Films of 2018

Blogpost, Film reviews, Uncategorized

I saw roughly 406 films for the first time in 2018.

I say ‘roughly’ because this figure is not entirely accurate, since there are a couple of films that I went to watch only to realise that I had seen them before, or at the very least to suspect that I had seen them before (In Praise of Nothing being a case in point).

What is more, there are some films that I saw at the Strange Days exhibition at London’s 180 Strand, but which are not listed here (Pipilotti Rist’s 4th Floor to Mildness functions as a stand-in for all of the ones that I did see).

On that topic, there are two gallery/installation films that I enjoyed a lot, but which I did not get to see in full, those being Christian Marclay’s The Clock at Tate Modern and Ragnar Kjartansson’s A Lot of Sorrow at the Strange Days exhibition. Of the former, I managed to see from 10:02 through to about 18:00 – although there is one final all-night session in January 2019 that may allow me to see the film in its entirety provided that I go and that I stay awake for it. And of the latter, I only managed about half an hour, but it was hypnotising and I would like to see more (it is available on YouTube, but I have not had a chance to see it).

Beyond that, I saw 220 films at the cinema this year, making it the most common venue for my film viewing. This was followed by 144 films that I saw online, 22 films that I saw on DVD, VHS or from a file, 11 films that I saw on an aeroplane, 7 listed here that I saw at galleries, and two that I saw on television.

This includes various short(er) films.

The distinction between cinema and online continues to be eroded, in that many films are readily available online at the same time that they are in theatres. I would say that when I see a film like Bird Box, and I can see the image blur as the internet connection wavers, or when I see a film like Mudbound and I can see streaks of grey (as well as my own reflection) in the black of a nocturnal scene as my laptop cannot handle the tonality of darkness… then I feel that the theatre is still the best venue for watching films.

I fell asleep during a relatively large number of films this year, but I did not keep a record. That said, I did sense that I was beginning to fall asleep on occasion during mainstream films, which previously was only a very rare occurrence. Perhaps I need more sleep, or to change my lifestyle in numerous ways (drink less, stop smoking, do more exercise, watch fewer films, not work so hard, learn to be an adult, and so on). All the same, though, maybe blockbusters are having less of an effect on grabbing my attention than they used to.

I also noted that I would check and answer messages on my phone more regularly during film screenings. I am not sure how to stop the endless tide of messages or the insistent compulsion to answer them. In part this may be because watching films can sometimes still feel like skiving.

There are a few filmmakers by whom I saw several films this year, and these include Ingmar Bergman (as part of the retrospective of his work at the British Film Institute), Alia Syed and Kamran Shirdel (as part of events organised through the Birkbeck Institute of the Moving Image), and then Philippe Garrel, Krzysztof Zanussi, Mark Cousins, Angela Schanelec, Rick Alverson, Kevin Jerome Everson, Barbara Hammer, Annemarie Jacir, John Torres, Lou Ye, Gérard Courant, John Carpenter, Douglas Sirk, James Marsh and Christoph Schlingensief. These latter are mainly as a result of retrospectives on MUBI, although some are also a result of me wanting to catch various of their films out of a sense of failure at not having seen them already (Carpenter), or simply because they seem to have been productive (Mark Cousins and James Marsh, who, via The Mercy and King of Thieves, seemed this year to begin a trend of Brit-film mediocrity that I hope does not last too long).

Of these, the work of Jacir and Everson was in particular a pleasant discovery, while my engagement with Torres was more a case of finally reaching a destination that I had been meaning to visit for a few years. I enjoy but continue not to be blown away by Garrel, while Schlingensief is (or rather was) perhaps one of the most interesting and subversive European filmmakers of the contemporary era. Indeed, without wishing to sound too much like an arrogant c-unit, Schlingensief and Torres would in particular make excellent case studies of what I term ‘non-cinema,’ and about which I published a book this year.

On this note, I also saw a handful of South African films this year (Love The One You LoveThe Wound, We Are Thankful, Revenge, Girl from Nowhere, as well as a couple of experimental shorts not listed below by Jyoti Mistry and Nobunye Levin), some that I preferred more than others… but of which Love The One You Love and We Are Thankful struck me as really strong low-budget pieces of work (and which thus might qualify as what I term ‘non-cinema’). In particular I’d in the future look out for work by Jenna Bass, the director of the former, as well as further work by Mistry and Levin.

Other films that I saw (but which might not necessarily be new), and which might qualify as good examples of ‘non-cinema’ (and which for me were memorable viewing experiences) include Joséphine Ndagnou’s Paris à tout prix, Eric Eason’s Manito, Li Ning’s Tape, Khoa Do’s The Finished People and Josh Appignanesi’s Female Human Animal.

What was also interesting for me was to think about my conceptualisation of non-cinema in relation to the work of Kevin Jerome Everson mentioned above. Briefly put, non-cinema is a way of thinking about low-budget, anti-hegemonic filmmaking (read, work that critiques or offers alternatives to white, heteronormative patriarchy), and which at times is wilfully (but not necessarily) anti-commercial. In particular the argument tries to work productively with the idea that the digital is in some senses not cinema anymore in terms of production (celluloid) and distribution (theatres). And so if for various reasons it is ‘not cinema,’ then maybe we can positively say that it is ‘non-cinema.’

Should anyone ever read the book, one of the issues that they might have with it is that I want or insist that filmmakers who do not belong to white, heteronormative patriarchy somehow should or must produce ‘non-cinema,’ meaning that the wonders of cinema remain the preserve of the powerful.

This is not the intention behind my argument at all and I do try in the book to make clear that ‘non-cinema’ is still (or at least can still be) ‘cinematic’ (whatever that means), while also (perhaps without articulating it in so many words) wishing to encourage film viewers to consider that various of the things that they might consider to be ‘bad’ or ‘not even’ cinema are not necessarily a result of inferior filmmaking abilities (which is to create hierarchies of power), but that they might be positive choices, expressions of difference, perhaps especially expressions of a lack of access to power (especially money-as-power since many filmmakers simply cannot afford to make films that are as pristine as a Hollywood production), and thus aesthetically innovative should we have the eyes and ears to think about them in that way.

In other words, non-cinema is a tool to try to level the playing field of film aesthetics, which in turn might help to level the playing field of our political world, not least because aesthetics play such a central role in our political thinking (the political message is perhaps not as important as how it is presented, i.e. its aesthetic dimension; in cinema, he who makes the most noise and who has the flashiest colour palette is often/in many popular quarters considered to be the winner).

From this, it hopefully would be clear that one can make ‘cinema’ and still be anti-hegemonic (nothing necessarily precludes this, although the closer one gets to cinema there may well yet be a tendency to have to make films that try to make money simply because of how much it costs to make a film). Indeed, to make cinema can still be subversive, and this to me is the power of Everson’s films.

