As the year draws to an end, Redbrick Film Writers list their highlights of 2023
Barbie (2023) – Digital Editor Halima Ahad
In the midst of summer, I decided to take up the opportunity to watch Barbie and the film definitely did not disappoint. It is still a film I very much think about to this day because so many things in the film, including its eye-catching colour palette and costumes as well as the soundtrack itself, were iconic.
The film begins with its star heroine Margot Robbie as ‘Stereotypical Barbie’ – she has everything a little girl would dream for, her own dreamhouse, friends with wide ranging interests and supposedly her own ‘Ken.’ However, although she is living this dream life, some cracks begin to show and she begins to experience feelings of anxiety and sadness. A trip to ‘Weird Barbie’ (Kate McKinnon) means she must take the daunting step of facing reality and openly solving her problems. The plot, for me, was very thought-provoking and made me think about a lot of things about being a woman in society today.
However, although the plot was the main driver of the film, the costumes and soundtrack really stood out for me. All of Barbie’s costumes were very much prominent and some of my favourites included the iconic gingham dress worn at the beginning of the film which marked Robbie as ‘Stereotypical Barbie.’
The soundtrack within itself was distinguished and the way the songs were used throughout the film made me love them even more. My favourite song has to be ‘Dance The Night’ by Dua Lipa which featured at the beginning of the film when all the Barbies and Kens congregated together for a party. The song itself is very upbeat and exhilarating but the addition of the Barbies and Kens’ costumes cemented my love for the song further.
Overall, the film also had a very touching message to young and old women alike across the globe: we should never compromise ourselves for the approval of others and should always be comfortable in our own skin.
Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) – Sport Editor Lucy Parry
Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is the sequel to the critically acclaimed 2018 film Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. These animated Spider-Man films are separate to the MCU and they feature Miles Morales (Shameik Moore) as the main character. In this sequel, after reuniting with Gwen Stacy (Hailee Steinfeld), Brooklyn’s friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man is catapulted across the Multiverse, where he teams up with a new group of Spider-People to defeat the Spot (Jason Schwartzman). However, when the heroes clash on how to handle this threat, Miles finds himself pitted against the other Spiders. He must redefine what it means to be a hero so he can save the people he loves most.
The animation in this film is astonishing. Every frame is a work of art on its own. Across the Spider-Verse expands on the comic book elements from the first film and includes elements of street art and monochromatic scrawls. The animation style is so inventive because it helps to create the mood and tone in each scene. This is most apparent in the opening sequence set in Gwen’s world, Earth-65: the colours are all washed-out watercolours to signify her isolation and melancholy.
Across the Spider-Verse reaches new emotional depths when exploring Miles and Gwen’s relationships with their respective parents. But it manages to retain many laugh-out-loud moments. Jake Johnson’s Peter Parker and Daniel Kaluuya’s Hobie Brown are particularly funny.
Daniel Pemberton’s score is spectacular. It builds on the themes and styles established in its predecessor while also expanding its musical universe.
The film ends on a cliffhanger, so my dad and I are looking forward to rewatching it over the Christmas holidays to tide us over until Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse comes out.
Chevalier (2022) – Culture Editor Ilina Jha
Directed by Stephen Williams, Chevalier is a biographical drama film that follows Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), as he becomes a world-class musician and composer as a mixed-race Black man in the upper echelons of 18th century French society. Born in Baillif, Guadeloupe to the enslaved Nanon (Ronkẹ Adékoluẹjo) and her enslaver, Georges Bologne de Saint-Georges (Jim High), a young Joseph is taken by his father to a boarding school in Paris, where he soon becomes an accomplished violinist and fencer – the latter skill rewarding him with the title of ‘Chevalier’ (‘knight’) from none other than Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton). Despite becoming a favourite of the Queen and a popular member of the court, Bologne faces racist opposition from members of French society as he attempts to become director of the Paris Opera.
Kelvin Harrison Jr. puts in an impressive performance as Bologne, capturing the subtle balance between his charisma and confidence in his musical abilities, and his anxieties about his position in France as a mixed-race Black man. Additionally, his increasing belief in revolutionary egalitarian ideas comes into conflict with his close friendship with Marie Antoinette. A beautiful, if inevitably short-lived romance between Bologne and the lead singer of his opera, Marie-Joséphine (Samara Weaving), explores the complexities of status, race, and liberty in French society. Like Harrison Jr., Weaving superbly portrays a complex character – Marie-Joséphine challenges the soon-to-be revolutionaries on whether women will be included in their visions of an egalitarian society; however, trapped in a marriage to a controlling husband, she refuses Bologne’s offer of escape, perhaps recognising the plan’s futility.
Add brilliant costume design, set location, and stunning performances of Bologne’s compositions and you have a well-crafted, fantastic film that sheds light on an important historical figure.
