished on the picture, I didn't see Manchester By The Sea until after the Oscar fanfare had calmed. I saw it one night with my cousins while visiting family over in England, and was immediately struck by it's power. I've seen at least one or two times since and am convinced of it's brilliance. The performances are uniformly superb (especially Casey Affleck) and the screenplay is terrific, but what separates this film is that the sincerity rings true. You get this sense of the people and their shared history together, the weight of all the years, the familial connections, the tensions that exist between them. Also, as a study of grief and depression, it is largely unmatched. Kenneth Lonergan's work as writer-director here is that of someone in touch with the inherently dramatic possibilities of a human story.

(Picture credit: TeePublic.com)

#18 - The Planet of the Apes reboot trilogy (Rupert Wyatt/Matt Reeves, 2011/2014/2017)

This is my first cheat, but with good reason! You see, for all I rant on and give off about franchises, I am not opposed to them when done well. Although being a fan of the original series, I was against a reboot (especially with mo-cap replacing the classic makeup), Rise of the Planet of the Apes won me over, especially with the performance of Andy Serkis. From there, we went onto Dawn, which is the most accessible of the trilogy, ticking all the boxes, and it made a forkload of cash. The series reached it's climax with War, and I have to say, I can't recall seeing a summer blockbuster as dark and with such wanton chaos and destruction. Literally, there were children in tears a few rows in front of me. As a whole though, this trilogy, the story of Caesar, is for me the standard bearer of how you do a contemporary franchise: it has the popcorn entertainment, the technology is ground-breaking and artistic, it hits all the right emotional beats, and furthermore, it actually has to something to say about society and the world we're living in. Now that Disney has the rights due to the acquisition of 21st Century Fox in April 2019, it's doubtful we'll get anything more of this standard, but we still have this trio of wonders for which we should be very grateful. I know I am!

#17 - Black Swan (Darren Aronofsky, 2010)

Compiling this list and putting it together was a lot harder than I expected. That being said, I'm usually fairly decisive as regards to opinions and aesthetics. However, when I went to take my dog a walk around the block, out of the longlist of fifty-one, there was one movie I came back to: Black Swan. I'd been mulling it over and couldn't get the damn thing out of my head. As I do my best thinking while exercising, walking or in some form of motion, I decided to reappraise and watch the film for the first time in many years, and my word, it is still potent. Natalie Portman's performance as Nina is astonishing, and Darren Aronofsky's audio-visual aesthetic, from the DV cinematography by Matthew Libatique, Matthew Weisblum's editing and the combination of Clint Mansell's score, original work by The Chemical Brothers and Tchaikovsky's own Swan Lake, make Black Swan a ride like no other. It is relentless and really gets under your skin (the stuff about physical decay and doubles was freaking me out!) in a subtly suggestive fashion. Although I think I saw it originally as a thriller, I can't help but see this psychological unravelling of a ballet dancer striving towards perfection as anything but a horror. Stands up strong.

#16 - I, Daniel Blake (Ken Loach, 2016)

A film which sparked fierce debate within the United Kingdom, the negative criticism levelled towards I, Daniel Blake is that it presented an unrealistic portrayal of the benefits system in Britain. Regardless of what one thinks about the film's politics (it should be said for brevity's sake that I largely agree), what stood out for me first and foremost was it's depiction of people and the concerns of their everyday lives. The titular Daniel Blake, played by Dave Johns, forms a bond with young mother Katie Morgan, played by Hayley Squires, and it's hard not to sympathise with these people banding together as they struggle to get by. Although it is an allegorical work with a deeply entrenched socio-political message, the simplicity of director Ken Loach and screenwriter Paul Laverty's approach, focusing on the little things to tell a big story, is quietly and profoundly moving.

#15 - Nightcrawler (Dan Gilroy, 2014)

There have been many works that have been described 'the film of our time' in other lists summing up the 2010s. However, for me, Nightcrawler is the one I feel fits the bill. Protagonist Lou Bloom, sensationally played by Jake Gyllenhaal in his best performance to date (and disgustingly overlooked at that year's Academy Awards), in another time would be a down-and-outer with no prospects, but despite his obvious derangements and being a selfish, amoral sociopath, in this day and age he's provided the ways and means to flourish. Writer-director Dan Gilroy shows us that in this world obsessed by the media, pop culture and consumerism, these people have the opportunity to succeed. It's razor-sharp satire and black comedy masquerading as prototypical genre thriller, albeit an at times nerve-wracking and very frightening one. Since it has come out, I have seen it at on at least three or four more occasions, and I see something new every time. Not only is it a real treat, but it has something to say. 

