Handpicks: The Five Best Indian Films Of 2016.

[This list is not for reproduction.]

Five, because I could not watch all the films that I wanted to this year.

Two notable films that you won't find on this list but deserve to be on it are: Sairat, Nagraj Manjule's epic romantic musical that skilfully mixed ingredients of commercial cinema with social themes; and Aligarh, Hansal Mehta's compassionate film on Ramchandra Siras, a gay professor at the Aligarh Muslim University, who was found dead in 2010 under mysterious circumstances, questioned the invasion of privacy in his case.

5. “Chauthi Koot” (dir.: Gurvinder Singh; Punjabi)

In Chauthi Koot, there is silence of a unique kind. It is fraught with tension and suspicion, and when someone speaks, the words don’t diminish the tension it carries. This silence is masterfully maintained throughout the film. It is important, because Gurvinder Singh is trying to do something ambitious here: take us back to the Punjab of the ‘80’s, a time of widespread distrust and disorder, using atmosphere as a time-machine. He succeeds. Chauthi Koot, based on two short stories by Waryam Singh Sandhu, is a modest, profound film that adopts an ambiguous approach to tell a story of fear and paranoia, and how innocents are pulled into someone else’s fight. It prompts us to put ourselves in the shoes of its protagonists. There are no easy answers to be found here, but ample ideas to mull over.

4. “Ottaal” (dir.: Jayaraj; Malayalam)

Jayaraj’s Ottaal, a worthy adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s short story “Vanka,” is arguably the year’s most heartbreaking film. Taking place mostly in and around the marshlands of Kerala, it is the story of a recently orphaned boy’s attempts to start a new life with his aging grandfather, a duck farmer, while also trying to get himself accepted by society. Brought alive by empathetic direction, terrific writing, and gorgeous cinematography, Ottaal immerses us in its richly textured world. Although Jayaraj adds his own little touches to this neat adaptation to make it more accessible to the Indian viewer, he does little to mitigate the crushing power of the original. I will never be able to forget Kuttappayi of Ottaal like I haven’t forgotten Vanka of “Vanka.” What needs to be noted here is that “Vanka” was written in 1896, and more than a century later its message still stings.

3. “Visaranai” (dir.: Vetrimaaran; Tamil/Telugu)

I wasn’t familiar with the cinema of Vetrimaaran before I watched Visaranai, but that has changed. Or, if I had to put it in another way, it made me change that. A boldly political film, which is a rarity in Indian cinema these days because of a certain babu in the CBFC, it’s an immensely disturbing indictment of the country’s policing system. Sometimes the caretakers of the law are worse than those who break it. It’s a scary thought. In the end I was left thoroughly shaken. Maybe you will, too.

2. “Thithi” (dir.: Raam Reddy; Kannada)

There wasn’t a film I saw this year more Indian than Raam Reddy’s Thithi. It was reminiscent of the TV serials that used to be shown on Indian television a long, long time ago that mainly focused on a group of people in a quaint little place and chronicled their daily lives and interactions. It’s indeed marvellous how beautifully it observes its characters without making it look heavy-handed, and how the light humour is woven into its thoughtful story. It’s the kind of film that offers little food for conversation but much for thought. We just soak it up.

1. “Kaul” (dir.: Aadish Keluskar; Marathi)

Aadish Keluskar’s remarkable debut was made on a shoestring budget, but that doesn’t deter it from being one of the most original and brave Indian indie films in years. I caught it at a free screening in March, and I consider commuting for nearly an hour in peak Mumbai traffic one of the better decisions I took last year. It’s hard to describe what Kaul is about. It’s also hard to describe how it engages us with its stark visuals and soundscape. It’s a carefully made film, and it often ventures into a territory we do not expect an Indian film to venture into. (People love to call it – and I believe the term is – “mindfuck.”) It’s ambiguous, philosophical and grim, and it requires a willingness on the viewers’ part to explore what it wants to say. It’s the quintessential nightmare of film distributors. There is so much to absorb, so many ideas to take note of that one viewing was never going to be enough. (I have not gotten a chance to watch it again yet.) The discussions are never going to end. The best we can do is applaud it for its guts and watch it again. And wait and see what the very talented Keluskar comes up with next.

