1. THE TREE OF LIFE (d./w. Terrence Malick) Yeah, way to go, Derek, way to play down those film school stereotypes. Yes, god dammit, The Tree of Life is my favourite movie of the year. How could it not be? It’s a glorious, wide-eyed mess of an art film. It’s sumptuously shot and beautifully scored (aren’t all Terrence Malick films sumptuously shot and beautifully scored?) and takes a cleaver to narrative in such a way that I’m surprised this movie hasn’t had a museum tour yet. But for all it’s pomp and grandeur, it’s ultimately a very sweet film about nostalgia, love, compassion, hope and faith. This is the anti-Melancholia: where Lars von Trier’s film was about cosmic indifference and nihilism, Malick’s vision is one of cosmic harmony and transcendence. It would be unfair to say that The Tree of Life is a better film than Melancholia because it’s message oozes love and humanity and ultimately a little easier to swallow. The Tree of Life is a better film because it’s formally and technically a lot more adventurous than Melancholia. At times, the movie feels like a family drama set in ’50s Texas spliced with footage of a fractal being zoomed into. I cannot stress how great the macro photography and planetary set pieces feel when set against small human shit. Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain star as the parental figures here, the former stern but loving, the latter practically a saint. The whole film, really, is like a journey into Sean Penn’s mind. His memories, hopes and fears are all out on display, mingling with the infinitely large and infinitely small. This movie gets As across the board: its fractured form, warm performances, breathtaking cinematography and the overall sense of Zen calmness the movie gives are all praiseworthy. It’s the single-most idiosyncratic film released this year, full of goodwill and earnestness, and worth every ounce of praise it gets.
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1. THE TREE OF LIFE (d./w. Terrence Malick)

Yeah, way to go, Derek, way to play down those film school stereotypes. Yes, god dammit, The Tree of Life is my favourite movie of the year. How could it not be? It’s a glorious, wide-eyed mess of an art film. It’s sumptuously shot and beautifully scored (aren’t all Terrence Malick films sumptuously shot and beautifully scored?) and takes a cleaver to narrative in such a way that I’m surprised this movie hasn’t had a museum tour yet. But for all it’s pomp and grandeur, it’s ultimately a very sweet film about nostalgia, love, compassion, hope and faith. This is the anti-Melancholia: where Lars von Trier’s film was about cosmic indifference and nihilism, Malick’s vision is one of cosmic harmony and transcendence. It would be unfair to say that The Tree of Life is a better film than Melancholia because it’s message oozes love and humanity and ultimately a little easier to swallow. The Tree of Life is a better film because it’s formally and technically a lot more adventurous than Melancholia. At times, the movie feels like a family drama set in ’50s Texas spliced with footage of a fractal being zoomed into. I cannot stress how great the macro photography and planetary set pieces feel when set against small human shit. Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain star as the parental figures here, the former stern but loving, the latter practically a saint. The whole film, really, is like a journey into Sean Penn’s mind. His memories, hopes and fears are all out on display, mingling with the infinitely large and infinitely small. This movie gets As across the board: its fractured form, warm performances, breathtaking cinematography and the overall sense of Zen calmness the movie gives are all praiseworthy. It’s the single-most idiosyncratic film released this year, full of goodwill and earnestness, and worth every ounce of praise it gets.

