There is an intimate relationship between cinema and the city. While urban environments possess ample potential for exploring space on screen, the intangible aspects of these places – identity, mood, energy – prove more difficult to portray. The lived reality of a city versus its depiction in film can inspire both love and hate, a somewhat strange confrontation with fact and fiction.  Below, five writers from Film Soc examine how cinema sees their hometown, and how the identity of that place makes it onto film.

Chungking Express, Hong Kong

Emma Davis 

When Hong Kong is featured on film, it’s often the commercial towers that make it on screen. Whether it’s Lara Croft, Batman or Pacific Rim, the jagged shiny buildings loom above an action star’s adversary. It’s an exotic urban locale; busy, anonymous and full of delights. However, such films fail to show the human, realistic side to Hong Kong’s urban environment. Wong Kar-Wai’s Chungking Express was one of the first films that showed western audiences a wondrous side to the city. In the film, I saw my own experiences of Hong Kong’s meandering character. The first eponymous location, Chungking Mansions, is an underrepresented area even within Hong Kong society. Regarded with suspicion as a crime-ridden area undeserving of attention, the Mansions are a place where ethnic minority Hong Kongers and immigrants support each other in a multicultural tower that functions as an indoor market, shopping centres, restaurants and guest houses. The city of Hong Kong is an equally chaotic concept. Unfortunately, the real fast food shop Midnight Express is no longer open, exemplifying the cutthroat reality of operating a business in Hong Kong’s central district. The area is constantly undergoing change, easy to see as you ride the Central-Mid Levels escalator up the hill. Chungking Express is a melodramatic and brooding movie, but it shows a simple Hong Kong; full of sweaty neon nights and long humid days, the way in which the characters languidly interact with the city is intimately familiar — not exotic or hectic.

Starter For Ten, Bristol  

Annabelle Brand

I watched Starter For Ten a few years before starting university and, in a lot of ways, it set my (sometimes unrealistic) expectations for what uni would be like. The film is a love letter to the student vitality of my hometown, Bristol, where city life is shaped by the ebb and flow of returning students. Based on David Nicholls’ novel of the same name, Starter For Ten follows Brian Jackson’s (James McAvoy) first year at Bristol university, attempting to navigate both systematic academic elitism and women.

As I became closer in age to the Bristol uni students I saw in town, walking around Clifton, Park Street, or College Green, the depiction of university as shown in Starter For Ten seemed to become more and more real to me. Although the movie seems a little dated now – the film came out in 2006, and I’ve been in uni for a while now –  its reckless cheerfulness still feels charatersitic both of my experience of uni life and my hometown. 

Dazed and Confused, Austin

Maria Duster

Dazed and Confused stumbled into cinemas in 1993. The film follows incoming high school seniors and freshmen on their last day of school, an eclectic odyssey of teenage life in the 70s. Director Richard Linklater (Before trilogy, Boyhood) has lived in Austin since the early 80s and remains an important presence in the city’s film community, alongside collaborator/patron saint Matthew McConaughey. Dazed and Confused is a cult favourite of Austinites, a sentimental day trip in the midst of a rapidly changing city. While most of the movie’s locations have been torn down and/or gentrified, those that remain find a way to sneak themselves into the lives of residents, whether they realize it or not. The field on which Pink and Wooderson muse about life is the Toney Burger Center, a stadium where I spent many afternoons at age 13 watching middle school football games in a painful attempt to get my crush to notice me. The Emporium pool hall was filmed at an old shopping center on North Lamar, one of the main thoroughfares of the city I’ve frequented my entire life. Growing up in Texas feels both dull and frenetic, a wide open space filled with nothing and everything. I love Dazed and Confused because it reminds me of the city I knew as a child – Austin before it became Austin – and the spark that’s still there. It feels like an old cotton t-shirt from a random Tex-Mex restaurant, weed and beer, stupidly nostalgic and incredibly heartfelt. Austin, through and through. 

Spike Island, Manchester

Daniel Jacobson

There was a period of around 20 years – between the Sex Pistols at the Lesser Free Trade Hall and Oasis’ Be Here Now– where Manchester was the coolest place in the world. For many, including the school lads at the centre of 2012’s Spike Island, this feeling was epitomised by The Stone Roses’ seminal 1989 debut album, a record brimming in equal parts with witty self-awareness and an epic, anarchic punk spirit of literal biblical proportions, capturing the community and paradoxical optimism following decades of rapid post-industrial decline.

