Handpicks: Favourite Hindi Films of 2020, Ranked

[Contains spoilers.]

It has been a rather disappointing year for Hindi cinema. Mediocre and bad films outnumbered the good ones. We did not produce a single great film, in my opinion. There was one that flirted with greatness. And that’s all it did. Even the ones that seemed promising initially ended up being letdowns, and the pandemic ensured that we got access to films (some of which are listed below) that would have otherwise drifted into oblivion. Dibakar Banerjee’s “Sandeep Aur Pinky Faraar,” completed two years ago, would have released in March had the pandemic not happened. Crushingly still, there is no word on its new release date. If his segment in the otherwise disappointing Netflix anthology film “Ghost Stories” is anything to go by, it should make for a riveting watch.

But what was happening in the world of web-series is another deal altogether. In April came the charming “Panchayat,” lighter than air and with a superb set of characters. Borrowing its flavour from India’s early television sitcoms, “Panchayat” played to TVF’s strength: masterful writing with a keen eye for detail. And lest we forget, it ranks among the actor Raghubir Yadav’s best performances. Anyone who has followed his thirty-five-year-old career closely would know what a glorious feat that is. Not long after “Panchayat” came the nine-part web-series, “Paatal Lok,” created by Sudip Sharma and directed by Avinash Arun and Prosit Roy. Loosely based on Tarun Tejpal’s 2009 novel, “The Story of My Assassins,” the series is what I will remember the year for. A staggering achievement that reintroduced us to the gifted Jaideep Ahlawat (and we will do well to remember him now), it captured a contemporary India entangled in its own prejudices like no other cinematic work in recent memory. And lastly, in October, Hansal Mehta delivered his best work since 2012’s “Shahid” with “Scam 1992: The Harshad Mehta Story.” Rock-solid and strangely addictive, “Scam 1992: The Harshad Mehta Story,” based on the non-fiction book “The Scam: Who Won, Who Lost, Who Got Away” by Debashis Basu and Sucheta Dalal, brought the actor Pratik Gandhi into the limelight, among other coups. I’ve seen it thrice already and look forward to going back for another helping.

On an even smaller canvas, even better things happened. The streaming service MUBI released several features and short films through MUBI India, the most notable being the retrospective of Amit Dutta, one of our foremost filmmaking voices. Dutta largely works in experimental cinema, which might explain why his works are elusive, literally and figuratively. The access which MUBI India provided was priceless. After a long wait, I was delighted to sink my teeth into 2010’s “Nainsukh,” his most popular and distinguished work. Also among MUBI India’s offerings was an outstanding short film, Shazia Iqbal’s “Bebaak.” Extracting a chapter from her life, Iqbal’s film followed Fatin, a young architecture student, who is rebuked by a cleric during an interview for a scholarship. Given a directive to ‘amend her ways’ or risk losing the scholarship, Fatin’s dilemma is vividly captured by a combination of neat writing and competent acting. Right after the interview ends, Fatin lambasts her father, saying, “Why did you have so many children when you couldn’t afford it?” Her father is dumbstruck. The answer to her question is shown, not said: the fourth child, Fatin’s youngest sibling after two younger sisters, is a boy. This unquenchable desire for a male child is laid into ferociously, as it should—remarkable for a first-time filmmaker. “Bebaak” ends on a touching note, hopeful that things can change and will, and we will have to keep fighting whatever comes our way and not concede. Courage is the tonic which will pull us through. I can hardly wait to see what Iqbal comes up with next.

Here are my ten favourite Hindi films of the year. First, a note: As some of them have already made rounds of various film festivals, or were completed years ago but were unable to find distribution, one can argue they are not ‘films of 2020’ and therefore do not qualify to be on this list. However, given the unusual year we had, and considering that many movies were made available to the public through OTT releases this year, I am including them on this list. 

10. LOOTCASE (Dir.: Rajesh Krishnan)

There’s little that is particularly memorable in Rajesh Krishnan’s breezy comedy of errors, but “Lootcase” brightened up many a Sunday for me this year. Most jokes meet their mark, the characters (not too different from the quirky ones we met in Abhinay Deo’s “Delhi Belly” in 2012) serve the plot well, and the actors seem to have a blast. Not a bad way to spend a couple of hours, especially when Kunal Khemu and Gajraj Rao are in spiffing comic form. 

(Trailer here.)

09. AK VS AK (Dir.: Vikramaditya Motwane)

The pull is in the pitch: the filmmaker Anurag Kashyap and the actor Anil Kapoor (playing fictional versions of themselves) square off and a camera captures the duel. Kashyap: enfant terrible, egotistical, crazy. Kapoor: suave, shrewd, privileged. A public spat between the two leads to Kashyap taking revenge by kidnapping Kapoor’s daughter. It’s satire. It’s irreverent. It’s fun. For the first twenty odd minutes, Vikramaditya Motwane’s “AK vs AK” coasts along delightfully as Kapoor and Kashyap trade insults, each claiming to have conquered Bollywood. We settle back comfortably—finally, the film industry is willing to laugh at itself. No one is spared as the film roasts film-makers (including the makers themselves) and film-watchers alike. And then, “AK vs AK” takes a nosedive. The jokes become forced, the plotting becomes tedious. The final twist is especially sloppy—was that really required? There are a couple of nice observations here about the fragility of stardom and the vulnerability of people who have spent most of their adult lives in the spotlight. It works as satire—as a thriller, it fizzles out without actually taking off.

(Trailer here.)

08. RAAT AKELI HAI (Dir.: Honey Trehan)

It’s a shame that Honey Trehan’s “Raat Akeli Hai” is not able to replicate the brilliance of its opening sequence. When it arrives at the coal-black heart of a gruesome murder at the end of 149 minutes, the sagging feeling of disappointment is hard to shake off. Confidently mounted but ultimately a touch overlong, Trehan’s directorial debut gets the basics of a murder-mystery right (the mood, the detailing, the shifty characters, and the dark, dark secrets) but is unable to avert a disappointing finish. In all fairness, the journey is fairly absorbing, with some exquisite images (the film has been lensed by the great Pankaj Kumar) and occasionally sharp writing (by Smita Singh). It could have been a masterpiece. Alas. 

(Trailer here.)