2. DRIVE (d. Nicolas Winding Refn/w. Hossein Amini) Drive falls into the category of Existential Car Movies, the gold standard of which is 1971’s Two-Lane Blacktop. In both movies, male protagonists, who are more or less nothing without their machines, try and fail to forge meaningful relationships with others, compete with a charismatic bad guy and learn absolutely nothing by the time the credits roll. Both movies are potent allegories about how you can never really go home, but also about the near-fetishictic mentality of the driver, focusing on one thing to the detriment of all others, including oneself. Where Drive trumps Two-Lane Blacktop, however, is where atmosphere is concerned. There is a visceral, almost tactile component to Drive’s atmosphere that is, when coupled with the restrained, muted nature of damn near everything in the film, ultimately very unnerving. Propulsed (so to speak) by a pulsing ambient score by ex-Chili Pepper Cliff Martinez, the film follows the Driver, a stuntman by day and a getaway driver by night, played with remarkable stoicism by Ryan Gosling. After a botched getaway, he gets in trouble with the mob and takes matters into his own hands when love interest Irene, played by Carey Mulligan, gets involved. Both director Refn and screenwriter Amini take great care to keep the proceedings low-key and tense, so when the spurts of action and/or grizzly violence come around to shake things up, they feel that much more powerful. In addition, every single one of these intense beats serves to chart how deep the hole the Driver finds himself in actually is. Also praiseworthy are Albert Brooks’ awesome turn as ruthless gangster Bernie Rose and Newton Sigel’s tasty neon-lit cinematography. Drive is both meditative and intense, an artful genre film free of irony. A polished beast.
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2. DRIVE (d. Nicolas Winding Refn/w. Hossein Amini)

Drive falls into the category of Existential Car Movies, the gold standard of which is 1971’s Two-Lane Blacktop. In both movies, male protagonists, who are more or less nothing without their machines, try and fail to forge meaningful relationships with others, compete with a charismatic bad guy and learn absolutely nothing by the time the credits roll. Both movies are potent allegories about how you can never really go home, but also about the near-fetishictic mentality of the driver, focusing on one thing to the detriment of all others, including oneself. Where Drive trumps Two-Lane Blacktop, however, is where atmosphere is concerned. There is a visceral, almost tactile component to Drive’s atmosphere that is, when coupled with the restrained, muted nature of damn near everything in the film, ultimately very unnerving. Propulsed (so to speak) by a pulsing ambient score by ex-Chili Pepper Cliff Martinez, the film follows the Driver, a stuntman by day and a getaway driver by night, played with remarkable stoicism by Ryan Gosling. After a botched getaway, he gets in trouble with the mob and takes matters into his own hands when love interest Irene, played by Carey Mulligan, gets involved. Both director Refn and screenwriter Amini take great care to keep the proceedings low-key and tense, so when the spurts of action and/or grizzly violence come around to shake things up, they feel that much more powerful. In addition, every single one of these intense beats serves to chart how deep the hole the Driver finds himself in actually is. Also praiseworthy are Albert Brooks’ awesome turn as ruthless gangster Bernie Rose and Newton Sigel’s tasty neon-lit cinematography. Drive is both meditative and intense, an artful genre film free of irony. A polished beast.

3. HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN (d./w. Jason Eisener) All hail the new king of Canuxploitation! Born from a trailer contest held to promote Grindhouse, Jason Eisener’s gleefully over-the-top drive-in homage Hobo With a Shotgun engages in a game of exploitative oneupsmanship with itself and wins every single time. Rutger Hauer is at the center of this hurricane of excess, playing the titular hobo. Hauer does the best thing anyone can do here: play his role super-low-key to let the carnage works its magic: he is totally game for every mad thing that happens in this film. Everything is this movie is dialed to up to 11: the scenery-chewing performances, the garishly-coloured cinematography, the exaggerated camera movements, the idiot-savant dialogue and, of course, the centerpiece, lots of improbable, carnivalesque bloodshed and violence. This is a movie you either love or loathe, and here’s a good litmus test. The first scene climaxes as follows: Ricky from Trailer Park Boys, wearing a manhole cover around his neck, gets chased into an open manhole. He then gets decapitated with some chicken wire and a Town Car, at which point blood spurts out samurai movie-style. Then out of nowhere, a chick comes into frame and writhes in the bloodspurt. If you think this is at all appealing, I don’t have to explain to why this movie is worth seeing. Sure, this is all done in jest, but a movie that takes absolutely no prisoners and dares you to laugh like this comes along only once in a blue moon. It’s the ultimate in splatter comedy, full of quotable dialogue and gut-busting tastelessness. I sincerely hope that this is the first in a new wave of Canuxploitation movies that are super-fun and super-excessive
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3. HOBO WITH A SHOTGUN (d./w. Jason Eisener)