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 Best Films Of 2015, Till Now.

Before listing some of my favorite films of 2015, I'd like to mention a 300-minute miniseries whose first half gave me the impression that it is quite something, and might be the movie of the year. Bruno Dumont's Li'l Quinquin is absurd, whimsical and riveting, using wry humor to tell a grim story deftly. Although I have only seen the first two parts of it (it is a four-part miniseries), I feel it will turn out to be an experience to cherish. 

As is evidenced in this list, films playing at the Cannes Film Festival each year constitute my watchlist.

Some of my other favorite films of the year are, in no particular order:

• Amy (UK)

Asif Kapadia's incredible and empathetic documentary on Amy Winehouse's rise and eventual death paints an astonishingly multidimensional picture of her. Constructing her life from the moment she stepped into the world of music to her untimely and tragic death, it digs so deeply into the thoughts and milieu of vulnerable and troubled star, we feel like we had known her all her life at the end of it. Kapadia's achievement here is that he keeps himself completely detached and pieces together her life using home videos, interviews from her friends and family and her songs like a skilled analyst. And the extent of the research he and his team have done is breathtaking, to say the least. Masterfully packaged and always profound, it darts toward a devastating conclusion we all know, but when it gets there, we wish it didn't. Brilliant.

• Killa (known as The Fort internationally; India)

I watched Avinash Arun's Killa twice in the theater, and both times I was bit by the nostalgia bug. A quiet, subtle and reflective film, it is beautifully told coming-of-age story that is as honest as it is humorous. There are no eye-catching gimmicks here, no fancy tricks. It's a tale told with simplicity and insight, and makes for a rather uplifting experience. It needs to be experienced. As of this moment, this is the best film I have seen all year.

• Timbuktu (France/Mauritania)

There have been only a few films that have truthfully depicted life under militant rule. Afghani filmmaker Siddik Barmaq's shattering Osama is one such film. But Abderrahmane Sissako's Timbuktu, a film that was nominated for the Oscar earlier this year and that premiered in competition at Cannes last year, also deserves to be a part of that category. A discerning and sensitive piece of cinema, it cogently illustrates how the populace of Timbuktu fight for -- and always lose -- their basic human rights against the jihadists who have invaded their land and lives. What distinguishes Sissako's film here from other similar films is the approach to the story and its setting he adopts. Scenes of stoning and lashing are handled with great tactfulness, unnerving us with only a few brief flashes instead of a lengthy sequence that would have been grisly and exploitative. And it is this tact that finally makes Timbuktu an unforgettable experience.

• Gett: The Trial Of Vivane Amsalem (Israel)

Thanks to Surya Vasisht, who reminded me about a film that made quite a splash in the festivals it played at last year. A divorce drama that isn't quite in the league of Aghar Farhadi's A Separation, probably the most haunting and intricate divorce drama in recent memory, Ronit and Shlomi Elkabetz's Gett: The Trial Of Vivane Amsalem offers a lot of finely-layered drama. A peek into the five-year ordeal of a woman who wants to divorce her husband but is a victim of his stubbornness and her own persona, it crucially chooses not to take sides by opting for an objective approach. With no "good guy/bad guy" angle, it only becomes more engaging as we don't know whom to root for, with both characters being equally flawed and equally human. The only put-offs are two scenes of hamminess that splotch an otherwise powerful and subdued film.

• Court (India)

A metaphorical and intellectually rich character study, Chaitanya Tamhane's Court does two things well: it gives us a supremely accurate depiction of the drab Indian lower courts and the people that crowd them and marks the arrival of a major talent. When I first watched it in a nearly empty theater, I grew frustrated with the lack of dramatic momentum. But when it ended, I was silenced; it is astounding how many layers the film has and how flawlessly it manages to convey what it wants to. Although marketed as a "courtroom drama," it isn't one at all; in fact, I don't think it falls into a particular genre. Pessimistic about the country's judicial system, it delivers a harsh but vivid picture of how we, at the end of day, still are casualties of it, and how it might never be resolved. But the treatment is assured and aloof, which is a clever move to make us direct observers without ever making us invest emotionally. If that isn't unique, I don't know what is.

