The Cinema Fix presents: 12 Favourite Films of 2024!
Good day and I hope you are well. I am slightly late to the party with these but happy new year nonetheless.
Here are my favourite films of 2024 that I watched at the cinema and on streaming platforms. The majority would have been released last year, however there were quite a few that crossed the last eighteen months or so. I cheated slightly with The Quiet Girl, but I watched in 2024, so there you go.
If I have missed any films then please let me know in the comments. I have either NOT seen them or did not enjoy them as much as you. Remember these are my FAVOURITE films seen in 2024 of new(ish) releases. So all purely subjective and am happy if you agree or disagree. Have a wonderful 2025!
Oh, for control and interest, I include my favourite films of 2023!
ANATOMY OF A FALL (2023) ASTEROID CITY (2023) BROKER (2022) MAY DECEMBER (2023) OPPENHEIMER (2023) PAST LIVES (2023) SALTBURN (2023) TAR (2022) TOTALLY KILLER (2023) THE WONDER (2022)
Based on Nosferatu by Henrik Galeen and Dracula by Bram Stoker
Produced by Jeff Robinov, John Graham, Chris Columbus, Eleanor Columbus, Robert Eggers, etc.
Main Cast: Bill Skarsgård, Nicholas Hoult, Lily-Rose Depp, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Emma Corrin, Willem Dafoe, Simon McBurney, etc.
Cinematography by Jarin Blaschke
Music by Robin Carolan
*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***
Firstly, Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror, the 1922 silent German Expressionist vampire film directed by F. W. Murnau remains one of the greatest and most iconic horror films of all time. It is arguably the greatest adaptation of Bram Stoker’s, seminal gothic classic, Dracula, too. Of which there have been many. So, who would be brave enough to attempt to master another version of this often-told monstrous tale. Step forward the acclaimed and relatively young American auteur, Robert Eggers.
Robert Eggers has built a reputation for crafting films that blend mythical and fantastical elements with folk horror and psychological thriller sensibilities. His works often transport audiences to meticulously recreated period settings, which serve as the foundation for his exploration of human fears, desires, and the supernatural. His debut feature film. The Witch (2015) exemplified folk horror rooted in Puritanical fears of the supernatural. Set in 1630s New England, it drew heavily from folklore, historical accounts, and period-authentic dialogue. The film explored themes of isolation, religious paranoia, and the breakdown of a family due to their belief in the presence of witches.
Similarly, The Lighthouse (2019), a psychological thriller merged maritime folklore with hallucinatory horror. Set in the late 19th century, the film delved into isolation-induced madness as two lighthouse keepers grappled with mythological themes such as mermaids, sea gods, and Promethean punishment. Moreover, as with his short films Hansel and Gretel (2007) and The Tell-Tale Heart (2008) he is drawn towards established texts, with the bruising, battering ram of The Northman (2022) covering the original myth on which Hamlet was based. Eggers vision immersed the viewer in violence, Viking culture, shamanic ritual and mysticism. Unsurprising therefore, he has now delivered the German Expressionist classic, Nosferatu (2024) with his signature period aesthetic and focus on the macabre.
With a stellar cast, production design and incredibly stylish vision, Eggers has produced a praiseworthy example of fantastical cinema. As usual there appears to be meticulous historical research, including accurate costumes, set design, and period-specific dialogue. This attention to detail in Nosferatu (2024) grounds the supernatural elements in a believable world, enhancing their impact. Furthermore, Eggers creates a sense of dread through his use of sound design, stark cinematography, and claustrophobic settings. His restrained pacing allows for the gradual unraveling of characters’ psyches, making the supernatural elements more impactful.
Yet, while steeped in folklore, Nosferatu (2024) centres on human struggles—family disintegration, fate, guilt, madness, lust and sex. Indeed, Nicholas Hoult’s Thomas Hutter (née Harker) does not stand a chance. From the opening scene his sensual wife, Ellen, is inextricably linked via a lustful fever dream to a mysterious figure, who, if you couldn’t guess, is Count Orlok (an unrecognizable Bill Skarsgård). It is Ellen’s orgasmic connection across oceans of time which drives Orlok to lure Thomas away and commit blood-draining murder as he creeps cross-country and sails the seas from Transylvania to Germany. Ellen’s surreal and orgiastic desire unfortunately brings the plague and causes the death of extraneous supporting characters portrayed by the likes Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Emma Corrin. A note to say Willem Dafoe is as usual a joy as the ‘Van Helsing’ substitute.