Broker (2022) – Film Critic Toby Jarvis
Hirokazu Kore-eda’s Broker actually came out in late 2022, but seeing as no-one in this country had any way of watching it until early 2023 (and, more pressingly, I’ll take any excuse to talk about it) I think this counts.
This is Kore-eda’s first production in South Korea, which is presented here in a sort of dreamlike haze: the colours are warm and saturated, the angles wide and panoramic. The camera will gladly sweep across the motorways and valleys between cities and there’s something inherently charming about the drowsy summer against which the events of the narrative are cast. It’s hard to articulate the experience of a child once you’ve stopped being one, but the sheer scale with which the world is presented here is the best possible approximation of it.
It’s sentimental, although not gratingly so, and it’s not hard to become attached to the main cast as they inevitably bond. This is despite the broader context of their interactions – selling a newborn baby – although even this is perceived through a vaguely sympathetic lens, and the two men who have tasked themselves with the baby’s sale (one of whom is played by Song Kang-ho, who you might recognise from 2019’s Parasite) manifest a bizarre sort of care for the child.
It’s the minutiae here that really elevate Broker: the charm of the sets, the little exchanges shared as the cast’s dynamic develops.
There are still stakes governing the narrative, of course, and Kore-eda is smart enough to avoid fully indulging in the ‘found family’ trope to the extent of neglecting how real people function; the protagonists are likeable, but ultimately not without flaws, and the tension that bubbles throughout the road movie-esque plot comes to a crescendo in an interesting tonal shift at the film’s climax.
The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023) – Print & Features Editor Jess Parker
The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes has managed to revitalise audience interest in both the beloved Hunger Games original series, and the entire dystopian genre of the mid-2010s. The film acts as a prequel to The Hunger Games (2012) and its subsequent films and is an adaptation of Suzanne Collins’ 2020 book of the same name.
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes follows a young Coriolanus Snow (Tom Blyth) before he becomes President of Panem, as a young Capitol Academy Student. He is tasked with mentoring Lucy Gray Baird (Rachel Zegler), a tribute from District 12 in the 10th annual Hunger Games. Lucy Gray is a performer, and Snow uses her talents to their advantage as they navigate the on-screen politics of this futuristic imagining of the USA.
One of The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes’ strongest assets is its handling of Lucy Gray’s character. What at first glance could appear fairly cringe-worthy in its use of song and showmanship ultimately separates The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes from its Hunger Games counterparts as a worthy entity in itself. Lucy Gray is no Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence); her non-violent strengths are just as worthy as Everdeen’s skill with a bow. Gray is a performer who is forced to fight, whereas Everdeen is a fighter forced to perform.
Blyth’s performance is, too, critical for the film’s worth alongside its well-loved predecessors. From the original trilogy, viewers were aware of the depth that must have forged Snow into this tyrannical vehicle for war, and Blyth’s complex and youthful hunger for success and self-preservation provides enough depth that his trajectory to becoming President Snow feels painfully inevitable.
Oppenheimer (2023) – Film Critic Kitty Grant
‘The world is dying and we can’t grieve.’ That’s the first line of the diary entry I wrote straight after seeing Oppenheimer for the first time. Though Christopher Nolan’s latest film focuses on the apocalyptic potential of nuclear weapons, comparisons to the world of 2023, where global warming is out of control and destruction feels inevitable, are easy to draw.
I’m tempted to separate the technical marvels of Oppenheimer from the way the film made me feel, but unlike most of the expensive, explosion-riddled blockbusters that have been released in recent years, it felt like these scenes had a real purpose. Yes, the Trinity Test scene was impressive to watch and will probably help Oppenheimer pick up a few extra award nominations, but it had a larger purpose than that. Watching it in the cinema, I felt the true weight of what the bomb meant for our species and couldn’t help but be just as disgusted as I was impressed. Of course, I’ve seen the photos from the real Trinity Test, but Nolan’s depiction was so immersive I felt like I should protect my eyes.
I could go on forever about the Trinity Test scene, but it is just one scene in a three hour film. Cillian Murphy’s Oppenheimer spends much of the film grappling with what he’s done and trying to ease his guilt about his role in the Manhattan Project and his personal life. I think the brilliance of Murphy’s performance is best demonstrated by the number of memes that have come out of the film. Scrolling through Twitter at any point this summer you were met with dozens of different close-ups of Murphy as Oppenheimer to express any emotion. While the number of memes a performance spawns is not a typical marker of quality, I think in this case it exemplifies the way Murphy was able to portray a lifetime of emotion in a single expression.
