And quite frankly we couldn’t be back for a better year. 2012 may not provide the culmination of all human history but if it did, and as long as the big movies of the year live up to expectation, it wouldn’t be a bad way to go. Prometheus, The Amazing Spider-man, The Hobbit, The Avengers, The Dark Knight and that’s just the multiplex nomming blockbusters.

Elsewhere we’ll have new Coens (Gambit), new Pixar (Brave), Cameron Crowe’s latest (We Bought A Zoo), hopefully some more Charlie Kaufman and a film based on an internet meme about a time-travelling nutjob. If that’s a success then it won’t be long before Missing Missy makes the bigscreen. To start the year you also get The Muppets. Which I’ve seen and can confirm is as heart-tuggingly lovely as a furry, felt aorta massage.

But right now, It’s all about one thing…Batman! Enjoy the latest trailer below. Just don’t think about the half a year you have to survive before you get to see the damn thing.

In this humble writer with a big dicks opinion The King’s Speech was an undeserved victor. The film, while joyous and more than an accomplished piece of film-making, did not exemplify the best of what this little blue planet as to offer. It was ‘the film of the moment’ not ‘a film for the ages’. In my mind that honour goes to The Social Network.

So what is meant by ‘a film of the moment’. A late in the year release, a clean campaign (for Mr. Weinstein anyway) bolstered by that Yank baiting trick of ‘pleasant British folk’ and nary of whiff of controversy (save Christopher Hitchens arguing it’s historically inaccurate) all came together to make The King’s Speech the safe choice. Safe, but inaccurate. Like previous undeserved winners Shakespeare in Love, A Beautiful Mind and the execrable Crash, The King’s Speech timed it’s timid victory to perfection.

The King’s Speech for all its many positives, doesn’t have anything more to offer other than a by-the-numbers ‘triumph over adversity’ flick. The Best Picture (whether or not such a thing can even really exist is open to massive debate) should be a film that stands the test of time. Barely 12 hours after the ceremony it may seem an extraordinary claim to make but, for me, The Social Network has that honour nailed down flat.

When it was first announced that David ‘Se7en, Fight Club, Zodiac‘ Fincher was making a movie about Facebook with a role for Justin Timberlake, cineastes checked their calendars to make sure it wasn’t the first of April. A lack of faith that would prove, if not disturbing, at least unnecessary. Just as Fight Club wasn’t a film about people punching each other, The Social Network was never going to be a film about our ability to poke.

Instead it was a film about ambition, about arrogance, about friendship and rivalry. It was about privilege and popularity, elitism and alienation. It threw a mirror onto an entire generation and asked what you thought, offering but not hiding behind it’s own opinion.

There is a theory, created by screenwriter William Goldman, that no actor should ever get an award for playing tricksy, OTT performances. A theory that says playing up is easy, playing down is hard. Let’s call it the ‘No addicts, no disabilities’ club. Of course Oscar would screw up it’s invite to that get together in a second and so again we have a Best Actor in Colin Firth playing (albeit very well) a sympathetic role many others could inhabit leading to the same conclusion, “Good old Bertie, glad he got over that stammer”…

Alternatively Jesse Eisenberg gives a complex performance of a complex character that challenges each and every viewer to put up their own interpretation of who he is. That a real Mark Zuckerberg walks the earth with similar qualities to this creation should not lead you to believe for even one moment that Eisenberg is playing a real life person. His Zuckerberg is a ‘role’ written by Aaron Sorkin, made alive by Jesse’s own ability to infuse him with mannerisms and emotions that support the film.

So onto perhaps the biggest disappointment of the night; Best Direction. If the main role of the director is to turn the screenplay you see in your mind’s eye into a fully breathing realised end result then it’s not only a mistake to not honour Fincher but a breach of what the award claims to be. As meticulous as Fincher is as a director (behind the scenes glimpses of him at work include instructions such as “move the Coke can two inches to the left”), he’s meticulous for a reason. He believes there is a correct shot and won’t stop until he gets it. Frankly Tom Hooper, winner for The King’s Speech seems to damn nice to ask for perfection.