For, by regularly using polyester film stock to portray the everyday lives of working African Americans, Everson surely does ask viewers to consider his subjects to be equally as cinematic/as worthy of cinema as the figures that we see in mainstream, commercial cinema. This gesture is profound and powerful, and I would hope that it works in tandem with filmmakers who embrace non-cinema (low budget digital filmmaking) in order equally to level the playing field. Both are, I hope, working towards creating a more just and democratic world.

Perhaps it does not merit mention in the year after Get Out that African American filmmaking appears to be especially strong, with Black Panther being a necessary film to mention given its status as the first ‘black’ superhero movie (even if I personally had some issues with the film, as I have issues with superhero fantasies more generally, and even if I feel that the Saturday Night Live episode of ‘Black Jeopardy’ with Chadwick Boseman as T’Challa was not only one of the most enjoyable audiovisual experiences that I had in 2018, but also politically one of the most astute and powerful).

Nonetheless, one thing that struck me about the films that I saw in 2018 concerning the African American experience (if I can put it that way) is the legacy of Spike Lee. This is not to disregard other figures in the rich history of African American filmmaking, nor is it to disregard Boots Riley’s criticism of Lee concerning the latter’s BlacKkKlansman. But films like Riley’s Sorry to Bother You and Carlos López Estrada’s Blindspotting seem to carry strong traces of Lee’s influence, with Lee’s work itself remaining relevant and which, when considered as a whole, is relentlessly brave, even if personally I can sometimes find it derivative and testing. One thing is for sure: he continues to experiment and to push himself as a filmmaker, and in this respect he is nothing less than admirable (if that is not too condescending a thing to say).

Lee’s influence can also be seen in films like Justin Chon’s Gook, which tells the tale of American Korean Angelinos, and the turn to which also helps us to consider how currently there is equally a growing visibility of Asian Americans in contemporary cinema – with John Cho being a central figure in this growth as he begins to hold together films as varied as internet rescue film Searching and architecture essay-film Columbus.

(Can one summarise 2018 without mentioning Crazy Rich Asians…? Maybe this single mention is enough.)

I did also see two films by Steven Spielberg in 2018, those being The Post and Ready Player One, the latter of which was my first 4DX experience, and which ideologically annoyed me quite a lot – but so be it. I was also mildly disappointed by some of the Netflix films that did not get (much in the way of) theatrical releases in the UK, including Alex Garland’s Annihilation and Julius Onah’s The Cloverfield Paradox.

But rather than linger on disappointments, perhaps one might instead celebrate achievements, and in this sense 2018 saw a fair amount of what I would consider to be strong American films coming out. Among these I might include I, Tonya (a hangover from 2017), the afore-mentioned BlindspottingBlacKkKlansman and Sorry to Bother You, ColumbusLeave No TraceAmerican AnimalsMid90s, TullyLuckyThe Old Man and the GunRalph Breaks the Internet and Assassination Nation (which nearly sustained its headfuck aesthetic until the end).

Indeed, while I shall list below my ‘proper’ favourites of the year (these ones that I am discussing currently being points of interest and ever-so-nearly my favourites), I was worried that American filmmaking might run away with it this year, not least because a whole bunch of films by big-name world auteurs (including by non-Americans) were fine, but did not quite do it for me in the way that some of their earlier work has done. By this I mean that while I saw films by the likes of Jia Zhangke (Ash is Purest White), Lars von Trier (The House that Jack Built), Kore-eda Hirokazu (The Third Murder and Shoplifters), Pawel Pawlikowsi (Cold War), Steve McQueen (Widows), Fatih Akin (In the Fade), Corneliu Porumboiu (Infinite Football), Lucrecia Martel (Zama), Ruben Östlund (The Square), Jafar Panahi (3 Faces), Andrei Zvyagintsev (Loveless) and Paul Thomas Anderson (Phantom Thread), these did not quite do it for me (even though I liked a good number of these films a lot).

A list of films that really came quite close to doing it for me include Jacir’s Wajib, Mohammad Rasoulof’s A Man of Integrity, Naomi Kawase’s Radiance, Robin Campillo’s 120BPM, Jonas Carpignano’s A Ciambra, Frederick Wiseman’s Ex-Libris: The New York Public Library and Hu Bo’s An Elephant Sitting Still. I liked Paul King’s Paddington 2. Both Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma and Yorgos Lanthimos’s The Favourite are great films that really have at their core magnificent performances by female leads (respectively Yalitza Aparicio and Olivia Colman, although Emma Stone and Rachel Weisz from the latter are worth mentioning, too – with Weisz having also shone alongside Rachel McAdams and the under-rated Alessandro Nivola in Sebastián Lelio’s Disobedience).

I might also say that The Favourite made me think that Peter Greenaway’s legacy remains strong, as well as leading me to believe that the film is perhaps the best Grexit-Brexit comment to have been made in the recent past – not least in the face of much ongoing and conservative British cinema (although Francis Lee’s God’s Own Country is also a beautiful investigation into Anglo-European relations up in Yorkshire).

In a year that also saw The Greatest Showman and Mary Poppins Returns saturate our big screens, the legacy of Baz Luhrmann also seemed to loom large, making me wonder what he is up to and why he seems not have any projects along the lines of his best work (William Shakespeare’s Romeo + JulietMoulin Rouge!) on the go. Hopefully these would be more enjoyable than the two musicals mentioned above – even if my niece insisted on dancing repeatedly to ‘A Million Dreams’ and ‘Never Enough’ from the former throughout the Christmas period.

Returning to the UK in the era of Brexit, William English’s It’s My Own Invention, which I caught randomly at the Close-Up Centre one night early in 2018, has really stuck with me as a kind of bizarre insight into insanity as it charts the life of Hugh de la Cruz, who claims to have invented a perpetual motion machine. It perhaps chastened me with regard to my own propensity for insanity.

Although a couple of years old, I might mention Jenni Olson’s The Royal Road as one of the best essay-films that I saw for the first time in 2018, with Guy Maddin, Galen Johnson and Evan Johnson’s The Green Fog being a beautiful and very funny video-essay on San Francisco as depicted in cinema (and which thus shares a lot of ground with my forthcoming video-essay on the Golden Gate Bridge).

Finally, out of retrospective films that I saw at the cinema in 2018, I might make mention of Youssef Chahine’s 1969 film The Land, which was beautifully restored and screened at the Ciné Lumière as part of the SAFAR Film Festival 2018.

And so now we can come to my personal favourites of 2018, which number 9 in total and which appear below in no particular order:-

Between Fences by Avi Mograbi, a film (actually from 2016 and which I saw online, but what the heck) about acting workshops with African refugees in a camp in the Negev desert. This made me want to make films like it, while also leading me to read Augusto Boal, who is an influence on theatre director Chen Alon, who with Mograbi ran the workshops.

The Nothing Factory by Pedro Pinho, which is a weird micro-budget musical about workers on strike at a lift factory in Lisbon.

