With films from the U.K, U.S, Denmark, France, Romania, Hungary, Hong Kong, Vietnam, South Korea, Japan, Germany and Thailand, there is a global cross section to this list from all years of the decade except 2002 and 2005 (which are easily the weakest of the past ten years from my view). It is also worth noting once again that this list is based on solely on UK release dates rather than international release dates so there maybe films listed here that technically premiered in 1999 but did not appear in the UK until sometime in 2000, likewise films such as Veiko Ounpuu’s latest masterpiece The Temptation of St Tony, which probably won’t get an international release for a couple of years, will have to wait till 2020 to see how it fairs against the next ten years of competition.
M.Dawson |
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Introduction: As the decade has now come to a close, cinephiles everywhere have been compiling their best films lists and Left Field Cinema is not immune from the temptation to summarise and rank the greatest works of film from the past ten years. As you might expect, many of these films have been examined on the Left Field Cinema podcast over the past two years already and the ones which haven’t will probably be getting full exposure on the show in one form or another in the near future. It’s been a tricky list to compile, I’ve gone back and revisited or discovered most of these films in during the past twelve months in an attempt to get a fresh perspective on them and see which of my favourite films have stood the test of time, of course this is all subject to change in the near future but for now these are by far my favourites for a myriad of reasons, there are thrill rides, tear-jerking dramas, intellectual stimulations, social commentaries and true stories. Perhaps only comedy is missing from this list, but as this decade and the previous one have been dire for the funny men - this comes as no surprise to me at all, for once we had Woody Allen and Monty Python, now we have Judd Apatow and Will Farrell – it hardly seems fair does it?
(20) Solaris (2003) The second literary adaptation of Stanislaw Lem’s novel may seem like a controversial choice for this list, with so many disparaging reviews claiming it was a needless and gutless remake of the great Andrei Tarkovsky’s original. But Steven Soderberg’s film is easily one of his best pictures to date and features a heart felt and honest performance from George Clooney in the central role which is so subtle and nuanced for Science Fiction. At about half the runtime of Tarkovsky’s 1970’s masterpiece it could be argued that the film isn’t given adequate time to breath, and with a Hollywood A-lister in the lead role some viewers dismissed it without even giving it a chance (some fans of the original even going so far as to write death threats to Soderberg for daring to remake the original) but Soderberg’s film survives this cut back in runtime by choosing to focus on the central relationship between our hero and the alien reincarnation of his dead wife, rather than focus on the philosophy of Lem’s novel as the Russian master once did. Solaris is a deeply humane film that tackles the issue of our emotional memory and how we think of those loved ones we’ve lost, how we contort their memory into something we want it to be rather than what it actually was. Its emphasis on emotion rather than techno-babble, aliens, space ships or laser fights; Cliff Martinez’s stunning score (easily one of the best soundtracks of the past ten years) and Soderberg’s own brand of stylised photography, means that Solaris is simply the finest Science Fiction film of the decade. 
(19) Code Unknown (2001) A widely underrated Michael Haneke film, tackling inner city racism from all sides but with a detached subtly that Paul Haggis’ film Crash so decidedly lacked. Comprised entirely of often-powerful stand-alone scenes with brief moments of black between each of them. On a scene-by-scene basis it would seem that the film is refusing to take sides but rather present events in a more objective fashion to allow you to draw your own conclusions. However through careful juxtaposition of one scene and the next Haneke makes his point – you don’t have enough knowledge of any particular persons circumstances to judge them, you can never know the individual enough to understand why they do what they do, so we judge on race, on class, on surface readings but without a full picture. With Code Unknown Haneke cleverly invites the spectator to judge the characters he presents but then contorts your view of them through comparative contrasts, the more knowledge we have the less certain we are of our initial appraisal. As the films narrative follows the lives of many Parisians who unfairly judge or respond to those around them only to be judged or responded to unfairly by ourselves. The audience is tricked into participating in crime we witness the characters participating in. 