#14 - The Irishman (Martin Scorsese, 2019)

I covered Martin Scorsese's The Irishman at length in my last blog post, and putting it up against the rest of the best of the 2010s it stands head-and-shoulders among that class. An epic that likes of which only a great master such as Scorsese could pull, the ensemble cast, especially Pesci, are on point, the script by Steve Zaillian is a masterclass in world-building, and Thelma Schoonmaker's editing keeps the piece watertight. Furthermore, it touches upon a meditative and melancholic note. Scorsese and company contemplating the meaning of what all these people's lives amount to when all's said and done. For all the robust running time it flies in, and the note it ends upon lingers long after the credits roll. A sensational late-game work, and I feel certainly among the director's finest.

#13 - Blue is the Warmest Colour and Moonlight (Abdellatif Kechiche/Barry Jenkins, 2013/2016)

And here is my second cheat. I've decided to group these two together as, although reluctant to label movies as 'gay cinema,' to me the 2010s marked a significant changing of the guard as far as opening up LGBT culture to a populist audience.

I saw Abdellatif Kechiche's Blue is the Warmest Colour about the same time it was released. Despite having won the Palme d'Or, controversy followed it everywhere over what was considered to be graphic content and onset conflicts. Regardless, bolstered up by the two stunning performances from Adéle Exarchopoulos and Léa Seydoux, Blue is the Warmest Colour is one of the most raw and passionate pieces of cinema you're likely to encounter. It is a beautifully told coming-of-age story about self-discovery, happiness, lust, sadness and all of the other things that come with the emotional rollercoaster that is love. It's a long film, and I've only seen it the once, but it is firmly seared into my memory.

When Moonlight came out, I thought very highly of it, but I placed other films higher when it came to my best and worst of the year. However, in the years since, I've seen it again, and whenever I think about it the film has risen in my estimation. Presenting the character of Chiron at three different (and significant) stages in his life, it's a film exploring the issues he faces with his identity, race, class, masculinity and sexuality. In many ways Chiron is the cipher, the prism through which the young black male, or the audience as a whole, views and observes, sees things from a perspective that is new, fresh and interesting. With a wonderful screenplay and performances, Moonlight stands out as a brisk and exemplar film.

#12 - Inside Out (Pete Docter, 2015)

I loved Inside Out when it was first released and have seen it several times since. It was well into consideration for this list, and I was reminded of being away on holiday with my family over this past Christmas. I think we were all sitting in the same room, my mother flicking through the channels with the remote, and Inside Out came on. It was only the last ten or fifteen minutes, but I realised I could literally sit and watch this film at any time on any day of the week at any point right through to the end. From a conceptual standpoint it is very intelligent, but it's execution is so sweet, funny, charming and endearing, that it's hard not to fall in love with it. Notwithstanding the fact that it is a gorgeous film which treats your senses and make you feel all warm and fuzzy, it's a moving story about growing up and how we emotionally react in addressing troublesome situations in our life. I absolutely adore it!

#11 - Mad Max: Fury Road (George Miller, 2015)

Earlier on, I said that the Apes films are the standard bearer for franchises. Well, blockbusters will never be the same after Mad Max: Fury Road. Stripping down the narrative to the barest essentials, it does that most rare thing in cinema successfully, which is to tell the whole story on the move, or in this case, on the road. Most action movies have these big sequences, and then they'll stop and go, "uh, we need a bit of plot here." Fury Road does not do that, and it refuses to let go from start to finish. The choreography and stunt work is among some of the best ever seen. It is a work of technical wizardry, and manages in the midst of all this pandemonium to tell an effective story of survival and the hero's journey (both Tom Hardy's Max and Charlize Theron's Furiosa go on their own voyages of discovery) with an ecological and feministic slant. George Miller is an incredible taskmaster, and that he manages to control all the separate strands and strings, pull them off successfully and simultaneously is nothing short of remarkable. It is the great action movie of our times.

#10 - Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve, 2017)

To say I had low expectations for Blade Runner 2049 would be an understatement. Despite the principals involved, I revere the original Blade Runner, and felt that any sequel to Ridley Scott's classic, thirty-five years after the fact, would be needless and perfunctory. But, as with the recent Apes trilogy, I was glad to be proven wrong. The ensemble cast are uniformly strong, and from the standpoint of pure production it is a wonder. The production design, visual effects and cinematography are of a level beyond virtually every other live-action film in recent memory, and the score by Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch gives it a stirring aural identity distinctive from that of Vangelis whilst still being respectful of the past. That statement there more or less sums up much of how Blade Runner 2049 succeeds: it's a movie that knows it's history, and yet does not bog itself too deep in it. Along with screenwriters Michael Green and the returning Hampton Fancher, Denis Villeneuve (one of the great directorial visionaries of his time) moulds a story that simply begs to be seen. "You newer models are happy scraping the shit... because you've never seen a miracle." Blade Runner 2049 is just that.