John Wick: Chapter 4 (2023) – TV Editor Thomas Stone
Is John Wick: Chapter 4 the best film ever made? No. Is John Wick: Chapter 4 even the best film of 2023? Also no. But, is John Wick: Chapter 4 the best film featuring Keanu Reeves falling down a staircase for half an hour? Yes! As this was potentially the last entry in the John Wick film franchise, I was worried it would be just another slightly above-average action flick, but thankfully it does not hold back in any regard – apart from the number of Keanu’s lines.
The plot follows John to the ultimate end of his story, tackling the High Table itself and finally getting out of the killing profession through his tried and tested method: murdering everyone. John is as vapid as ever, but somehow retains that charm only Keanu can muster; joined also by a host of eccentric characters, often over-the-top and interesting enough to keep dialogue scenes engaging . A highlight being Killa Harkan (Scott Adkins), a German, nightclub-owning mob boss whose conspicuous golden tooth acts like a quest item for John’s side mission. Or Donnie Yen’s Caine, a blind martial artist whose blindness changes with the requirements of each scene, but nonetheless provides essential flair and variety to the beat-em-up fest that ensues.
All in all, where the second instalment (2017) tried too hard to be taken seriously, and the third (2019) not going far enough into excess, the fourth acts as a caricature of Wick’s most extreme and ridiculous characteristics. It truly embraces the whole purpose of the franchise, to showcase Reeves as the action hero we need in a world where all the bad guys fight so terribly that he becomes a supernatural force of death. The set pieces build one on top of the other in a glorious fashion and it is truly a thrill ride of joyous action; mass murder has never been so gripping. John will kill everyone, and no one can stop him. You, the viewer, are next.
The Marvels (2023) – Film Critic Rani Jadfa
This movie only came out in November, but after watching it on opening weekend, it has very quickly become one of my favourite Marvel movies. Initially, this was announced as Captain Marvel 2 but became The Marvels later on, which I would argue is a much better title; the style is so different to Captain Marvel (2019) as new director Nina DaCosta leans further into the silly and colourful. Plus, it feels closer to a superhero team-up movie rather than a solo adventure. Brie Larson returns as Carol Danvers and is set against the villainous Dar-Benn (Zawe Ashton), a powerful Kree general. But things get a little complicated when her light-based powers become entangled with Monica Rambeau’s (Teyonah Parris) and Kamala Khan’s (Iman Vellani).
A lot of people believe Marvel is spreading themselves too thin by combining characters in this way, as they think they have to watch every project to understand the narrative. But through the clever use of a quick sci-fi cheat (showing the main plot points of 2021’s WandaVision and 2022’s Ms. Marvel through mind-reading devices) the audience can sit back and enjoy the rest of the film.
At 9 years old I was introduced to the world of superheroes through The Avengers (2012). All of my hopes hung upon the great Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson): her femininity gave her strength – along with all the awesome ninja skills – but as I got older, I realised how her story was often shaped by the male gaze. I strongly believe my younger self would have passed out at the sight of three female superheroes just having fun, kicking ass, and wearing clothes that actually looked comfortable. Maybe it wasn’t everybody’s favourite movie of the year but tell that to 9-year-old me. I dare you.
The Old Man Movie: Lactopalypse (2019) – Film Editor James Richards
The rules of this feature are flexible. Delightfully permissive even. Yes… The Old Man Movie is a 2019 film. Yes… The Old Man Movie shouldn’t really be in this feature. But also yes… (given the four year gap between its initial Estonian release and its much later UK release) The Old Man Movie definitively falls under the feature’s delightfully permissive remit.
From writer-directors Mikk Mägi and Oskar Lehemaa, this full-fat comedy chronicles the often-disturbing adventures of city kids Priidik (Mikk Mägi), Mart (Mikk Mägi) and Aino (Oskar Lehemaa) as they pay their country bumpkin uncle (Mikk Mägi) a visit. The uncle in question is the titular Old Man; and when the Old Man’s prize (and only) heifer goes AWOL, our mismatched quartet find themselves on a mission to prevent bovine armageddon. From here, The Old Man Movie takes an already strange premise and milks it for everything it’s got.
But then… nothing. That is until June of this year, when The Old Man finally found its way into UK cinemas – rechristened with the superfluous subheading Lactopalypse. The length of this delay seems odd. After all, the film flawlessly synthesises stop motion animation and weird-as-hell humour – two of the nation’s favourites! When you picture The Old Man Movie, picture an Aardman take on The League of Gentlemen (1999-2017).
‘[W]atched by over 86,000 people’, boasts the film’s Wikipedia page: a figure which, frankly, should be much, much higher. Which other 2023 release does it quite like The Old Man? The movie is wackier than Barbie; has a stranger tree-man than Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, a better weirdos-in-the-forest detour than Beau Is Afraid and an even grislier grizzly than Cocaine Bear’s Cocaine Bear. Which bears repeating. The film may have taken half a decade to reach our screens, but the best things really do – as they say – come to those who wait.