(18) Open Hearts (2003) Director Susanne Bier’s emotionally draining beautifully observational Dogma drama took a set of narrative clichés and managed to completely conceal them within a fine screenplay from Anders Thomas Jenson and breathtaking performances from the excellent Mads Mikkelsen and Paprika Steen. The story of a married couples relationship being torn apart by a car accident and ensuing adultery has all the hall marks of a soap opera and yet it miraculously avoids this categorisation by remaining entirely honest in its approach. Shot on interlaced video with the briefest interludes on 8mm film, with no score, on location sound recordings and using only available light, the Dogma crew have been accused in the past of being liberal Nazi’s, a contradiction within their approach demands freedom for all the creative aspects of the film making process, but the price they pay is the dispatching of all your sound crew, art design department, lighting crew etc. Great for the director, writer and actors, not so great for everyone else, but the rest of the film crew needn’t worry just yet as the bottom seems to have fallen out of the Dogma movement with only aspiring low budget film makers really taking it very seriously. What Bier did was take Dogma in a new direction, although only Open Hearts can truly be described as a Dogma film, her follow-ups Brothers and After the Wedding both share similar traits, but in all three of these films she’s taken the principles of Dogma and applied a little bit of old fashioned film making to get the best of both worlds and that is what makes her films so brilliant. 
(17) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) Director Michael Gondry and writer Charlie Kaufman’s draining relationship drama (a film I was certain would have made my Top Ten not three years back) is a stunning examination of memory and balances humanity and cinematic insanity with perfect precision. Interestingly for this film, many viewers have claimed that you can’t fully appreciate the work until you’ve gone through a painful break-up, it’s strange how this film is singled out for its subjective requirements, (it is after all a Science Fiction influenced comedy drama with an impossible piece of equipment at the centre of the story which allows a persons memories to be wiped), the aforementioned Open Hearts strikes a particular cord with myself because it reminds me very much of the circumstances surrounding my parents divorce, however I know many viewers of that film who’s parents have never split up who find the film equally affecting (but this I would attribute to realism of Biers film). Gondry’s film does seem to speak with greater clarity to those who’ve suffered heart break than those who have not, but does that make the opinions of those fortunate enough to have avoided such an experience less valid? Does personal history and circumstances play a part in how much we enjoy the film we’re watching? Well of course it does, every human being is the summary of their memories or their history and how we respond to any film is entirely connected to our pasts. Can a person’s experience influence their opinion of a film? Yes. Should a viewer use that experience to justify why they enjoy a film? Yes. Should a viewer use that experience as collateral in an argument as to why their opinion is more valid than a less experienced viewer. Absolutely not. For their lack of experience is equally valid. It is all opinion at the end of the day, but to use personal experience as a weapon in debating the quality of a film is in my opinion invalid. 
(16) Oldboy (2004) Park Chan Wook’s demented vendetta centred film is as violent as it is darkly humorous, as outrageous as it is vicious. The twisting plot, startling visual flare and dubious sexual politics made this an instant classic. Or did it? In a mere six years this film has gone from a critics and viewers darling to almost just another in a long line of South Korean thrillers. Many cinephiles despair at this film along with other subtitled movies that became popular with main stream audiences like Amelie or City of God, some how their popularity manages to weaken them. In a somewhat personal analogy, I was once an avid fan of the American television series The X-Files when it first began and watched the early broadcasts in the UK on BBC2 religiously until that is, it became hugely popular and moved to BBC1 when I stopped watching out of snobbery. Looking back it was a ridiculous thing to do, but at the time I felt that it’s popularity some how lessened its credibility. Oldboy appears to have suffered a similar fate, with many who once praised it deciding that it isn’t a masterpiece after all. Of course there are those out there who never enjoyed the film and felt it was over rated from day one, and another angle on the critical rise and fall of Oldboy is that it fell prey to its own hype with too many people singing its praises, either way Oldboy has become a victim of its own success - but thankfully not on Left Field Cinema.
(15) Four Months, Three Weeks and Two Days (2008) Cristian Mungiu’s 1980’s Romania set illegal abortion drama is one of a number of films from the past ten years which dedicate themselves to an uncompromisingly brutal reality. “Brutal realities” and in particular so called “uncompromising” ones are the aspirations or worse still the self labelling of many film makers across the globe, but too often writers and directors give in to the temptation to over light, use a score or hire well known actors and fail to follow through or have the courage of their convictions. Only rare exceptions manage to remain faithful to their goals, films like the Dardenne Brothers The Child or Pablo Larrain’s Tony Manero, but greater still is Four Months, Three Weeks and Two Days. Mungiu remains completely dedicated to his rough and ready style, sacrificing crystal clear focus, refusing to cut from more than one shot for the majority of scenes, allowing natural darkness and light to often overwhelm scenes. There is a peculiar paradoxical beauty to Mugiu’s aesthetically ugly world, the beauty comes from its relentless single mindedness and the elegance within its simplicity. Of course beyond the films visuals is its narrative and performances which are equally unshowy, simple rather than simplistic and honest rather than manufactured. There is a genuine sense that we are watching are real events unfolding before us which endows our viewing experience with a painfully uncomfortable sense of the real. Is it uncompromising? Yes. Is it brutal? Yes. Is it reality? No. But it’s as close as any fiction film is likely to get.