07. BULBBUL (Dir.: Anvita Dutt)

Lyricist and writer Anvita Dutt’s sweeping Gothic fairytale about an avenging witch who wreaks havoc upon men suspected of cruelty towards women was among the year’s most pleasant surprises. A happy fairytale this is not: “Bulbbul” is about cruel violence, oppression, and jealousy, and the scene at its core—unfolding poetically on a rainy night—made my stomach turn. It’s exquisitely photographed and made, and features a slew of wonderful performances. But, there was something lacking. Perhaps another viewing will provide an answer.

(Trailer here.)

06. KADAKH (Dir.: Rajat Kapoor)

A stranger arrives to meet our protagonist, Sunil, on Diwali morning. He introduces himself as the husband of the woman Sunil is having an affair with—strangely at peace with the situation. But when an argument escalates and the stranger shoots himself, Rajat Kapoor’s morbidly funny “Kadakh” is set in motion. Borrowing the idea of a party taking place with a dead body in the house (whose presence is known to only two people) from Alfred Hitchcock’s “Rope,” “Kadakh” examines the crumbling of a marriage and other friendships over the course of Sunil’s Diwali party. Posing moral questions even when it meanders (and it does meander plenty), “Kadakh” is a fascinating addition to Kapoor’s oeuvre as a director, but far from his best work.

(Trailer here.)

05. CARGO (Dir.: Arati Kadav)

If we were to draw up a list of Hind cinema’s strong points, ‘low-budget science-fiction’ would likely be left off it. Even ‘science-fiction’ for that matter. So it’s rather swell to see Arati Kadav’s debut feature “Cargo” come out of nowhere and attempt to correct that. And what a plucky attempt it is. Like her wondrous 2016 short film, “Time Machine,” “Cargo” pairs mad, almost childlike imagination with weighty themes to create a distinctive product that stands as a testament to her prodigious talent. While “Time Machine” dealt with motherhood and first love, “Cargo” deals with loneliness and death, and the startling fact that, given enough time, someone can get used to them. It takes some effort to buy into the world Kadav, a former software engineer at Microsoft, creates here, a world replete with subpar visual effects and long stretches of blandness. But fling yourself into it like I did, and maybe it will leave you ruminating over what is has to say. There’s an innocence with which Kadav approaches filmmaking. How I miss it.

(Trailer here.)

04. KAAMYAAB (Dir.: Hardik Mehta)

If there is such a thing as an actor born to play a role, Hardik Mehta’s “Kaamyaab” makes a fine case for it. Sanjay Mishra, the terrific character actor who has spent twenty-five years in the movies, plays Sudheer, a washed-out and ageing character actor who learns in an interview that he has acted in 499 movies. A power cut criminally cuts this interview short but it gives him a mission: to seek a meaty role for his 500th film. At once wise about how the Hindi film industry thinks and functions (at one point, when a film director calls Sudheer by his name, just his name, his assistant hisses, “Sudheerji”—the honorific is an afterthought) and respectful of the many struggles of an actor, “Kaamyaab” probes the difference between an actor and a star by deftly avoiding moralisation. Its heartbreakingly beautiful (albeit over-the-top) ending made my heart sing. Would make yours, too.

(Trailer here.)

03. GULABO SITABO (Dir.: Shoojit Sircar)

Borrowing its title from a glove puppetry theatre show about two bickering women, Shootjit Sircar’s “Gulabo Sitabo” is a beast to tackle: playful, funny, gently melancholic, and when one thinks they have managed to get it, slippery and profoundly sad. Vultures circle an ancient tumbledown house in Lucknow, and what a lovely selection of vultures we have here: the grouchy old landlord, Mirza; his wife, Begum, sole owner of the property; Mirza’s tenants that include Baankey Rastogi, who runs a flour mill; and a potpourri of other characters that include an oily government chap, Gyanesh Shukla, working with the archeological department. Everyone lays claim to the property—even the government. While much of “Gulabo Sitabo” revolves around how these characters try to outwit each other, Juhi Chaturvedi’s typically intelligent script traverses weightier themes like poverty, selfishness, and our innate desire to hold on to something we call ‘home’. It’s a demanding film, and if we spare a little patience, an amply rewarding one.

(Trailer here.)

02. SIR (Dir.: Rohena Gera)

It seems only natural that the actress Tillotama Shome, nineteen years after debuting as the young house-help Alice in Mira Nair’s “Monsoon Wedding,” portrays the house-help Ratna in Rohena Gera’s small miracle of a movie. Maybe Alice is Ratna now, all grown up and worldly. And much like her performance in Nair’s film, Shome here is absolutely flawless as the maid who gradually, fearfully, falls in love with her employer. Screened at the Cannes Film Festival in 2018, “Sir” captures the stages of this romance that a classist society would mock harshly. Ratna’s employer, Ashwin (played by Vivek Gomber; equally marvellous), couldn’t care less. But Ratna does—the society she is familiar with is a far cry from the one her employer knows. It is Gera’s ability to capture this bit of detail, and other similar details, that makes the film so special. And it springs an ending that is arguably the best ending in any movie I saw this year, an ending that made my heart soar furiously, an ending that I simply cannot get enough of. A word is spoken, just a word, and spoken bravely. And its utterance takes a knife to classism in fine style. Incredible.

(Trailer here.)

01. EEB ALLAY OOO! (Dir.: Prateek Vats)

Monkeys have taken over government buildings—literally. A new migrant, Anjani, is tasked with keeping them away. He is not enterprising; the monkeys are cunning and stubborn. (The symbolism is on point.) Anjani hates his job with all his heart but it is the best his meagre qualifications can fetch. Prateek Vats’s absurdist satire “Eeb Allay Ooo!” begins here most unassumingly, but by the end of 97 bleak minutes, it has touched upon the exploitation of migrants, unemployment, and religious extremism. And like many great films, it features an insurmountable villain: a big city—here, New Delhi. As Anjani tries to gull the monkeys, finally let down by a pitiless city and its people, “Eeb Allay Ooo!” comes into its own as a strong political work that masterfully brings to light the plight of millions of migrants across the country. Furthermore, it stars the discovery of the year: the actor Shardul Bharadwaj who as Anjani delivers a performance that ought to have had him smothered him with plaudits. But, ah, Anjani would have laughed at our optimism. 

(Trailer here.)

[Not For Reproduction]

Handpicks: The 10 Best Films of 2015 -- Vol. II

I watched some wonderful films released last year in the last three months, and I have tried to include those that were a touch better than the good ones in this list. I still haven't seen some. And since April is upon us already, it might be too late to release another version. But if I may say so, please do not miss Jacques Audiard's Dheepan, Pablo Larrain's The Club, Pablo Trapero's The Clan, Anna Muylaert's The Second Mother and Stéphane Lafleur's Tu Dors Nicole. The buzz surrounding these films is pretty strong and they would make for compelling viewings. I can hardly wait to watch them.

