Ian Freer

Silent stunner.

Of course, Scorsese delivers a stunning, gangster flick but The Irishman is so much more, a melancholy eulogy for growing old and losing your humanity. Savour every one of its 209 minutes, you won’t regret it.

Inside Out is audacious as it is silly, as funny as it is imaginative.

Audacious, retro, funny and heartfelt, La La Land is the latest great musical for people who don’t like musicals – and will slap a mile-wide smile across the most miserable of faces.

Set in the unpromising world of German business consultancy, Toni Erdmann is a low-key triumph, especially for writer-director Maren Ade and star Sandra Hüller. A weird, thoughtful, affecting treat.

TÁR is a masterwork. A gripping, grown-up movie superbly orchestrated by Todd Field and perfectly played by a virtuoso, career-best Cate Blanchett. 158 minutes rarely flies by so quickly.

Arguably Woody's finest, now neurotic intellectuals have a film they can cherish.

Slow and difficult to get a hold on, Burning emerges as a brilliantly made one-off; puzzling, intelligent and ultimately mesmerising. And Jong-seo Jun is a revelation.

The bizarre intersection between Ryūsuke Hamaguchi, Haruki Murakami and Anton Chekhov makes for a thematically fat, ambiguous, absorbing psycho-sexual drama. It’s not for the impatient, but it’s so precise and delicate, you won’t notice the gear-changes.

Time may be shot in black and white but the world it captures is anything but clear-cut. By turns moving and angry, it’s a thought-provoking hymn to love, family and the power of Black female courage.

If The Force Awakens raised a lot of questions, The Last Jedi tackles them head-on, delivering answers that will shock and awe in equal measure. Fun, funny but with emotional heft, this is a mouth-watering set-up for Episode IX and a fitting tribute to Carrie Fisher.

Weird, dirty but accessible, The Favourite is a perfectly performed, thrillingly made period picture that morphs before your very eyes. Come for the top-drawer hi-jinx; stay for a moving look at human foibles and frailties.

First Cow is archetypal Kelly Reichardt, slow, small and perfectly formed, elevated by stellar but understated performances from John Magaro and Orion Lee.

Joanna Hogg delivers an object lesson in how to deliver a follow-up: deeper, funnier, more imaginative than its predecessor, The Souvenir Part II is a filmmaker working at the peak of her powers.

For Sama powerfully mixes the personal and the political to thought-provoking, emotional ends. The result is one of the best documentaries of 2019.

Although peppered with colourful, sharply drawn characters, this is Stewart's movie, instantly loveable as a small town dreamer who sacrifices everything for others. His journey to despair and back warms the cockles like little else. Enjoy it in a cinema so you can sob among others.

Anomalisa has more heart, soul and pathos than 99.9 per cent of live-action movies. The best hotel-set love story since "Lost In Translation."

Clint Bentley’s Train Dreams is a peach of a picture. At once miniaturist yet epic, it’s an exquisite film that touches on every human emotion – agony, ecstasy, discovery, surprise, togetherness, loneliness – without contrivance or strain.

Sweet Country is epic and personal, daring to tell a simple story in a challenging, arresting way. It’s a demanding two hours but leavened by great performances, especially from newcomer Hamilton Morris.

It might not have the oomph of "Winter’s Bone," but this is a sympathetic, affecting, beautifully realised portrait of lives lived on the margins.

Almodóvar juggles comedy and drama to terrifically entertaining ends, aided by a tip-top Penélope Cruz. It’s hard to think of a more exciting actor-director partnership working today.

Beautifully played — especially by Wang Jingchun — So Long, My Son is sprawling, audacious, sometimes bewildering, ultimately moving. It tests your patience but it’s worth it.

Apollo 11 isn’t a film about the facts and stats of the mission to reach the moon. Instead, it’s about how it feels to be in space and on the ground as history is made. Stunning, stirring stuff.

A moving hymn to outsiders, this thrives on two criminally good performances from Melissa McCarthy and Richard E. Grant. It also confirms Marielle Heller as one of the brightest directorial talents around.

A consummate display of populist weepie-making.

Pain & Glory might see Almodóvar working in a minor key but it is a major work, graced with career-best work from Antonio Banderas.