Ultimately Fincher will lose little sleep over this award’s ‘loss’. The world will still turn. A quick glimpse at the Oscar stats of Hitchcock and Kubrick indicate this is not the be all and end all in movie acclaim. Like Scorsese, Fincher’s time will come and he’ll likely be honoured for inferior work. Who knows, a foreign language remake worked for Marty. Fincher’s next; The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.

The majority of film fans know in their heart of hearts The Oscars is just a bit of fun, a well put together promo campaign to show off what Hollywood can do, like a child jumping into a pool calling to it’s parents ‘Look at me! Look at me!’. But, as much as we try to claim it isn’t, it is still film history.

Se7en’s John Doe gave us the perfect summation for the best works. Something that will be “be puzzled over and studied and followed… forever”. The library card owning, Yoda wannabe had a point. A place in history, where we can reflect upon its greatness is what truly counts. The Social Network will be there, ‘Best Picture’ or not.

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I don’t know about you but I’m already standing in line with my popcorn and specs.

Say what you want about Hollywood and their dire output but the studio heads still have plans, ideas and rules. One such rule would be never greenlight anything like the batshit craziness of above, unless, unless you have a star attached. Thank the maker then for one Nicholas Kim Coppola.

Nic Cage’s Agent Video Link Here

As the video above will attest, (and you really should watch it) Nic Cage makes an awful lot of shit. The Wicker Man, Next, Knowing, Bangkok Dangerous, his latest Season of the Witch, one of the first films released in 2011, may also be remembered as one of the worst. He has become, now that Mr. Cruise has stopped beating up sofas with his feet, the most mocked A-list figure on the internet.

So why does he deserve our adulation? Because as the graph below shows he also makes an awful lot of good too. Raising Arizona, Adaptation, Kick Ass, as well as one of last years stand out films and performances, Bad Lieutenant. In a Hollywood that plays it safe, now more than ever ‘slots’ are filled with ‘product’, Cage is bucking the trend, rolling the dice and sometimes coming up with Snake Eyes. All of his choices are risky. Some ‘risky-stupid’, some ‘risky-brave’. Sometimes the risk is such a success you have to wonder if the guy has crystal balls.

For a larger look at the Nic Cage Matrix visit The Shiznit

Bad Lieutenant is one such risk. It also gives the greatest veracity to the claim that Nic should be let off the leash whenever possible. On paper, the re-imagining of an Abel Ferrara film about a coke-snorting, masturbating cop, doesn’t seem like particularly safe ground to tread. Turning the bad-cop, bad-cop into a crack-piping, detainee fucking police seems even more treacherous. The end result, however, was more fun than anybody imagined. When originally announced critics sharpened their knives. When the finished film was shown the same critics threw 5 Star reviews at it like confetti. Nic Cage and his lucky crack pipe were one of only a handful of things 2010 will be remembered for.

So back to Nic’s agent. Any paymaster worth his salt would have tucked the script for Bad Lieutenant under a copy of National Treasure 3: The Search For Pieces Of JFK’s Brains. Instead Cage is unleashed to make increasingly bizarre choices (you did read the synopsis for Drive Angry right?), bizarre choices that have a hit rate of approximately 4 bad to 1 good. Statistics that sound as awful as the idea of a Ghost Rider sequel.

Ultimately Drive Angry may may turn out to be an incoherent mess of biblical proportions. Conversely it may turn out to be a laugh-riot, a tongue in cheek joy to behold. Either way, with Little Nicky it’s always you pay your money you take your chance.

The reasoning behind his filmography is open for debate. You may think Cage has more swimming pool heating bills than the London Olympic Aquatic centre and would do anything for a pay-cheque, you may assume he has deep seated psychological problems for which he should seek immediate help. Or you may believe that Cage “just likes being in movies, Gary”.

Me, if he made a triple bill of Space Ass, Dick Hole, Black Hole, and Schindlers Fist, I’d be there with my popcorn, first in line.

I might give Fuck Asian People a miss though.

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They also, always, provoke rage and bile like no other awards (the comical Globes just provoke distain) but most importantly, they get people talking about movies. And if you’re on this site, either as a first timer or repeated reader, you’re here because you love talking about movies.