You Were Never Really Here by Lynne Ramsay, which has at its core a towering performance by Joaquin Phoenix, an incredible score by Jonny Greenwood and some of the most taut directing from Lynne Ramsay at the absolute peak of her powers.

A Deal with the Universe by Jason Barker. This no-budget diary film is about a man transitioning from being a woman, but who delays said transition in order to have a child. Tender and beautiful.

First Reformed by Paul Schrader. After The Canyons (which I secretly admire but do not particularly like), this came from nowhere – and is about as impassioned a film about environmental disaster as one can hope to see.

Summer 1993 by Carla Simón. A heartbreaking film about an orphan girl taken in by her aunt and uncle and which left me sobbing.

The Rider by Chloé Zhao, which uses non-professional actors from the world of rodeo to tell the story of the decline of the American west – and which also left me devastated and hiding in the cinema until the credits had finished so that I could have a good cry and time to dry my eyes unseen.

The Flower by Mariano Llinás. A kind of compendium of six separate feature films in one and all starring the same cast, this 14-and-a-half-hour long film becomes completely hypnotic and is a wonderful example of infinite storytelling, of the sort that Llinás’s fellow Argentine Jorge Luis Borges would endorse, and which keeps alive the Scheherazadean tradition of storytelling as life (it also made me love Miguel Gomes’ Arabian Nights even more for doing something similar).

The Wild Pear Tree by Nuri Bilge Ceylan, which is for me his strongest film. Ceylan continues to edit across different takes in such a way that one gets a sense of not a single story world, but parallel universes that all talk to each other. This film features perhaps the most beautiful scene of love that I can remember, as ne’er-do-well Sinan talks to his old crush Hatice by a tree. Furthermore, I felt chastised by the film for sharing many of Sinan’s faults, such that I really want to change my life and endeavour to be a better person… even if now in the fog outside of the cinema, I continue to feel lost and unsure of what it is that I am supposed to do with existence.

Although the next film is not really among my favourites, this talk of changing my life does lead me to my final thoughts, various of which concern Weeks in the West End, a no-budget independent feature made by Ian Mantgani and which I saw as a result of an invitation from a friend (Hind Mezaina) at the Prince Charles Cinema on the eve of the London Film Festival.

It is a personal story about the filmmaker’s relationship with cinema and the way in which the London Film Festival annually brings about a strange set of rituals as one endures long days of film-viewing and long nights of partying and film discussion.

It is also in some senses a kind of love letter to the filmmaker’s then-partner, as well as an account of the disintegration of their relationship.

What is curious about the film is that I once asked out the filmmaker’s partner for a drink (at around the time that they got together if my understanding of their timeline is correct). However, the filmmaker’s ex turned me down, and so Weeks in the West End became this odd experience of feeling slightly sorry for myself (a sense of inferiority at not being as attractive as the filmmaker, at least in the eyes of his ex; a wonder at how my life could have turned out so differently).

But more than this, the film also became an exercise in seeing how the filmmaker’s obsession with cinema perhaps got in the way of his relationship, maybe even ending it.

Weeks in the West End might work as a piece of non-cinema in many respects, not least because so low budget, even if shot in a wilfully quirky fashion on film. However, the movie is also beholden to cinema, especially as it goes off on numerous tangents that aim to showcase Mantgani’s beautiful turns of phrase as he reviews films that he has seen at the festival.

Two thoughts.

Firstly, we do not see those films that are described, but just the title and what is written about them in the London Film Festival catalogue from 2017. Weeks in the West End seems desperately somehow to want to be cinema, and this desire to be cinema seems ultimately to be destructive of human relationships. Perhaps we should never love cinema more than we love people. Perhaps I also watch too many films, even if I try to hate and in some senses to destroy cinema in my filmmaking and in my writing about film and coming up with notions like ‘non-cinema,’ which various of my friends would tell me are worthy of Pseuds’ Corner. I must learn to be a better human being and to value others ahead of my stupid fantasies, which I must also try to shed in order to see other humans for themselves and not filtered through my idiocy (I must stop being an idle romantic dreaming of other worlds rather than helping to improve this one).

Secondly, Mantgani is a beautiful writer. The Wild Pear Tree is a contemplation of literature, while The Flower also feels very literary/novelistic in terms of how it is constructed and how long it takes to get through it (the same applies to An Elephant Sitting Still, which is based on Hu Bo’s own novel, to name but one more among various others mentioned above and below).

One of the most important conversations I had this year was about how many of the great filmmakers are also great readers – and about the ongoing and perhaps necessary relationship between literature and cinema (or between text and film more generally).

If indeed we are drifting into a world where people do not have the time or the patience for novels (especially ‘difficult’ novels), then this also will lead to the impoverishment of cinema (and perhaps by extension to the impoverishment of human relationships).

Let us continue to read and write in order to make and to understand films as best as we can.

Some people hate him, but Jean-Luc Godard perhaps still has it and is on point with his latest film, The Image Book, which in some ways is a consideration of the relationship between cinema and language/literature/text, between images and books, and which is also a proxime accessit film for me this year: I loved it, but only as much as other work of his and not as if I had seen something anew (hence not in my favourite favourite list).

But most of all this: if we love cinema and/or literature, then let us also see if we can learn to love each other.

Appendix
(featuring all of the films I saw in 2018)

[Blank = cinema; * = online; ^ = DVD/VHS/file; > = gallery/installation; // = television]

Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool (Paul McGuigan)
Menashe (Joshua Z. Weinstein)
Battle of the Sexes (Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris)
Youth (Feng Xiaogang)
Brad’s Status (Mike White)
Paddington 2 (Paul King)
Marius (Marcel Pagnol)
Jupiter’s Moon (Kornél Mondruczó)
Rey (Niles Attalah)
Glory (Kristina Grozeva and Petar Valchanov)
Molly’s Game (Aaron Sorkin)
Field Niggas (Khalik Allah)
Darkest Hour (Joe Wright)
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (Martin McDonough)
Tempestad (Tatiana Huezo)
Swan (Alia Syed)
Unfolding (Alia Syed)
Syntax (Martha Haslanger)
Light Reading (Lis Rhodes)
Fatima’s Letter (Alia Syed)
Three Paces (Alia Syed)
Red Shift (Gunvor Nelson)
The Post (Steven Spielberg)
Attraction (Fyodor Bondarchuk)
Hex (George Popov and Jonathan Russell)
The Greatest Showman (Michael Gracey)
Barbara (Mathieu Amalric)
A Man of Integrity (Mohammad Rasoulof)
Radiance (Naomi Kawase)
Hannah (Andrea Pallaoro)
120 battements par minute (Robin Campillo)
A Fábrica de Nada (Pedro Pinho)
Downsizing (Alexander Payne)
Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson)
Room for Let (Yuzo Kawashima)
The Serpent’s Egg (Ingmar Bergman)
Makala (Emmanuel Gras)
Shame (Ingmar Bergman)
Loveless (Andrei Zvyagintsev)
The Mercy (James Marsh)
Black Panther (Ryan Coogler)
It’s My Own Invention (William English)
It Rains on Our Love (Ingmar Bergman)
The Song of Cotton (Yuancheng Zhu)
The Worldly Cave (Zhou Tao)
From the Life of the Marionettes (Ingmar Bergman)
I, Tonya (Craig Gillespie)
Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig)
Dark River (Clio Barnard)
The Devil’s Eye (Ingmar Bergman)
La vendedora de fósforos (Alejo Moguillansky)
Vers la mer (Annik Leroy)
Rewind and Forget (Andrea Luka Zimmerman)
The Shape of Water (Guillermo del Toro)
Red Sparrow (Francis Lawrence)
You Were Never Really Here (Lynne Ramsay)
Gringo (Nash Edgerton)
Sweet Country (Warwick Thornton)
The Nile Hilton Incident (Tarik Saleh)
Women’s Prison (Kamran Shirdel)
Tehran is the Capital of Iran (Kamran Shirdel)
Women’s Quarter (Kamran Shirdel)
The Night It Rained, Or The Epic of a Gorgan Village Boy (Kamran Shirdel)
Gook (Justin Chon)
Tomb Raider (Roar Uthaug)
Unsane (Steven Soderbergh)
Tomorrow Never Knows (Adam Sekuler)
Luz Obscura (Susana de Sousa Dias)
Gholam (Mitra Tabrizian)
A Deal with the Universe (Jason Barker)
Have a Nice Day (Liu Jian)
The Third Murder (Kore-eda Hirokazu)
The Square (Ruben Östlund)
Peter Rabbit (Will Gluck)
Martyr (Mazen Khaled)
God’s Own Country (Francis Lee)
Ready Player One 4DX (Steven Spielberg)
Journeyman (Paddy Considine)
A Quiet Place (John Krasinski)
Ghost Stories (Andy Nyman and Jeremy Dyson)
The Camera: Je, or La Caméra: I (Babette Mangolte)
Pacific Rim: Uprising (Steven S. DeKnight)
The Finished People (Khoa Do)
The Sun Island (Thomas Elsaesser)
Intruder in the Dust (Clarence Brown)
Un beau soleil intérieur (Claire Denis)
The Wound (John Trengove)
Avengers: Infinity War (Anthony and Joe Russo)
Something Wild (Jonathan Demme)
Beast (Michael Pearce)
Journey to the South (Jill Daniels)
Revenge (Coralie Fargeat)
Tully (Jason Reitman)
Shadow World (Johan Grimonprez)
Funny Cow (Adrian Shergold)
Le redoubtable (Michel Hazanavicius)
Deadpool 2 (David Leitch)
Jeune femme (Léonor Serraille)
Zama (Lucrecia Martel)
Solo: A Star Wars Story (Ron Howard)
Entebbe (José Padilha)
Isle of Dogs (Wes Anderson)
L’amant double (François Ozon)
3 Faces (Jafar Panahi)
Frontières (Apolline Traoré)
Infinite Football (Corneliu Porumboiu)
Plaire, aimer et courir vite (Christophe Honoré)
Una questione privata (Paolo and Vittorio Taviani)
Morocco (Josef von Sternberg)
Absolute Rest (Abdolreza Kahani)
Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (JA Bayona)
Veere di Wedding (Shashanka Ghosh)
Mobile Homes (Vladimir de Fontenay)
A Ciambra (Jonas Carpignano)
In The Fade (Fatih Akin)
Leave No Trace (Debra Granik)
Sicario: Day of the Soldado (Stefano Sollima)
The Women Weavers of Assam (Aparna Sharma)
Clem (William Brown)
Ocean’s Eight (Gary Ross)
Hereditary (Ari Aster)
Bao (Domee Shi)
Incredibles 2 (Brad Bird)
First Reformed (Paul Schrader)
Pin Cushion (Deborah Haywood)
Estiú 1993 (Carla Simón)
The Receptionist (Jenny Lu)
Generation Wealth (Lauren Greenfield)
Extinction (Salomé Lamas)
Apostasy (Daniel Kokotajlo)
Ex Libris: The New York Public Library (Frederick Wiseman)
Mogambo (John Ford)
El Mar La Mar (Joshua Bonnetta and JP Sniadecki)
Cocote (Nelson Carlo De Los Santos Arias)
Ant-Man and the Wasp (Peyton Reed)
Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (Ol Parker)
Mission: Impossible – Fallout (Christopher McQuarrie)
The Escape (Dominic Savage)
Las herederas (Marcelo Martinessi)
No Date, No Signature (Vahid Jalilvand)
The Eyes of Orson Welles (Mark Cousins)
BlacKkKlansman (Spike Lee)
Christopher Robin (Marc Forster)
The King (Eugene Jarecki)
Under the Tree (Hafsteinn Gunnar Sigurdsson)
Searching (Aneesh Chaganty)
Robot Jox (Stuart Gordon)
Yardie (Idris Elba)
Baronesa (Juliana Antunes)
Cold War (Paweł Pawlikowski)
The End of Fear (Barbara Visser)
American Animals (Bart Layton)
Home of the Resistance (Ivan Ramljak)
Uppland (Edward Lawrenson)
(In Praise of Nothing (Boris Mitić))
(Island (Steven Eastwood))
The Miseducation of Cameron Post (Desiree Akhavan)
The Predator (Shane Black)
The Search (Hossam El Din Moustafa)
Stories of Passers Through (Koutaiba Al-Janabi)
Poisonous Roses (Ahmed Fawzi Saleh)
Scheherazade’s Diary (Zeina Daccache)
The Film of Kyiv (Oleksiy Radynski)
Lucky (John Carroll Lynch)
Diamond Island (Davy Chou)
We Don’t Care About Democracy. This Is What We Want: Love, Hope and Its Many Faces (John Torres)
I Have Sinned a Rapturous Sin (Maryam Tafakory)
The Land (Youssef Chahine)
Wajib (Annemarie Jacir)
Nervous Translation (Shireen Seno)
Marvin (Anne Fontaine)
The Rider (Chloé Zhao)
People Power Bombshell (John Torres)
MATANGI/MAYA/M.I.A. (Steve Loveridge)
Climax (Gaspar Noé)
El reino (Rodrigo Sorogoyen)
Venom (Ruben Fleischer)
Blindspotting (Carlos López Estrada)
Weeks in the West End (Ian Mantgani)
Skate Kitchen (Crystal Moselle)
Wild Relatives (Jumana Manna)
Columbus (Kogonada)
aKasha (hajooj kuka)
Mandy (Panos Cosmatos)
Kusama – Infinity (Heather Lenz)
The Wife (Björn Runge)
Bad Times at the El Royale (Drew Goddard)
La flor parte 1 (Mariano Llinás)
Women Make Film: A New Road Movie Through Cinema (Mark Cousins)
La flor parte 2 (Mariano Llinás)
La flor parte 3 (Mariano Llinás)
Halloween (David Gordon Green)
Fahrenheit 11/9 (Michael Moore)
Dogman (Mateo Garrone)
First Man (Damien Chazelle)
The Old Man and the Gun (David Lowery)
Beautiful Boy (Felix Van Groeningen)
The Man with the Iron Fists (RZA)
Mid90s (Jonah Hill)
Ash Is Purest White (Jia Zhangke)
Wildlife (Paul Dano)
The Girl in the Spider’s Web (Fede Álvarez)
Widows (Steve McQueen)
Nae Pasarán (Felipe Bustos Sierra)
Assassination Nation (Sam Levinson)
Shoplifters (Kore-eda Hirokazu)
Bohemian Rhapsody (Bryan Singer)
The House That Jack Built (Lars von Trier)
Sorry to Bother You (Boots Riley)
Roma (Alfonso Cuarón)
An Elephant Sitting Still (Hu Bo)