I grew up in a very different Manchester – one where you can buy smashed avocados in the Northern Quarter, Morrissey has gone off the rails, and the last Stone Roses single was arguably the worst song of the decade. However, I found myself re-evaluating my relationship with the city following the 2017 attack. Though Manchester has shifted and evolved, it is grounded in its history, conserved by both its culture and people. Although Spike Island – which follows a band of friends attending The Stone Roses’ legendary Spike Island gig – can come across as overly slapstick and sometimes unfocused in capturing the youthful exuberance conveyed by The Stone Roses, it presents itself as not just a love letter to the band or the city, but an ode to distinctly Mancunian values. 

Slackistan, Islamabad/Karachi

Fatima Jafar

I grew up in Karachi, the chaotic, big-city sprawl of Pakistan, but the film that always reminds me of home is the 2010 independent film Slackistan, based in the country’s capital Islamabad. Made on an almost non-existent budget, the film is heavily inspired by Richard Linklater’s 1990-baby Slacker, but focuses on a group of twenty-somethings in Islamabad, fresh out of university and disenchanted with life. Slackistan encapsulates the laziness of a day spent driving around with friends aimlessly, in a car burning with the afternoon heat. It is hopping from friend’s house to friend’s house, in a seemingly endless post-university malaise, looking for excitement and life in a ‘city that always sleeps’. The director, Hammad Khan, manages to capture the detached reality of sheltered young adulthood in cities like Karachi and Islamabad, where time is whiled away drinking tea, smoking cigarettes, and having conversations about what you wish you could do with your life. Soundtracked by different Pakistani punk and rap artists, Slackistan is an irreverent, satirical ode to the slowness of freshly obtained adulthood in Pakistan, and the gnawing sense that, while people around you seem to be falling in love, getting married, and starting their lives, you’re still stuck in restlessness of your teenage years. Slackistan, with all its messy, amateurish cinematography and wandering dialogue, represents perfectly (with a healthy dose of irony) the angst and confusion of sheltered kids trying to find their place, and purpose, in Pakistani cities. 

All of the above films are available to stream or buy online in the UK. 

The FilmSoc team looks back at some of 2018’s prominent TV shows, some latest seasons and some new underrated releases.

There is no skirting around the fact that we are now well into 2019. Plenty of new and delightful shows have come out since the start of the year, and perhaps the gems of 2018 have been buried in the instant gratification of new Netflix shows coming out every other weekend. Nevertheless, the Filmsoc blog team got together towards the beginning of the year to write some flash reviews of our favourite shows of 2018. Read, reminisce, and perhaps you will wish revisit some shows that you binge-watched that one March weekend when you had an essay to write but couldn’t be bothered. Here is to more, hopefully somewhat mindful, watching in 2019!

Westworld Season 2 (Xinyi Wang)

The problem with Westworld that stood out in season two was its insistence on pulling an aha! pseudo-intellectual rug from under its audience’s feet. It remains one of the most captivating television shows out there, however it did also feel as if Nolan and Joy want to always one-up their audience: constantly challenging notions and concepts, usually leaving viewers rather confused and tired.

Season two always promises a revelation in the finale that whips its world and characters towards a new, unforeseeable direction while posing more questions – a fine, exhilarating device that is, for the most part, used brilliantly.  However, by opting for a circular narrative, working with even more timelines than before (are they simply refusing to create chronologically linear stories?), the season as a consequence suffers from narratively useless filler episodes that ultimately do not contribute to the finale, where twists edge dangerously close to “for the sake of it”. This is an issue that Westworld needs to overcome in the future.

It is not to say that the show is not a marvel in terms of production and narrative design – the episode ‘Kiksuya’ is a complete stand out that deserves all the praise it received, while the main cast continue to shine in their roles. Character arcs and dynamics are developed in interesting directions, and altogether Westworld continues its fascinating path: diving into questions of free will, humanity and cognition.

The Good Place Season 2 (Sabastian Astley)

Leading on immediately from its incredible twist, The Good Place Season 2 constantly reinvents itself, developing and transforming the show’s core concepts at an incredible rate. The show’s infusion of casual philosophy alongside an ever-developing cast, constantly evolving from episode to episode, helps to highlight The Good Place as one of the most original shows of 2018.

Call My Agent! / Dix pour cent Season 3 (Emma Davis)

This fun French television gem fills the hole in my heart that HBO’s The Newsroom left behind. As in everyone is a terrible person and shouts a lot. It’s taken an incredibly funny premise – of the slapstick and frustration comedy in French show business – and used it to tell the messy stories of mixing professional and personal lives. The third season is impressive in showing how the show can evolve from its initial case-of-the-week of a client causing trouble to commentary on the ridiculous French movie industry and geographic inequality of French society.