(14) At the Height of Summer (2001) Also known as Vertical Ray of the Sun, this Vietnamese masterwork from director Anh Hung Tran is a powerful and sensual film which examines a clear central question: is there such thing as a perfect romantic relationship? Three daughters start the film celebrating the life of their recently departed mother and her perceptibly perfect marriage to their father who has also recently passed away. Shortly after this celebration their own relationships with the men in their lives begin to break down and reach crisis point. This mesmerising simple film boasts gorgeous cinematography, oddly contradictory music choices and a central thematic and narrative premise which is both universally applicable and easily understood. These points are perfectly captured during the films repeated sequences, as brother and sister awaken in the morning on three separate occasions and begin their morning routine again, combining music, open windows to the tropical weather, smoking cigarettes, exercising and bickering through perfectly executed tracking shots, luscious colour combinations that would make Wong Kar Wai envious – these truly magical sequences are not exceptions but rather a single example of the magic of Anh Hung Tran’s film, unlike his earlier film The Scent of Green Papaya’s, At the Height of Summer stays with you long after viewing has concluded and must be one of the most under rated films of the past ten years.
(13) Eureka (2001) Shinji Aoyama’s extended two-hundred and seventeen minute meditation on trauma and grief is not the easiest film to watch. But with its beautiful sepia toned photography, delicate child performances, emotional scenes of catharsis with tear inducing results and unusual blending of genres mixing a serial killer film with broad comedy and psychological trauma – it proves itself to be well worth the effort if not to everyone’s taste. Generally omitted from most of the critics lists and over shadowed by other more popular Asian films such as the vastly over rated Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon or the almost equally lengthy Yi Yi. Eureka is a film that never quite managed to find its audience, it is the only Aoyama film available on Region 2 DVD and this may be part of the problem, for cinephiles like myself tend to latch onto directors rather then specific films, with no other Aoyama films available it makes it less likely that other world cinema enthusiasts will watch Eureka, perhaps one day more of Aoyama’s films will become available and this will be hunted out as a lost classic - time will tell. Or perhaps Eureka never found its audience because it is such a genre blender and received such a mixed critical reception, perhaps it’s a film that only really strikes the right chord with a very small percentage of the cinema going public, if so then I’m happy to be in the minority when it comes to this film. 
(12) The White Ribbon (2009) Michael Haneke’s pre-World War I mystery tale (as recently discussed in the Top Ten Films of 2009 article) is arguably the directors greatest work to date. One element of the films production which was not covered in my previous review was the films referencing and homage to other older films by the late great Ingmar Bergman. Haneke is hardly known for his film references, his detached style of long static takes which push the audiences patience as far as they will go is something of a tradition in world cinema, the long take is used by everyone from Bela Tarr to Theo Angelopolous in contemporary cinema, and Haneke’s static choice is more akin to the older works of Yasajiro Ozu - but direct pastiche he is not well known for. The White Ribbon features several Bergman references and has been accused of tipping over into theft rather than homage (which is always a fine line). These references range from minor similarities with Sven Nykvist’s photography to scenes and characters which directly parallel those from Winter Light and Fanny and Alexander, a scene where the town’s doctor mocks and derides his midwife is a more vicious version of a similar scene between the pastor and the school teacher in Winter Light, and between this scene and Veiko Ouunpu’s similar referencing in the Estonian film Autumn Ball, is high time this particular reference is abandoned? The character of the priest in The White Ribbon is also very similar to the priest in Fanny and Alexander but although his cold and often brutal discipline is of the same ilk as Bergman’s greatest villain, the context of the events and the eventual outcome for the character are sufficiently different to its source material (to the point that did not actually make the connection until a member of the Left Field Cinema forum pointed it out). Haneke has taken some aspects of Bergman’s greatest films and made them his own, as Pablo Picasso once said: “Good artists copy, great artists steal”. Could this theft be why Haneke’s latest film is superior to all his others?