I have divided this post into two sections. So, let's start with:

The Ones That Didn't Work:

(+) Victoria (Germany)

To say Sebastian Schipper's Victoria is impressively made would be an understatement, a mighty big one. The 138-minute crime-drama is shot in a single take with a committed bunch of actors who do a great job. And the camerawork is worth a mention, too. But here is the thing about one-take films: They drag. Things are left undercooked. Editing injects life into a film. For almost an hour, Victoria is tedious. It does get going soon, turning into a fabulous crime-thriller from a heavy-handed drama, but there isn't enough here to redeem some of its drawbacks. The emotional payoffs are abundant. Perhaps scissoring it would have made it a better film.

(+) The Revenant (US)

Alejandro G. Iñárritu's The Revenant is the kind of film that is conceived with the misconception that it will be unquestionably great if it ever gets made. In its 156 gruesome minutes, it does a lot to draw our attention to the fact that it nearly did not get made. And the idea that one should heap praises on it because they got to watch this gory spectacle is an idea that drives it. But The Revenant is a massive, massive disappointment. To be fair, it is a technical marvel that boasts of determined performances from the cast and jaw-dropping imagery (lensed to perfection as usual by Emmanuel Lubezski), but it does little to tell a good story. Repetitive, overstretched till it almost snaps and somewhat mundane, The Revenant tries hard to be as great a film as it thinks it is but never gets there. (Thank God for the 'bear attack' sequence to give me my money's worth.)

(+) Marshland (Spain)

Women get murdered in a small rural town and two homicide detectives who don't quite get along are sent to investigate the case. Does it ring a bell? If you have seen the fine first season of True Detective, chances are that you have seen flashes of Alberto Rodriguez's Marshland in it. Its moody atmosphere and fabulous cinematography are not enough to shake off the the sinking feeling that we have sat through all of it before. There are a handful of intriguing moments, of course, but it never manages to surpass or even rival the skill of its American counterpart. (If you haven't seen the first season of True Detective, this is well worth checking out.)

(+) A Wolf at the Door (Brazil)

Had it been done well, really well, A Wolf at the Door would have been riveting. It is riveting, to be fair, but when it gets to its stunning conclusion it is already a bit of a mess. An intricate narrative employed to tell the tale of a child getting kidnapped is not a good idea because the central plot thread might get lost in the shuffle. And that does happen here. Still, A Wolf at the Door gathers steam near the end and finishes on a high. But the devastating final blow we expected from it misses its mark. And that is disappointing.

Now that I have got that out of the way, here are:

The Ones That Did Work:

(+) Son of Saul (Hungary)

László Nemes' stunning debut is the closest thing to a modern classic I have seen recently, and also the best film of 2015.

(+) Phoenix (Germany)

An elegantly crafted film that drips with atmosphere and mood and offers affecting drama, Christian Petzold's Phoenix is an unusual revenge tale that concerns itself more with an individual slowly coming to terms with a betrayal than how that individual exacts her vengeance. With impeccable performances and a strong narrative structure, Phoenix is never less than masterful. And, of course, the fade-out moment is worthy of a salute.

(+) Theeb (Jordan/UAE/Qatar/UK)

What can be said of one of the finer directorial debuts of last year? Naji Abu Nowar's Oscar-nominated Theeb was always going to be a dark horse, but a rather magnificent dark horse it was. A deliberately paced small-scale epic, Theeb was absorbing and informative, vicariously transporting us to the unforgiving deserts of Jordan while allowing us a rare peek into the Bedouin way of life. Although Norwar had very little to work with here, he managed to produce an earnest, nearly flawless film that we are likely not going to forget anytime soon. That is more than what some directors do on fatter budgets, better production values and with popular faces steering the film.

(+) 45 Years (UK)

Andrew Haigh's delicate meditation on marriage and the fragility of it is explored through the eyes of an aging couple whose relationship is about to fall apart when the past comes knocking. Bolstered by two of last year's most searing performances by Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay, the sharply observed 45 Years beckons us to put ourselves in the shoes of its protagonists, and when we do it forces us to confront certain truths about us. For a small film, what it achieves is sure remarkable.

(+) The Hateful Eight (US)

Twice I have seen this film. And twice I have enjoyed the heck out of it. It is disgusting, yes. Indulgent, also. Maybe even unjustifiably lengthy and verbose. Furthermore, I have been told by some that they think it is among Quentin Tarantino's weaker efforts. To some extent, all of this is true. But The Hateful Eight, with all its drawbacks, is a grand vision, confidently conceived, and it is hard to dispute that fact although one could argue that it doesn't entirely earn that label. Tarantino's gift of creating characters that stay in our memories and giving them lines to say that we hear ourselves saying someday is on full display here, and he makes us envy it. With the legendary Ennio Morricone giving it the sound it needs, The Hateful Eight is a worthy addition to Tarantino's handsome oeuvre.

(+) Steve Jobs (US)

There is no other word to describe Danny Boyle's latest offering: electrifying. The Aaron Sorkin-scripted three-act Steve Jobs may well be a fictitious re-enactment of three of the creative genius' biggest moments, but it is fashioned like a giddily exciting thriller that is more about people trying to win at conversation than people trying to put generation-defining ideas into effect. On any other day with any other script writer we might prefer to watch people create and not talk. But Sorkin's superb writing, coupled with Boyle's sure-handed direction, bears the skill to create vivid characters and bring them to life.

(+) Bridge of Spies (US)

By the mid-2000s, Steven Spielberg had noticeably lost some of the sheen that made him one of the most regarded filmmakers in modern cinema. But that doesn't matter now. Bridge of Spies, while not being among his best and not even being close to being one of his best, is still a damn fine film. It has, among other things, like Mark Rylance's marvelous turn that towers over a veteran actor like Tom Hanks, Spielberg's undying optimism and the usual sentimental punch of a Spielberg venture. Which is surprising, since his last great film was Munich in 2005 and that was Spielberg at his most cynical. Bridge of Spies tramples on safe grounds, but delivers an oddly effective combination of suspense and sentimentality.