The End of the F***ing World (Pihla Pekkarinen)

This show is kind of like Scott Pilgrim, but with more swearing and violence. The End of the F***ing world was born from a graphic novel, and the original format seeps through the frames and graphics of the show. Alex Lawther is brilliant in his deadpan performance of a self-diagnosed teenage psychopath, and Jessica Barden, while somewhat overshadowed by Lawther, manages to lose her self-consciousness enough to portray a character so unlikeable that you end up rooting for the one who wants to kill her. Despite losing itself a little in the second half, as the macabre aesthetics are pushed aside to create a supposedly more heartfelt, yet unfortunately hollow, love story,  the cliffhanger finale ties the show together; leaving the audience with the perfect cocktail of bittersweet satisfaction. However, as a fan of self-contained TV shows, I am not thrilled about the second series currently being filmed: I have no doubt it will spoil the ambiguous ending of the first series, and am therefore doubtful the show will be able to maintain its charisma.

Riverdale Season 3 (Sabastian Astley)

Honestly, this show is the definition of nonsensical – place it against its freshman season and you will find two different productions entirely. Bizarrely enough, this is exactly what makes the latest season so extraordinary. Weaving in a cornucopia of plots – satanic cults and their use of ‘Gryphons and Gargoyles’ and a megalomaniac criminal taking over the town – throwing in musical episodes, and even an 80s-drenched flashback episode, Robert Aguirre-Sacasa suggests that there are no limits for Archie and his friends to explore. I’m sure you’d struggle to find another show that is unashamedly as strange as this.  

The Last Kingdom (Ælfwine the Precarious)

Granted the dubious honour of a Netflix purchase, The Last Kingdom’s fate was in the balance. At the BBC it was a suitably grounded and surprisingly historical venture, outshining Game of Thrones by the very murk of its lustre; much like the earlier seasons of Thrones, it is a series focused more on political machinations than flighty distractions of High Fantasy. Would Netflix sex it up with magic and mystique, kill the gylden gos with a Valyrian axe? Despite the introduction of a Norse spellstress, the thankful answer is a clear no. The Last Kingdom remains a grim, violent, and (still! vaguely!) historical traipse through Anglo-Saxon Britain.

Sharp Objects (Thomas Caulton)

Confronted with childhood traumas and her oppressive mother, tormented reporter Camille Preaker spirals into self-destruction while trying to uncover the truth about the gruesome murder of a young girl and the vanishing of another in the small Missouri town of Wind Gap, isolated in the heartlands of confederate America. The slow-burn narrative cuts deeply, maintaining an iron-fisted grip on the audience’s attention while drawing us further and further into Jean Marc-Vallee’s bleak and sultry vision. The masterful direction and unwavering visual style elevate Gillian Flynn’s source material, offering a relentless and mesmerising experience that establishes itself as one of 2018’s finest releases.

Bodyguard (Maeve Allen)

Jed Mercurio’s Bodyguard was nail-biting brilliance on the BBC. When David Budd (Richard Madden) is assigned a new role as bodyguard to the Home Secretary (Keeley Hawes), he must put aside his personal politics for her protection. Book-ended by terrifically tense scenes of attempted terrorism, this Sunday night series was a thrilling tale of forbidden love and crooked conspiracy. The story swerved and surprised, leaving the audience suspicious. Who should we trust? Is Keely really dead? When will I marry Richard Madden? It was Kiss Kiss Bang Bang: a properly perfect thriller.

The Assassination of Gianni Versace (Alexandra Petrache)

Delectable, decadent, disturbing: The Assassination of Gianni Versace carries itself magnificently, with an opulent production design and great acting all-around. Darren Criss puts on a stellar performance as Andrew Cunanan (the man who assassinated Versace) and manages to innovate his character; bringing out a new facet every episode, carving out a textbook psychopath with a lingering touch of madness. The viewer is taken on a journey that makes them feel pity, sadness, exasperation, disgust and fear. Some might even find it difficult to watch. The direction and plot are tastefully composed, albeit slightly convoluted at times. All-in-all, a great show gilded in gold, emotion and blood.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine Season 6 (Alexandra Petrache)

I must say I wasn’t sure Brooklyn Nine-Nine would manage to keep its comedic mojo for a 6th season – it somehow felt that Jake and Amy’s wedding sealed the end of the show. However, Season 6 is a bang! Slightly shy in the first episode, testing the waters with the return, it keeps picking up and even though the tone of the jokes is similar to the previous seasons, they feel refreshed and even funnier. The relationships between characters also develop and take slightly unexpected turns. Brooklyn Nine-Nine is crisper than ever before – I definitely recommend being loyal and watching on.