(11) Hunger (2008) Steve McQueen’s Northern Island prison drama centred around the Hunger strikes 1981 courted controversy as a propagandistic film in 2008 but it’s political balance sheet was far from one-sided with a less than angelic portrayal of Bobby Sands that implies the man might have had more on his mind than just the struggle for a united Ireland when he sacrificed his life. However in a decade filled politically with the war on Terror and the War in Iraq and our own nations involvement in both those conflicts, it is interesting how few films decided to take sides on any of the major political issues. Gone are the days where a film maker will take a political position and stick to it (unless you count the propaganda films of Michael Moore) but within complete works of fiction it is a veritable rarity, even Trey Parker managed to avoid making a stand with his puppet comedy Team America World Police and its toothless attacks on liberal celebrities offsetting its deconstruction of Conservative American foreign policy. Perhaps it’s because the world is a smaller place and that the DVD market drives content and any film with a clear political agenda will inevitably alienate a portion of the audience, or perhaps artists wish to be seen to be politically neutral with the threat of reprisals from any extremists they may offend. Whilst McQueen’s film does lose much of its impact upon second viewing it does still remain one of the most visually and structurally audacious films of the past decade making it easily the best British film for many years. If it’s political positioning had been as bold as its visuals and narrative, would the film have carried more weight for one side or another? As it stands Hunger straddles both sides of the fence (but only just) and with this sort of political positioning do we dare to ask which side we’re on? Does it matter at all? Does it make the film toothless or is a political balance the ultimate weapon in questioning both sides of a contemporary political debate? Perhaps time will tell.
(10) No Country For Old Men (2008) The Coen Brothers adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s novel of the same name became a critics favourite early in 2008, and just as quickly had it been fashionable to praise this film and lavish it with awards it became oddly just as fashionable to deride it as just a ‘dressed-up B-movie without an ending’. I stand firmly by my initial review, it is a film that redefines tension and is the finest work of The Coen Brothers to date. Granted upon subsequent viewings much of the films tension is reduced by repetition which was to be expected, but as the tension dissipates and your clenched fist is finally allowed to relax, the humour, the characters and the overall message of the film is allowed to rise to the surface. The Coen Brothers often fleet between comedy and drama and as is often cited, the films that combine the two are their most successful, No Country For Old Men does have a sense of humour that is easily lost within the action and violence, it’s macabre relentless attitude towards murder plays more like a demented John Webster play, with its cruel and vicious death scenes continuously flowing and flippantly dispatched central characters falling by the wayside as eaily as the bit parts or extras. The dispassionate disregard for human life is all the more impactful because of the dark humour which is found within these acts of violence, by the time Woody Harrelson’s character of Carson Wells is so casually murdered, the violence becomes comically absurd rather than distressingly vicious. The films antagonist Anton Chigurh (so memorably played by Javier Bardem) chooses a cattle gun as his weapon of choice, and plays with his victims as if he were a cat and they a mouse, his acts of violence are so reprehensible, so dehumanising (treating humans like cows or mice) as to make older law men sit up and notice. But this disregard for life, and the contortion of violence into entertainment is ‘nothing new’ as an retired Sheriff states towards the end of the film, we know from times past that people watched executions as entertainment in much the same way as we watch violent films like No Country For Old Men in the modern age, and without presenting a Michael Haneke Funny Games style argument, we are as complicit in this continuing cycle of violence as the characters in this film for our enjoyment of the film is so completely connected to our enjoyment of violence and the vicarious thrills associated with violence. This enjoyment of death is ‘nothing new’ even Shakespeare would have taken pleasure from seeing the eventual conclusion to Chigurh’s story, the Coen Brothers are drawing your attention to your complicity but then unlike Haneke they’re asking you to continue enjoying it rather than shy away from it. After all, it’s only a movie.