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With that out of the way, let us turn our attention to the films that might make a splash later this year. Here are some of my most anticipated films of the year:

• Son of Saul (Hungary)

Probably my most anticipated film of the year and surely the most talked-about film at this year's Cannes Film Festival, Laszlo Nemes' grungy Holocaust-thriller seems like a winner from the outset. Designated to be a devastating but compelling experience, I can hardly wait.

• The Lobster (Ireland/UK/Greece/France/Netherlands)

Greek filmmaker Yorgos Lanthimos' deadpan Dogtooth was a stunning near-masterpiece that was overlooked and despised because of its disturbing subject matter. A science-fiction romantic-comedy that looks kooky and alluring -- and I would expect nothing less from Lanthimos -- The Lobster would surely be a film to watch out for. It's an added bonus that the film won the Jury Prize at Cannes earlier this year.

• White God (Hungary)

The outlandish trailer of Kornel Mundruczo's film had me under its spell. I don't know what to make of it. But it looks simply gorgeous. 

• The Tribe (Ukraine)

A contemporary silent film by Myroslav Slaboshpytskiy in Ukrainian Sign Language with no subtitles according to Wikipedia, it's a plucky and supposedly shocking experiment that will have a great payoff if it executed to perfection. And the least we can do is give it a shot.

• Titli (India)

I have been waiting for Kanu Behl's unflinching and bleak take on urban violence and patriarchy ever since it premiered in the Un Certain Regard category at the Cannes Film Festival in 2014. Those who have seen it have heaped praises on it. It has been announced recently that the film that has already released in France is going to get a commercial release in its home country in October. The wait goes on.

• Our Little Sister (Japan)

I simply cannot resist anything by Hirokazu Koreeda. With 2004's masterful Nobody Knows and 2013's thoughtful and moving Like Father, Like Son, he makes some of the most emotionally complex and balanced dramas in contemporary cinema. Need I stress on how restless I'm to watch his latest?

• Dheepan (France)

There are people who love Jacques Audiard and then there are those who think he's overrated. Personally, I think Audiard is a terrific storyteller. His strength is that he absorbs us into the world he creates in his films by keeping his characters relatable and tells his story with great compassion. Dheepan, his new thriller and controversial Palme D'Or winner at this year's Cannes Film Festival, might not have anything original to say but I expect to see a palpable story and great craftsmanship on display.

(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 Best Hindi Films Of The Year.

I don't remember the last time I said this, but it was a great year for indie films. Last year's Ship Of Theseus, The Lunchbox and Shahid served as three promising pointers that independent cinema is slowly, but surely, finding a footing in an uncaring industry that is still averse to the idea of a brand of cinema rivaling commercial cinema. With a burst of indie films procuring limited commercial releases, one can only hope for this to persist.

While there were some definite surprises this year, I was dispirited to find that the film whose release I was looking forward to ever since I first heard about it had been pushed forward. Perhaps Kanu Behl's Titli, debuting to much brouhaha at Cannes in May, will be a global contender next year. In what one can only label a "Christmas miracle" in the truest sense of the phrase, Anurag Kashyap's dark, dire and dogged crime-drama Ugly, embroiled in a controversy for a long time, made sure we ended a most reassuring year on a cheery high.

Personally, I missed out on a few movies this year. Nisha Pahuja's The World Before Her, a documentary on two Indias seen through the eyes of two very different women, and Amit Masurkar slacker comedy, Sulemani Keeda, about two struggling writers waiting to break into Bollywood were some I regret missing out on.

Anyway, to the list. Here are my favorite films of the year, ranked in the descending order:

10.  Filmistaan (dir.: Nitin Kakkar) / Finding Fanny (dir.: Homi Adajania)

An indie and a surprise.

While Nitin Kakkar's heartwarming debut took us across the border to a land that is besotted with cinema as much as we are, Homi Adajania's bittersweet fantasy fable (with priceless, unusually imprecise Goan accents, take it from a Goan) ambled through some of Goa's most scenic locales. Both films were promoted as comedies, but they went beyond the confines of their genre to deliver a torrent of feeling to go with the occasional laughs. While they catered to the mainstream audiences, one cannot ignore their attempts to bend what "mainstream" means in contemporary Hindi cinema. Though flawed efforts also, Filmistaan and Finding Fanny were invigorating attempts at bring about a change from the usual mundane fares at the multiplexes. And they are on this list because they succeeded in doing so.