All hail the new king of Canuxploitation! Born from a trailer contest held to promote Grindhouse, Jason Eisener’s gleefully over-the-top drive-in homage Hobo With a Shotgun engages in a game of exploitative oneupsmanship with itself and wins every single time. Rutger Hauer is at the center of this hurricane of excess, playing the titular hobo. Hauer does the best thing anyone can do here: play his role super-low-key to let the carnage works its magic: he is totally game for every mad thing that happens in this film. Everything is this movie is dialed to up to 11: the scenery-chewing performances, the garishly-coloured cinematography, the exaggerated camera movements, the idiot-savant dialogue and, of course, the centerpiece, lots of improbable, carnivalesque bloodshed and violence. This is a movie you either love or loathe, and here’s a good litmus test. The first scene climaxes as follows: Ricky from Trailer Park Boys, wearing a manhole cover around his neck, gets chased into an open manhole. He then gets decapitated with some chicken wire and a Town Car, at which point blood spurts out samurai movie-style. Then out of nowhere, a chick comes into frame and writhes in the bloodspurt. If you think this is at all appealing, I don’t have to explain to why this movie is worth seeing. Sure, this is all done in jest, but a movie that takes absolutely no prisoners and dares you to laugh like this comes along only once in a blue moon. It’s the ultimate in splatter comedy, full of quotable dialogue and gut-busting tastelessness. I sincerely hope that this is the first in a new wave of Canuxploitation movies that are super-fun and super-excessive

4. TATSUMI (d./w. Eric Khoo) The little Singaporean animated film that could. Based on Yoshihiro Tatsumi’s manga/memoir A Drifting Life, Tatsumi pulls an impressive double-shift over the course of its running time. On the one hand, it is a biographical film, tracing the life and times of Tatsumi and the creation of the gekiga subgenre of manga, told with taste and restraint and reverences for colleagues and masters, chief of which was Osamu Tezuka. On the other hand, it’s a succinct overview of Tatsumi’s best work: three short comics are animated here and split the biographical arc in four. Like Persepolis before it, Tatsumi borrows the art style of its source material and casts the creator as themselves in their own story. But while Persepolis was a biographical work in itself, Tatsumi keeps the biography and the work of the creator separate. The biography portion is animated in vivid watercolour, while the fiction vignettes are brought to life in stark, gritty black and white. And this is where Tatsumi gets most of its power. Tatsumi’s stories are some dark, depressing shit: no hope, no happiness, only resignation, failure, impotence and regret. Depressing, heavy stuff, full of post-war anxiety and modern-era isolation. What’s amazing is that the biographical portion of the film paints Tatsumi as a genial young artist oozing joy, hope and gratitude who’s trying to find both his voice and himself in the big city. It’s a masterclass in separating art from creator, not to mention brilliantly animated and excellently written.
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4. TATSUMI (d./w. Eric Khoo)

The little Singaporean animated film that could. Based on Yoshihiro Tatsumi’s manga/memoir A Drifting Life, Tatsumi pulls an impressive double-shift over the course of its running time. On the one hand, it is a biographical film, tracing the life and times of Tatsumi and the creation of the gekiga subgenre of manga, told with taste and restraint and reverences for colleagues and masters, chief of which was Osamu Tezuka. On the other hand, it’s a succinct overview of Tatsumi’s best work: three short comics are animated here and split the biographical arc in four. Like Persepolis before it, Tatsumi borrows the art style of its source material and casts the creator as themselves in their own story. But while Persepolis was a biographical work in itself, Tatsumi keeps the biography and the work of the creator separate. The biography portion is animated in vivid watercolour, while the fiction vignettes are brought to life in stark, gritty black and white. And this is where Tatsumi gets most of its power. Tatsumi’s stories are some dark, depressing shit: no hope, no happiness, only resignation, failure, impotence and regret. Depressing, heavy stuff, full of post-war anxiety and modern-era isolation. What’s amazing is that the biographical portion of the film paints Tatsumi as a genial young artist oozing joy, hope and gratitude who’s trying to find both his voice and himself in the big city. It’s a masterclass in separating art from creator, not to mention brilliantly animated and excellently written.

5. THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (d. David Fincher/w. Steven Zaillian) David Fincher knows his way around dark thrillers and murky whodunits, so him adapting The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo makes perfect sense. Unflicnhing, detatched direction? Check. Polished violence? Check. Unnerving paranoia and Bible-inspired serial killing? Oh, you bet your ass. Fincher and Steve Zaillian’s adaptation of Steig Larson’s worldwide best-seller (the second adaptation in three year, no less) is a stark, sharp little detective story with a healthy helping of family infighting and semi-graphic rape revenge. The script is smart and technologically astute (the attention to detail in regards to technology here is refreshing; none of that CSI floating-OS bullshit), and the whole cast brings their A-game, notably lead actress Rooney Mara. She plays Lisbeth Salander with a fire and intensity that is downright mesmerizing. Like, some Oscar-level stuff here. Daniel Craig, as writer-cum-investigator Mikhail Blomqvist, plays a skilled but sometimes bumbling man hired to solve a cold case in the north of Sweden. There’s an inviting humanity and vulnerability in Craig’s performance, which is at the center of a movie filled with shut-ins and fuck-ups. For the second Fincher movie in a row, the scoring tag team of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provide a winning, glitched-out soundtrack to the proceedings. They even toss in a cracked, buzzing cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” (sung by Karen O of Yeah Yeah Yeahs fame) in the opening credits for good measure. Also of note is Jeff Cronenweth’s cinematography, turning the Swedish north into even more of a cold, barren place than it already is. A Fincher vet, Cronenweth has a knack for making anything look grim. So this film is the total package, and certainly in the upper echelon of both the director’s and writer’s work.
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5. THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO (d. David Fincher/w. Steven Zaillian)

David Fincher knows his way around dark thrillers and murky whodunits, so him adapting The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo makes perfect sense. Unflicnhing, detatched direction? Check. Polished violence? Check. Unnerving paranoia and Bible-inspired serial killing? Oh, you bet your ass. Fincher and Steve Zaillian’s adaptation of Steig Larson’s worldwide best-seller (the second adaptation in three year, no less) is a stark, sharp little detective story with a healthy helping of family infighting and semi-graphic rape revenge. The script is smart and technologically astute (the attention to detail in regards to technology here is refreshing; none of that CSI floating-OS bullshit), and the whole cast brings their A-game, notably lead actress Rooney Mara. She plays Lisbeth Salander with a fire and intensity that is downright mesmerizing. Like, some Oscar-level stuff here. Daniel Craig, as writer-cum-investigator Mikhail Blomqvist, plays a skilled but sometimes bumbling man hired to solve a cold case in the north of Sweden. There’s an inviting humanity and vulnerability in Craig’s performance, which is at the center of a movie filled with shut-ins and fuck-ups. For the second Fincher movie in a row, the scoring tag team of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross provide a winning, glitched-out soundtrack to the proceedings. They even toss in a cracked, buzzing cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song” (sung by Karen O of Yeah Yeah Yeahs fame) in the opening credits for good measure. Also of note is Jeff Cronenweth’s cinematography, turning the Swedish north into even more of a cold, barren place than it already is. A Fincher vet, Cronenweth has a knack for making anything look grim. So this film is the total package, and certainly in the upper echelon of both the director’s and writer’s work.

6. THE ARTIST (d./w. Michel Hazanavicius) It sounds like the most gimmicky set-up in a good long while: a French film, made silent and in black and white, that celebrates the Hollywood silent era. But after a couple of minutes, you forget about the gimmick, because it feels like you’re watching the real deal. It’s a testament to Michel Hazanavicius’ skills as a writer and director that he can make a 1920s film for a 21st century audience and make it sing, so to speak. What risks becoming precious is ultimately quite sweet and pointedly clever. The Artist oozes meta-humour and good-humoured gaggery, but doesn’t skimp on the tasty, tasty classic-era melodrama: it’s all the best bits of classic and modern cinema in a single, enjoyable-as-hell package. Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo are both stellar as the cocky silent film star and the plucky newcomer to the talkies, respectively. The movie’s greatest asset, however, is Ludovic Bource’s big, brassy score, tailored to perfection for a throwback film like this. Some frown upon Bource’s use of Vertigo’s “Love Theme,” but as far as I’m concerned, everything is fair game in love and homages (no one makes a stink that the movie also more or less anachronistically “rips off” Wild Strawberries, too). Ultimately, though, it’s The Artist’s melding of a love and respect of classic form and a playful interaction with said form that makes this movie very much worth seeing.
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6. THE ARTIST (d./w. Michel Hazanavicius)