Disobedience (Sebastián Lelio)
Le livre d’image (Jean-Luc Godard)
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (Peter Ramsey, Robert Persichetti Jr., Rodney Rothman)
The Green Fog (Guy Maddin, Galen Johnson, Evan Johnson)
Mary Poppins Returns (Rob Marshall)
The Favourite (Yorgos Lanthimos)
Aquaman (James Wan)
The Wild Pear Tree (Nuri Bilge Ceylan)
Ralph Breaks the Internet (Rich Moore and Phil Johnston)
Happy Christmas (Joe Swanberg)*
Unexpected (Kris Swanberg)*
Daphne (Peter Mackie Burns)*
I am Not a Witch (Rungano Nyoni)*
Marjorie Prime (Michael Almereyda)*
Monsters: Dark Continent (Tom Green)*
Tentacles (Ovidio G. Assonitis)*
On the Road (Michael Winterbottom)*
The Last Movie (Dennis Hopper)*
Mega-Shark versus Giant Octopus (Ace Hannah)*
The Protagonists (Luca Guadagnino)*
Ender’s Game (Gavin Hood)*
A Spectre Is Haunting Europe? (Julian Radlmaier)*
Dyketactics (Barbara Hammer)*
The Dunwich Horror (Daniel Haller)*
It Came From Beneath the Sea (Robert Gordon)*
The Crimson Kimono (Samuel Fuller)*
Superdyke Meets Madame X (Barbara Hammer)*
Cabin in the Woods (Drew Goddard)*
The Structure of Crystal (Krzysztof Zanussi)*
(20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (Richard Fleischer)*)
It Came From Outer Space (Jack Arnold)*
Dead Slow Ahead (Mauro Herce)*
Hokusai Manga (Kaneto Shindo)*
L’amant d’un jour (Philippe Garrel)*
Untitled (Michael Glawogger and Monika Willi)*
The Constant Factor (Krzysztof Zanussi)*
Las Plantas (Roberto Doveris)*
Mirror World (Abigail Child)*
Life is a Fatal Sexually Transmitted Disease (Krzysztof Zanussi)*
Wùlu (Daouda Coulibaly)*
Clash of the Titans (Louis Leterrier)*
The Gorgon (Terence Fisher)*
Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief (Chris Columbus)*
On Body and Soul (Ildikó Enyedi)*
In The Mouth of Madness (John Carpenter)*
Annihilation (Alex Garland)*
The Cloverfield Paradox (Julius Onah)*
The Bridge (Eric Steel)*
Paris à tout prix (Joséphine Ndagnou)*
The Year My Voice Broke (John Duigan)*
Spotswood (Mark Joffe)*
La Jalousie (Philippe Garrel)*
L’ombre des femmes (Philippe Garrel)*
Why Him? (John Hamburg)*
Kékszakállú (Gastón Solnicki)*
Eadweard Muybridge, Zoopraxographer (Thom Andersen)*
Silverlake Life: The View from Here (Tom Joslin and Peter Friedman)*
Lean on Pete (Andrew Haigh)*
Shanty Tramp (José Prieto)*
Afternoon (Angela Schanelec)*
Audition (Milos Forman)*
Orly (Angela Schanelec)*
There’s Always Tomorrow (Douglas Sirk)*
Night Tide (Curtis Harrington)*
No intenso agora (João Moreira Salles)*
The Dreamed Path (Angela Schanelec)*
The Tarnished Angels (Douglas Sirk)*
Allende mi abuelo Allende (Marcia Tambutti)*
Ma Loute (Bruno Dumont)*
Diary of a Shinjuku Thief (Nagisa Oshima)*
(La petite vendeuse de soleil (Djibril Diop Mambéty)*)
Refugiado (Diego Lerman)*
New Jerusalem (R. Alverson)*
The Comedy (Rick Alverson)*
Lek and the Dogs (Andrew Kötting)*
The Tingler (William Castle)*
Matinee (Joe Dante)*
Casa Roshell (Camila José Donoso)*
Daddy Longlegs (Josh and Ben Safdie)*
Polytechnique (Denis Villeneuve)*
Human Desire (Fritz Lang)*
Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice (Paul Mazursky)*
Agilem (Ilkka Levä)*
Manito (Eric Eason)*
Separado! (Dylan Goch and Gruff Rhys)*
Adiós entusiasmo (Vladimir Durán)*
Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle (Jake Kasdan)*
Donna Haraway: Story Telling for Earthly Survival (Fabrizio Terranova)*
Central Intelligence (Rawson Marshall Thurber)*
Mala Noche (Gus Van Sant)*
Alipato: The Very Brief Life of an Ember (Khavn de la Cruz)*
Aditya (Gérard Courant)*
4:44 Last Day on Earth (Abel Ferrara)*
Rubber (Quentin Dupieux)*
Je meurs de soif, j’étouffe, je ne puis crier… (Gérard Courant)*
They Live (John Carpenter)*
Inkheart (Iain Softley)*
Invaders from Mars (William Cameron Menzies)*
Evolution (Ivan Reitman)*
Jesús (Fernando Guzzoni)*
Fausto (Andrea Bussmann)*
Gamer (Oleg Sentsov)*
Mr Kaplan (Álvaro Brechner)*
We Are Thankful (Joshua Magor)*
Revenge (Coenie Dippenaar)*
Meteors (Gürcan Keltek)*
Temporada (André Novais Oliveira)*
Between Fences (Avi Mograbi)*
Djon África (Filipa Reis and João Guerra Miller)*
Born in Flames (Lizzie Borden)*
El apóstata (Federico Veiroj)*
Todo Todo Teros (John Torres)*
The Andromeda Strain (Robert Wise)*
Spring Fever (Lou Ye)*
Blind Massage (Lou Ye)*
The Supplement (Krzysztof Zanussi)*
Bonsái (Alex Andonie)*
The Last of Us (Ala Eddine Slim)*
120 Days of Bottrop (Christoph Schlingensief)*
When I Saw You (Annemarie Jacir)*
Terror 2000 (Christoph Schlingensief)*
All You Can Eat Bouddha (Ian Lagarde)*
100 Years of Adolf Hitler (Christoph Schlingensief)*
Tonsler Park (Kevin Jerome Everson)*
Quality Control (Kevin Jerome Everson)*
Teatro de Guerra (Lola Arías)*
Cinnamon (Kevin Jerome Everson)*
1428 (Du Haibin)*
Three Quarters (Kevin Jerome Everson)*
Una corriente salvaje (Nuria Ibáñez Castañeda)*
Wild Plants (Nicolas Humbert)*
A morir a los desiertos (Marta Ferrer)*
Giuseppe Makes a Movie (Adam Rifkin)*
Tape (Li Ning)*
Years When I Was a Child Outside (John Torres)*
‘Til Madness Do Us Part (Wang Bing)*
Trees Down Here (Ben Rivers)*
Spice Bush (Kevin Jerome Everson)*
L’Apparition (Xavier Giannoli)*
Season of the Devil (Lav Diaz)*
Girl from Nowhere (Mark Jackson)*
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (Ethan and Joel Coen)*
L’année des méduses (Christopher Frank)*
Alba (Ana Cristina Barragán)*
Mañana a esta hora (Lina Rodríguez)*
L’affaire des divisions Morituri (FJ Ossang)*
Female Human Animal (Josh Appignanesi)*
Bird Box (Susanne Bier)*
Li Shuangshuang (Lu Ren)*
The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected) (Noah Baumbach)*
A Star is Born (William A Wellman)*
Mudbound (Dee Rees)*
Mon Souffle (Jihane Chouaib)*
Octopussy (John Glen)^
Cathy Come Home (Kenneth Loach)^
Les amours de la pieuvre (Jean Painlevé)^
A Lesson in Love (Ingmar Bergman)^
Waiting Women (Ingmar Bergman)^
Sleep Has Her House (Scott Barley)^
Io Sono Li (Andrea Segre)^
The Royal Road (Jenni Olson)^
Freakstars 3000 (Christoph Schlingensief)^
Reminiscences of a Journey to Lithuania (Jonas Mekas)^
By Night With Torch and Spear (Joseph Cornell)^
Alone. Life Wastes Andy Hardy (Martin Arnold)^
Disorient Express (Ken Jacobs)^
The Trail of the Octopus (Duke Worne)^
I Love You (Marco Ferreri)^
Love The One You Love (Jenna Bass)^
Cefalópodo (Rubén Imaz)^
The Draughtsman’s Contract (Peter Greenaway)^
L’uomo in più (Paolo Sorrentino)^
Cabaret (Bob Fosse)^
Web Junkie (Hilla Medalia and Shosh Shlam)^
Mare Nostrum (Rex Ingram)^
Live By Night (Ben Affleck)+
Eat Pray Love (Ryan Murphy)+
Goodbye Christopher Robin (Simon Curtis)+
A Streetcar Named Desire (Elia Kazan)+
Epic (Chris Wedge)+
Alpha (Albert Hughes)+
Crazy Rich Asians (Jon M Chu)+
King of Thieves (James Marsh)+
Isoken (Jadesola Osiberu)+
Hearts Beat Loud (Brett Haley)+
The Meg (Jon Turteltaub)+
4th Floor to Mildness (Pipilotti Rist)>
Purple (John Akomfrah)>
Joan Jonas (Joan Jonas)>
Despair (Alex Prager)>
La Petite Mort (Alex Prager)>
Face in the Crowd (Alex Prager)>
La Grande Sortie (Alex Prager)>
About A Boy (Paul and Chris Weitz)//
Bros: After the Screaming Stops (Joe Pearlman and David Soutar)//

