I’ll regret doing this (like every other year) but here are some of the films from 2011, in no particular order, I haven’t been able to get out my head.

• Beginners: Mike Mills

(Sure, it wears its twee and hipster sensibilities on its sleeve, but it was sweet, honest and beautiful to look at.)

• Drive: Nicolas Winding Refn

• Kill List: Ben Wheatley

(I was completely blindsided by this perfectly executed, unrelentingly brutal film that transcends genres.)

• 50/50: Jonathan Levine

(I loved that this movie about a cancer patient in his 20s was funny, brilliantly written, amazingly well-observed and moving without descending into cloying sentimentality.)

• Attack the Block: Joe Cornish

(Genre-mashing done right.)

• The Guard: John Michael McDonagh

(The Guard was arguably the most I giggled through a crime-thriller since ‘In Bruges’.)

• Hanna: Joe Wright

• Super: James Gunn

• The Trip: Michael Winterbottom

• Midnight in Paris: Woody Allen

(I’m not going to apologize for loving this film. While it wasn’t anywhere near his best work, it was tremendously enjoyable fluff that only Woody Allen could come up with.)

Honorable mentions: X-Men: First Class, Delhi Belly, Martha Marcy May Marlene, Super 8, Fright Night.

PS: I still haven’t watched Hugo, The Artist and Shame.

(Image from Kill List)

There’s a scene in which Michael Caine’s Jasper, an ageing hippie, and Clive Owen’s Theo, the reluctant hero, share a blunt (‘Strawberry Cough’).  Jasper points out that marijuana remains illegal even in a post-apocalyptic world where women can no longer give birth and the government rations out suicide kits (‘Quietus’) to the elderly. At the brink of certain extinction, unreasonable and ridiculous laws will continue to exist.

Children of Men, based on the PD James novel of the same name, finds mankind at a precarious precipice – children are no longer born and the youngest person in the world is nearly 18 years old. Economies have crumbled, war has ravaged major cities and most countries have closed off their borders (a UK newspaper headline reads ‘All Foreigners Are Now Illegal’). What makes this different from other post-apocalyptic fare (Mad Max, The Postman, The Road) is that the film acknowledges a severely broken but functioning system of government that is in place. Public transportation still exists, people still go to work, cosmetics are still advertised and you can still buy a cup of coffee. Personally, I find this more plausible than a scenario in which humans become feral rodent-eating hunters.

Today, when immigration is such a contentious and volatile issue and there seems to be a real food and water crisis, Children of Men can be a little uneasy to watch because face it, the future is bleak and depressing. Tragedies (as the past ten years have shown us) seldom bring people together. Children of Men, however, ends on a very uplifting note.

The film has several contemporary (refugees are rounded up in cages and there’s a scene reminiscent of pictures from Abu Gharib), pop cultural (Banksy, The Libertines’ ‘Arbeit Mach Frei’ etc.) and biblical allusions. Kee reveals her pregnancy to a stunned Theo in a barn and later, jokingly tells Theo that she’s a virgin. If you pay enough attention, there’s a lot to take away from the film. Action scenes are coherent unlike lazily cut scenes prevalent today. There are at least three outstanding long takes that seem nearly impossible to film and the soundtrack is near-perfect.

Children of Men is easily one of the most beautifully shot and visceral films ever made. If I had to recommend one film from the last decade to someone who has never watched a film his/her entire life, this would be it.

You’d think a comedy about five Muslims bent on attaining martyrdom during a London marathon would be a an exercise in bad taste but Chris Morris’s Four Lions is one of the funniest films I’ve seen all year. The only other film I can compare to this sometimes uncomfortable but mostly hilarious farce is last year’s brilliant (and profane) comedy of errors, In the Loop. Both have somewhat unintelligent protagonists with vague notions of right and wrong.

Four Lions is centered on five squabbling young Muslims, their idiosyncrasies and their complete lack of self awareness. Throughout the film, they contradict themselves and cherry pick the Koran for what they think is the ‘will of god’. Surprisingly, the film is nowhere near as offensive as you’d expect, probably because the story is told from an outsider’s perspective. You feel as sorry for the bombers as you do for their intended victims. Also, did you know that the Jews invented spark plugs to control global traffic?

Highly recommended.

Inception was everything I hoped it’d be.  It was sufficiently complex (though nowhere near as complicated as Primer or even, Memento) and despite the 148 minute running time, very very engaging.

(Spoilers)

Then again, like all great films, Inception has its flaws and it’s not just the false narrative or the plot holes. Christopher Nolan has a set of rules for his world – rules that are essential in moving the plot forward; call it cinematic license, but it does feel like Nolan gets away with a little too much. I might be nitpicking but that’s what happens when you go in with great expectations.

Critics who’ve compared it to 2001: ASO or Blade Runner are only kidding themselves. Inception is more than just another great science fiction film – it’s about mathematics and engineering. The narrative is so tightly constructed that when scenes flit across the three (or four) ‘dream levels’, you cannot help but marvel at the genius behind it especially since time is supposed to be relative in all levels. A couple of years ago, the brother suggested I read Douglas R. Hofstadter’s wonderful book, Godel, Escher, Bach and after Inception, I find myself comparing the two. The film’s production design is certainly inspired by M.C. Escher’s art and some of the themes have been explored in other films. In fact, for a much more accurate interpretation of lucid dreams and more specifically, the concept of limbo, I’d recommend Richard Linklater’s underrated Waking Life.

Despite my reservations, I loved Inception. I find it oddly comforting that amidst all the crap that finds its way into cinemas, we can still count on someone to deliver a truly original blockbuster that you don’t have to switch your brain off for. And yes, I’ll be watching it again.