#9 - Gravity (Alfonso Cuarón, 2013)

Director Alfonso Cuaron has only made three films over the past fifteen years, but as I'm concerned he can take as long as he damn well pleases! He is an artist of true authorial intent, and every time he crops up he gives us something interesting. Gravity is a cinematic experience like no other. In similar fashion to Mad Max: Fury Road, it is a simple story, raw and stripped-down, of Sandra Bullock's Dr. Ryan Stone battling against adversity in space after debris destroys her and her crew's shuttle mid-mission. While we are taken on this nerve-wracking, white-knuckle adrenaline ride just over ninety minutes long, we gather all of this information surrounding her and her backstory. Gravity is a paradox, in that it is an exemplar piece of compressed filmmaking but also a big, big technical marvel. The great DP Emmanuel Lubezki, who won three Academy Award in the 2010s (including for this picture) and, for me, is the best cinematographer of this generation, combines his keen eye with the extraordinary CGI, delivering a visual splendour like no other, and the same can be said for the sound design and original score by Steven Price. Every time I see it I am taken in by it's sheer intensity, and uplifted by the message of hope it gives for humanity.

#8 - Joker (Todd Phillips, 2019)

When I wrote an article upon Joker's release, I described as a dangerous and subversive film. I still stand by that statement. While obviously I am aware of the connotations behind that kind of rhetoric, I chose to use words like this to emphasise that this is the kind of game changer that, through the challenging perspective presented, opens up the playing field and starts a new conversation about how we address mental health issues, societal problems and political discontent. Filtered through the character of Arthur Fleck, in a transcendent performance by Joaquin Phoenix, who I think will and should win the Academy Award for Best Actor, everything about the production (the evocative orchestral strings, for instance, of Hildur Guðnadóttir) is channelled towards this end which, though provocative in approach and aesthetic, is compassionate. Controversial it may be, but Todd Phillips' picture is a self-assured depthcharge of filmmaking with clear intent, which penetrates through to the core. I was really bowled over by it, and I feel it will last the test of time.

#7 - The Turin Horse (Béla Tarr/Ágnes Hranitsky, 2011)

I would not hesitate in making the claim that The Turin Horse is probably the most divisive film on this list. I went to see it upon initial release with a friend, and while I sat enraptured for the two-and-a-half hour running time, he absolutely hated it, and I can totally understand why. It is a dreary, ponderous work of desolation and despair on, in director Béla Tarr's words, "the heaviness of human existence," consisting largely of long takes in wordless silence, only interrupted by the music of Mihály Vig, consisting of one piece that I can only be describe as a depressed carousel on a loop. While that may not sell you on the film, despite all these arguments to the contrary it is a strange and fascinating piece, unique, entrancing, hypnotic and enigmatic. Fred Keleman's beautiful black-and-white photography, with it's immaculate framing, is like portraiture in motion, as we follow these characters through the tedium and repetitive monotony of their day-to-day lives. It reminds me of something Tarkovsky said about the long take ("If the regular length of a shot becomes increased, one becomes bored, but if you keep making it longer, it piques your interest, and if you make it even longer, a new quality emerges, a special intensity of attention."). The now-retired Béla Tarr was a filmmaker like no other, and this is one of his very best.

#6 - The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (Isao Takahata, 2013)

It must be said right off the bat that I am a fan of Studio Ghibli. While by no means a completist, their films have given me some of the greatest joys I have been privileged to experience as someone who loves this medium. The Tale of the Princess Kaguya, the final film by the late Isao Takahata, is no exception. Based on the 10th-century monogatari (literary form of traditional Japanese literature) The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, a bamboo cutter discovers within a shoot a little girl who he and his wife raise as their own, nicknaming her Takenoko (Little Bamboo) on account of her diminutive size and rapid growth. Steeped in folklore, myth and legend, the film is a delight, with it's distinctive watercolour-based visual style and Joe Hisaishi's soaring delight of a score. Also, although it is a fantasy, ultimately it is the humanity Takahata and all involved inject it with which elevates it to that higher level. I can remember watching it for the first time and for much of the last section of the film (especially the ending) being in a continuous flood of tears. It's such a sweet film and really endearing, a beautiful work of art, and a testament to the legacy of Takahata. Thank you, Paku-san!