The Verdict Underground is hypnotic but clear-eyed, finding a different way to put a musical biography on film. And for all its radical formalism, it never forgets to be entertaining.

Larger than life, faintly ridiculous, completely cool, Goldfinger is the quintessential James Bond movie.

Scorsese is the Bob Dylan of cinema – poetic, truthful, idiosyncratic – and Rolling Thunder, despite some longueurs, is an important document of a major artist – by a major artist.

Nomadland is a Springsteen song in movie form, a beautifully rendered tale of what it means to be disenfranchised in America. Life on the road has never been so tenderly captured, politically alive and profoundly moving.

Perhaps the most ironic title of 2021, Hope isn’t filmmaking to set the pulses racing. Instead it’s a quiet, nuanced study of how a couple who have drifted apart deal with the direst of circumstances, perfectly played by Andrea Bræin Hovig and Stellan Skarsgård.

Happy As Lazzaro is s-l-o-w and its narrative twist will alienate some. But this is deliberate, singular filmmaking, at once poetic and down-to-earth, from an unsung talent. Let’s be clear: Alice Rohrwacher should cherished.

A sanitised version of Spielberg’s film, let alone Walker’s novel. But bravura musical sequences and a top-notch cast ensure smiles and tears come the end credits.

Renaissance: A Film By Beyoncé achieves total Beyhem, a riot of colour, spectacle, inventive staging, stunning vocals and gorgeous grooves. As a self-portrait, it might not delve as deep as you’d like, but it offers a thrilling lesson in what it takes to be a pop icon.

One Cut Of The Dead is a true original, a fresh take on the zombie apocalypse drama and much more besides.

Schrader’s best in yonks, a powerful meditation on faith’s place in the modern world. Hawke, as a kind of Travis Bickle in a dog collar, gives one of the performances of the year.

One Fine Morning is Mia Hansen-Løve on tip top form, drawing a fantastic lead performance from a never-better Léa Seydoux. Some flicks need a bearded assassin or ghostface killer to create drama. Hansen-Løve just needs the stuff of real life.

It may be formally unadventurous but A Real Pain is a real treat, a tender, funny treatise on family jealousies and our relationship to the past. Simultaneously light and heavy, it soars on the stellar pairing of Eisenberg and Culkin.

Jia’s grip slackens slightly at the end but, especially in its middle section, Ash Is Purest White is engrossing, surprising and affecting, held together by a towering performance from Tao – her gaze alone should carry a licence to kill.

The title Varda By Agnès is apt, a portrait that is both expansive and personal, intellectually sharp but full of fun and heart. A film that is both an entertaining gateway and fitting eulogy to a giant talent.

What matters is the affection Wang has for his characters and the portrait of assimilation represented by the characters the amateur sleuths encounter. Whimsical, certainly, but also generous, insightful and funny.

The Truffle Hunters is a low-key delight, a poignant lament for a fading art that doubles as foodie heaven. Go on a full stomach.

If it’s not top-drawer QT, Once Upon A Time In Hollywood is at once an engaging buddy comedy, an intoxicating fact and fiction mash-up, gorgeous filmmaking and a valentine to the movies that delivers geek nirvana.

So intense you’ll want to scarper but so riveting you can’t leave, Sirāt is an assault on the senses, mind and emotions. If only all movies took swings this bold.

Understated performances and unflashy filmmaking coalesce into an absorbing mixture of the personal and the political. It may take its time but, given the circumstances of its making, this is an extraordinary achievement.

The Vast Of Night is a modest film about small-town dreamers that delivers big-time rewards and announces a singular, exciting talent in director Andrew Patterson.

Dark, disturbing and difficult, this is a deep dive into a troubled headspace and never lets you leave. Ramsay is now four for four, one of our most exciting filmmakers. If she could not leave it so long next time, that’s just fine with us.

On Her Shoulders is a compassionate, level-headed portrait of a remarkable woman. What it lacks in filmmaking fireworks, it makes up for in the sheer magnetism and moxie of its hero.

If it lacks filmmaking fireworks and emotional wallop, The Children Act delivers a sensitive, thoughtful drama about complicated issues. And it is another reminder, if one were needed, of the subtlety and skill of Emma Thompson’s stratospheric talent.