Nosferatu (2024) is undeniably a sumptuous adaptation, brimming with signature attention to period detail, atmospheric dread, and a striking visual palette. However, for those seeking a viscerally terrifying Dracula film, the movie might fall short, leaning heavily into the realm of erotic horror and psychological tension rather than outright scares. While the stunning cinematography, the film’s shadow-drenched landscapes, intricate set design, and haunting score evoke the satanic allure of the original silent film this focus, however, shifts the film away from raw horror and toward a more introspective exploration of vulnerability and eroticism. Ultimately, the film’s reinterpretation of Count Orlok and its restrained approach to gore might alienate viewers expecting a more terrifying vampire film. This left me impressed but more disturbed by the overlong runtime than by the nightmarish allure of the bloodthirsty undead.
Produced by Tim Bevan, Eric Fellner, Steve McQueen, Anita Overland, Adam Somner, Arnon Milchan, Yariv Milchan, Michael Schaefer
Main Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Elliott Heffernan, Harris Dickinson, Benjamin Clementine, Kathy Burke, Paul Weller, Stephen Graham etc.
Cinematography by Yorick Le Saux
*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***
Officially classed as acclaimed filmmaker Steve McQueen’s first feature since the release of Widows (2018),Blitz (2024) is a WW2 drama of extremely high quality. But before I get into the review, lest we forget the series of films Steve McQueen delivered to the BBC a few years. The ‘Small Axe’ anthology should and shall be revisited as one of the most important documents of British history, such is its searing power, dramatic drive and the stunning rich tapestry of characterful moments. So, I urge you to watch, if you haven’t, what I consider to be Steve McQueen’s masterworks. I have reviewed the first one Mangrove (2020)here and the remaining of the collection here:
Blitz (2024) is a bigger budgeted production when compared to the ‘Small Axe’ anthology. But, similarly, it is a period piece, focusing on the working class and Black experience, this time set during the brutal bombing of London in 1940. McQueen shoots very much from the perspective of George (Elliot Heffernan), his mother, Rita (Saoirse Ronan) and grandfather, Gerald (Paul Weller). George, like many war children, is packed on a train to the relative safety of the countryside, while parents live in the hope of surviving the incessant German bombs.
After establishing the close family bond between the Hanways, and the wrenching emotion of sending her son away, Rita continues working in a munitions factory and sings beautifully on a national radio show. At the same time, George, finds trouble with a gang of child bullies on the train, before fighting back and jumping off. A tough and resourceful boy, George, makes the perilous choice to return to battered and burning London to reunite with his mother. The city, scarred by the relentless ‘Blitzkrieg’, is a treacherous labyrinth of collapsing buildings and choking smoke, but George’s determination burns brighter than the fires raging across the skyline.
Like a modern Oliver Twist, Blitz (2024) George’s journey through the devastated capital is both a physical and moral odyssey, with each encounter shaping his understanding of loyalty, survival, and the fragile threads that bind people together in times of crisis. George becomes trapped by his own choices, the bombs, bricks, buildings and characters he meets on the way. Some are friendly, but others exploit George preventing his return home. McQueen’s script also finds time to flashback to show Rita meeting George’s father, providing significant context to his mixed race background. Indeed, through George, McQueen explores themes relating to race and his emotional journey to find his place in the world as a person of colour.
Blitz (2024) is a superbly shot and designed film, with Yorick Le Saux’s cinematography rendering war torn London with an almost mythical beauty. However, Hans Zimmer’s overblown soundtrack is too much for me. Further, Steve McQueen’s hagiographic and episodic approach does somewhat diminish the raw drama and bloody horror of war. Notably, the under-use of Kathy Burke and Stephen Graham’s gutter snipe thieves. Plus a thrilling action set-piece during a flooded tube station that cuts away from George’s almost-demise, denying us suspense and dramatic catharsis. Thus, at times, the film sacrifices potential complexity during George’s journey, making his survival seem almost predestined rather than hard-fought. Still, Steve McQueen remains one of the country’s most important cinematic artists and Blitz (2024) is yet another fine testament to the strength and resilience of the human spirit.
INFERIS (2024) – a short psychological horror film!
Just a quick update to say I am really pleased the low budget film I wrote and produced did really well at various festivals throughout 2024. I’m still waiting for responses from a few more festivals, but here are some of the events it was screened at:
Inferis (2024) is an eerie, unsettling and psychological no budget short horror film. A mood piece relying on atmosphere, creative lighting and impactful sound design.