#5 - Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2011)

When I first saw Drive, I was very impressed by it, but felt there were a number of films I reviewed that year which were better all round. Well, put it this way, fast forward a few years and none of the three which I rated higher feature in this particular article. That's not to discredit them, it's just the way things go. Drive is a film which has risen exponentially in my estimation. Ryan Gosling's Driver is a subtly brilliant spin on the heroic knight in shining armour archetype, and the way the whole thing unfolds feels like a dark fairy tale unfolding under neon lights, "shimmering neon lights, and at the fall of night, this city's made of lights." The soundtrack, both original and orchestral, gives it a unique vibe both retro and futuristic, and the visual presentation, especially in relation to the juxtaposition of serene beauty and extreme violence, is simply stunning. Although I tend to view Nic Winding Refn's recent work in a more positive light than others, he has still failed to top this. It ticks all the boxes as far as being a poppy, pulp genre thriller, and yet manages to transcend surface-level genre trappings. It is a romance and journey of self-discovery. I think it is the most influential film of the decade, as it's aesthetic(s) seemed to define the 2010s across all art forms. We saw this more and more of this penetration into the consciousness of pop culture as time went on. This cannot be denied, and I don't think I can give it a bigger ringing endorsement than that.

#4 - Victoria (Sebastian Schipper, 2015)

I think with all the talk made in the past number of years (and recently) about other similar one-shot movies, or those designed as such, it is somewhat apropos that I cast my mind back to Victoria. It was one of those films I heard murmurings about from various people, almost spoken in whispers, shrouded in secrecy and mystery. This is the real deal, and it has to be seen to be believed. Following the titular Victoria, a sympathetic protagonist played magnificent by Laia Costa, we follow her and a group of individuals over the course of one night in Berlin in real-time, and the simple execution of the thing, from the staging to the cinematography, is astonishing. Regardless of the feat in and of itself (not to disregard the accomplishment), what strikes most about Victoria is you completely lose yourself in the story and care about what these characters are going through. This is helped no end by Nils Frahm's score, which immerses you further into the atmosphere and mood conjured. It is of a reactive nature, almost improvisatory, that is reflective of the film itself, in that, although tightly constructed, it has this aspect of spontaneity, a feeling of realism often lacking in other pictures. During the course of research for this article, I found the full movie online to stream, and I kind of dottered about and watched the opening 'scene' in the nightclub, realising I could quite easily sit and watch the full thing. What Sebastian Schipper creates sucks you in, and it is thoroughly engaging and moving.  

#3 - Boyhood (Richard Linklater, 2014)

I have long been a fan of Richard Linklater, a director who I feel not only has several masterpieces to his name, but is also always willing to try something different. In that respect, with Boyhood he went over and above. Filmed over a period of twelve years between 2001 and 2013, it follows the lives of young Mason, his sister Samantha, and their divorced parents Olivia and Mason Sr. as time passes by. The film reflects the often-improvisatory nature of Linklater's approach, in that the script was malleable and fluid, incorporating the real-life experiences of the actors and changing as filming went on. This filters across into the actual picture itself, and what we get is this impression not of an epic coming-of-age story (which it most definitely is!), but that of being a fly on the wall, observing life as it unfolds in the most natural way. While lacking some of the panache, razz-dazz and flash of other films out there and, indeed, some of the films on this list, the understated richness of it's texture cannot be overlooked. The performances by the four principals (Ellar Coltrane, Lorelei Linklater, Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke) are sincere, it's a wonderfully put together work editorially through Sandra Adair's subtle cutting, and with Richard Linklater at the helm we are in safe hands. There are moments in this film which are universal, ringing true in their familiarity, which get me every time. 

#2 - The Act of Killing (Joshua Oppenheimer, 2012)

As you can perhaps tell by the last few entries on this list (and several others), I'm a sucker for high-concept art and big ideas, those works that are bold and audacious from the very foundation. No film released in the 2010s pushed the boundaries, the envelope, set the bar higher, than Joshua Oppenheimer's documentary film The Act of Killing. In Indonesian, the film's title, Jagal, means 'Butcher,' keying into the filmmaker's subject, that of the Indonesian Genocide in the mid-1960s. What is most frightening, though, is that in documenting the individuals involved in perpetrating these state-sanctioned murders, Oppenheimer encourages them to create re-enactments of their own killings. In another filmmaker's hands, it would be an outrageous piece of exploitation, but Oppenheimer drills through, boring a hole into the core of what he is driving at, in that, in a somewhat bizarre, absurd, surreal, skewed and at times even funny way, he encourages these people to confront their actions and their feelings in a more honest fashion than would otherwise be possible. I first saw it in the Queen's Film Theatre and walked out of the cinema completely shell-shocked. So passionate I felt about this film and how it shone a light on one of the unfortunate blights and overlooked moments in history that I contacted the film's UK distributor Dogwoof, established an online connection with Oppenheimer (who was lovely and provided a number of helpful items, clearly passionate about getting the word out there about these injustices), and presented my own screening of the film at the former Warzone Centre in Bruce Street, Belfast. I believe the screener I received was the first time I saw the full Director's Cut, and it further cemented my love for the film. I've seen it several times since, and, along with it's companion piece The Look of Silence, it's a devastating, powerful and important piece of cinema that is not to be missed. 