 

Trying to comprehend Trump, Jacksonville, fake news, the World Cup and Crimea: Gaamer/Gamer (Oleg Sentsov, Ukraine, 2011)

Blogpost, Film education, Film reviews, Ukrainian Cinema, Uncategorized

It is perhaps strange to write a post about a film that is now seven years old.

However, I wanted to discuss Gamer, which I saw this week while staying in Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine, for a number of reasons – a couple of which are complicated by the deaths of three people, including shooter David Katz, at a gaming convention in Jacksonville, Florida, USA, this week.

Gamer tells the story of Alex, or Lyosha, whose gaming nickname is Koss (Vladislav Zhuk). He lives in a small town in Ukraine where he ditches school and shuns the company of others in order to spend his time playing Quake.

He is sufficiently good at the game that he progresses from his small town, Simferopol, to Kyiv and all the way to Los Angeles in the USA, where he comes second in a world championship.

However, this success seems to mean little to Koss, who remains affectless throughout more or less the whole film. As a younger gamer, Kopchick, comes to replace him as the leading gamer in his home town, Koss instead begins to find dignity in helping his mother (Zhanna Biryuk) work in a shop – with one reviewer commenting that this leads him to smile for the very first time in the film.

A movie about a kid who plays truant naturally recalls François Truffaut’s Les Quatre Cent Coups/The 400 Blows (France, 1959), with director Oleg Sentsov being wise to this point of comparison by having his movie end with a freeze frame on Koss – much as Truffaut’s ends with a freeze frame on Antoine Doinel (Jean-Pierre Léaud).

But more than this, the film is also striking for the way in which it, like many a film from the French New Wave, takes to the streets, mixing documentary and fiction as the film involves real gamers and footage taken from real-world gaming tournaments.

Shot on an estimated budget of US$20,000, the film also involves direct sound, long takes in real locations and various other tropes that suggest the economic realism of cinema. By ‘economic realism,’ I mean that the less money one has as a filmmaker, the more one is likely to be pushed into the direction of long takes in order to save on time and money for set-ups.

But this is not a deficiency. On the contrary, it is a strength of the film that it does this, since the resulting intrusion of the real world (hence realism) into an otherwise fictional story is precisely what makes Gamer and numerous other films like it all the more powerful.

Indeed, it is the presence of the real world alongside the fantastic and violent world of Quake, from which we see a few play-throughs, that makes of the film an interesting investigation into the nature of gaming and virtual worlds in the present era – especially in a context like that of the contemporary Ukraine.

It is interesting how in games, the presence of cut-scenes would suggest that the medium aspires in some senses to become cinema. That is, games aspire to have the cultural clout of cinema, even if gaming is a larger industry than cinema worldwide.

Indeed, the cut scene, as well as the exemplary play-through, or the automatic action replay that takes place in some games when one performs a virtuoso bit of skill (or scores a goal) would suggest that the ‘best’ bits of games, and that towards which we should all aspire, become games not for us to play, but videos for us to watch.