(9) The Insider (2000) The remainder of this decade has not been the best for Michael Mann; (although I am a fan of his subsequent films Ali, Collateral, Miami Vice and Public Enemies, I can understand why lots viewers disliked these films with their emphasis on machismo and an unfortunate tendency towards elaborate gun play over story and character) but back in 2000 came Mann’s greatest film to date. His tobacco company whistle-blower biopic had none of Mann’s usual pitfalls, no undercooked Romanic subplots and no misjudged music cues. The theme of integrity is very clear, be it personal or artistic or both, this is a story of two men who must battle to maintain their integrity whilst everyone else around them has compromised. Bizarrely Mann handles these abstract dramatic stakes far more successfully than he ever handled the more tangible stakes of life and death in his other crime centred films, the tension and the feeling of injustice is palpable as Dr. Wigan sacrifices his career and his family in order to testify in the court of public opinion against the cigarette manufacturers only for CBS to decide it’s too dangerous to air his interview. Mann’s photography is as always stunning, with high contrast lighting, unorthodox use of focus, blue pallets and distinctive composition, but more important than his style is his ability to get the very best performances from his leading men. Al Pacino and Russell Crowe have never been better in the ten subsequent years since this films release and their delicate portraits of imperfect men caught in a maelstrom of outside interest, rank amongst the best performance work of any American film this decade. 
(8) Syndromes and a Century (2007) Duality in modern life is explored in Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s impressionistic film. Using broad strokes and seemingly unconnected and innocuous scenes from a Countryside doctors practice and then later repeating these scenes and stories in a inner city hospital with slight adjustments and a different outcome, the films now famous split and repetition at the mid point of the action is only the beginning of its depths. The directors parents were both doctors and this film is in part a semi-autobiographical exploration of his memories from growing up and a tribute to their work and lives, Weersethakul has also described the film as ‘transformative’, about how individuals transform themselves for the better, this aspect of the film is possibly its most praise worthy as the reality for the characters is a positive one, even with its more serious, moody and sexual city life which contrasts the sweeter homely country life of the past, people are still striving for change. The sexual side of his films is of particular interest as his previous 2002 film Blissfully Yours was censored for a prolonged shot a a man getting an erection, similarly this film was also censored for a shot of a mans erection under his trousers, unlike other sexually explicit films Syndromes and a Century has an anatomical detachedness about it’s presentation, which makes the Thai censors refusal to show the uncut version of the film even more ridiculous. What is the problem with showing an erect penis on screen anyway, almost half of the population of the planet have had an erection and the other half have most likely seen or will see one at some point. Weersethakul’s frank and honest scenes of sex or sexuality are refreshingly tender rather than titillating and film makers across the globe could learn from his work in this area. Syndromes and a Century is closest to Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1975 film Mirror with its reduction of the authors screen presence, its fragmented scene constructions, disharmonious music choices and mesmerising cinematography. Frankly for me to compare any film with Tarkovsky’s masterpiece is the highest compliment I can pay. 
(7) In the Mood For Love (2000) Wong Kar Wai’s film follows a pair of neighbours in 1960’s Hong Kong who suspect that their spouses are having an affair. Slowly as they explore these suspicions together they bond and move dangerously close to having an affair of their own but can not for the ever present glare of society. The film is a masterpiece of restrained desire and burgeoning love, resisting all the usual dramatic tricks and clichés and boldly restricting the characters from acting on their desires. In the Mood For Love flows naturally and smoothly combining perfectly balanced performances, a luscious score from Michael Galasso and Shingeru Umebayashi with Christopher Doyle and Pin Bing Lee’s mouth-wateringly beautiful cinematography. Slow motion has never been so effectively used before or since in cinema and the brave composition breaks all the rules of film photography and miraculously works, the protagonists husband and wife are never seen on screen, only parts of them are glimpsed through doorways or heard behind the paper thin walls - the distance from the cheating antagonists makes our relationship with the central couple all the more powerful. The film does have a lot of common ground with David Lean’s 1945 classic Brief Encounter, the themes of adultery, love and societal constraints make this a perfect companion to Lean’s masterpiece and as with that film, the story parallels the widely concealed love and lust that was afforded to the gay community in years past: as with Brief Encounter, In the Mood for Love has a fascinating Queer theory subtext which is arguably more powerful than the more blatantly homosexual centred 1997 Wong Kar Wai film Happy Together. It might seem counter intuitive to explore homosexuality through a heterosexual couple, but that is the magic of cinema, often the strangest reversal and the most oblique of symbols will comment more impactfully than a straight narrative or outright statements. 