#1 - Toy Story 3 (Lee Unkrich, 2010)

And here we have it! My number one film of the 2010s is none other than Toy Story 3. From all the way back in 2010 at the start of the decade, this film has stayed with me as the high standard by which all other contemporary works are to be judged. Anyone who knows me knows my love for this film knows no boundaries and I will gush at length about it's brilliance. I went to see this at my favourite cinema, the former Strand Cinema, now the Strand Arts Centre, with my friend Daniel Kelly, and it was a wonderful experience. Talking about it after, I forget who fessed up in what order, but it ended up coming out that as I was facing away to one side crying, he was doing the exact same thing on the opposite side. That's not to say that you spend the whole thing like a weeping wreck (although I do do a fair amount of that). Toy Story 3 is also one of the funniest films you're ever likely to come across. Michael Arndt collaborates with returning Pixar personnel to incorporate some of his approach to this film, bringing to the table his fine balance of comedy and drama while keeping in with the spirt of the previous two Toy Story films. It's intelligent comedy with sharp, smart dialogue, and there are things in it that are so outrageously and gut-bustingly funny that I end up in stitches, like legitimate pain. The voice cast are a credit too to that all round. It's all well and good having these words on a written page, but without the work of these actors giving their gusto and putting their heart and soul into it, you simply wouldn't be able to buy it. That's one of the thing that sets Pixar at their best apart: passion. These people believe in what they are doing, the animators and everyone involved working hand over foot to give the audiences something wonderful, joyous and spellbinding. In ten years of reviewing films from 2007-2016 it was the only film I ever gave a 'Perfect 10.' This story about growing up, moving on, friendship and so much more, which I saw at the age of eighteen, still touches my heart a decade on in a way that no other film could manage. Everything from the ground up (shout-out to Randy Newman for his cracking score, and the recently-retired Lee Unkrich as directorial anchor. I hope you're having a wonderful time with your family, Mr. Unkrich. You deserve it.) just works. It is for me not only the greatest film of the 2010s, but also the greatest film of the 21st century thus far, and certainly among the greatest films of all time. I put it right in there alongside the very rare pictures on a high pedestal at the cream of the crop. I love it, I love it, I love it. What Pixar has done for the industry and cinema as an art form cannot be overstated, and this is their magnum opus. I shout it from the rooftops, "A thousand thanks, my friends!"

And there ye go! That was my top twenty films of the 2010s. As I have said on numerous occasions, although I have some issues with contemporary cinema, I re-iterate once again that, as evidenced by the films here, that cinema, far from being on a downward spiral, is alive and kicking. It'll be interesting to see where things go moving forward into the 2020s and the lay of the land in ten years time. As it stands, for all the changes going on and how I feel cinema to be in a period of real transition, I think it'll be in a positive place. In that, I have faith.

Martin Scorsese: The Irishman, America's Greatest Filmmaker, and Contemporary Hollywood

On the 27th of September 2019, Martin Scorsese's highly-anticipated film The Irishman had its world premiere at the New York Film Festival, going onto limited theatrical release on November 1st, before eventual digital streaming from November 27th on the platform of the film's distributor, Netflix. A cinematic event met with widespread acclaim, it was a regular topic of conversation, particularly in relation to it's runtime, in the immediate aftermath of it's release. Further solidifying Scorsese's reputation as one of the all-time greats and, in my opinion, America's greatest filmmaker, at the same time a whole furore was caused when Scorsese made a number of comments regarding the Marvel movie franchise. As such, I got to thinking about the place of an artist such as Scorsese in contemporary Hollywood, and where their work fits into the grand scheme of things.