In other words, gaming involves a logic of becoming image, or becoming cinema – since to become cinema bespeaks power, elevating the person out of the human realm and into the divine and supposedly eternal realm of the image, or light.

Given the presence of such ‘cut scenes’ in Sentsov’s film, one might suggest that Koss also aspires to become cinema, and to transcend his earthly identity, as marked by his change of names, precisely from Lyosha to Koss.

What is more, since such virtual images are placed alongside ‘mundane’ shots of everyday life, the effect is to suggest that the power of Gamer resides precisely in its not aspiring to be cinematic, but to express something like the outside of cinema, or what in my more academic writings I have termed non-cinema, and which may be something like reality itself.

That is, Gamer as a film charts Koss’ transition from aspiring to being cinematic (even if via gaming), a process that he finds ultimately hollow, and which is set against the smile that he achieves by becoming not cinematic, to his reconnecting with the real world (getting a job in a shop and working with his mum, who herself is also a translator/academic whose job does not pay enough for her to survive, suggesting that critical thinking is undervalued and discouraged in the contemporary world).

Notably, Gamer is also punctuated by other ‘cinematic’ moments during which a brightly lit Koss can be seen turning to the camera as dreamy music plays. A sort of set of fantasy sequences, these moments made me think that Lyosha was dreaming of an absent father – whom we never see and who is not even mentioned during the course of the film.

That is, Lyosha’s aspirations to be cinematic are also about him finding his father: to achieve success, to be famous, to become an image – these are all things that we are encouraged to achieve in our patriarchal and capitalist society (to ‘be someone’/to be ‘a man’ is our father, the thing that we pray for… and not to achieve it is to be a loser, perhaps not even to be human – as many a victim of cyber bullying might testify).

And so, as Lyosha ditches his cybernetic ambitions as Koss, and as he reconnects with the real world by taking a humble and dignified job in a shop as Lyosha, so does he also reconnect with his mother and a more feminine world.

Arguably this means that the film essentialises femininity as earthly and wise or some such. Nonetheless, it still means that the film’s story – together with its ‘realistic’ aesthetic – suggests a rejection of patriarchy and the myth of becoming cinema that lies at the heart of the contemporary capitalist world. Non-cinema is the way forward in a society dominated by the aesthetics and politics of cinema, or the aesthetics and politics of spectacle.

At one point we see Koss look through a window at his school and, using a speck of dirt on the window as a would-be rifle sight, he imagines shooting his fellow pupils.

Notably this moment takes place through the medium of a window. That is, Koss sees the real world through the medium of a separating screen rather than being directly in touch with it. And it is this separating screen that allows him to indulge his violent dreams, with violence itself being part of the logic of the cinematic world, in which we also repeatedly see violent images on screen, especially when playing a game like Quake.

Without wishing to pathologise the deeds of David Katz in Jacksonville this week, it is perhaps precisely because of the warping screen that media create, distorting our vision, that we humans go crazy and carry out violent deeds both in a simultaneous and paradoxical bid to become image (I become famous even if only as a murderer) and to destroy rivals who are seeking also to become image (Katz killing rival gamers, a crime that reveals the way in which the competition to become famous/cinematic perhaps necessarily involves violence, meaning that the murders are oddly and upsettingly a logical extension of the world in which gaming conventions take place – even if of course the absolute vast majority of gamers are wonderful, generous and loving people).

But more than the events of this week, Gamer benefits from a brief comparison with Ready Player One (Steven Spielberg, USA, 2018), another film that is about gaming and gaming culture, and which is one of the biggest box office successes of the year so far.

Indeed, where Gamer reportedly made only US$2,696 at the box office, Ready Player One has made US$582,018,455 worldwide. It is perhaps no coincidence that the film with the major special effects, the fast cutting rate and the conventional hero logic (replete with manic pixie dream girl who is there to help the hero to become a man) should make so much money. For, Ready Player One is patriarchy writ large.

Not only is it patriarchy writ large, but it also is an indulgence in nostalgia for the values of cinema, with a kind of weird fantasy posited at the end that maybe not all humans should spend all of their time playing games (or living in what the film calls the Oasis).

Aside from how closing the Oasis for a day a week would be commercial suicide (as other companies replace it by leaving their virtual worlds open 24:7, which is to say nothing of how to regulate different time zones into this fantasy logic), Ready Player One suggests that the Matrix is not something of which we should be fearful, but that being in the Matrix is great.

More than this, it also indulges a fantasy scenario in which the world of gaming really involves a sort of political activism (even though there are no hackers here), as ‘rebel’ gamers take on the corporate gamers in order to take/retain control of the Oasis.

(Forgive me; I am assuming some familiarity with Ready Player One, rather than explaining everything about it in too much detail. I sort of hope that readers can fill in the gaps if they have not seen the film; it really is all quite predictable.)

The point to make here, though, is that gaming is not rebellious, even if one believes that it is. Indeed, Katz is doing nothing more than committing an act of murder in taking the logic of the game (to ‘win’ by all means possible) outside of the game and into the real world. Indeed, gaming is always to, ahem, play into the hands of power (at least in the way that I am describing it here; I am sure that this view of gaming-as-patriarchy does not and should not always hold – except insomuch as it applies to patriarchal games, which not all games necessarily are, just as not all films are patriarchal; indeed some can be non-cinema, as per my argument above and elsewhere).

Here we come to perhaps the crux of my argument.

For as Gamer presents to us a vision of gaming as separating us from a real world with which we might do well to reconnect, so does Ready Player One suggest to us that gaming and virtual worlds are politically progressive.

To ditch digital culture and to ‘get back to reality’ naturally sounds like a conservative position. It involves a rejection of the novel possibilities that new technologies allow. To embrace those new technologies, meanwhile, sounds progressive, rebellious, young and hip.

And yet I am going to suggest that Gamer is a far more progressive film than Ready Player One. And this is not only because Gamer is not always-already creating spectacles for the purposes of making money/capital. That is, it is not simply because Gamer is not cinema but non-cinema.

However, in order to explain this point properly – and thus to explain the topsy-turvy-seeming logic of a kind of technological conservatism as progressive over a technological utopianism as progressive – we need to think about what has subsequently happened to the director of Gamer, Oleg Sentsov.

If you wander around Kyiv today, you will see numerous posters demanding that Oleg Sentsov be freed.

For, the #SaveOlegSentsov movement started when Sentsov was arrested by the Russian Federal Security Service in 2014 on charges of terrorism against the Russian state and sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Widely purported to be fake charges, Sentsov nonetheless was supposedly, according to Verity Healey, coordinating ‘relief efforts to help Ukrainian soldiers barricaded into their barracks by the Russian military.’