Today you don’t have to just talk. Today you get to vote. And in a move tantamount to the most charitable piece of giving since Mother Teresa invented text message donations we’ve given you the option of adding your own opinion. Please use it carefully, all votes for The Bounty Hunter will not only be ignored but we’ll also send ‘Dog’ round to your house.

Results will be announced Oscar Night so hit us back, in the meantime. Let the voting commence.

And every straight out comedy, The Other Guys, Hot Tub Time Machine, Date Night fell well far off the mark. So can 2011 revive comedy’s carcass? Surely Paul, the new Fregg and Post film will turn the tide? Nope, nope and nope. Again the Facebook film has more genuine laughs. But by no means does that make Paul a bad film. Just one that is not as funny as you’d hope.

Quintessential English nerds Graeme Willy and Clive Gollings (not quite Coen-esque names but at least stars and writers Frost and Pegg made on effort) embark on a once in a lifetime sight-seeing journey across America, with certain particular sights in mind. Namely anything unidentified, flying and object related. From Comic Con to Roswell and all the flying saucers hotspots inbetween. The journey takes a turn for the stellar when a car in front of them swerves off the road and from the wreckage out steps Paul, four foot, bulbous head, huge eyes and grey skin, in need of a lift.

The Shaun duo, flying without Edgar Wright for the first time, have picked up more than enough “American Friends” to help them on their quest of medium-sized-budget, road movie frolics (incidentally one that is doing remarkable figures at the UK box-office so far). Mottola, Rogen, Wiig, Bateman, Weaver and Hader all add their comedy chops to make this appear more than a little British movie about two guys with a huge crush on Sci-fi films, and for the most part their distraction achieves its goal. Even if the challenge is at times monumental.

Certain references, and there are a more than enough to fill a Spaced Convention, from CEOTTK to Aliens and Back to the Future, will have fanboys Empire Strikes Back Y-fronts straining for room. By the time of the ‘Leia-Boushy-Wiig’ if you are so inclined you may even have a lump in your throat too. Therein lies Paul‘s greatest hope. The level of affection for all things dweeby, geeky and downright nerdy is so huge it could power the Falcon to a record beating Kessel run of under 11 parsecs. Like a Dear Spielberg/Lucas fan letter writ large. And again, this is no bad thing.

Sadly, however, when these dry up (and they can’t a complete film make) we’re back to the start and looking for laughs. Laughs that can only come if you place yourself back at the age you were when you first saw Star Wars. When you first thought an alien with 3 tits was pant-wettingly hilarious. If you can transport yourself back to then you’ll have such a fun time you may well want to bring a change of underwear. If you can’t then Paul is still a pleasure, just a slightly diluted one.

Spielberg with swearing. Shee-eee-eee-E.T., if you will. The huge side helping of affection gives it just enough to make it to the credits with a grin intact. As the Bugsy kids sang, “You give a little love, And it all comes back to you.”

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We Can Love Ourselves.
Winston Churchill once said, “The British nation is unique in this respect. They are the only people who like to be told how bad things are, who like to be told the worst, and like to be told that they are very likely to get much worse in the future.” Not many Brits would argue with the man, least of all because we don’t argue we discuss, but mainly because one of our defining characteristics as a nation is that we romanticise failure to the point of absurdity. So how nice it was to see us pat ourselves on the back at last night’s ceremony by giving every other award to the very British The King’s Speech. Three for acting, two for Best Film and a few more for technical achievements, if we could have nominated it for animation it probably would have won that too.

Common Sense and Logic Aren’t Always Good Things.
By having one of your 5 Best Film nominations be British it also means your Best British Film should be a shoe-in for at the very least the latter category. This year it was. The King’s Speech took the top prize of Best Film so therefore it had to, and did, win the “smaller, less showy” gong of Best Brit Picture. Not so in previous years where the “smaller, less showy films” emerged victorious as, one would assume, better depictions of Britishness. Say what you want about The King’s Speech and it’s excellence, and it is excellent, wouldn’t it have been nice to show a bit more love to Four Lions, Made in Dagenham and Another Year?