Sensitively made, thought-provoking and ultimately moving, The Reason I Jump provides telling insights into the neurodiverse worldview. The result is a powerful documentary that presents life through fresh eyes.

It leans too heavily into ham-fisted cliché but Jack Huston’s debut gets by on a striking look and a clutch of strong performances led by an excellent Michael C. Pitt.

Place your faith in Saint Maud. Original, unsettling and surprisingly moving, it’s a strong calling card for filmmaker Rose Glass and actor Morfydd Clark.

It may have a tenuous relationship with nuance, but RRR is a bombastic delight. Making the Fast And Furious series look restrained by comparison, it hits the parts Hollywood actioners just can’t reach. Rise! Roar! Revelation!

Mike Cheslik’s Hundreds Of Beavers is that rare thing in the current film landscape: a genuine cult classic.

You don’t have to be cray-cray for Tay-Tay to enjoy The Eras Tour. Taylor’s version of a concert flick might not reinvent the music movie wheel but, as a gift to the hardcore or a primer to her immense talent, it works a treat.

A high-concept idea with a low concept approach, Marjorie Prime is cerebral, talk-driven sci-fi lit up by a compelling exploration of big ideas and across-the-board strong performances from the small cast (especially Smith). A treat for the brain and soul.

A beautifully argued parable about the need to go where life takes you, Darius Marder’s debut thrives on the soul of Riz Ahmed and the bold creativity of sound designer Nicholas Becker. Together they make Sound Of Metal sing.

A film as much about its form as content, Madeline’s Madeline is a difficult-to-watch but heady mixture of raw emotion, big ideas and cinematic fireworks. If for no other reason, see it now to be on the ground floor at the unveiling of a new star: Helena Howard.

Superbly written and performed by actual friends Kyle Marvin and Michael Angelo Covino, The Climb is a smart, funny, small-scale delight. More please.

Liam Gallagher: As It Was lacks the narrative shape and drama of previous Oasis doc Supersonic, but provides an interesting snapshot of an artist in transition, both professionally and personally.

Claire Oakley has created a vivid sensory experience out of limited means. Make Up is anything but cosmetic — it gets right under the skin.

A made-for-TV movie that proved so remarkable it received a theatrical release (first in Europe, then 10 years later in the US), Spielberg's calling card is as distinctive a piece of visual storytelling as you're ever likely to see.

The Dissident explodes genres by combining them, equal parts political analysis, murder investigation, cyber thriller and paean to free speech. It also celebrates the life of late journalist Jamal Khashoggi, who tirelessly gave a voice to the voiceless. 

Riders Of Justice is an oddball delight. Taking a leaf from the Coens’ playbook, it’s by turns ultra-violent then drily funny and surprisingly wise. Come for Mikkelsen, stay for his winning band of lovable losers.

There is some nice insight into cycling-team practices, but overall The Racer lacks sufficient nuance, specificity and originality to nab the yellow jersey.

A low-key treat about rising above the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, The Dog Who Wouldn’t Be Quiet is something to shout about.

Filled with both passive aggression and aggressive aggression, The Nest has the trappings of a haunted-house movie but delivers something much scarier — the slow death of a marriage, performed to perfection by Jude Law and Carrie Coon.

The Chambermaid is a poignant portrait of one of life’s have-nots, sensitively played by Cartol as a woman slowly sinking into non-existence.

If it adds little in the way of dissenting voices or a different viewpoint, Explorer tells the tale of a remarkable, stranger-than-fiction life and emerges as an affecting, entertaining portrait of a true eccentric.

Ray & Liz is undoubtedly a difficult watch, a searing portrait of a family that has come apart at the seams. But, creating an astute sense of atmosphere and detail that come together to make meaning, Richard Billingham marks himself out as a filmmaker to watch.

Western Stars is not only a concert film presenting 13 Springsteen bangers, plus one great cover. Showcasing his charisma, wit, thoughtfulness and vulnerability, it emerges as a telling portrait of one of music’s modern greats.

Midway is a big, bold, brazen attempt to detail one of World War II’s most significant moments. But in a post Saving Private Ryan-Dunkirk landscape, it feels astonishing anyone is still making war movies like this.

Anchored by another great turn from Matt Damon, The Martian mixes smarts, laughs, weird character bits and tension on a huge canvas. The result is Scott’s most purely enjoyable film for ages.