(6) Werkmiester Harmonies (2003) Based on Laszlo Krasznahorkai’s beautifully written novel The Melancholy of Resistance, Bela Tarr’s greatest film to date accesses the boundaries between barbarism and civility and sanity and insanity within the individual and the larger community as a Hungarian town is destroyed by the rampaging followers of the mysterious Prince and our passive protagonist Valuska is caught in the middle of a situation which he is unable to control or understand. Tarr’s usual visual and narrative flourishes are maximised: black and white photography and long flowing tracking shots that create a mesmerising spherical reality are used to full effect. The sense of cold, the sense of political upheaval, the heavy use of metaphysics, the occasional bursts of random humour, the beautifully elegant and surprisingly emotive score and the otherworldly dream-like art design are all masterfully employed to create a time and place with which we have no natural relationship but can still understand. Similar in style and content to Tarr’s other Krasznahorkai adaptation the seven and a half hour Satantango, but with one unmistakable advantage – a central character, Valuska the wide-eyed dreamer who pulls the audience into this world and doesn’t let go. The film is punctuated by several breathtaking set pieces, which convey an unmistakeable sense of dread and foreboding, the sacking of the town is possibly the best example, set at night and using effortlessly flowing visuals and playing with sound and reality. Krasnahorkai’s book uses uninterrupted extended sentences and often thirty-page long paragraphs of continuous action and thought, Tarr has captured Krasnahorkai’s unique prose with his similarly uninterrupted and extended shots which cover the events of the film without ever cutting. This piece of poetic cinema should not be ignored and once seen is impossible to forget.
(5) The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2006) Frustrating, infuriating, and almost unwatchable. Not words we’d commonly associate with good film making, but The Death of Mr. Lazarescu is an exception. The film follows the titular Mr. Lazarescu who becomes ill and calls an ambulance and then gets banded around between different hospitals unwilling to treat him for one reason or another. As the night progresses his health worsens and he becomes a victim of the egos, administration, prejudice and the incompetence present within the Romanian health service. Director Cristi Puiu maintains an atmosphere of complete naturalism, often playing scenes from one angle, restricting events to one evening, never giving into the temptation to manipulate our emotions with music. Instead he places the audiences head in a vice and then slowly applies pressure until you can’t take anymore. Similar in style and atmosphere to Romania’s other art house success this decade 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, but more impactful than that film. The Death of Mr. Lazarescu forces a visceral reaction from its audience, a surprisingly powerful reaction as we’re given little time to bond with our protagonist and he’s not the most likable of characters. This is where the films true strength lies as hope is given and then taken away, it doesn’t matter who the protagonist is, our wider sense of humanity kicks in and we can not bear to watch as this innocent man is neglected to death. Without using any of the usual tricks of cinema the director manages to convey the sense of injustice so completely that you have constantly remind yourself that it’s just a movie. In recent memory only Illmar Raag’s Estonian film Klass has managed to solicit such a vocal response from me as I watch the film, but where Raag’s film was a stylistic mess, this films is a beacon of stylistic purity, a purity and consistency which gives it strength. 
(4) United 93 (2006) Paul Greengrass made the definitive 9/11 movie before anyone else even had chance to make an attempt, focusing entirely on the events surrounding fourth and final plane which crashed before hitting its desired target. It ranks as one of the decades best films for its realism, historical accuracy, its reliance on an excellent and unknown cast of actors; for its entirely handheld and predatory camera work, John Powell’s throbbing, intensive yet never overbearing score and a refusal to take sides, make political statements or overstate the heroics of the passengers onboard the titular aircraft. Despite every audience member knowing the eventual outcome of the film, Greengrass manages to build unbearable levels of tension in the films final forty-five minutes to point that the viewer actually believes there is a chance that the passengers may well succeed in their bid to take back the plane from the terrorists and survive the ordeal. What’s even more impressive about this feat is that it does not dissipate upon multiple viewing, every time I watch United 93 I am on the edge of my seat right up to its devastating final cut to black. There is something entirely primal about films content, the sense of confusion is expertly managed and the desire to survive to brilliantly conveyed – it doesn’t matter that the film lacks a central character, it doesn’t matter that the outcome is set in stone, it doesn’t matter that film only has two acts rather than three, because ultimately Greengrass’ dedication to a set of stylistic rules and ability to extract nuanced performances make the film impossible to ignore or forget.