Everyone Loves King Colin
If there was one bet your house, dead cert, lock-in last night it was Colin Firth for his portrayal of the stunningly winsome, stuttering King Bertie. A deaf, dumb, blind eskimo who’d never heard of the cinematographe could have told you Mr. Firth was walking home with a statue last night. While the Toy Story 3 prize for Toy Story 3 went to Toy Story 3 (oft repeated Twitter joke) to stifled yawns of expectation, Colin received rapturous applause by all in attendance. The reason. He’s damn loveable, marvellous at what he does and he gives great speech. Expect at least 57 of the morning papers to read ‘Long Live The King’.

BAFTA Cameramen Have a Weird Sense of Humour/Timing.
Away from The King’s Speech the other certainty was Natalie Portman for Black Swan. Unable to attend due to her impending babydom (I’m still getting over this news) her director Darren Aronofsky accepted on her behalf and proceeded to crack jokes about her pregnancy. This led presenter Jonathan Ross to add more gags about ‘getting knocked up’ before the TV crew decided the world at home needed to see 14 year old actress Hailee Steinfeld’s reaction to these witticisms. Odd.

Actors Need Lines.
On Saturday I, quite elegantly, fucked over down my front steps, on the way to see Norwich play Reading, and dislocated my shoulder. True Story. I spent a few hours in A&E in absolute agony before they popped the little bugger back in. Still the pain probably wasn’t as bad as poor Rosamund Pike’s introduction to, of all things, Best Original Screenplay. As the Autocue bollocksed up the lovely actress was left with nothing but an expression of complete panic and an uncaring Dominic Cooper at her side. She fumbled and scrapped through it like a trooper but, ouch that must have hurt. (By the way I am typing this shit one handed with my arm in a sling. I hope you appreciate it. Oh and the people at our fine NHS are wonderful and deserve as much adulation as any of these film stars. They’re just not as pretty.)

Christopher Lee is a bona fide Legend.
At the tender age of 88, Sir Christopher Lee took to the stage, walking stick in hand, and gracefully accepted the Lifetime Achievement award. Thankful that he didn’t “receive the award posthumously” Sir Lee was anything but (surly), gratitude pouring out of his very soul. If you missed it all you really need do is check out the man’s filmography and if you feel so inclined stand at your computer and applaud. He deserves it. Oh and you could give him a nice little wave like Stephen Fry did.

The Social Network Will Win The Best Picture Oscar.
Legendary screenwriter Bill Goldman (Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid, among many others) famously opined of Hollywood, “Nobody Knows Anything”. He was, and is, very right about this. I do not know that The Social Network will win the Oscar in a fortnights time but if the BAFTA’s told us anything it’s that when it comes to film awards, patriotism abides. Just as The King’s Speech told us of our failures and successes as a nation so does The Social Network speak to America. As one clever wag put it on twitter the other day; “It’s the Great G@sby”. I suppose we’ll just have to w8 and c.

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There are, of course, a million more takes on the coupling, (the Iron and Wine ditty ‘The Trapeze Swinger’ is the one that resonates for this writer) but if you take the bulk of things that move any of us you’ll find one or the other present. Love and Death.

With its tragic subject matter etched into ever frame, Never Let Me Go promised to add to the list. It not only achieved this with admirable finesse but surpasses the marker and is elevated, instead, to one of the more important takes on both subjects for quite some time.

As she recounts her childhood days at Hailsham boarding school, Kathy H (Carey Mulligan) look back on her lost love, Tommy (Andrew Garfield), the girl that stole him away, Ruth (Keira Knightley) and the strange cirumstances of how and why she was bought into the world. To say more on the plot details would possibly remove a large amount of the hard work gone into establishing the, at times, difficult to present heart of the story. Instead simply know once again; This is a tale of Love, and this is a tale of Death.

That you will never hear the latter word uttered once is testament to the impressive job done by screenwriter Alex Garland, lifting out the terminology of the alternate world Never Let Me Go is set in, without ever cramming the more, Science Fictional aspects of the tome by Kazuo Ishiguro, down any throats. Subtlety is the order of the day. On a personal level, as a Norfolk native (and fellow UEAer) it’s touching to see the infinite yet constrictive coast given the same love by the film and its makers, as it had been given in the book.