I had the pleasure of watching The Irishman at the Strand Arts Centre with my mother, formerly The Strand, my favourite cinema, where they had fitted out a new projector.  The presentation was immaculate. While obviously designed and marketed around the Netflix digital streaming platform, nothing can beat going to see a great film on the big screen. For all that's been made about the running time which, at two-hundred and nine minutes, is longer than most contemporary theatrical releases, I was enraptured throughout. Though I often give off about movies being too long, never once was I bored. The ensemble cast, among the best ever gathered for a picture, were uniformly solid, but I would like to highlight the work of Bob De Niro, Al Pacino, Stephen Graham, and most especially Joe Pesci. Often associated with fast-talking, volatile and temperamental characters, Pesci gets to display another side to his acting chops as the soft-spoken voice of reason in Russell Bufalino, who often serves as mediator, the go-between for some of the more bombastic individuals in the story. The script by Steven Zaillian is a mighty piece of work. We are thrust, in a great exercise of world-building, into this landscape where the veneer of respectability and the criminal underworld are often intertwined, one and the same, and it doesn't feel anything less than believable. Also, despite the many characters and it being a dialogue-heavy piece, we never once lose our sense of place. A sprawling, authoritative epic which made me think of Herbert Asbury's The Gangs Of New York (the Scorsese adaptation of which Zaillian was one of the principal writers), it feels remarkably balanced, changing and adjusting tones, dialling it up and down if and when necessary. In that vein, Scorsese's longtime editor Thelma Schoonmaker deserves praise. Often in conjunction with the script, she ensures the film, though robust, remains razor-sharp and watertight. It carries none of the excess flab that a lot of pictures of this length do, justifying the weight of it's runtime. We are not really given much in the way of space for our mind to wander or be led astray, so even though it has been described as 'slow' by Scorsese standards, we are consistently challenged and engaged on an emotional and intellectual level. A large part of that is due to the fact that Schoonmaker just gets it, understands the stimulus necessary to make a brain tick, do the work and put the pieces together. Finally, a word or few must be said about Scorsese. Although being marketed as a return to the mob film, a genre more than familiar to the director, I feel The Irishman is a venture into uncharted waters. I remember discussing The Irishman in relation to Goodfellas, the latter being a film I feel to be among the most immaculately paced in film history, but put the two side by side and tonally they are night and day, requiring two different kinds of aesthetic approach. I often describe Scorsese as "a rock and roll filmmaker." This is perhaps most obvious in the case of his documentaries, and fictional features like Mean Streets, Goodfellas, Casino and The Departed. Scorsese loves great music, and designs his films to hit the same kind of beats a great song does. But where Goodfellas is The Rolling Stones, The Irishman is more of a jazz or blues piece. It's moody and contemplative, deconstructing the narrative built up around itself, asking us to question our own existence and mortality in the long run. To see an artist confront himself and ask these universal questions which touch us all is thoroughly refreshing.

This brings me to my next point. When Scorsese made the comments in Empire magazine, suggesting, as regards Marvel, that "that's not cinema," making a comparison between them and "theme parks," there was an uproar from fans and industry figures alike, challenging the great director on his comments. But, as he elaborated in his op-ed post for the New York Times on the 4th of November, it was not so much the films themselves he was railing against but what it has done to the industry as a whole. Sure, one's definition of what is or isn't cinema, art, is an entirely subjective matter. If you're asking whether I agree or disagree with Scorsese, I'd say both; I agree because, one, I sway towards Scorsese's aesthetic, and two, he's allowed to have that opinion if he so pleases; and I disagree, because to generalise and lump everything together is take away a work's merit as it stands on it's own two feet. I, like Scorsese, have seen a number of Marvel movies, some of which I really like, others not so much. I don't object to them with any real fervour, but they're not exactly my cup of tea and I don't go out of my way to make time to watch them all. What I don't like, and in this sense I understand where Scorsese is coming from, is that Marvel, somewhat unfortunately, is representative, indicative of the American film industry, and by proxy the film industry as a whole, moving in a direction where the only films you can see on the big screen are these loud and bombastic pictures that spend the whole time bashing you over the head with a mallet, or in this case, Mjölnir. Franchises, more often than not based upon existing properties, are the done thing, and unfortunately for those of us who favour a different aesthetic, there isn't much choice when out of x-number of screens, the majority are occupied by Marvel, Star Wars et al. Variety is the spice of life, as they say, and although each of these individual franchises have their own stories, their approach is usually the same, and rarely do they deviate from the format. Even if you do get the odd opportunity to see something different in a multiplex or independent cinema, chances are you'll hear explosions emerging from the sound system of one of the adjoining auditoriums. I too like a spectacle (the recent trio of Planet Of The Apes films spring to mind), but it becomes part of the law of diminishing returns if you see slight variations of the same thing over and over again: eventually, they lose impact, and you find yourself bored to tears, despite the fact that you know about half a billion dollars that could have went towards helping an impoverished country has been thrown up on the screen. Which leaves me with the question,

where do the artists go?