(+) Black Coal, Thin Ice (China)

One of the pleasures of watching a suspense film is discovering that we are actually in the hands of a clever storyteller who wants to keep springing surprises, and we surrender instead of trying to outwit them. In this case, the lasting impact of Diao Yinan's slow-burning suspense thriller about two detectives trying to solve an old murder case might have been a bit diluted owing to the romantic angle at its centre that takes up a substantial chunk of the movie's runtime. But it does not negate the sharpness with which this film is plotted. A film that, like any worthy mystery film, keeps throwing us off the rails about its real intentions. Does it want to be a sibling of Memories of Murder, also a detective film but one that expertly blends dark humor, tragedy and suspense? Does it want to be a melancholic romance? We can't say. But by the end, Black Coal, Thin Ice does more than what we expect from it: it convinces us that it was both.

(+) Room (Canada/Ireland/UK)

One of my biggest reservations before I walked into Room was whether director Lenny Abrahamson was the right person to helm or not. It wasn't unfounded, though. Abrahamson had last made Frank, a quirky tragicomedy about a group of wannabe musicians, and was perhaps an unorthodox choice for a seemingly claustrophobic nail-biter. But I need not have worried. Room is an extremely well-acted and efficient drama that cleverly sidesteps the trappings of its genre to deliver an emotional mother-son story under the guise of a thriller. But it is Jacob Tremblay (all of just nine, how extraordinary!) and Brie Larson who, by delivering sensational performances, elevate this indie from the sea of ones like it and make the experience unforgettable.

(+) Our Little Sister (Japan)

(Full disclosure: I'm a huge admirer of Hirokazu Kore-eda's cinema. So, I might sound a bit biased here.) In comparison to 2011's I Wish and 2013's Like Father, Like Son, his last two films, Kore-eda's new film pales, and that might be its only problem. But on its own, Our Little Sister is exactly the kind of gently moving, empathetic and optimistic film we have come to expect from the master filmmaker. Here, he explores with his usual flair and keenness the relationship people share when thrown in the most curious of circumstances, something brought about by fate. And it is the hope he injects into it once again that makes it so likable a film. Ultimately, though, Our Little Sister might be a tad ineffectual for it leaves things a little unexplored. But Kore-eda's touch is unmistakable. And that touch is quite something.

(+) Creed (US)

2013's Fruitvale Station introduced us to two remarkable talents in director Ryan Coogler and actor Michael B. Jordan. Creed does its bit to assure us that they weren't flukes. Resurrecting the Rocky series with style, energy and passion, Creed is a brilliantly made tale of loss and hope that packs a hefty emotional punch. What else, it sure is wonderful to see Sylvester Stallone reprising the role that made him a star, and a star he remains. While he imbues Creed with heart, it is the team of Jordan and Coogler who retain some of the original Rocky's energy and turn this comeback into both a respectful tribute and a standalone jewel.

(+) What We Do In The Shadows (New Zealand/US)

This was a really risky proposition. With the number of vampire movies being attempted every year, it would be truly challenging to find something offbeat in terms of style and, more importantly, substance. But Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement's bromance What We Do In The Shadows is a goofy and inventive mockumentary that is better than most vampire movies I have seen, and one that is reminiscent of Monty Python and the Holy Grail. (Although it doesn't quite touch the level of genius of the latter.) Ultimately, the film does overstay its welcome by a small margin, but it provides enough good-humored chuckles to be worth our time.

(+) Alleluia (Belgium/France)

Fabrice Du Welz's Alleluia is a feverish exercise in evil. It is easy to become repulsed by it, and it just as easy to get sucked into it. It is a wild, weird romance, full of passion and intensity and obsession, and it is told with unflinching determination. Loosely based on the true story of the Lonely Hearts Killers who achieved considerable notoriety in the late '40s, Alleluia is barely watchable but makes for a compelling viewing. Not for the faint of heart, though.

The Second Version:

The second version of my list of the best films of 2015, as it looks now:

1. Son of Saul (Hungary)
2. Taxi (Iran)
3. Carol (US)
4. Killa (India)
5. The Look of Silence (Denmark/Finland/Indonesia/Norway/UK)
6. Phoenix (Germany)
7. Spotlight (US)
8. Court (India)
9. Güeros (Mexico)
10. Mustang (France/Turkey/Germany) and Theeb (Jordan/UAE/Qatar/UK)

(Not For Reproduction)

Handpicks: The 10 Best Films Of 2015 -- Vol. I

Still plenty of films left to watch.

2015, for me, was a year of debutants. Some of the most promising efforts I saw had first-time helmers behind the camera, and I have mentioned as many as four in the list below. And then, there were some definite bummers, big and small. Hou Hsiao-Hsien's The Assassin was a gorgeous wuxia tale whose editing pattern was frustrating and rendered it inscrutable; Paolo Sorrentino's English-language debut Youth had both grandeur and flair, but was somewhat lacking; Matteo Garrone's Tale of Tales was riveting and imaginative for the most part, but flat and tedious in places. I don't know what to say about Jia Zhangke's Mountains May Depart. One can't classify it as a misfire, surely, but the uneven, ambitious picture made promises but didn't live up to them. But some niggles aside, these were films that offered more than what an average fare at the cinema usually does.

To the list, then. But first the honorable mentions, in no real order: Paul Thomas Anderson's Junun, Hou Hsiao-Hsien's The Assassin, David Zellner's Kumiko, The Treasure Hunter, Matthew Heineman's Cartel Land, Jia Zhangke's Mountains May Depart, Roy Andersson's A Pigeon Sat On A Branch Reflecting On Existence, Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy's The Tribe, Ronit Elkabetz and Shlomi Elkabetz's Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem, Veronica Franz's and Severin Fiala's Goodnight Mommy, Alex Garland's Ex Machina, Paolo Sorrentino's Youth and Matteo Garrone's Tale of Tales.

Of the films that I saw last year, my favorites are:

10. Amy (UK) and Sicario (US)

I couldn't choose between the two. While Asif Kapadia's Amy expertly culled and stitched together events and tidbits from her life to give us a three-dimensional portrait of her, so tangible that it felt like each one of us knew her personally, Denis Villeneuve's taut thriller that he describes -- and rightly so -- as a "dark poem" dealt directly in high-quality tension. The impeccable craftsmanship that went into packaging the two films made it impossible for me to take a call. And if the two films were indications of anything, it is that their respective directors can do no wrong.

