With their particularly French brand of social realism and a back catalogue garlanded with Palme d'Ors and oceans of critical praise, the Dardenne brothers stand firmly atop the pinnacle of art house cinema. Most actors would crawl through rusty nails to work with them at this point (they've all but singlehandedly forged careers for many in the past) and an exclamation mark-packed set of press notes for Two Days, One Night, their latest outing, shows that Marion Cotillard is no exception. Her enthusiasm and investment in the project is evident, it's just a shame about pretty much everything else. I like the Dardennes as much as the next guy, but Two Days, One Night is aimless, depthless and face-poundingly dull.
I've watched a fair few films in my 19 and a half years on planet Earth. It's now my job to watch them, and it's films like The Infinite Man that make the whole slog worth it. It's rare to come across such genius, lo-fi originality, in any medium. When you're charged with sitting through, then over-analyzing, handfuls of movies at a time, it's worryingly easy to wind up alienated from the whole process. It's these kind of films that really wake me up, those rare, truly special experiences that remind me why I started loving movies in the first place. I feel privileged to have watched The Infinite Man, and its effortless brilliance and aching humanity will stay with me until I depart this mortal coil, or get caught in an infinite time loop - whichever happens first.
Ida is a gorgeous and humble tale of stiff upper lips and scars that refuse to heal, where every frame is imbued with melancholic beauty and a quiet grace.
Its Southern fried tale of brutal violence and crippling rage may be somewhat familiar, but Joe remains a quality piece of cinema and a timely shot in the arm for Nicolas Cage's semi-wilting career.
What's in a name? When it comes to X-Men: Days of Future Past, not very much - it's a semi-confusing, semi-comprehensible, semi-relevant title that should've been panned while the screenplay was still being drafted. It's testament to the rest of the film, then, that the latest X-Men's abominable title is the only significant criticism I can level at it - any remaining issues were long ago swept away in a wave of breakneck plotting and and glorious, marvelous blockbuster excess. After a week where I had to sit through the horrific Angriest Man in Brooklyn and was near wholly disappointed by Gareth Edwards' Godzilla, Days of Future Past proved to be the most pleasant of surprises.