A few of our writers butt heads over Sean Baker’s stylistic choices. 

WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS.

The Florida Project, released in late 2017, has been critically acclaimed and deemed a top awards season contender. The humanistic story, beautifully shot, follows Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), a rambunctious child living in a motel room near Disneyland, Florida, with her irresponsible but loving young mother. Her living situation slowly becomes more precarious in the background of her childhood antics as her mother struggles to pay rent. Real life eventually gets the better of Moonee’s la-la-land: in the final sequence, she realises the sweet-talking grown-ups who’ve appeared at their motel room door – Child Protection Services – are going to take her away from her mommy. Panicked, Moonee breaks away and runs to her best friend Jancey (Valeria Cotto)’s room. She breaks down crying when Jancey opens the door. In act of solidarity, mischief, and friendship, Jancey takes Moonee’s hand, and suddenly the atmosphere changes. The music becomes upbeat and playful; the camera goes jittery and POV-style. The girls run together to Disneyland, the fantasy destination whose proximity colours and seduces Baker’s eccentric, pastel paradise.

To some, the switched-up style of The Florida Project‘s conclusion is jarring and unwelcome. Others see it as a coping mechanism: a creative descent into Moonee’s imaginative, childhood world. The facts are that Baker shot the Disneyland scenes secretly without permission, and on an iPhone 6S Plus. Addressing the ending of his film, Baker said, “We’ve been watching Moonee use her imagination and wonderment throughout the entire film to make the best of the situation she’s in … In the end, with this inevitable drama, this is me saying to the audience, ‘If you want a happy ending, you’re gonna have to go to that headspace of a kid because, here, that’s the only way to achieve it.'”

Not a fan?

LIAM’S THOUGHTS

Throughout ‘The Florida Project’, the spectre of Disney World looms in the distance, a behemoth both culturally and spatially which drips colour onto peripheral and far less glamorous motels like the Magic Castle. Home to Moonee and her mother Halley (Bria Vinaite), this location transforms into a makeshift Magic Kingdom through the perspective of a child’s eyes, the hopeful but limited world-view protecting Moonee from the tribulations of life below the poverty line, but leaving her vulnerable as well. It is in this moment of vulnerability, as her entire life crumbles in the film’s conclusion, that she breaks through the lines of disappointing reality and discovers the fantasy Disney World signifies. However, pervading this border seems to undermine the subtle commentary of the piece, that despite being so close to the Magic Kingdom it will always be inaccessible, an understated tragedy that is far more powerful and relevant. In addition, the jarring technical shift from film to digital that accompanies this finale, necessitated by the fact that Baker did not have permission to film on the resort, is rough and clunky, as opposed to the beautiful delicacy which the director imbues the rest of the movie with. Akin to the proverbial dream sequence, a stylistic change makes some sense, but a great deal of elegance would b3 required to really pull it off. With that being said, I really like ‘The Florida Project’ and the ending by no means ruins the experience, only prevents what is really good from becoming great.

SAM’S THOUGHTS

The Florida Project is a beautiful movie, a powerful reflection on hardship, childhood, and friendship. In its closing moments Moonee, our protagonist, cries outside the home of her only real remaining friend in the world – a friendship we have watched form and blossom over the last hundred minutes. In an achingly brilliant and uncomfortable closeup, we watch her own construction of reality shatter, and the truth of her situation sink in.

Cut to black. Walk home. Think about the movie for the next month.

This is how I wish The Florida Project had ended. However Sean Baker – somewhat admirably – wanted to drive home the film’s core concept, on how children escape their problematic situations, one final time. To do so, he shoots a lurid, dreamy sequence obviously representing a fantasy, but that is in keeping with the style of the rest of the film. Moonee and friend run away from their problems to Disneyland. It strengthens the main themes and improves the movie as a whole.

In an alternative reality, this is also a wonderful ending to The Florida Project. However Sean Baker and A24 couldn’t get clearance to shoot at Disneyland. As a filmmaker dedicated to perfection and excellent visual storytelling, Baker concedes that his proposed ending is impossible to execute properly, and returns to his original ending.

In another dimension, this is the creative process for indie-purist Sean Baker. However Sean is pontifical and unyielding, determined to execute his vision. So he grabs an iPhone and an easily sourced, $200 gimbal, shoots a sequence with the same careful cinematography the rest of the movie has, sneaks into Disneyland, and sits happy knowing the movie is everything he wanted it to be.

Yet still, this is not how it went. Instead we got an unstabilised, poorly shot, cinematically incoherent scene that pulls everyone watching out of the emotional catharsis Baker had expertly put them in, to instead wonder what on Earth he was thinking.