Thanksgiving (2023) – Editor-in-Chief Alex Taylor
TW: Death, Gore
2023’s Horror/Mystery Thanksgiving, provides not only one of the most refreshing additions to the horror genre this year, but also cements itself as having potential as an instant classic. Directed by Eli Roth, of infamous Hostel (2005) fame, the film is set a year after the disastrous events of a Black Friday stampede at ‘RightMart’ in the sleepy historic town of Plymouth, Massachusetts. One year later, amidst controversy over RightMart’s upcoming Black Friday sale, the protagonists, who were inadvertently responsible for the stampede that resulted in the numerous visceral maimings and deaths, discover a social media post featuring a Thanksgiving table with their names around it.
From here, the narrative descends into a shamelessly entertaining series of gruesome and creative murders, compelled by the mysterious identity of the pilgrim-masked murderer. It’s a race against time for the teen protagonists to do all they can to solve the murders, and prevent their own deaths, while the Sheriff, Patrick Dempsey, leans against things and does his knowingly charming smile.
The serial-killer’s modus operandi of utilising tools and preparation methods that bring together a Thanksgiving dinner, deploys consistently varied opportunities to demonstrate the film’s incredibly shocking (and brilliant) practical effects. This is not limited to someone being gruesomely cooked to become the centrepiece of the table; headless, legs bound, and crispy-skinned – full on turkey style. Alongside this, there is head-mashing, severing of torsos, decapitations, and copious amounts of blood; enough for me to audibly exclaim ‘oh god’ in a cinema full of people. It’s worth clarifying that the violence isn’t meaninglessly used in a ‘look how much blood we have to throw around’ way, nor is it uncomfortable ‘torture-porn’, but is instead sparingly utilised in this well-crafted horror, that will make you smile and grimace simultaneously.
Past Lives (2023) – Film Critic Samuel Hastings
As it concerns the throes of love, there are few questions as heart-achingly potent as ‘what could have been?’. A staple of the tear-inducing romance genre, numerous films have deftly pondered the tragedy of a love that almost was. Director Celine Song nonetheless proves more than capable of distinguishing herself while trading in this trope in her monumentally intimate debut-feature Past Lives.
Song’s approach to the told and retold tale of long-lost love that might have flourished stands above the pack – a canon of tremendous films – in the revolutionary empathy she shows for all the characters so blessed and cursed to reside in her narrative. Arthur (John Magaro), the gentle husband of our protagonist Nora (Greta Lee), particularly stands out as character given far more depth and respect than other writers might have. In Call Me By Your Name (2017), the lover of Oliver (Armie Hammer) is abstracted to no more than a word spoken over the telephone; the husband taken in place of Seb (Ryan Gosling) in La La Land (2016) is unimpressive and unchallenging; at the extreme we could consider Her (2013), in which we see lost passion replaced by the digital charade of a lover.
Past Lives takes an even more painful path: a love triangle with three vertices occupied by fully realised people who all deserve the love they compete and struggle for. We cannot take respite in the hatred of a heinous homewrecker or an oblivious husband. We are forced to let the three characters’ complex desires and insecurities saturate us without a heroic Romeo to root for and hide behind, nor a Paris to safely direct our frustration toward.
Despite the last few years’ influx of conspicuously semi-autobiographical films, few filmmakers have so boldly employed personal experience to the degree that Song did in Past Lives, resulting in the vulnerable, tender and real story that forms one of the best films of 2023.
The Boy and the Heron (2023) – Gaming Editor Louis Wright
Death can be an intimidating concept. The unknown beyond non-life is an inevitability that many find difficult to tackle, and filmmaking is no different. Even with films that feature death as a metaphorical concept it is dealt with a light touch, often for fear of losing an audience to the gravitas of the film’s topic.
The Boy and the Heron takes the gloves off when it comes to discussing death. Every aspect of the film pulls itself back into this central idea of what happens when we die. Not just in regards to what lies beyond, but also in how dying affects those that we touch in life.
From its harrowing opening scene to its pensive close, the film conveys the idea that death can be sad, but is necessary for an appreciation of the world. Without death, life is meaningless, the film dictates, and only when we come to terms with death can we appreciate what we have in life.
As unique individuals, we all have our own perspective of the world, effectively a universe bespoke to our own worldview. Death, therefore, can be considered the end of not only an individual but their view of everything around them. Passing on the knowledge and the beliefs of oneself is of the utmost importance, as when the individual is gone so are these held thoughts. The Boy and the Heron is this testament to director Miyazaki’s worldview, being passed on to a new generation to remain alive past his death.
Enjoyed reading this feature? Check out some of our full-length reviews on the best films of the year:
Review: Oppenheimer | Redbrick Film
Review: The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes | Redbrick Film
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