Recent prison leaver, Joseph Mann, begins a new job at Inferis Security. Hoping for a fresh start he finds himself drawn toward a mysterious door that leads to god knows where.
Produced by Jacques Audiard, Pascal Caucheteux, Valérie Schermann, Anthony Vaccarello
Main Cast: Zoe Saldaña, Karla Sofía Gascón, Selena Gomez, Adriana Paz, Mark Ivanir, Édgar Ramírez etc.
Cinematography by Paul Guilhaume
*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***
“There’s such a thing as having too much going on.” Howard Moon from The Mighty Boosh.
I am a big champion of the films of Jacques Audiard. When his eccentric Western, The Sisters Brothers (2018), was released I wrote a positive review and tribute to several other fine films he has directed here. Audiard likes to take risks representing human beings on the edge of society and perhaps struggling with life; people who often make left-field decisions to improve or escape their existential plight. With his latest film Emilia Perez (2024) the filmmaking master challenges the audience again with a multi-blended genre film that also contains powerful themes of transformation, redemption, violence, crime and family values. Oh and there are songs too.
The narrative begins strongly as Rita Mora Castro (Zoe Saldana), a fiercely talented yet overlooked lawyer in Mexico City, finds herself thrust into the spotlight when she defends the wife of a prominent media mogul in a controversial murder trial. Despite her misgivings, Rita crafts a chillingly persuasive argument that frames the death as a suicide, securing an unexpected victory in the case—one that leaves her both celebrated and haunted.
As the dust settles, Rita’s restless dissatisfaction with her life grows louder. Then comes an anonymous phone call: an enigmatic voice offers her a chance at something extraordinary—and extraordinarily dangerous. Intrigued and desperate for change, she agrees to a clandestine meeting. The mysterious client turns out to be none other than Juan “Manitas” Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón), a ruthless and feared cartel kingpin. But the request they make isn’t what Rita expects from a crime-lord. Manitas dreams of living authentically by undergoing gender-affirming surgery and becoming a woman. Rita must decide: will she help Manitas rewrite their story, or will she risk becoming the next chapter in a tale of betrayal and bloodshed?
This fascinating set-up draws you in and I believe if Audiard’s narrative had concentrated mostly on the relationship between Rita, the transitioned, Emilia, then the film would have retained much emotional and thematic power. Yet, after Emilia’s operation the screenplay introduces several other story strands and characters to take in, including Selena Gomez’ feisty Jessi Del Monte, Manitas’ ex-wife who thinks “he’s” dead. This development works initially but then Audiard hurls so many more ideas and genres at the audience wall, not all of them sticking.
Admittedly, the film’s audacious blend of melodrama, crime, thriller, musical, and comedy creates an unpredictable and frenetic narrative that keeps viewers on their toes. However, this constant genre-shifting can undermine the weight of its core themes—gender and identity—by overshadowing them with spectacle and tonal inconsistency. The story’s rapid turns and refusal to settle into a single emotional or narrative groove risk, arguably trivializing the profound struggles and triumphs of its trans-protagonist. Moments that could serve as deeply reflective or cathartic explorations of gender identity are sometimes undercut by abrupt pivots into slapstick humor or hyper-stylized action. While these shifts might aim to reflect the disarray and fluidity of identity in a chaotic world, they can also dilute the thematic resonance.
At the same time, it’s clear Audiard is deliberately embracing this chaos and analysis of human flaws. The fractured tone might symbolize a world where stability and clarity are illusions, mirroring the internal and external conflicts of someone navigating personal transformation in an unyielding environment. This approach, while conceptually intriguing, can feel alienating. Nonetheless, the cast’s stellar performances anchor the film, ensuring that the characters remain compelling even when the story spirals into excess. Lastly, Emilia Perez‘ (2024) relentless energy often leaves little room for introspection, and whether this genre-chaos enriches or undermines the narrative depends largely on the viewer’s tolerance for Audiard’s embrace of choral disorder in a world seemingly allergic to calm and pattern.
Produced by Stacey Sher, Scott Beck, Bryan Woods, Julia Glausi and Jeanette Volturno
Main cast: Hugh Grant, Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East and Topher Grace.
Cinematography by Chung Chung-hoon
Hugh Grant has been leaning into edgier, more complex roles in recent years, breaking away from the charming, rom-com archetype that first made him famous in films like Notting Hill (1999) and Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994). His performance as the scheming Fletcher in The Gentlemen (2019) showcased his versatility and willingness to play morally ambiguous, darker characters, a notable shift from his earlier, more likeable characters. Additionally, his involvement in projects like Heretic(2024) demonstrates a continued exploration of grittier, layered personas, signaling a reinvention of his career as he embraces unconventional, often villainous roles that display a new level of depth and unpredictability.