(3) After the Wedding (2007) Director Susanne Bier’s masterpiece is her second entry in this Top 20 films of the decade, a milestone in humanism and naturalism as she explores one man’s balancing act between personal and ideological commitments. Coming off the back of her Dogma experiments (as mentioned earlier about her 2003 film Open Hearts), here she takes a slightly more varnished approach, but while the photography maybe more stylised (with it’s cuts to extreme close-ups of characters eyes) the emotions are at there rawest. As always Bier is an actor’s director first and foremost, delicately soliciting stunning performances from her talented cast that are so believable in emotionally fraught situations that you feel as if you’re intruding on a private moments between real people rather than watching a motion picture. After the Wedding is a sneak attack, an assault on your senses, it takes you on a roller coaster of emotion from the highs to the lows and back again. The story is complex yet believable, as always what is remarkable about Bier’s work is how narrowly it avoids contrivance and takes what would in lesser hands been toe-curling embarrassing scenes and turns them into some of the most memorable moments of the decade. Stine Fischer Christensen, Mads Mikkelsen and Rolf Lassgard make up arguably the best ensemble cast in recent years, and with Bier to helm them it’s no surprise that this is the best performance driven film of the last ten years. 
(2) Heartbeat Detector (2008) Based on Francois Emmanuel’s book La Question Humaine (a title the French distributors were brave enough to keep) this condemnation of corporate language and dehumanising nature of big business had the most peculiar effect on me. To describe this elusive, cryptic and tantalising film in more personal terms I shall say this: when watching it at the cinema it did not grab my attention at first, its slow pace through the first hour took it’s toll on my patience and whilst initially I enjoyed Nicholas Klotz’s visual essay on the fragility of the human soul, I did not leave the cinema feeling I’d just witnessed one of the very best films of the decade, I did not even think I’d seen one of the best films of 2008. Its boldness had impressed me but I couldn’t help but remember how restless I’d been during the films first hour. However after a few days I came to a strange realisation, the films imagery and poeticism had not left my mind, days became weeks and weeks became months and I could not get the film out of my head. Every time I remembered it the better it seemed in my mind until eventually it did indeed make my top ten films of 2008 just missing out on the number one spot behind Steve McQueen’s Hunger. Upon revisiting it on DVD its worth became clear and I now consider it the best film of that year by quite some distance. It might seem like an idiosyncratic recommendation and placement within this list, but so few films ever have this effect on me and as such there is nothing I can write here that would be a greater recommendation for this film – see it once and then see it again and then see it again. 
(1) The New World: The Extended Cut (2006) For two decades in a row, Terrance Malick has managed to craft the finest piece of cinema of any film maker across the globe. For the 1990’s The Thin Red Line was impossible to surpass, and perhaps in recent years only his follow up The New World has come close, the recently released Extended Cut in particular may even surpass The Thin Red Line upon further viewings with its extra forty minutes The Extended Cut adds even more to the films final emotional climax which arrives like a tsunami obliterating all of your defences and forcing you to accept the reality of love lost. As with The Thin Red Line, The New World has suffered from it’s celebrity contributors, a cast of Hollywood A-listers really invites the wrong kind of audience to the cinema, viewers who were expecting a film more along the lines of Wolfgang Peterson’s Troy or even Oliver Stone’s Alexander would be bitterly disappointed, but some how Malick’s films always seem to survive the backlash of the unsuspecting viewer and this is a testament to the quality of Malick’s films. The story of John Smith and Pocahontas is a perfect outlet for Malick’s dream-like transcendental story telling, breaking down barriers between a love story, a historical picture and an extended piece of visual poetry. Make no mistake about it - The New World is as artistically sophisticated as any film you’re ever likely to see and whilst it may not pose any big questions it does remain unwaveringly dedicated to its thematic explorations and visual signatures. It manages to be both the most visually stunning and the most emotionally engaging film of the decade simultaneously, it is a faultless film in all senses, from the rhymic editing, to the tender and dutifully understated performances of Colin Farrel, Christian Bale and the miraculous Q’orianka Kilcher as the Indian Princess, from the gorgeous use of Mozart and Wagner in the soundtrack to Emmanuel Lubezki’s simply sublime photography. It is a perfect film. Recently John Patterson of The Guardian Newspaper stated that The New World “doesn’t have fans, just fanatics”, I’m proud to say that I count myself amongst them.
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