Baker is without a doubt a wonderful filmmaker. The Florida Project is without a doubt a genuinely great movie. But the ending of The Florida Project is symptomatic of a director with too much vision for his own good, and holds the film back from the praise it deserves.

All for it

XIN’S THOUGHTS

The ending scene definitely came out of the left field – its bizarre tonal change managed to pull my emotions with an emergency brake from immersion and sympathy to utter confusion of disjointed thoughts. I didn’t know how to feel about it for at least a few weeks.

That was the point, isn’t it? It puts us in an uncomfortable position, left with such an ambiguous ending that would understandably be unsatisfying to some, blocking the audience from knowing the reality of Moonee’s fate. But it doesn’t matter. Baker asks the audience to come to their own bleak conclusion, giving us the power to choose what is best for her. Would it be better for her if she ran away? Lived with Jancey? Or if she was taken by social services and separated from her mother? Baker forces us to make the decision instead, and for us to suffer the moral consequences of our choice. How else should Baker end it?

Not only so, it’s a testament to the friendship Moonee has built with Jancey, and an insight to the character’s own desperation. Despite all her toughness, she’s nonetheless a child – she just wants to go to Disneyland, live in an actual magic kingdom with her friend, play in a place with no danger and no limits. A symbolic icon of innocent happiness and magical childhood dreams, the Magic Kingdom we know finally lights up the screen in a blur, fulfilling Moonee’s fantasy and providing her sanctuary and optimistic hope. A haven to run to.

Yet because of her background, because of the life she was born into, Disneyland can only be a fantasy, nothing more. And that’s a heart-breaking point to end on for a film dealing with childhood, poverty, and the harsh reality.

CALVIN’S THOUGHTS

GEORGE’S THOUGHTS

“A filmmaker who prefers ideas to images will never advance above the second rank because he is fighting the nature of his art. The printed word is ideal for ideas; film is made for images, and images are best when they are free to evoke many associations and are not linked to narrowly defined purposes.” So said Roger Ebert on the criticism towards the great champion of images over ideas, Federico Fellini. I use it now as I anticipate the criticism of the ending of Sean Baker’s truly beautiful “The Florida Project”.    

Let me make myself clear – I am not going to argue that the film’s ending is necessarily a great one. I believe the film is probably a great one, but I think the ending is so divisive that it cannot simply be great. People who are derisive of the film claim it is “poverty porn” in that it entices people into the allure of the bottom of society and glamorises it.  People who loved it say it’s a magnificent blend of gritty social realism and lurid dreamscapes.  However, whatever you think of all but the last minute of the film, the ending seems to stand separately. It is so distinct from the rest of the film that even some of the film’s supporters, like friends I went to see the film with, were alienated by the ending. This is largely due to its complete shift in style, mood, cinematography and music. The film has a flowing lackadaisical quality that serves in the manner of an ethnographic film. Thus when the viewer is confronted with the inevitable, an ending for this film, they have to decide whether they like what the filmmaker is saying or not. Whatever Sean Baker’s ending, it would have been divisive, because the whole film seems to play out without a real acknowledgement of closure, but paradoxically builds up a climax that requires one.  

So the film was always going to have a problematic ending (or at least a divisive one). But what Sean Baker does is surely the best possible answer. The film’s protagonist Moonee, having realised she will be taken away from her mother, runs to find her friend Jancey, and flees the motel to Disney World, in a frenzied child escapism. He switches the film’s absolutely stunning cinematography from 35mm film to an iPhone 6s Plus to create the shot (he previously filmed “Tangerine” entirely on an iPhone 5s). The smooth and crisp cinematography shifts to jarring and fuzzy, and the audience definitely feels jarred. It feels rushed, it feels disconcerting, it feels uneven and incongruous with the rest of the film.  

And it works. Because in a film so focused on the close-ups of daily life, of human beings, that tries to blend ethnography into narrative storytelling, how could a filmmaker be so obnoxious as to give the viewer a great dramatic closure? My friends said they expected something else from the film, something more – but how could a film that tries to be so true to human life and struggle say something that no one can claim to know?  There is no possible greater closure to a story where a child of a prostitute is torn from her mother and sent into foster care. What truly mature film can give this story a happy ending, or sad one? But to leave the viewer with merely an image, conjuring so many different ideas, interpretations and answers – that is the mark of a film which has respect for its subject matter. We aren’t left with a clear idea of what happens to Moonee, or whether she has a terrible life or a great one. We are merely given an image of what it is like to be a child, still able to run as fast you can to escape whatever you want and be comforted, if only for an instant.