9.  PK (dir.: Rajkumar Hirani)

Oh, dear. What we expected, and what was served.

The experience of watching P.K. is like going to a great restaurant, ordering a chef's special but being made to settle for something inferior. It was easily Rajkumar Hirani's weakest film, but his most ambitious one. Some sequences carried his trademark flourish, but some came off as plain ineffectual. Some were brilliantly constructed and performed, but some were shockingly overblown. Still, for the robust arguments alone, P.K. deserved more than just a viewing. It begged rumination. Admittedly, it does channel Umesh Shukla's OMG: Oh My God!, but this one stands its ground proudly without fretting about the kind of response it provokes. I admire.

8.  Haider (dir.: Vishal Bharadwaj)

The Bard-Bharadwaj pairing seems to be an eternal romance.

Whenever the auteur fiddled with the Bard's works previously, he produced pure magic. While Haider is a respectable -- and likably impish -- film in itself, it's not as daunting a cinematic creation as Maqbool or Omkara, I'm afraid, albeit one that is painted on a grander canvas. A lethargically paced funeral should suffice as its description, but it's the setting where Haider excels. A frigid, frosty Kashmir serves as a battleground for imminent bloodshed, and the tension is piercing. And performances. Oh, the performances! The whole cast is magnificent, and that is such an understatement. But words fail me. I just wish Haider were a tauter film. Its greatness lay right there, but it was a bloated, shapeless lump that desperately needed knocking into shape.

7.  Ankhon Dekhi (dir.: Rajat Kapoor)

An engrossing parable that brought a spark into a world we have forgotten exists.

Ankhon Dekhi unfolds in a heartbreakingly nostalgic Delhi of sights and sounds that mysteriously vanished years ago. But Rajat Kapoor, armed with an immaculately-written script that breathes life into a decaying world, brought to us an affable "nutcase" whose story was more edifying than maddening. A broadly philosophical, whimsical film, Ankhon Dekhi is the journey of a travel agent-turned-ideologist who is someone we first laugh at, then get frustrated with but ultimately come to comprehend. And goddamn me if I didn't walk out of this film feeling as if this was the most progressive sermon I had ever sat through. It is Kapoor's best since 2008's Mithya, and his most personal.

6.  Ugly (dir.: Anurag Kashyap)

The aptest titled film of the year, folks.

In Anurag Kashyap's fraught world of slimeballs, everything is ugly. Guns are pulled, cheeks get smacked, profanities flow like mud, people get roughed up habitually. His depiction of the nastiness of human character is perturbing enough, but it is also endlessly fascinating. Ugly is an sample of what he can achieve with little indulgence and no flamboyance. An enthralling character study of a bunch of abhorrent, desperate characters trying to outwit each other for egomaniacal pleasures, it is a singularly distressing, alarming and murky tale of deceit and narcissism. And it leaves one spellbound. I was wowed.

5.  Dekh Tamasha Dekh (dir: Feroz Abbas Khan)

It's such a shame that a lot of people are still unaware of the finest horror film of the year.

Theatre veteran Feroz Abbas Khan's second feature film, Dekh Tamasha Dekh is a brilliant black comedy; a satire brimming with absurdist elements, horrific episodes and gut-wrenching truths. It showcases a part of the country tucked away in the badlands of Maharashtra, where communal tensions flare up at the slightest provocation, and the violence they lead to is met with frustrating nonchalance. It's a sour detail to digest, but it reeks of the truth. At times a tad too theatrical, Dekh Tamasha Dekh is simultaneously sickening and rollicking until the second-half kicks in, and it turns into a full-fledged spook story. Shafaat Khan's pithy dialogue and a cluster of wonderful performances (the finest of which is a cameo by old-timer Sudhir Pandey, and isn't he a beauty!) make this the year's bravest, most important film. And the scripting is absolutely spotless.