It sounds like the most gimmicky set-up in a good long while: a French film, made silent and in black and white, that celebrates the Hollywood silent era. But after a couple of minutes, you forget about the gimmick, because it feels like you’re watching the real deal. It’s a testament to Michel Hazanavicius’ skills as a writer and director that he can make a 1920s film for a 21st century audience and make it sing, so to speak. What risks becoming precious is ultimately quite sweet and pointedly clever. The Artist oozes meta-humour and good-humoured gaggery, but doesn’t skimp on the tasty, tasty classic-era melodrama: it’s all the best bits of classic and modern cinema in a single, enjoyable-as-hell package. Jean Dujardin and Bérénice Bejo are both stellar as the cocky silent film star and the plucky newcomer to the talkies, respectively. The movie’s greatest asset, however, is Ludovic Bource’s big, brassy score, tailored to perfection for a throwback film like this. Some frown upon Bource’s use of Vertigo’s “Love Theme,” but as far as I’m concerned, everything is fair game in love and homages (no one makes a stink that the movie also more or less anachronistically “rips off” Wild Strawberries, too). Ultimately, though, it’s The Artist’s melding of a love and respect of classic form and a playful interaction with said form that makes this movie very much worth seeing.

7. MELANCHOLIA (w./d. Lars von Trier) I’m fairly certain that Lars von Trier named his latest Melancholia solely because Fuck Your Depression and Fuck Your Petty Bourgeois Bullshit Because the Apocalypse is Nigh wouldn’t have fit nicely on a poster. No one does family drama with the flair or panache that von Trier does, and Melancholia takes that drama to a whole new level, setting it against the backdrop of the End Times. It truly takes balls to destroy the whole planet in the first sequence of the movie, but it takes skill to make striking and painterly. It also takes skill to make the audience hope for an eleventh-hour solution when it’s already been established that there will not be one. Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg play sisters who are gathered at a fancy castle/hotel for the former’s wedding. Dunst, as it turns out, suffers from depression, and her family won’t have any of it. They feel like it’s a form of self-sabotage: everything is in the cards for happiness. Why can’t she just be happy, god dammit? Along comes the end of the world, and the tables of depression turn. Gainsbourg, the upright respectable sister, progressively crumbles before the void, while Dunst gains a kind of depressive clarity and acceptance regarding the apocalypse. von Trier’s vision of cosmic indifference is a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s the strength of the writing and the performances that makes the whole deal imminently watchable. Dunst is good here, but Gainsbourg is great, delivering a heartbreaking performance as a woman who goes from keeping face to completely losing it. It’s a grandiose, beautiful bummer of a movie that confirms Lars von Trier’s position as one of the finest, most difficult directors working today.
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7. MELANCHOLIA (w./d. Lars von Trier)