The three central performances by Mulligan, Garfield and Knightley are outstanding. Mulligan carries the film with an oxymoronic mix of cold hearted wiser than her years strength and child like warmth and affection. Garfield, in a role that could have been played as a sap, finds enough within to make Tommy deeply loveable.

Knightley, derided as much because of other people’s jealousy as for her roles in the latter POTC films, (see here for more praise) betters her strong performances for Joe Wright (the only man until Mark Romenek who could get the best out of her) with a turn that (eventually) finds sympathy in, amongst other things, a confessional scene that in other years would win awards (more on that later).

A further commendation should also be issued to the child actors, and in particular to the casting director responsible for finding them. The young Kathy H (Isobel Meikle-Small) is so impressive that the characters transition to adulthood is so faultless you may believe the film makers waited the intervening years for the actor to achieve the age required.

Director Mark Romenak has crafted a beautiful, touching film that will stay with you long after the popcorn has been swept away and the tissues binned. That it has been both overlooked by audiences Stateside, film distributors over here (Fox all but dumped the release) and award nominating bodies everywhere, may make some doubt the success of the finished product. They shouldn’t, they should seek the film out, view it for themselves and bask in an under-appreciated triumph.

If history does in, indeed, deem Never Let Me Go a failure then may all future failures be as good.

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Fair play to you Bill but you neglected a few other choice articles. For example, few people in any civilised society would tolerate, let alone promote, the existence of Jordan and Peter Andre and no-one but no-one would proudly display their national flag with the name of the country inscribed upon it (actually that one is exclusively the cry of a few demented English).

He also, one would assume completely purposefully, neglected to praise how we as The British ‘make movies’. That would, more than likely, be down to the phrase, ‘the best place in the world’, for as patriotic as you may be, it’d be a foolhardy cineaste who believes this little Isle produces the best films in the entire world. And besides, even if we were, no true British person is that arrogant.

But every now and again we have a bloody good try and so, in honour of Time Out’s exhaustive compilation, available here (http://www.timeout.com/london/bestbritishfilms/) I decided to throw in my two pennies. Hope you do the same.

10) Brief Encounter (1945)
Once upon a time nothing defined the British like the rigidity of our upper lips. Nowadays we can all look how far we done fell and weep into out collective chips while watching ITV1′s Take Me Out. The story of ‘two married strangers that meet on a train platform and resist their urges’ may not sound like a riveting tale but trust me, by the time the final line of “Thank you for coming back to me” is uttered you’ll be a blubbering mess, but a proud, British, blubbering mess. After all, if this was American they’d have had it away before you could say “Platform 7. 6:30 To Tewkesbury”.

9) Withnail and I (1987)
Confession time. It took me more than a few attempts to ‘get’ Withnail and I. I could easily blame the ‘lethargy by medication’ lifestyle I had chosen when it was first introduced to me but every time someone attempted to show me this Great British film I was either asleep or out of the room before the 20 minute mark. Then one day, after cleaning up my then futile existence, I revisited Bruce Robinson’s classic. I discovered a film full of unique charm and gruelling grime in equal measure (the egg sandwich still makes me wretch), littered with witty dialogue, memorable characters and an ending to make you glad you hail from the shores of Shakespeare. “What piece of work is man…”

8.) The Ladykillers (1955)
If the first thing you think of when you hear the name Sir Alec Guinnes is Obi-Wan Kenobi then go rent The Ladykillers immediately. A brilliantly dark and funny film that was so untouchable it inspired the only truly duff Coen Brothers movie. Note to self: Must watch more Ealing films.

7) In Bruges (2008)
Before I’m attacked on all sides by Lucky Charm chucking leprechauns, In Bruges is ours and we want to keep it. What actually makes a film British is more than usually down to finance. So while a film like Children of Men may seem a UK product (and if so worthy of an inclusion in this list) it’s not UK enough to count. But thankfully In Bruges is. After a glut of increasingly poor sub Guy Ritchie mockney cock we were finally treated to a ‘gangster’ (and a use that word loosely) flick worthy of praise. When I initially reviewed it many moons ago I used the word ‘Fuck’ over 50 times. I’m quite proud of that.

