Horror films? No problem. When you stare the killer in the face, it’s just an actor coated in corn syrup. But what happens when it’s not an actor any more?
Documentaries often have the capacity to address the absolutely horrifying, but not until now has one left me genuinely terrified. To see men who gladly murdered thousands of people parade their bloody achievements (and often find themselves in positions of power) in the real world is infinitely scarier than anything Freddie Kruger or Michael Myers could ever throw at me.
Josh Oppenheimer has taken confrontational documentary making to a new level with The Act of Killing. This is a work of the utmost importance and the final revelation will be remembered as one of the most significant moments in modern cinema.
[h2]3. Filth[/h2]
The title says it all. John Baird’s adaptation of the Irvine Welsh novel is bawdy, disgusting and occasionally oddly poignant. James McAvoy is brilliant as Bruce Robertson, Edinburgh’s response to the Bad Lieutenant, a man at once hilariously despicable and terrifyingly unstable. When tasked with attaining a promotion he sees as essentially his divine right, Bruce finds himself swiftly pulled into a sea of debauchery, drug abuse and photocopied penises. Any film that makes Jim Broadbent dress up as a giant tape worm is alright by me.