The answer, these days, seems to be into different formats. Netflix and streaming platforms have been changing the nature of cinema. Akin to the television experience, they have taken viewers from the collective viewing experience into that of the individual, and that is somewhat understandable given some of the foolish, raucous behaviour of patrons in cinemas. I recently went to see Little Women and had a middle-aged woman spend most of the film hitting her knees off the back of my seat, and who wants that?. Also, as many of the great artists have been chased out of the theatres in the 21st century, they have begun to ply their crafts in different mediums. In a May 2016 interview at the Cannes Film Festival, Viggo Mortensen revealed that David Cronenberg, whose last picture was 2014's Map To The Stars, was considering retiring from filmmaking because of the difficulties in attaining funding for his film projects, and also that he was deriving a lot of joy in writing books. I've often said that television is where the really bold and daring projects go these days. We've seen the rise of shows like The Sopranos, The Shield, Breaking Bad, Hannibal and more make way for the likes of David Lynch, unable to obtain support for feature-length film projects, who went to the Showtime network to produce Twin Peaks: The Return, a work that, in this landscape, could not have been done elsewhere. Also, although cinema purists rail against the proliferation of Netflix originals (in 2018 at the Cannes Film Festival, the ban on Netflix films from competition led to the streaming giant pulling all of their films from that year's festival, including Alfonso Cuarón's Academy Award-winning Roma), a lot of these streaming platforms, with their rise in success, are leading to projects being greenlit that otherwise would have been left in the dark. It took the clout of the now-deposed industry mogul Harvey Weinstein and his Miramax to give Scorsese's Gangs Of New York the GO, but that was twenty years ago and the industry is very different now. Although trying to pursue it for years, The Irishman lingered in development hell before financing came from Mexican production company Fábrica de Cine in May 2016. When they dropped out of the project in February 2017, so too did distributor Paramount. At this point, Netflix stepped in to buy the rights for a reported $105 million, and to finance entirely the escalating budget, then set at $125 million. They picked up the ball where others had left off, and the rest, as they say, is history. For all that the industry rails against some of these changes, and to an extent, so do I, these streaming platforms and television networks are doing breathtaking, groundbreaking things often far ahead of their cinematic counterparts. It is up to the film industry to catch up, because it is clear to me that the artists such as Scorsese, even if begrudgingly so, are copping on.

I make no secret of my love for the work of Martin Scorsese. Gearing up for his latest film, Killers Of The Flower Moon, starring regulars Leonardo DiCaprio and Robert De Niro, the maestro heads into his seventh decade as a feature filmmaker, having made over forty fictional and documentary feature films since 1967's Boxcar Bertha. Already I've mentioned Goodfellas and others, but Scorsese has a score of great films to his name, such as The King Of Comedy, Shutter Island (a highly underrated work), Hugo and The Wolf Of Wall Street. However, two films stand out to me in Scorsese's oeuvre as being important. When I was a teenager, I saw Taxi Driver and was flabbergasted. Stylistically, it's a hybrid between the genre-film sensibilities of a Hitchcockian thriller, and the moody contemplation of European art-house cinema. The drive of De Niro's performance as ticking timebomb Travis Bickle, the brooding duality of Bernard Hermann's score, the note-perfect script by Paul Schrader (one of my all-time favourite screenplays), aurally, visually, texturally, every part of that film just tickled my fancy. Taxi Driver always was the one I would say was my favourite, but as I got older and grew into young adulthood, my sensibilities starting leaning another way. It must have been around 2012, 2013, but I was attending a counselling session, and was posed what, on the surface, seems a fairly basic question: "What movie do you think best represents you?" I was stumped, and couldn't answer. Around the same time, I re-watched Raging Bull for the first time in quite a while. I saw it originally when I was about eleven or twelve, and if I'm honest I didn't really get it. It's one of the few times I'll definitely attribute it to being too young to enjoy or appreciate a given film. However, as I saw Raging Bull again, the proverbial lightbulb went off and I said "that's it." Notwithstanding my admiration for how beautifully put together it is, the expertise of the craftsmanship, the art of filmmaking, I empathised a lot with the character of Jake La Motta as portrayed by De Niro: the pent-up anger, the pride, the social awkwardness, the masochistic attitude towards pain, both physical and mental, sexual repression, the antagonistic streak, the self-destructiveness, the obsession, emotional frustrations and pure animalism of his nature. De Niro's Jake is not necessarily a sympathetic character: indeed, he's a churl and a brute, putting it lightly, but I most definitely identify with the character. The flawed aspects in his person make him relatable and, ultimately, human. While I can judge the piece on it's own merit, the picture also means a lot to me in terms of my own residual feelings on a personal level, so, in that sense Raging Bull emerges as the cream of the crop. The greatest pieces of art have to touch and engage us in some way on that personal level in order to elevate themselves from the status of mere entertainment, however admirable and pleasing that may be. Raging Bull is one such piece.

Having entered that rare echelon of filmmakers with over half a century in the business, the only others in the United States I can think of still kicking with that kind of longevity are regular activity are David Lynch and Clint Eastwood. Otherwise, you'd have to go abroad and find the likes of Alejandro Jodorowsky or Jean-Luc Godard, and in the UK Ken Loach and Mike Leigh. While I'm name-dropping here there is something I should mention. My good friend and comrade-at-arms Daniel Kelly always brings up a great point in our discussions on the movie business, in that there are probably only about four or five filmmakers in Hollywood who have the clout to get an original project off the ground. Scorsese, along with Christopher Nolan and Steven Spielberg, is usually among the names we mention. Interestingly, in the course of my research, neither of the former two feature in The Hollywood Reporter's annual Most Powerful People in Entertainment list, so maybe I'm wrong. You could take your pick of any number of others to fill the other spots, but I'd probably hazard a guess to say that James Cameron and Quentin Tarantino would be comfortable picks as to those with relative artistic autonomy in Hollywood. 