6) The Third Man (1949)
While it might not be shown every evening on the Promotion of Swiss Cultural Heritage’s DVD player, The Third Man is a cracking thriller from one of our best writers. This just pips Graham Greene’s Brighton Rock to the post for a few reasons that have nothing to do with Orson Welles and that speech. In fact, let’s have a little praise for Joseph Cotten instead, who more than admirably holds the film until Big O turns up and hogs the Harry Limelight. Name pun!

5) Dead Man’s Shoes (2004)
Choosing just one Shane Meadows film is tough. Twenty Four Seven is a fantastic début, A Room for Romeo Brass a great ode to childhood. This Is England is harrowing and hilarious but for my money Dead Man’s Shoes beats them all. A serial killer film, where you root for the serial killer. Continuing the Great British legacy of producing the greatest actors in the world Paddy Considine is phenomenal as the brother out for revenge. Hats off to him for staying this side of the Atlantic too with fare such as the forthcoming Submarine. His directorial début, Tyrannosaur, is also due imminently. Good times.

4) Shallow Grave (1994)
It may not be as cinematic as it’s subsequent brethren of Trainspotting and the rest, but Shallow Grave is worthy of inclusion for one simple fact. It is a perfect example of what every film maker living in Britain and moaning about the state of their Film Industry should do. Get together a fantastic script, one that utilises a not unachievable budget, a cast of talented up-and-coming young actors (talented being the key word) and a simple yet brilliant premise. Job done.

3) Lawrence of Arabia (1962)
Considering he only made one film since I’ve been born I always feel it necessary to check that the David Lean who made Brief Encounter is the same David Lean who made Lawrence of Arabia. It is. And it shows just how talented the man is. When someone as successful as Spielberg says before filming anything he revisits Lawrence of Arabia you know you’re onto a winner. If for some inexplicable reason you haven’t already seen it, you may want to check it out. Back in the mid 20th Century we made films like this on a huge scale. Getting into the 21st, the consensus by leading heads of power, including our Prime Minister, is if the UK is going to make bigger films “We should make more films like Harry Potter”. Pillock. We shouldn’t. We should make more films like Lawrence of Arabia.

2) The Red Shoes (1948)
I Know Where I’m Going, The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp, Black Narcissus… I could quite easily have, in all good conscience, filled this list with films made solely by the Archers production team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. Instead I’ve picked just two. You can thank me later. The Red Shoes is, and this mustn’t be said lightly, the most visually impressive of the Archers output with yet more exquisite cinematography from the legendary Jack Cardiff. Without a cracking story though visuals aren’t enough. Thankfully this has at its core a tragic tale worthy of the great performances and wonderful aesthetics on show. If you liked Black Swan make en pointe of seeing The Red Shoes. Ballet Pun!

1) A Matter Of Life and Death (1946)
Not just my favourite British movie but quite possibly my favourite movie of all time. It has everything a film lover could want. Action, laughter, tension, special effects that would make Cameron and Lucas tumescent. It raises questions about life, death, love, the universe and everything. And it’s also so bloody romantic if you’re not moved by it, there’s really not much left for you. In this world…or the next.

Altogether now, “I’m bailing out June, I’m bailing out but there’s a catch…”

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Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) lives for ballet. As exact as anyone in her company, her director (Vincent Casel) insists she lacks the passion to accompany her technical ability and push herself forward to becoming a great dancer. When the starring role of The Swan Queen is made available Nina is given the challenging task of performing as both the elegant, fragile White Swan and the dark, sensual Black Swan. To achieve the latter, she is forced to push herself into dangerous new territory.

Arguably as big a name as any thesp of her generation, Portman, may have always been good but she has rarely convinced as one of the new great actresses. Quite aptly for the part in The Black Swan she has lived in the shadow of Leon, her terrific debut, for almost two decades. When working with accomplished directors (Mike Nichols in Closer) or when given memorable parts (Sam in Garden State) she excels, but with Black Swan this is the first time since the 12-year old hit-girl, she has acheived the thing all actors crave; transcendency. It’s the kind of fully commited performance that has been (deservedly) winning awards a-plenty.