I’m fairly certain that Lars von Trier named his latest Melancholia solely because Fuck Your Depression and Fuck Your Petty Bourgeois Bullshit Because the Apocalypse is Nigh wouldn’t have fit nicely on a poster. No one does family drama with the flair or panache that von Trier does, and Melancholia takes that drama to a whole new level, setting it against the backdrop of the End Times. It truly takes balls to destroy the whole planet in the first sequence of the movie, but it takes skill to make striking and painterly. It also takes skill to make the audience hope for an eleventh-hour solution when it’s already been established that there will not be one. Kirsten Dunst and Charlotte Gainsbourg play sisters who are gathered at a fancy castle/hotel for the former’s wedding. Dunst, as it turns out, suffers from depression, and her family won’t have any of it. They feel like it’s a form of self-sabotage: everything is in the cards for happiness. Why can’t she just be happy, god dammit? Along comes the end of the world, and the tables of depression turn. Gainsbourg, the upright respectable sister, progressively crumbles before the void, while Dunst gains a kind of depressive clarity and acceptance regarding the apocalypse. von Trier’s vision of cosmic indifference is a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s the strength of the writing and the performances that makes the whole deal imminently watchable. Dunst is good here, but Gainsbourg is great, delivering a heartbreaking performance as a woman who goes from keeping face to completely losing it. It’s a grandiose, beautiful bummer of a movie that confirms Lars von Trier’s position as one of the finest, most difficult directors working today.

8. RED STATE (d./w. Kevin Smith) I didn’t think he had it in him, and let’s face it, neither did you. Kevin Smith hadn’t made a great movie since his first, Clerks, way back in 1994. While some of his subsequent features were enjoyable, none were really superb. In fact, a few of them were outright terrible (Cop Out, anyone?). But there was a considerable amount of buzz surroundling Red State, a lot of it positive. Much was made of Smith’s chosen method of distribution, but also that it was actually pretty good. Right they were: Red State, a “fundementalist horror/thriller,” is Smith’s best movie in over 15 years. It starts off with a bait-and-switch: for the first 10 or 15 minutes, it feels like another raunchy sex-com, but the vibe turns sinister quickly and what we are left with is a creepy anti-sermon that takes its sweet time delivering chills and mayhem. From there, Red State is alternately tense and chaotic, a tight expertly-crafted thriller. Anchored by a trio of fine performances (a creepy Michael Parks, a hysterical Melissa Leo and an always rock-solid John Goodman) and featuring some stellar directing from Smith (who was never one to direct with style), Red State shift gears effortlessly between jokes, tension, creepiness and anarchy. This is the least Kevin Smith-y film Kevin Smith has ever made, and getting out of the comfort zone has delivered in spades.
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8. RED STATE (d./w. Kevin Smith)

I didn’t think he had it in him, and let’s face it, neither did you. Kevin Smith hadn’t made a great movie since his first, Clerks, way back in 1994. While some of his subsequent features were enjoyable, none were really superb. In fact, a few of them were outright terrible (Cop Out, anyone?). But there was a considerable amount of buzz surroundling Red State, a lot of it positive. Much was made of Smith’s chosen method of distribution, but also that it was actually pretty good. Right they were: Red State, a “fundementalist horror/thriller,” is Smith’s best movie in over 15 years. It starts off with a bait-and-switch: for the first 10 or 15 minutes, it feels like another raunchy sex-com, but the vibe turns sinister quickly and what we are left with is a creepy anti-sermon that takes its sweet time delivering chills and mayhem. From there, Red State is alternately tense and chaotic, a tight expertly-crafted thriller. Anchored by a trio of fine performances (a creepy Michael Parks, a hysterical Melissa Leo and an always rock-solid John Goodman) and featuring some stellar directing from Smith (who was never one to direct with style), Red State shift gears effortlessly between jokes, tension, creepiness and anarchy. This is the least Kevin Smith-y film Kevin Smith has ever made, and getting out of the comfort zone has delivered in spades.

9. ATTACK THE BLOCK (d./w. Joe Cornish) My my my, Joe Cornish has had quite the year, no? Good fortune smiled upon the veteran British comedian as his sci-fi baby Attack the Block became a festival hit, playing midnight runs and genre festivals on both sides of the Atlantic. This is the stuff that midnight-movie dreams are made of: a vicious race of aliens descend upon a South London apartment complex and it’s up to five lads to fend ‘em off and get to the bottom of it. As with Tintin, this movie is just straight-up fun from top to bottom. It gets everything just right, from the John Carpernter shock-scare horror-vibe to the Goonies-esque group of misfits and the way they interact amongst themselves and with others. Worth nothing as well is Basement Jaxx’s excellent score, providing the right balance between action-movie cool and tense alien-busting atmosphere. I also want to single out John Boyega’s performance as Moses, the group’s unofficial leader. Boyega proves to be a very capable and charismatic leading man, taking his character from scoundrel to hero very convincingly. As it stands, Attack the Block is a great throwback to that distant time where underdog kids could band together and take on an otherworldy force and maybe learn a little something about themselves in the process. God bless the 1980s creature feature.
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9. ATTACK THE BLOCK (d./w. Joe Cornish)