In the theologically-driven horror thriller, Heretic(2024), he portrays a certain Mr Reed, who is door-stepped by two Mormon missionary’s, Sister Barnes (Sophie Thatcher) and Sister Paxton (Chloe East). After the opening scenes which establish empathy for the Mormons, despite some slightly risque dialogue, they knock on the door of Mr Reed and soon the tension begins to rise as he clearly has ulterior motives. But what could they be?
The excellent script by Scott Beck and Bryan Woods truly comes alive in the second act, diving into a sharp, intelligent critique on the nature of religion and faith. The narrative shifts into thought-provoking territory, dissecting the contradictions and complexities of belief systems with nuance and wit. Hugh Grant, delivers these lines with palpable relish, embodying a character that’s both captivating and unsettling. His performance amplifies the script’s incisive commentary, bringing a darkly charismatic edge to the film’s anti-treatise that leaves a lasting impression on the viewer. There’s some great humour in there too, even name-checking South Park and The Book of Mormon during a thrilling game of verbal cat-and-mouse as Mr Reed challenges the sweet missionaries’ whole doctrine. Which, let’s face it, as invented by Joseph Smith, is arguably founded on many ridiculous ideas.
Heretic loses some of its originality toward the end as it leans into familiar horror and “final girl” tropes, diluting the impact of its earlier, more mazy, twisted and thought-provoking narrative. After building a layered critique on religion and faith, the climax reverts to predictable genre conventions, somewhat undermining the complexity established in the second act. This shift might feel like a missed opportunity, as the nuanced themes give way to traditional horror cliches that prioritize shocks over substance. While still entertaining, the reliance on these tropes makes the conclusion feel less daring compared to the film’s more intellectually ambitious setup. Still, Hugh Grant’s devilish Mr Reed and a fantastic soundtrack, make it well worth the admission fee. Meanwhile Woods and Beck again prove themselves as genre filmmakers worth keeping faith with.
The Scala Cinema, nestled in the heart of London, was more than just a film theatre; it was a refuge, a haven for anyone with a passion for films that didn’t fit into the mainstream mold. I can still feel the sticky floors, the cats in the dark, hear the muffled sounds of the trains passing overhead, and see the hazy red glow that filled the theater. In the 1980s and 1990s, going to the Scala wasn’t just about watching a film; it was about being part of a community that celebrated the bizarre, the boundary-pushing, and the boldly artistic.
During those years, the Scala felt like my second home. It was where I could disappear into films that I couldn’t find anywhere else – obscure horror flicks, campy B-movies, gonzo-pornos, arthouse selections, and controversial classics from around the globe. It was my church. Films by David Lynch, John Waters, Yuen Woo-ping, Derek Jarman, Werner Herzog, Sam Raimi, Lucio Fulci, Russ Meyer, Kathryn Bigelow, Alex Cox, John Woo, Stanley Kubrick, Jane Campion, Orson Welles, Dario Argento, Alejandro Jodorowsky and many more – each screening felt like a small rebellion, a discovery that I’d carry with me. The Scala didn’t just show movies; it curated experiences. All-night marathons, double bills, and surprise screenings became a staple of my weekends, filling my mind with scenes that blurred the line between reality and the outrageous.
When I watched the Scala documentary on BFI Player, a flood of memories came rushing back. It was as though I’d been given a ticket back to those wild, late nights. I remembered how Scala regulars would shout lines at the screen or break into laughter at inopportune moments, making each viewing unique and unpredictable. The documentary captured not only the films but the spirit of the place – the staff who loved cinema as much as the patrons did, the strange but welcoming crowd, and the sense that Scala wasn’t just a venue but a movement. Watching it felt like reconnecting with a part of myself, an era when cinema was raw, thrilling, and unpolished.
The Scala in King’s Cross is a legend, and for those of us who were lucky enough to experience it, it’s a chapter we’ll always cherish. I was even there when they showed A Clockwork Orange (illegally), which led to the ill-fated court case which forced it to close. This documentary is both a valuable historical document and a joyous sharing of stories from those who worked there and attended the films shown, including: Mark Moore, Mary Harron, Isaac Julien, John Waters, Ben Wheatley; Barry Adamson, Matt Johnson, Adam Buxton, James O’Brien, Stewart Lee, Lisa Power and Graham Humphreys. Overall, the Scala Cinema wasn’t just about the films we watched; it was about finding a place where film became more than entertainment – they were a way of life.