9. The Lobster (Ireland/UK/Greece/France/Netherlands)

There is absolutely no doubt that Yorgos Lanthimos is able to handle black comedies, drier than usual as they are, better than his peers. In The Lobster he demonstrates this to great effect. It takes us back to his world where impassive cynics rule, people are sophisticated beasts and violence is acceptable and somewhat mundane when it is carried out with neither the drive nor deliberation with which it should be. But The Lobster has one major plus point: it has got heart and humor, which is most unlike Lanthimos for he rarely makes accessible films. That said, The Lobster is still an acquired taste. But with his most commercial outing yet, here is a master filmmaker who proves once again that he can handle a fatter budget and a broader story with the same finesse that he does his indies without compromising on his style.

8. Mustang (France/Turkey/Germany)

Deniz Gamze Erguven's fine first feature is an incredibly intimate and quietly haunting study of growing up in a conservative society. Bookended by two stirring sequences, both buffed to perfection, Mustang draws from Erguven's own childhood. She suffuses this tale with deep empathy, opting for a calmer approach to the story instead of grappling it bluntly. And that's a good thing, too. The result is a film undoubtedly more powerful as a drama than an angry social commentary. By the end, I was left to deal with a lump in my throat.

7. Güeros (Mexico)

Alonso Ruiz Palacios' debut throbs with the energy and creativity that could make it the best film of any given year. But here's the problem: it suffers from a special kind of disease that I call "Screw You, I'm Brash," a disease that has ailed many a filmmaker, especially debutants. Palacios doesn't concern himself with keeping his story taut, and one can't help but wonder whether it was deliberate. Güeros is meandering, supremely indulgent but consistently inventive and immersive. Political anger brewing in the backdrop of a story of three slackers out to find an aging rockstar whose album had given them something to live for shows a lot of promise from a debutant, and Palacios exhibits a knack for injecting life into every frame. What it did was it took me back nearly ten years ago when I watched Walter Salles' fantastic The Motorcycle Diaries for the first time, a film similarly trembling with youthful energy. Güeros is an excellent film by any standard, but the tragedy is, it could have secured a higher spot on this list but did not. And the answer to why not is the film itself.

6. Court (India)

Chaitanya Tamhane's debut was, for lack of a better word, surprising. It showed the conventional Indian movie-goer who is so used to seeing courts being a place for theatricality on-screen how insipid they really are, but that doesn't count as an achievement. The real achievement here is Tamhane's observational visual style that detached us from the characters emotionally, thereby allowing us time to soak in the tiny details. Court is not for everybody; alternatively frustrating and compelling, it encourages its viewers to ruminate on its characters and their lives instead of sniffing around for a plot. With the aesthetics of an European art house fare, Tamhane risked tricky waters to deliver a dryly humorous, keenly observed and challenging character study, and succeeded.

5. Spotlight (US)

Tom McCarthy's film, a sure-fire frontrunner at the Academy Awards in February, takes a delicate, important story and squeezes magic out of it. Never losing momentum or sight of probably thousands of significant details cramped in its vigorous two hours, Spotlight leaves one rapt, hanging on to each word spoken as the story unravels in grave whispers and phone calls. And we ascertain the breadth of the chilling story because McCarthy doesn't soil it with unnecessary melodrama but, much like his protagonists, tackles it with the urgency a story like this demands. And when it ends, one can't help but look up the entire case on the Internet if they aren't already watching the film again.

4. The Look Of Silence (Denmark/Finland/Indonesia/Norway/UK)

In 2011, Joshua Oppenheimer gave us a documentary on the Indonesian genocide that was unquestionably the most provocative of this generation with The Act of Killing. Bone-chilling, difficult to watch and sure to leave one dazed by the end, the documentary was one many wouldn't and didn't return to, me included. With The Look of Silence, the second part in the two-part documentary on the genocide, Oppenheimer delivers another gutting documentary on the extermination of many millions, this one less horrifying in comparison, less aggressive in its arguments but retains the potency of the first. And like The Act of Killing, he boldly turns us into hostages of our own imaginations. Masterful.

3. Killa (India)

There is one thing Avinash Arun's brilliant debut did for me, which is rare for a film at least in my opinion, to do so. No matter how many times I watch it, it always drowns me in my memories of a place I knew as a kid but have never known as an adult. It shows a place of the past that exists nowhere but in our memories and then makes us want to live in it. One could say that Killa plays the nostalgia card better than most movies released this year, and it is in how it engulfs you with its lush imagery and humble storytelling that makes it so remarkable a film.

2. Carol (US/UK)

One would have to purposefully scan Todd Haynes' new film many times over to find a fault with it. Carol, adapted from Patricia Highsmith's novel, The Price of Salt, is a rare specimen; there's nothing that should be any different. Haynes captures the blossoming romance between two women in cursory glances and unspoken stares with such sophistication that it hoists the film to another level altogether. Each composition is immaculate, each actor outdoes themselves. This is filmmaking of the highest order. Abdellatif Kechiche's poignant Blue Is The Warmest Colour broke new grounds in 2011. Carol is right up there giving it company.

1. Taxi (Iran)

Those who are acquainted with Jafar Panahi's fight against his artistic decay will surely acknowledge the devastating brilliance of his latest. Those who haven't, well, will find something to admire in this filmmaker's unwavering determination to keep going on a path choked with hurdles. Like 2011's This Is Not A Film and 2013's Closed Curtain, Taxi is more of an angry social commentary on the attempts to quash an artist's creative energy than a conventional feature film, but Panahi, with the restrictions imposed on his creativity, isn't painting on a small canvas anymore. This is an ambitious effort that skillfully captures the gravity of the problem that he faces while introducing us to the common faces in Tehran, where he is driving a taxi and picking up conversations with his passengers. And like his last two ventures, this one too underscores his frustration at his creativity being sealed off. In one particularly poignant scene, his niece wants to tell him what she has learnt about making "distributable" films. But he does not wish to listen beyond a couple of points. The moment's translation to the screen deserves not only our sympathies but also our outrage.

(Not For Reproduction)

Handpicks : The Ten Best Films Of 2014.

To celebrate the Oscar nominations, allow me to catalog my favorite films of last year. It was a dandy year for films, and when it came down to listing ten hits, I was in a quandary. Truly, a memorable year for every kind of film, and it certainly got me excited about the new year. And a successful year for film can be gauged by how thrilled the audiences are for the next year at the end of it.