That being said, from what I have emphasised earlier, the key word to take away from that previous sentence is relative. However grand, incredible, or ground-breaking each of these artists' visions may be, no matter the audience numbers, how much they move, enlighten and entertain us, it still remains that they, to quote the Godfather of Soul James Brown, "paid the cost to be the boss." Without the lucrative monetary backing of financiers, the sad fact is that many of the greatest pictures ever made would have been left unrealised. From D.W. Griffith and Cecil B. DeMille onwards, it has always been this way in Hollywood. It is only over time that the stakes have changed. Up until the 1970s, the primary big-budget movies were the prestige picture, which largely consisted of costume epics and period dramas. Perhaps the greatest example of this in the early days was Gone With The Wind, which had the bulk of executive giant David O. Selznick behind it. In the late 1960s, though, in line with the precedent set by European arthouse cinema, there was a proliferation of more modestly-budgeted American films, some funded independently, of which Martin Scorsese was a key player. It was during this time in the 1970s, for me the peak of American cinema to date, when the template was changed and there was a temporary blending, a melding, a meeting of the minds. Blurring the lines, the sensibilities merged and gelled, giving birth to the likes of The Godfather, The French Connection, The Exorcist, Deliverance, Five Easy Pieces, Nashville, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, the aforementioned Taxi Driver, Rocky, The Deer Hunter, and countless others. However, things began to move in another direction once Steven Spielberg's Jaws came out in 1975. Though Michael Cimino's Heaven's Gate is often attributed as the nail in the coffin of this golden age known as New Hollywood, really it was the release of George Lucas' Stars Wars in 1977. Since then, there has been an ideological clash between franchising and original art. It's safe to say that from the money side of things the franchises are winning out. The financiers, for the largest part, are putting their lot in with and cashing their chips on hot properties such as the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The audience demand is there, but equally by throwing it all in with these blockbuster franchises and their merchandising and resplendent frippery they are blocking out and denying artists a voice to tell new stories. But with the arrival of streaming platforms, which first began producing original content in an episodic format akin to television, these new formats have extended their already long reach into the realm of cinema. In one sense it can be seen as negative, and the apocalyptic naysayers will bemoan, as ever, 'the death of cinema,' but with the likes of Netflix now being major players, between these new outlets and the old guard in Hollywood, competition is heating up. As it has fast become more acceptable, pictures like The Irishman make a more than legitimate stake in claiming that although the release pattern and format may break a few rules, the fact is is that, while I am myself somewhat of a traditionalist, it remains art nevertheless. As such, with Hollywood's focus largely on franchising at present, the increase of platforms through which we can experience a given work is to the benefit of artists and audiences alike. 

I don't see much changing in the Hollywood studio system. What they are doing right now, especially as regards Disney, is working well, and this ongoing obsession with franchises, for better or worse, is raking in the cash, bringing audiences to the cinema in record numbers. However, as streaming and alternative platforms to the traditional templates of the vanguards are being challenged by the increasing prestige of pictures that great artists are making for them, it may be that they will, at some stage, have to exhibit some degree of flexibility, deviate from the format. Heading into the third decade of the 21st century, it'll be interesting to see what way this particular awards season plays out. Alongside Scorsese's The Irishman, Noah Baumbach's Marriage Story is another of the nine nominees for Best Picture at the upcoming Academy Awards, and Fernando Meirelles The Two Popes also features heavily. All three films were funded and distributed exclusively by Netflix. Although at this stage I'd say the safe bet is perhaps Sam Mendes' 1917 for the win, the real wild card is Todd Phillips' Joker. On the one hand, it would confirm Hollywood's ongoing investment in comic-book/superhero franchise properties, but on the other, the film is an outre example, and would be akin to acknowledging that they have to go a bit left-of-field in order to attain the kind of recognition they are looking for. 

Although I am occasionally stubborn and grouchy when it comes to contemporary Hollywood, I have been witness to a great many wonders in recent years thanks to these alternative platforms (I'm looking at you, Twin Peaks!). It's amazing, when you think about it, that The Irishman ever got made. Regardless of what you think of the finished film itself, even the idea from a conceptual standpoint is something that sounds like a fantasy that could only exist in a dream world. The combination of all the elements is something that has never been done before, and never will be again. For this alone, I am grateful. Fate and circumstance lay the groundwork, the foundations, for this picture to be made. As long as artists such as Martin Scorsese have a place they can call home, wherever they may decide to ply their craft, then that's okay.