The Florida Project was out for wide UK release in November, 2017. Watch the trailer below and read our full review from London Film Festival earlier in October.

With new shows coming out practically every week, each one different from the last, it would be easy to get lost in the whirlwind, give up, and re-watch Friends for the hundredth time. And there’s nothing wrong with that; Friends is a classic. But in case you care to venture beyond it, UCL FilmSoc has put together a handy guide to some of our favourite shows released by Netflix in 2017. Whether you’re hoping to watch something completely new or wondering whether it’s worth catching up on the newest season of that one show you sort of liked but don’t really remember, this is the place to look. Hope you enjoy, and here’s to more bingeing in 2018!

Thirteen Reasons Why (Season 1, March 2017)

If you were young and alive in 2017, it would have been difficult to miss hearing the words Thirteen Reasons Why. Probably the most talked-about release from Netflix this year, this series – centred around a high school suicide victim – provoked both praise and indignation for its graphic depictions of subjects such as rape and self-harm. The characters in this adaptation of Jay Asher’s novel are marvellously complex, most of them neither evil nor angelic (in a remarkable improvement from the book the series is based on) and the young cast does a terrific job of portraying high school angst. However, it is impossible to escape the fact that the series is designed for mass teen viewership: it drifts in focus as it tries to cater to every high school fad and relies heavily on an attractive cast and cliffhangers designed for optimum bingeing. Therefore, though the show should be commended on its expert handling of difficult themes and, additionally, its effort in raising awareness for suicide prevention, I remain skeptical of the upcoming second season of original material. Whether the show will be able to build on its momentum and succeed without Hannah Baker’s narrative arc as a driving force remains to be seen.

Mindhunter (Season 1, October 2017)

David Fincher’s Mindhunter is nothing short of a success. Its renewal for a second season, before the series even premiered, is proof of Netflix’s trust in the master filmmaker, who seems to enjoy his time away from the big screen. With witty dialogue and strong leads, this show about FBI agents unravelling the minds of serial killers feels fresh and new while staying true to the genre. Mindhunter is not groundbreaking, but it is up there with recent years’ best crime shows, such as Hannibal or True Detective. Despite its underdeveloped female characters, it is reassuring to witness a director’s fearless transition to television, especially one who is able to shoot long dialogue scenes without boring the audience to death. A proud successor to Zodiac, its suspenseful openings and cliff-hanger will leave the viewer wanting more; and we can be certain Fincher will do everything at his disposal to tell the story the way he wants to, regardless of expectations. Mindhunter leaves in its audience’s mind a bizarre, eerie mark, suggesting that anybody could be(come) a murderer, if exposed to madness for too long.

When you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

Master of None (Season 2, May 2017)

To think that dude who played background characters in those Judd Apatow-y films (okay, he was amazing as Tom Haverford in Parks and Recreation) would make and star in a genuinely brilliant TV show is crazy – but now we have to think it. Master of None’s tremendous first season was an incredibly fresh taste of quasi-ordinary city life, with wonderful writing and humour backed up by genuinely clever and developed themes. In Season 2, Aziz Ansari has retained the same humour while taking the series into audacious but exciting territory.  Here he blends his comforting New York comedy (and added Italian twist) with more risky content, which could have been a disaster, but only adds to the show’s charm. Highlights include a wonderful episode on homosexuality and family, and the astonishing Robert Altman-esque episode New York, I Love You, which concretely transcends Ansari’s medium into something truly artistic – one of the greatest episodes of TV I’ve ever seen. His whacky ending and constant nods to Italian cinema makes the second season far less cohesive than the first, but its experimentation somehow almost always – against all the odds – works. I found myself baffled at not being able to name a current Netflix original with more stunning cinematography than a stand-up comedian’s comedy-drama brainchild.  With his always topical themes Ansari gives us with true passion and insight into his mind, and it’s a pleasure. It is a testament to him that even Netflix, which already carries his show, has developed shows inspired by Master of None, like the recently renewed Easy. He might well be a new, not-a-sexual-predator (fingers crossed) Woody Allen.

Stranger Things (Season 2, October 2017)

The Duffer Brothers have hit the sweet spot for the second time with the new season of Stranger Things. Given that last season wrapped itself up rather nicely, it might have been a challenge to make this new season feel necessary beyond resolving the cheeky cliffhanger with Will Byers. It succeeds in most regards. There are elements that don’t work as well – Jonathan and Nancy’s subplot feels like a bit of a drag, especially compared to the ascension of Steve Harrington to one of the best and most endearing characters. On the whole, however, it’s great. The dynamic between the kids sparkles even more, the new character additions are terrific – in particular Sean Astin’s Bob – the special effects are far more refined, and most importantly it captures that same old nostalgic joy while taking the storyline in new, sometimes quite daring, directions. And of course, Eleven, played once again to perfection by Millie Bobby Brown, is as great as ever.