It's nothing less than a miracle that Dekh Tamasha Dekh, a film that could so easily have been a victim of livid controversies but only if it had grabbed more eyeballs, found a commercial release. It left me so enraged and yet so frightened because it was familiar. And when was the last time you walked out of a film frightened because it was familiar?

4.  Miss Lovely (dir.: Ashim Ahluwalia)

Oh, the irony of the title.

An exercise in indulgence, Ahluwalia's gorgeous and thickly atmospheric arthouse drama was a sleazy, searing, claustrophobic, melancholic and often bitterly funny odyssey through Bombay's porn industry of the '80s. Centered around the splintered relationship of two brothers, Miss Lovely was a tale of half-hearted promises, loneliness, brooding characters and their wretched thirst for fame and attention, all crafted into an elegant, poignant film. The sluggish pacing may bore some, frustrate many, but there is no denying that Ahluwalia's dedication to craft and research is astounding. This surely won't be the last time I dig a spot in my schedule for Miss Lovely, which also features a superlative Nawazuddin Siddiqui, if that particular bit interests you.

3.  Dedh Ishqiya (dir.: Abhishek Chaubey)

The cheek of the title is supremely delightful.

I felt that one would be hard pressed to make a sequel by matching the character and tone of the marvelously earthy Ishqiya, but I needn't have worried. Abhishek Chaubey's nearly flawless second film is a riot; a painfully wistful, boisterous and polished film in contrast to his exceedingly crude debut. I don't know if -- and such a case is rare -- it is an improvement to its predecessor, but Dedh Ishqiya is a sophisticated illusion of a long dead world of nawabs and begums, an illusion I would sure like to buy into. It retains some of the roguishness of Ishqiya that made it such a ravishing experience, but it's an affectionately made film clearly in love with itself. And in many ways, it is the perfect sequel.

2.  Queen (dir.: Vikas Bahl)

Only the most dreadfully dopey might find Queen annoying.

Vikas Bahl asserted that he didn't know how to "make a film" when he took charge of crafting the finest crowd-pleaser to come strutting in years, but I find his statement a bit paradoxical. Queen is a film of disarming confidence, fashioned carefully to win one over and it does in its first half-hour and spends the next hour-and-a-half fine-tuning the formula it has sprung from. Kangana Ranaut not only gives a nonpareil performance, the best of the year, but also the best of her career. She makes the film what it is. And she's also one of the folks responsible for the frisky dialogue. There is a thin line between mainstream and offbeat, and Queen toys with it. It's a film of such eternal allure and warmth, rooted so deep in Indian culture that the traditionalists and modernists can sit beside each other and enjoy it as much.

1.  Katiyabaaz (dir.: Deepti Kakkad & Fahad Mustafa)

Kanpur doesn't have electricity. This darkened battleground may have seen many a skirmish, but in the best Hindi film I have seen all year, there hasn't been one more dryly amusing.

But it has Loha Singh, a stocky "Robin Hood" who nimbly scales electric poles and fixes illegal wires to supply impromptu electricity to power-starved locals, who idolize the chap. It's an intensely fascinating subject. But Katiyabaaz, this ace mockumentary that blew my mind like no other Hindi film this year, isn't about this strange hero; it's about his even-steven face-off with Ritu Maheshwari, CEO of KESCO, an electrical power company battling debts. Maheshwari's adamant approach to rid the company of its debts leads her to go up against this locally loved superman. What ensues is a battle between anarchism and autocracy, a droll battle, a fuming battle, where no side wants to back off, that leaves one drained. Kakkad's and Mustafa's attention to trivial details of everyday life in Kanpur and their detached exploration of the subject only amplify the eventual effect it will have on you.

However, for a film that gives one the impression of it being a pacy thriller, Katiyabaaz is also a desperately sad picture. Loha Singh's domestic life is pitiful, but not to the extent of it being a drag. When required, Katiyabaaz has emotional depth by the dozen. This tragicomedy is a brilliantly balanced, no-frills outlook on Kanpur's power crisis that doesn't preach or teach. Only engages. After 2012's Supermen Of Malegaon and Celluloid Man, it is undoubtedly an indication of Indian documentaries finally coming of age.