Elysium (Neil Blomkamp, 2013)

Sophomore slump

Science-fiction is the genre of big ideas, which is why it's always such a shame when its creators confine themselves to a narrow path. Whether it's the half-assed story that gives us an excuse to explore Avatar's intoxicating Pandora, or the vast amount of seemingly smart sci-fi that lose track of their themes with the arrival of some psychotic entity, there's countless examples of amazing worlds diluted by the unconvincing tales told within them.

Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (Chantal Akerman, 1975)

This article is part of a year-long feature - watching and blogging about twenty acclaimed, cult, challenging and rare films over the course of 2013. The full list of films (and links to other completed posts) can be found here. At number thirteen, we've got all the time in the world with Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelle.

Over the years, cinema has been required to interpret and invent its own unique senses of space and time. Sound stages, sets, camera angles, perspective tricks, even bloody 3D have all ensured film deals with physical space in an entirely different way to any other medium. Time, too, has had to be reevaluated, trimming away the excess seconds, minutes, hours, days and years that are superfluous to the story being told. In cinema, these two most fundamental of concerns are dynamic, constantly being reinterpreted and remixed to provide us with exhilarating new experiences. How amazing, over a century later, that we're able to tell screen stories, free of the limitations of boring old reality! The fluidity of space and time is the very quirk that, perhaps, defines cinema.

I Was Born But... (Yasujiro Ozu, 1933)

This article is part of a year-long feature - watching and blogging about twenty acclaimed, cult, challenging and rare films over the course of 2013. The full list of films (and links to other completed posts) can be found here. Twelve: one of Ozu's most beloved silent efforts I Was Born But...

When I went to pick up a copy of Ozu's I Was Born But..., knowing little about it other than it was widely considered one of his silent masterpieces, I was wondering why it only came bundled with Good Morning. Only when I read into it did I realise the later film was a 'remake' of the earlier one - although then again the Floating Weeds films are only occasionally double billed. After watching, however, I realised the decision was a sensible, even wise one. One of the great privileges granted to us modern film fans is the ability to watch films in their wider context - whether that's in terms of a director's own career or a more general sociological one. Having seen both film I know realise it would almost do a disservice to separate them and run the risk of viewers missing out on one or t'other. As a pair, they resonate and contrast with each other in fascinating ways.

Only God Forgives (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2013)

Wanna Fight?

Drive - need I stress IMO? - was an extraordinarily slick, fitfully hypnotic film that often frustrated as result of its militant coldness. But it just about came together to create a work of contemporary cinematic cool, even if its hollowness left me a tad sceptical. Regrettably, director Nicolas Winding Refn's follow-up Only God Forgives exaggerates Drive's questionable qualities to extraordinary degrees. It's still somewhat of an impressive aesthetic and moody accomplishment, but the film's self-consciousness and self-seriousness ultimately crush it.