The following are my top picks. I still haven't seen Canadian enfant terrible Xavier Dolan's transgressive Mommy, Paul Thomas Anderson's eccentric stoner-comedy Inherent Vice, Ana Lily Amirpour's Iranian vampire-western A Girl Walks Home Alone At Night, Ava DuVernay's ignored Selma, Yann Demange's fraught thriller '71, the legendary Mike Leigh's new film Mr. Turner, J.C. Chandor's A Most Violent Year, Viktor Taus' Clownwise and Abderrahmane Sissako's acclaimed Timbuktu to name a couple.

The others, in order:

10.  Why Don't You Play In Hell? (Japan)

It's the kookiest party film of the year.

Sion Sono's impish ode to the cinema, Why Don't You Play In Hell? is kitschy indulgence. It's a spectacularly over-the-top venture that finds humor in the most unexpected places, is gleefully implausible and content in remaining mad as a hatter. Sometimes, only sometimes, inane films make vivifying cinematic experiences, and Sono's treat is a fine example of that. It works majorly because of its distinctive narrative--which is established using a several cinematic techniques, from long tracking shots to abrupt close-ups--and Sono's ability to infuse even the most tranquil sequences with pulsating energy. It's a wildly inventive, goofy albeit flawed excursion through the imagination of an artiste confident about his flair and passionate about his art. Any hunt for rationality will reap one only disappointment, however.

9.  Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance) (US)

Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu is such a braggart.

Birdman stands out as a mammoth technical achievement on every level; a caustic, claustrophobic satire on showbiz and vanity and loneliness that is wonderfully weird and arresting, though not always as absorbing, expertly orchestrated and fashioned like a supple one-take film that gives it a hypnotic aura. It's a heady blend of wow and wacky. But the problem, the only one, with Inarritu's film is, it's too conscious of its own greatness, conscious of what it's trying to achieve on a technical scale and that schtick sometimes impedes the narrative flow. In places, the effect seems painfully artificial, which is a major drawback for a film that tries hard to please.

But that's not to say that this way-out beauty isn't disarming; there are a few genuinely breathtaking sequences that tingled me, the most memorable being Michael Keaton's Riggan levitating and gliding through New York City insouciantly. Birdman isn't a perfect film--maybe an illusion of one--but its audacity deserves props.

8.  Blue Ruin/Whiplash (US)

The "indie-st" indie in recent memory and the euphoric wonder of the year.

While on one hand, Jeremy Saulnier delivered a bloodstained, sickening revenge fable was flamboyant, dispiriting and assured debut, reminiscent of Coen Brothers' Blood Simple, with great difficulty and on the other hand, Damien Chezelle served us a sort of musical-thriller with a bald monster tormenting a whippersnapper. And both worked better than anyone could have ever imagined. While Blue Ruin left me thoroughly shaken by its depiction of the barbarity people can resort to to exact vengeance, I found it hard not to holler for the invigorating high Whiplash gave me. Both films marked the arrival of two major auteurs in-the-making. Saulnier's deft use of bare imagery to heighten the bleakness of his tragedy and Chazelle's justified close-ups of sweaty faces and blood-sprinkled cymbals to underline the edginess of his semi-autobiographical story were wise calls indeed. And both films emphasized on the need to remain human even when circumstances are untoward.

Blue Ruin and Whiplash might be forgotten soon, much to my chagrin, but they trained the spotlight on independent cinema. If that was the objective, then they knocked it out of the ballpark.

7.  Ida (Poland)

Pawel Pawlikowski's curiously vivid, expressionistic film looks every bit like an awards season vanquisher, and it deserves to be one, too.

With gorgeously bleak, austere imagery, Ida explores the subtleties and vulnerabilities of the human mind and soul by scrutinizing two female protagonists affected by an old tragedy they prolonged unearthing for years. As is a cliche in the movies, whenever a character goes digging into their past, the repercussions they come up against aren't gratifying. The plot of such films is molded from what secrets these repercussions withhold. In Ida, the disclosures are dreadful, but the mystery here is more of the mind than of the revelations. It treads on a familiar path, but it does it with much deliberation and diligence than what we might have seen before. Pawlikowski's utterly apathetic to the suspenseful element of his story, thereby giving it no window to gut or unnerve or sermonize.

In my review of the film, here is what I wrote: "Can a weak rebellion against a life of illusion diminish the harsher versions of the truth?" Ida pitches this question, but the answer lies somewhere in the inscrutable silences at the end. The fact that one cannot fathom it is what makes this a haunting experience.

6.  Two Days, One Night (Belgium)

The only instance where I jumped with joy when the Oscar nominations were being announced was when Marion Cotillard's name was called out.

Cotillard--so fine in La Vie en Rose, so criminally underused in Hollywood--turns in a performance of towering warmth and feeling as a chronically depressed mother and wife fighting for her job and her pride that deserves more than just a measly Oscar. The new film by Belgium's Dardenne Brothers, Two Days, One Night packs a dramatic punch that cuts straight to the heart. There is a flicker of suspense, a whole lot of suppressed drama, a hint of light humor and an aura of familiarity. But at the core of this deeply empathetic film is Cotillard, whose radiating, nuanced performance conveys volumes of sadness and hopefulness for every second she is on-screen. Notice her triumphant stride, how her face lights up whenever she is happy, how dismally vulnerable everything is when she isn't. It's a measured performance, majestic in its humbleness. The same could be said of the film.

5.  Leviathan (Russia)

Andrey Zvyagintsev's compactly-written Leviathan is a thing of devastating beauty.

It's simultaneously imposing and harrowing, intimate and bleak, an angry and disillusioned critique of contemporary Russia. Zyyagintsev's scripting is flawless, exploring the helplessness and haplessness of a man fighting a losing battle to a corrupt mayor over an ancestral bit of land exhaustively, allowing his audience to hope for his characters but then, in a neat stroke, quashing whatever whit of optimism we had. What stands out in this masterwork is the frequently breathtaking composition of shots. Using landscapes and lighting to magnificent effect, the visual detailing augments the melancholic feel of the film. Though its pacing might be lethargic, the narrative thankfully never meanders. Leviathan may be a depiction of a specific country, but one can't escape the universality of its message.

4.  Boyhood (US)

The most successful gimmick of the year is predictably also the chief contender for the top prize.

Boyhood was Richard Linklater's passion project for eons, a film of overpowering ambition and affinity that placed it in the history books long before it even hit the theaters. I, for one, would definitely love to read a book that documents its journey from a spirited script to a cohesive film that had been in the making for a little over a decade, but I also believe that the curtains need to be pulled on Boyhood before it loses steam through dissections. Linklater is the new maven of coming-of-age films, and Boyhood, while not being his best, is an affectionate survey of pubescence. Inevitably, it's also Linklater's most personal film yet. And why shouldn't it be? It represents a picture of each and every one of us, a variation of who we are. And for the first time, Linklater has made a picture that is more about about us than about himself.