Another feather in the film’s cap is the achingly beautiful score. For those (poor, wrong people) that hated everything about The Fountain, few could contest Clint Mansell’s breathtaking soundtrack. Here he has surpassed himself with his best work to date, adapting Tschaikovsky to fit the screen, a task much harder than it seems. It’s a shame then that the Oscars decree it ineligible for not being purely original. If ever there was a need for a best adapted score exception, it’s here.

The script is tight, hitting the structural beats at the right time, ratchetting up the tension where needed before swan-diving to the crippling denoeumont. The dialogue’s repitition does at time, however, become wearisome. The need to foreshadow the film’s events and make sure not a single audience member is missing the duality of the dancer and her dance condescends, instead of respecting, the audience watching. After all, this is a film about ballet; Fast and Furious lovers need not, and will not apply.

For Aronofsky it’s 5 for 5. For Portman, proof that her ability as an actress lies not alone in her director, but also her own bravery. There may not be a plethora of ballet movies to pick from but this riveting, unnerving display of what it takes to live a life en pointe richly deserves its place next to Powell and Pressburgers all time classic,The Red Shoes.

Just a word of warning though, if anybody refers to the previous as simply Powell’s film (as I’ve seen done in too numerous a publication to mention) I’ll personally pirouette on your crotch.

As the deeply irritating, helium voiced muppets, The Bee Gees sang “It’s only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away.” Whilst the end result of The King’s Speech is that he managed to get the words over his tongue, ultimately if he was just dictating a recipe for a cracking Toad in the Hole the film wouldn’t be worth a damn. Those words helped scared British residents feel a little less so.

As celluloid speeches go, however, it’s not quite up there with these humdingers. And no, there is no Braveheart.

#5 Compulsion (1959)
A few words won’t do to make this list. It has to be a full on, minute clocking up, waterfall of words. Unsurprisingly then we’ll find a few of these in the courtroom, one of very few places that you’re allowed to gabb on without being drowned out by an orchestra, put off by a yawn or simply somebody telling you to SHUTTHEHELLUP. The first courtroom stirrer is from the little seen, but still very classic, Compulsion. Knowing that the charges he has to defend are completely unbeatable, after all the bastards did it, Clarence Darrow gives the best argument against capital punishment ever.

#4 LOTR: Return of the King (2003)
For those angry that Braveheart isn’t here, you can see from the below that it’s not a case of “oooh look at me I hate popular films”. Instead it’s simply a preference, Mel didn’t get me going as much as the figure of Aragorn riding in front of the remainders of the Fellowhip laying his heart on the line. The fact that Viggo is almost welling up as the words come out gets me every time. By the time ‘For Frodo’ comes out, a little later, I’m a blubbering mess. If only that was the true end of the film…

#3 Good Night and Good Luck (2005)

Don’t get me wrong there is some great stuff on the telebox. Stargazing, for instance, (Brain Cox and Dara O’Briain looking at stars? Fuckin A!), Newsnight, The Only Way is Essex, but goddamn if it wouldn’t be nice if every now and again we harked back to the days of 1950′s tele. Imagine Jon Snow lighting up and monologuing about the budget cuts. On second thoughts, maybe it’s best to leave it in the past.

#2 Mr. Smith Goes To Washington (1939)

Jimmy Stewart could have a million and one speeches in this list. His drunken tale of how he met Harvey in Harvey, calling Mr. Potter out in It’s A Wonderful Life, bringing law to the wild west in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. Just chinwagging with himself carries half of Rear Window but, in what is a slightly topical inclusion, it’s the filibuster of Washington that makes the grade. After the appalling use of the political tactic to halt bills including ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ and the recent ‘First Responders’ debate in America (thankfully both won), here’s Jimmy, showing how it should be done.

#1 To Kill A Mockingbird (1962)

Gregory Peck could have defended Nazis at Nuremburg and many would have been let off with a tap on the wrist. Maybe it’s his voice, maybe it’s the way he carries himself or maybe, just maybe it’s the way he logically puts forward his case. Logically and lyrically. The presentation of reason at a time when reason was scarce.

Anybody want to argue. See me below but I expect all arguments to last at least 10 minutes with a structure inherent within, a structure worthy of Anish Kapoor.