Sentsov’s reasons for doing this are that in 2014, Sentsov’s native Crimea, which includes Simferopol and which at that point in time was part of Ukraine, was ‘annexed’ by Russia – and which move remains to this day the cause of combat between the Ukrainian and the Russian militaries.

In late 2013 and into 2014, thousands of Ukrainians poured into and occupied the Maidan Nezalezhnosti in Kyiv in protest against, among other things, the decision by then-President Viktor Yanukovych to withdraw Ukraine from signing agreements with the European Union – preferring instead to cement ties with Russia.

After police violence against the protestors, which involved c130 deaths (with Ukrainians referring to the victims as the Heavenly Hundred), Yanukovych was toppled and an interim government set up.

During the instability that followed (not least because some Ukrainians would prefer to side with Russia than to join Europe), Russia annexed Crimea – and during this period Sentsov suspended shooting his second feature film, Rhino, in order to take part in the EuroMaidan and then to protest the annexation.

Sentsov has since his arrest allegedly been tortured and ‘left to die‘ by Vladimir Putin after the filmmaker began a hunger strike while the rest of the world decided to forget about reality and to celebrate Russia as a result of its wonderful hosting of the 2018 Football World Cup.

In other words, for Sentsov active participation in the world is more important than filmmaking. Reality is more important than media. And while we watch spectacles like cinema, games and soccer, people are fighting and dying in an unofficial war over Ukrainian territory.

Let’s ratchet this blog up a bit.

As the UK’s England side, with its rather unremarkable Won 3 Drew 1 Lost 3 record, progressed to the semi-finals of the World Cup, numerous memes began to circulate, often accompanied by the song ‘Three Lions’ by Skinner & Baddiel and the Lightning Seeds, and which encouraged England fans finally to ‘believe.’

What they ‘believed’ was that football might – after 52 years – ‘come home,’ in the sense that it has been 52 years since England last won a major international tournament (the 1966 Football World Cup), and in the sense that the English believe that they invented football since they were the first to formalise an enjoyable sport into a violent, money-making spectacle that today leads many human beings to be trafficked (as per Soka Africa, Suridh Hassan, UK, 2011), which is not mention alleged sexual abuse conspiracies within the sport and other human rights abuses that take place as a result of the sport.

It is interesting that the response of England fans to their team’s perceived success and possible chances of winning the tournament were framed by the word ‘belief.’ Football is not about being the better team, but about believing that one can win. But not on the part of the players, but perhaps especially the fans (which is not to rule out some irony in a good number of the memes, suggesting that people did not really believe that a mediocre England team could at all be the best in the world).

More than this, that belief is spurred on not just by the performance of a football team and its fans, but also by the plethora of media artefacts that circulate around it (and I’d like to write a blog at some point about Gareth Southgate’s waistcoat and the role that it played in both creating that sense of belief, but also ultimately in betraying that belief as false).

That is, what we believe – what we consider to be real and true – is shaped by media. Hence it is that the pages and pages of British media covering men in shorts running around a grass field create a sense in which that sport is more important to many human beings than lives in Ukraine, where a covert war is taking place – simply because the British media do not cover it. (Perhaps rather than cover it, they cover it up.)

So while Sentsov was protesting the World Cup, England fans got all excited because they managed to stick six goals past a weak Panamanian side and score a few penalties. Sentsov could, in effect, go hang as far as the England fans were concerned; they were having far too much fun on Russian soil to want to think about serious matters like politics.

Indeed, if anything, the UK with its Brexit vote would seem to side with Yanukovych in wanting to be shot of the European Union.

More than this. The UK, with the involvement of Cambridge Analytica in a bid to shape what American voters consider to be real and true, seems increasingly to be the plaything of Russia, which itself seems increasingly likely also to have been involved in shaping what American voters consider to be real and true, and which thus led to the election of Donald J Trump as the 45th President of the United States of America.

You may think that I am going too far and that this all sounds far too conspiracy theory-like.

But the point that I wish to make is that to embrace technological progress as unthinkingly and uncritically wonderful (Ready Player One) is to lead towards the post-truth world of digital fake news that characterises the contemporary era. Hipster rebellion is not rebellion; giving up games and filmmaking in order to fight for something that one truly believes in… is properly to lead a political life – even if that just means making human connections and working a modest but dignified life in a shop (Gamer).

Note that what I do not mean by evoking fake news is that Russian involvement in American politics is not true. On the contrary, we must critically examine what has happened if we are to work out the truth. But what the world of fake news does politically is that it allows everyone to be precisely uncritical and to dismiss as ‘fake’ that which simply does not please them.

It is to dismiss from view the unpleasant realities of a film director undergoing hunger strike in a Russian prison in order to prefer the spectacle framed by ‘belief’ of a football team doing well at a World Cup.

It is to dismiss from view the unpleasant possibility that we are all being manipulated by media in order to manage our perceptions. It is, à la Ready Player One, to prefer the Matrix to reality – reality not as something that lies beyond our attempts to find out exactly what it is, but reality as precisely our attempts to discover it. Reality as critical thinking and ongoing thought, rather than the matrix of no critical thought, a loss of human connection, a loss of humanity, a world of docile reception in which the only actions possible seem not to be ones of love (making human connections), but ones of violence against other human beings (murder) because one does not believe those humans (or perhaps anything) to be real. We love what we consider to be real, or rather what we love is what we consider to be real, and we love images more than humans. And yet to love should be to love humans (and perhaps images, too – but not only the images that one a priori loves; to love is to love what one does not love; to love is to love unconditionally; to love is only to love and not to love and to hate; to love and to hate is really just an excuse to hate).

In rejecting gaming, Gamer, then, tries unlike Ready Player One to take us back to the human realm (even if the hero of Spielberg’s film gets the one-dimensional girl and takes a day off gaming every week in a pseudo-effort to placate the notion that living in a fantasy world might not be all that it is cracked up to be).

Even if Ukraine cannot officially be at war with Russia, and if in this sense it must always already be complicit with the precedence of images over reality (no country can join NATO or the EU if at war, and so if Ukraine wants to join either of these institutions, it cannot be officially at war), we can nonetheless bear in mind that the fate of a Ukrainian filmmaker in Russia is still connected to Trump, Putin, the World Cup, fake news and the murders that took place in Jacksonville. And that Oleg Sentsov’s Gamer can help us to make sense of how this is so.

Understanding that this is so might be key to helping us not simply to accept by forgetting the corruption and the violence of the contemporary world, but also to believe in and thus to help create a better world. To believe not just that England might once again be ‘great’ (a true conservatism expressed through digital media and in the Brexit vote), but to believe that we can live in a world that ignores the divisive mechanisms of nations and nationality and which is based upon the shared humanity and life of our fellow human (and other) beings. To believe not in the patriarchal matrix of a society of control, but to believe in and to act towards a world of liberty and self-determination.

You can watch Gamer on the website for the International Film Festival Rotterdam for US$4. Money goes towards supporting Sentsov’s case.