My my my, Joe Cornish has had quite the year, no? Good fortune smiled upon the veteran British comedian as his sci-fi baby Attack the Block became a festival hit, playing midnight runs and genre festivals on both sides of the Atlantic. This is the stuff that midnight-movie dreams are made of: a vicious race of aliens descend upon a South London apartment complex and it’s up to five lads to fend ‘em off and get to the bottom of it. As with Tintin, this movie is just straight-up fun from top to bottom. It gets everything just right, from the John Carpernter shock-scare horror-vibe to the Goonies-esque group of misfits and the way they interact amongst themselves and with others. Worth nothing as well is Basement Jaxx’s excellent score, providing the right balance between action-movie cool and tense alien-busting atmosphere. I also want to single out John Boyega’s performance as Moses, the group’s unofficial leader. Boyega proves to be a very capable and charismatic leading man, taking his character from scoundrel to hero very convincingly. As it stands, Attack the Block is a great throwback to that distant time where underdog kids could band together and take on an otherworldy force and maybe learn a little something about themselves in the process. God bless the 1980s creature feature.

10. THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN (d. Steven Spielberg, w. Steven Moffat, Edgar Wright, Joe Cornish) It has been said often, but it bears repeating: Steven Spielberg is a master of spectacle. You need someone to make an airtight, super-exciting action/adventure film? He’s your man. Well, he’s also your man if you want a sweeping, stirring, emotional wartime movie, but we’re not discussing those here. The Adventures of Tintin, adapted from the comics by Belgian cartoonist Hergé, finds the boy detective on a globetrotting adventure to find the titular secret of the Unicorn, an old warship. The half-motion capture/half-anmation gambit pays off, giving out very few uncanny-valley vibes. It helps if you have a motion-capture vet like Andy Serkis on hand as one of the leads (seriously, Serkis is like the Marlon Brando of motion-capture acting). Serkis’ Captain Haddock is every bit as swashbuckling and coarse as one would hope. The animation angle also gives Spielberg room to work in some striking large-scale images. Credit is also due to the trio of writers involved, who keep the wit, warmth and pacing of the comics intact here. Bonus points go to Steven Moffat, whose penchant for sharp, knotty storytelling finds an unlikely place to bloom here: chase scenes. It’s an exhilirating and crowdpleasing piece of work that’s fun as hell and well worth a look.
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10. THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN (d. Steven Spielberg, w. Steven Moffat, Edgar Wright, Joe Cornish)

It has been said often, but it bears repeating: Steven Spielberg is a master of spectacle. You need someone to make an airtight, super-exciting action/adventure film? He’s your man. Well, he’s also your man if you want a sweeping, stirring, emotional wartime movie, but we’re not discussing those here. The Adventures of Tintin, adapted from the comics by Belgian cartoonist Hergé, finds the boy detective on a globetrotting adventure to find the titular secret of the Unicorn, an old warship. The half-motion capture/half-anmation gambit pays off, giving out very few uncanny-valley vibes. It helps if you have a motion-capture vet like Andy Serkis on hand as one of the leads (seriously, Serkis is like the Marlon Brando of motion-capture acting). Serkis’ Captain Haddock is every bit as swashbuckling and coarse as one would hope. The animation angle also gives Spielberg room to work in some striking large-scale images. Credit is also due to the trio of writers involved, who keep the wit, warmth and pacing of the comics intact here. Bonus points go to Steven Moffat, whose penchant for sharp, knotty storytelling finds an unlikely place to bloom here: chase scenes. It’s an exhilirating and crowdpleasing piece of work that’s fun as hell and well worth a look.