Hugely affecting and perfectly played, Nowhere Special is a peach of a picture.

Part political drama, part history lesson, part gripping spy thriller, Coup 53 gives what has been relegated to a small footnote in Iran’s story the big, expansive, dramatic treatment it deserves.

An early entry into documenting Covid-19, Totally Under Control doesn’t have all the answers, but it is a vital, powerful examination of how one political administration could get something so wrong by ignoring the experts.

This is the film Brian Wilson’s talent deserves: original, smart and affecting.

If you don’t like Malick’s movies, A Hidden Life won’t convert you. But this is the filmmaker on sublime form, putting his artistry and obsessions at the service of something frighteningly relevant.

Just missing out on top-tier Hansen-Løve, Bergman Island is beautifully played — especially by Krieps and Wasikowska — and retains all the hallmarks of her best work; an intelligent, personal, heartfelt treat.

It could easily be twee twaddle, but A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood is a nuanced, formally playful delight, a perfectly pitched and played ode to goodness. All hail Marielle Heller.

Orson Welles’ final film is an infuriating, brilliant, personal sign off, filled with stunning images, wit and bravura to spare. In short it’s everything you hoped it would be.

If you hear the Rocky theme and think '118 118', you might wonder what all the fuss is about. For the rest of us, this is a reminder of why we fell in love with the character in the first place.

Shot in stunning black-and-white, Mank delivers Hollywood in a multitude of greys. Built on a towering performance by Gary Oldman, it’s smart, sophisticated, by turns thrilling and difficult, and amongst Fincher’s best.

Less showy than The Last Temptation Of Christ, more gripping than Kundun, the third part of Scorsese’s unofficial ‘religious’ trilogy is beautifully made, staggeringly ambitious and utterly compelling.

A landmark film book gets its just deserts. The cleverly curated clips are stunning and the analysis thought-provoking in this richly rewarding piece.

By turns impressive and oppressive, Petrov’s Flu combines technical razzle-dazzle with obtuse storytelling. Bravura and baffling in equal measure.

Monster is Hirokazu Kore-eda channelling Christopher Nolan: twisty storytelling in the service of wise empathy. There is no judgement in Kore-eda’s worldview, just human behaviour in all its glorious complexity.

There are inconsistencies — why does a brand new house have the standard creaking door? — but the pace is so compelling that it is impossible to carp.

With its moody heroine, sex and reliance on talk it would be easy/stupid to dismiss Let The Sunshine In as oh so French, but Claire Denis’ most conventionally entertaining film is a delight. And it’s yet another reminder Juliette Binoche is an international treasure who should be cherished.

If it says nothing new about the dangers of over-indulgence, Another Round is funny and rich, a fresh, perfectly played, clear-eyed take on middle age ennui. Intoxicating.

Don’t confuse it with Russell Crowe staring out of a window. After a patient build-up, Les Misérables becomes a Molotov cocktail of a movie, tense, explosive and urgent. A powerful fiction debut from documentarian Ladj Ly.

Styx is a gripping sea adventure that mixes thrills and spills with thoughtfulness and compassion. The MVP here is Wolff, who superbly etches emotional disintegration alongside amazing physical prowess.

Avoiding the danger zone of mere retread, Kosinski and co deliver all the Top Gun feels and then some: slick visuals, crew camaraderie, thrilling aerial action, a surprising emotional wallop and, in Tom Cruise, a magnetic movie-star performance as comforting as an old leather jacket. Punching the air is mandatory.

If it’s a hard film to like, Monos is ridiculously impressive filmmaking, savage and surreal, immediate but timeless. If Hollywood wanted to do a darker, grittier take on The Goonies, Landes is their man.

The Ballad Of Wallis Island is a big-hearted, consoling hug of a movie. It might not reinvent the wheel, but it’s the low-(Tim)-key crowd-pleaser of the year so far.

The filmmaking is immaculate and the emotional wallop undeniable.

All modern life is here — the good, the bad, the insufferable — and it’s glorious. Non-Fiction is Olivier Assayas in a lighter register and he wears it well.

A rare animated film without a shred of sentimentality but bucket-loads of heart and soul. “Stories remain in our hearts all our lives,” Parvana’s father tells her. The Breadwinner is testament to that.