Many find Boyhood to be a slog, but for what it achieves on an emotional level and for its zeal, it certainly isn't a trivial experiment if it's a tedious one.

3.  Force Majeure (Sweden)

I find it hard to digest that this Swedish masterpiece didn't make the final five.

Ruben Ostlund's bitingly funny, acute melodrama about a family's predicament whilst on a skiing holiday is impossible to shake off. A man's failure as a father, husband and a man after a brief moment of cowardice is put under scrutiny and painstakingly analyzed in this psychodrama that is always on the brink of a dramatic eruption, but remains understated till fade-out. It compels its audience to reflect on themselves in a way that is surprisingly organic. Ostlund wisely uses ravishing, somber images of snow-capped mountains, commonplace sounds to fill the silences and a fancy color combination to add layers to his quietly uneasy film. The tonal shifts are delightful in their precision.

A marriage under duress might be a subject that a lot of films have tackled previously, but I cannot remember the last time I have been this enthralled to delve deeper into one.

2.  Goodbye To Language (France/Switzerland)

The new film by Jean-Luc Godard. Jean-Luc Godard. And it is truly avant-garde. I don't know how one reviews or rates one of the most bewitching experiments in film in recent years, but Goodbye To Language, I believe, is more about what the audience feels than what they interpret. Consisting of gorgeously abstract imagery, confounding editing calls, overlaying voiceovers and a quasi-fractured narrative, Godard's diffuse, crammed film is about how we communicate and express through verbal exchanges. It imbues its audience with a feeling of astonishment, of wonder, subjecting us to something so introspective, so unique yet so virtual that one viewing is not enough to exploit the sheer magic of its visuals and ideas. It urges us to cogitate on what it tries to convey through its opaque diegesis. 

The only problem is, I am not even as close to decrypting it in my second viewing as I was in my first, but Goodbye To Language offers us something that film rarely does: an opportunity to see a trailblazer playfully reinventing himself.

1.  The Grand Budapest Hotel (US)

Wes Anderson can never get it wrong, can he?

The auteur, now with eight feature films to his name, has mastered the genre he created with Bottle Rocket in 1996. The Grand Budapest Hotel is his most challenging work yet, and a sui generis experience that reminds us why we love movies in the first place. Like all Wes Anderson marvels, this endearingly quirky, supremely wistful and tremendously poignant fable-like film makes crack use of symmetry, color, locations and characters to create a lushly detailed, resplendent world that one might find hard to leave and forget. It's an act of pampering, but it's pampering we enjoy.

The Grand Budapest Hotel is the quintessential Anderson package, and a film I will keep returning to for years to come.

Handpicks : The Ten Greatest Gangster Films Of The New Century.

I devour gangster films with the kind of relish people usually reserve for euphonious music. Ergo this list.

The following are the the finest gangster films of the new century I have seen, handpicked with deliberation and prudence. I don't believe I may have missed out on any film, and a film not on this list has been consciously excluded.

So, in the alphabetical order for the umpteenth time :


1.  A Bittersweet Life (2005; South Korea)

There's something strangely alluring about precipitous bloodshed.

As Kim Ji-woon admirably demonstrates in his explosively stylish fusion of machoism, morality and mania, grisly violence can only give rise to grislier violence. And acts of pugnacity can make a varmint out of even the loyalists.

A Bittersweet Life follows a frustratingly predictable pattern narratively and thematically, but remains an exhilarating joyride purely because of the abstruse characters that it serves with a colossal serving of the old repellent ultra-violence. What we get here are a bunch of diabolical fruitcakes intent on causing mayhem and ridding the world of each other, but in the stray moments, we find that the film is actually about the thorny relationship between a master and his flinty servant, both of them a part of the Korean mob. About how, even when brutishness seems inevitable, an act of magnanimity can trigger complications beyond one's realm of understanding.

And the complications are delightfully dark.

It's a profound, cheekily coolheaded and supremely well-orchestrated little gangland drama that demands to be seen for the characters that it carves. Fish around for a plot, however, and you'll end up with a mouthful of cliches.

2.  A Prophet (2009; France)

Oh, my! What a beautifully bestial film this is!

I have often spoken of my outmost admiration for Jacques Audiard's hypnotic masterpiece, which is unyielding in its depiction of impetuous violence in prison, and how a youth does his growing up by dealing with guilty hallucinations. And at its crux, A Prophet is about a murder so terribly brutal and unsettling that it changes the course of the film, and leaves us gasping in horror. In a calculated move of creative acumen, Audiard skillfully hinders his protagonist from turning into a hero. And what he gives us instead is a dissolving and often poignant nightmare, a brilliant one that petrifies and gnaws. That propels A Prophet into the league of modern masterworks in film.

Perhaps the greatest of all crime films of its generation, A Prophet is as flawless as a film can possibly get.

3.  Animal Kingdom (2010; Australia)

Who knew the usually diffident Jackie Weaver would slide into her role of a fickle mafia godmother with such unnerving menace?

David Michod did. And the socko hunch paid off, lucky us. The appropriately titled and devilishly slick Animal Kingdom hardly looks like a directorial debut of someone, a crime film of such prodigious power and artistic maturity that we hang on for every fiendish twist it pitches, spellbound and speechless. The reliable Ben Mendelsohn shines through and through in his role as the sinister older brother of a crime family, providing the film its much-exploited atmosphere of dread and dreariness, and the balance in terms of performances. But it is Weaver, the wondrous Weaver, who takes the cake here. She's absolutely invigorating.

If you haven't seen many Aussie crime films, Animal Kingdom would be a fine one to get cracking.

4.  City Of God (2002; Brazil)

Now, ain't this a visual treat to behold?

Fernando Meirelles' City Of God is breathtaking in its scope, flawless in its storytelling and spunky in its style, a rip-roaring gangster film that is one-off for reasons more than one. Fusing arresting images of the scuzzy favelas of the City Of God and ebullient details, Meirelles employs a visual style like no other film in recent memory to chronicle a story of a young man's adolescence in a violence-plagued city where mob wars are commonplace. And its flaws are so scant that I can count them off my fingers and still have some to spare. If not for anything else, City Of God warrants a peek for the consummate storytelling gifts of Fernando Meirelles. However, let it be known that it is a tad difficult to watch at times. If you cringe at the harrowing sight of children toting guns or getting shot, it will more disgust than rivet you.