Better Call Saul (Season 3, April 2017)

It took a while, but Vince Gilligan and co. have finally found the spark to make the Breaking Bad spin-off about everyone’s favourite scoundrel lawyer-in-the-making, Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman (Bob Odenkirk), click consistently. The previous two seasons had featured some great episodes and performances, but never quite cohered to make anything more than ‘pretty good’ television. This season, which focuses its scope on the battle of wits between Jimmy and his manipulative, bitter older brother Chuck (an amazing Michael McKean), while Jonathan Banks’ Mike gets pulled further into the underworld of drug dealers, with the welcome return of some very familiar faces. The pacing of this season is excellent, with no wasted line or scene, and every supporting character gets to shine – from Michael Mando’s increasingly sympathetic gangster Nacho to Jimmy’s legal associate/lover Kim (Rhea Seehorn). It maintains a vibrant, cheeky sense of fun throughout, while also becoming an exceptionally compelling drama when it wants, most notably in the courtroom drama episode ‘Chicanery’. It’s a fantastic season in which the show seems to finally become its own beast, rather than just the offspring of Breaking Bad.

American Vandal (Season 1, September 2017)

One of the surprise delights of the year, American Vandal’s ‘Making a Murderer’ investigation of high school parking lot vandalism, works primarily thanks to its “serious” approach. It’s not potential simple laughs at the phallic graffiti but the solemn reactions to them that really sell the humour of the show. The series as a whole is a very satisfying deconstruction of the ‘true crime documentary’ genre, but is so much more than just that. It captures a surprisingly natural and realistic feel of high school life, and actually grants some genuine emotional investment to the proceedings. It’s not flawless; a few of the middle episodes turn their wheels a bit in order to generate more ‘drama’. But on the whole, it’s a considerable success.

Orange is the New Black (Season 5, June 2017)

Oh, Litchfield. Five seasons in, Orange is the New Black has thrived in its pairing of familiar community feeling with outrageous spontaneity, but for how long? The fifth season keeps up the formula but, with overconfidence, often misses its mark. Continuing the political themes of the Season 4, we find the inmates smack in the middle of a riot that seems to somehow be going pretty well despite the total anarchy ruling the prison corridors. Poussey’s murder looms over the action as an all-too-bleak reminder of the show’s more realistic plot turns, but the 13 episodes fail to smoothly bridge the leap from this tragedy to its more comedic elements. Additionally, the writing messes with some of the most complex and sensitive characters and their trajectories. Piscatella confusingly switches from loathsome guard, to pitiful lost soul, to some kind of monstrous embodiment of evil masculine energy. Pennsatucky apparently not only forgives but pursues a romantic relationship with her rapist. Alison, a black Hijab-wearing Muslim inmate, was a refreshing addition to the cast last season, but her flashback plummets exciting potential into sheer disappointment. (Polygamy, really? Great job basing Alison’s backstory on an ‘Islamic’ practice that barely exists in the American Muslim community.) The season’s lowlights are met with a few enlightened philosophical moments, but overall it’s a bit of a mess – an OINTB-style mess, and thus mostly forgivable – but a mess nonetheless. OITNB’s fifth season may have lost its way, but there is high chance the talented writers may salvage it yet.

One Day At A Time (Season 1, January 2017)

One Day at a Time is a CBS sitcom developed by Whitney Blake – no, wait. One Day at a Time, which mimics its namesake in the broad structure of single-mother-with-teenage-kids and little else, is a sharp, compassionate family comedy with its feet firmly rooted in Netflix’s 2017 demographic. We follow the life of Penelope Alvarez (Justina Machado), Afghanistan vet and exhausted nurse, whose (outspokenly Cuban) mother (scene-stealing Rita Moreno) sleeps behind the living room, (outspokenly feminist) teenage daughter Elena (Isabella Gomez) has taken objection to the prospect of a quinceañera, and (outspokenly twelve years old) son is… twelve. (Sorry, Alex [Marcel Ruiz] – he rounds out the family perfectly well, just tends to take a back seat to the powerhouse women around him. To which this reviewer has no objection.) Throw in a halfway-to-self-aware white neighbour and Penelope’s addled colleagues, and you’ve got a recipe for hilarious and pointed takes on parenting, life after war, diaspora culture and plenty more in one of this year’s overlooked gems. If you do feel like catching up, you’d better hurry – the second season will be out on the 26th of January.