9/10

I’m probably inviting ridicule by comparing Lost, a mainstay of the popular zeitgeist for over 6 years now, to something as revered as Paradise Lost. Beneath all that sheen and soap-opera style drama involving mostly beautiful people with perfect bodies, there were allusions to weighty philosophical dilemmas and age-old conundrums. I’ll admit that it took me a while to fully appreciate the epic scale of the show, and once I did, I was completely invested in its characters and mysteries despite the experience being far from perfect. But I’ve been hurt before, and it was with some amount of trepidation that I sat down to watch the final two hours of what was probably the most genre-bending show on television.

And yeah, it was a letdown (but nowhere near the fiasco that was Battelstar Galactica’s ridiculous ‘god did it’ conclusion). I fail to understand why otherwise brilliant writers resort to pulling deus ex machinas out of their asses when shows like these deserve far more fitting farewells. What exactly is the appeal in introducing overtly spiritual elements to a show that has had outstanding episodes like ‘Man of Science, Man of Faith’ and ‘The Constant’? Why tie up all loose ends with an explanation that renders it near impossible to question anything and everything that preceded it? Granted, Lost has jumped the shark a few times since season one and while the time-travel plot line was cleverly executed, drawing out an alternate reality without thinking things through was, to quote a friend, just plain shoddy and cowardly writing. Turns out, the alternate reality was (*spoiler*), purgatory. Really?

Don’t get me wrong; I loved the first 80 minutes of the episode. There was plenty of great acting (Terry O’Quinn and even Matthew Fox), a few answers, some great emotional resolutions and a pretty intense fight sequence. But the last 20 minutes took away from an otherwise great finale. I’m yet to fully grasp the impact that the finale had on me, and perhaps after the dust has settled, I’ll love it. Or maybe I’ll come to terms with how it’s been a disappointment—but a beautiful disappointment nonetheless.

Design obsolescence has always puzzled me. How does something that’s aesthetically appealing one day become an eyesore the next? Remember back in 1998, when the translucent candy-like iMac came out and everyone and their grandmother soiled their pants over it? It really hasn’t stood the test of time. Now compare that with the set-design for Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey; 41 years and it still gives off that futuristic vibe.

Gary Hustwit’s Objectified tries to tackle this dissonance but never quite succeeds. Despite that, Objectified is a very engaging documentary on industrial design. There are some very insightful interviews with leading designers including the reclusive Jonathan Ive and the brilliant Mark Newson. Contrary to what you might expect from a documentary on design, Objectified is never boring.

If there’s one thing you learn from the film, it’s that most designers share a singular albeit abstract design philosophy – “I want things I can’t have yet”.

Highly recommended.

= awesomeness.

This BSG video set to the Beastie Boys track, Sabotage has already gone viral. But to really appreciate its brilliance, you need to compare the original Spike Jonze video and the mashup.

Genius.

“The loss of religious faith is a slow and fragile process, like the raising of continents,” writes Darwin to his wife. That one line from the film resonates greatly with my personal philosophy and  is perhaps one of the few reasons I enjoyed this rather ponderous study of Darwin’s struggle with faith and evidence.

The more I think about the film, the more glaring the flaws seem. The film seems conflicted about what caused Darwin’s inability to complete his treatise, On the Origin of Species – the death of his daughter or his accommodationist views on Christianity.

Creationists have long argued, albeit with no documented evidence that Darwin recanted on his death bed. Creation, based on the book, Annie’s Box by Randal Keynes dispels the myth and portrays Darwin as a man with strong convictions even if he occasionally questioned them.

Face it, Avatar was never really going to live up to the hype.

Granted, James Cameron’s return to screen is every bit a visual spectacle as they say; Pandora is unlike anything we’ve ever been subjected to especially in 3D. The environments are lush and Pandora’s inhabitants are stunningly rendered. Visually, the film is brilliant and deserves every bit of praise it gets.

Sadly, the script is overwrought with cliches bordering on heavy handedness. It would’ve been enough if it were simply an allegory for civilizations and their misplaced sense of entitlement. Turns out, it’s also about the environment. Thankfully, the last 40 minutes made up for all the preachiness.

It’s interesting that Cameron never strays from the basics – there’s the three-act narrative, James Horner’s pounding orchestral score and a voice-over. For all the technical wizardry involved, Avatar is a very conventional film and a very good one at that.

Trust Woody Allen to make you sit through a film about an insufferable intellectual who calls children, “submental cretins”. Diminutive middle-aged man constantly ranting about death, sex and existential angst – never gets old. And always funny.

I’ve been drawn to Woody Allen’s shtick since college (there’s a dirty joke somewhere in there); I’m one of those very few people (going by the huge backlash from critics) who think that Allenesque male angst  and pathos are as socially and culturally relevant today as they were back in the 70s. And if you look a little closer, you’ll realize that Allen’s philosophy has somewhat evolved over the last 40 years.

Towards the end of  Manhattan, Issac Davis speaks into a tape recorder and asks himself why life is worth living. There’s Groucho Marx, Willie Mays, Flaubert’s Sentimental Education and then, Tracy’s face. That scene has always appealed to the romantic in me.

Exactly 30 years later, an older and perhaps wiser Boris Yellnikoff seems to have gotten a little less materialistic.

My story is, whatever works as long as you don’t hurt anybody. Any way you can filtch a little joy in this cruel and pointless life, that’s my story.

I’m willing to overlook the cinematic flaws for the simple reason that at the end of the day, his films tend to remind you that there’s always clever humor to be mined from meaninglessness and paranoia.