Expertly directed, bracingly edited and colorfully shot, City Of God is genre-redefining.

5.  Eastern Promises (2007; UK/Canada/US)

Trust David Cronenberg to make a crime film on the Russian mob, and Eastern Promises is exactly the kind of film I envisaged him cranking out.

After his compelling A History Of Violence, Cronenberg, one of the finest filmmakers of his generation who remains persistently snubbed for reasons uncertain, took a deeply distressing story of rape, violence and sin in London's Russian mob and turned into a tasteful, alarming and elaborate film that offered intelligent fodder for the mind and thrills for the starved senses. It is a film that strings together a few sequences of crackerjack filmmaking -- most notably the nude brawl in the Turkish baths, which is the kind of stuff that turns films into indelible memories -- and spine-tingling brusqueness in its portrayal of the waywardness of a person devoted to violence. And the stifled horrors it illustrates so brashly had me cowering.

Eastern Promises is nauseatingly violent, at times to a fault, but has an incisive story to tell and does it without much foofaraw.

6.  Gomorrah (2008; Italy)

If your impression of the Italian Mafia stems from the swanky aesthetics of The Godfather or The Sopranos, here is a brute of a crime film to get you au courant with the changing times.

Set in a far-flung world of grubby alleys and sooty tenements in modern-day Naples where a crime syndicate operates with his claws digging, worming their way into the thwarted existence of its helpless residents, Gomorrah doesn't cut you some slack. It's an absolute doozy. Intermeshing five stories of how organized crime affects the uninvolved, it's a concise, controlled explosion of sheer filmmaking power. It is styled like a stark documentary, nosing about for grim realities to bludgeon us with, acted with the kind of naturalism you don't usually associate with opulent mob movies, thereby flinging you headfirst into this abject world of power, corruption and greed. That's what makes Gomorrah a bleak affair; you live the characters.

To all the romanticized mob movies we were forced fed in the past forty years, Gomorrah is a fortifying contradiction.

7.  Infernal Affairs (2002; Hong Kong)/ The Departed (2006; US)

Two, because I can't make up my mind which one is better than the other. So, two.

While Infernal Affairs is a heavily-stylized cop-and-con thriller pretending to be no different than what it is, The Departed feeds off on its ever-developing emotional core. Both films are masterfully directed, loyally carrying an irrepressible flavor of their respective cultures, peppering the plot with wildfire, urgent dialogue and arbitrary bouts of bloodbath. While Infernal Affairs lacks the earnestness that makes The Departed a far more soul-stirring film in comparison, it cashes in on being coldly detached and very nearly manages to shift the focus on the slightly cockamamie plot instead. Directors Andrew Lau and Alan Mak only moderately succeed; Infernal Affairs works rather well as a character study albeit a half-baked one. But it is a hell of a punchy film, the kind you want to let you sweep you off your feet willingly and relish the coddling.

On the other hand, The Departed is an assured remake, conscious of the job at hand and working its way slowly to knock it out of the ballpark. The flamboyance of manner makes a rather delightful appendage, I must say. Working with minmal gore and relying heavily on oppressive tension, Martin Scorsese creates a palpable set of conflicted characters that are sculpted with great attention, and their woolly relationships with each other deftly add sprinkles of mystique to them. However, in terms of unmitigated audacity, it slumps vulnerably before Infernal Affairs.

While one's more of a plaintive drama, the other one's a turbulent thriller. Pick your fix.

8.  Outrage (2010; Japan)

Outrage can be described best as prolonged carnage.

But you have got to hand it to Takeshi Kitano, the orchestrator of this bang-bang, who skillfully hinders the film from turning into a pantomime. The multi-hatted auteur creates a baroque plot that brags of a thousand promises, and doesn't let it die down till he's done. Outrage may not be a levelheaded yakuza film, but it is a thoroughly entertaining fare that gloats of the most polished gore since the two volumes of Kill Bill. It is one of those crime films where the director would rather wipe out his characters in the most inventive way possible than be bothered about where the plot is headed. Though the tall body count in this film has some wild, plausible logic behind it, I'm just not sure if it was requisite. However, when a hotshot filmmaker is flying off the handle, it is best to stand back and watch him do his trade.


Outrage is a triumph of bravura over brains. For once, I readily basked in something like that.

9.  Sexy Beast (2000; UK/Spain)

In my fantasies, I often wonder what Gandhi would have made of his reel version's performance in this brawny bop of a film.

Because, like countless other film-lovers, I usually associate Ben Kingsley with his portrayal of Gandhi in Richard Attenborough's magnificent biopic at the mention of his name. Or the bumbling Jewish accountant he played so adeptly in Steven Spielberg's magnum opus Schindler's List. But Ben Kingsley as a presumably deranged, diabolical lowlife? That's an unimaginable first. But as Don Logan, the stuck-up, perpetually mumbling and dangerously volatile gangster, he not only delivers one of the finest pieces of acting I have seen in modern cinema, but also a masterclass in acting. The guy zaps the whole cast with his towering persona and makes it look like a cinch.

But the film's ravishing visual style is no less stupendous. Debutant Jonathan Glazer narrates as much with the imagery as the characters do with their garrulous lines. The characters aren't the affable sort, of course, which makes this crafty, subtle ride all the more intriguing. It's a slick and satisfying journey into their chaotic consciences that will give you gooseflesh.

Sexy Beast will come at you with the impact of a seething knockout punch. Best greet it.

10.  Viva Riva! (2010; the Congo)

My jaunt in African cinema began with a cabochon.

The only Congolese and African film I have seen, Djo Tunda Wa Munga's Viva Riva! is evidence of the kind of artistic talent they nurture in that part of the world. It is a film at par with any great crime films made with a bulkier budget and with far superior resources. It is a film that is noirish in its approach, working with a plot dunked in atmosphere and panache, and with an unmistakably authentic African setting. It steadily evolves into a brutal, brutal film, briskly paced and enjoyable to boot. To get a notion of how enjoyable this film is, the exclamation mark in its title is a gracious sample. However, those who despise acts of violence and sleaze would prefer to keep away from this maelstrom.

Viva Riva! opened a door into a world of cinema that I was oblivious to. And I'm stoked it did.

(Not For Reproduction)