Big Mouth (Season 1, September 2017)

Adult-oriented cartoons have found new life in recent years with shows like Rick and Morty and Bojack Horseman. The latest feat in this genre is Big Mouth, a thoroughly funny time capsule that transports you back into life at thirteen. The early teen years are a sore memory for most, and Big Mouth unapologetically pokes fun at every aspect of tweendom: zits, hormones, awkwardness, and – most of all – horniness. The hormone monsters, stuck-in-high-school Coach Steve and the ghost of Duke Ellington, incite bursts of uncontrollable laughter and invite Netflix to employ it’s “Still Watching?” feature as you inevitably binge the short episodes back-to-back. Some of the moments are a little hard to swallow (pregnant pillow, anyone?), but if you don’t mind crude humour and are looking to shed any rose-colored glasses you might still view your middle school years through, Big Mouth is definitely the show for you.  

Bojack Horseman (Season 4, September 2017)

Hilarious yet heartbreaking in equal measure, BoJack Horseman has – for good reason – joined the ranks of the absolute best of not just Netflix, but of what animation has to offer on the small screen. Over the course of four seasons the show has skewered Hollywoo(d) and celebrity culture in ways that leave both those completely out of the loop and those following the film industry with a fine-tooth comb rolling on the floor with laughter, while packing an immense emotional punch, particularly through its portrayal of mental health issues and how society views them. It’s an incredibly silly premise that the show fully commits to and delivers on (animal puns aplenty); and while all that’s happening, it doesn’t shy away from pushing boundaries (the dialogue-free Season 3 episode ‘Fish out of Water’ has been hailed as some of 2016’s absolute best television) and tackling more emotional and tougher subjects with a surprising amount of gravity. And the cherry on the top is the cast: not only the voice actors (including Will Arnett as the titular horse, Alison Brie, Amy Sedaris, Paul F. Tompkins, Aaron Paul, Stanley Tucci, Olivia Wilde) but the countless animated celebrity cameos – sometimes voiced by the stars themselves.

The Get Down: Part 2 (April 2017)

2017 saw the return (and subsequent cancellation) of Baz Luhrmann’s The Get Down, set in New York City, 1978. Disco and hip hop mingle on hot summer nights in the Bronx; dreams are born and pursued; young people fall in love. I loved the setting of this show and the evocative cultural moment it captured, as well as most of the performances; Jaden Smith’s “Dizzee” Kipling aka graffiti artist Rumi 411 is the real laugh. The show was good, descending into decent by Part 2, but never great. And with a $120 million budget (The Get Down was Netflix’s most expensive show to date), you need great. Subverting expectations that the funds and creative team would take the show above and beyond television expectations, its narrative unfortunately sagged and became riddled with plot holes by Part 2, leaving only the excess of stylistic detail and shimmery dance sequences behind to support its appeal. The Atlantic rightly called it “the show that could’ve been”. Personally, I applaud the effort, very successful at times, and especially commend The Get Down’s diverse cast and killer soundtrack.

The OA (Season 1, December 2016)

From the fertile minds of Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij, the OA hits all the right spots. Written by by both, directed by Batmanglij, and starring Marling, the two continue to explore a cinematic partnership refined through years of collaboration. Both have backgrounds in film – the show’s cinematic structure is owed to this. However, Batmanglij has made full use of the episodic structure allowing for some sharp cliff-hangers. The show deals with very interesting themes, including consciousness, the afterlife, and near-death experiences. This is not surprising when surveying Marling and Batmanglij’s previous filmic pursuits (Sound of My Voice, Another Earth, I Origins). The plot centres around Prairie (Marling), a blind girl who disappeared several ears ago, returns to a Middle-American small-town with her sight restored and a whirlwind of a tale. The use of a plot riddled with twists and turns allows Batmanglij to explore of a plethora of interesting themes without neglecting audience entertainment. Sometimes it seems Marling and Batmanglij are so excited by their own ideas that they repeat them to the point of self-indulgence. Nevertheless, the show boasts beautiful visuals and good writing. The latter is a testament to polyvalence; Marling and Batmanglij managed to work in a selection of mood-board interesting concepts – from Russian aristocracy to Hans Christian Anderson to Stockholm syndrome. Combined, these concepts work together to create an extremely suspenseful, fantastical genre-bending drama. Sci-fi? Let’s have it. Fantasy? Toss some of that in there. Mystery? Why not. Coming-of-age? Sure. The show treads some familiar ground, and the question running throughout – whether we can believe Brit Marling’s fantastical tale – is not of huge importance to the plot. All in all, Marling and Batmanglij have managed to create a wildly entertaining show. It is thrilling. They know this.