Looking for something horrifying to watch during Halloween. Well you could do far worse than getting a Shudder subscription.
A few months a year I sign up and binge bloody disgusting and scary films as my previous reviews testify. Check them out here!
This year I have done the same and watched some really good, terribly bad and hideously ugly horror films via Shudder. Peruse my short reviews below. In alphabetical order with marks out of eleven.
Host (2020)
A terrific low-budget British indie film that explores the dangers of angering ghosts during a Zoom call. While the mildly irritating characters don’t realize they can simply end the online séance, it’s still a spooky, suspenseful, and fast-paced horror flick. I’m not usually a fan of the found footage genre, but this was very well made and highly creepy. Mark: 8 out of 11
In A Violent Nature (2024)
This director will probably have an amazing career. But this film was, despite some wonderful practical-effect driven gore, SO slow and boring. The film satirizes classic horror tropes, mocking their clichés with a heavy hand. The director’s pretentious style and inflated sense of artistic ego drain the audience of any real suspense or tension. The attempt at highbrow genre obfuscation creates a hollow spectacle. Shot from behind, the killer stalks twenty-somethings in the woods in the style of Son of Saul (2015) meets every slasher film ever. Ultimately, suffering from atrocious dialogue, bad plotting and weak characterization, the visual flair fails to save a film which feels more like an exercise in intellectual vanity than a gripping thriller. Mark: 5 out of 11
With echoes of the recent Inside No. 9 (3×3 quiz show episode) and BBC show Ghostwatch (1992), and of course The Exorcist (1973), Late Night With the Devil (2023) is one of the most enjoyable and imaginative horror films I have seen in sometime. One of the best horror films of the decade. Check out my longer review here. Mark: 9 out of 11
Pyewacket (2017)
Nicole Munoz’ isolated teenager summons a witch via a ritual and unleashes something not particularly scary or even present. All set-up and no catharsis! A waste of everyone’s time. Mark: 4 out of 11
Revealer (2022)
One of the best pitches I have read in a while – “A stripper and religious protester are trapped together in a peep show booth and must come together to survive the apocalypse in 1980’s Chicago!” does not unfortunately live up to expectations. However, there’s a decent female buddy dynamic and some imaginative gore which channels early Raimi, Jackson and Carpenter. Mark: 6 out of 11
Room 237 (2012)
For Stanley Kubrick completists, this fascinating documentary is divided into nine sections, with each one exploring a different aspect of The Shining (1980). Hidden theories buried under the surface relate to faked moon landings, Native American genocide and the holocaust are some of the ideas chucked at the wall. While some may stick and some don’t, it’s lovingly made and always fascinating. Mark: 8 out of 11
Skinamarink (2022)
Skinamarink was a major letdown for me, especially given the high expectations after its impressive financial success. With a $15,000 budget, it garnered over $2.1 million at the box office, creating a buzz around its unconventional style and promise of fresh horror. But despite its atmospheric tension and experimental approach, I felt the film didn’t live up to the hype. The slow pacing, abstract narrative, and reliance on ambient sounds and shadows left me unmoved. It’s an original, art-house horror so surprised it crossed over. Filmmaker, Kyle Edward Ball, clearly has a distinctive voice though. Mark: 6 out of 11
Stop Motion (2023)
The animation in Stopmotion (2023) showcases Robert Morgan’s genius, with his signature blend of hauntingly detailed stop-motion work that creates an eerie, tactile atmosphere. His craftsmanship brings a nightmarish quality to life, adding unsettling textures and depth that pull the audience into a world of psychological horror. However, while the animation excels, the plot—reminiscent of Repulsion—struggles to connect on a human level. The surreal visuals overshadow the character’s psychological journey, making it hard for viewers to engage with the protagonist’s inner turmoil, leaving the story feeling more distant and abstract than compelling. Mark: 6.5 out of 11
Superdeep (2020)
The Russian horror film Superdeep feels like a patchwork of borrowed elements from better-known sci-fi and horror movies, but without their finesse or originality. It mimics the claustrophobic tension of The Thing, the body horror of Alien, and the descent into madness of Event Horizon, yet fails to capture the essence that made those films effective. Derivative and ineffective, it at least has some ridiculously bad monster effects at the end that had me laughing. Mark: 4 out of 11
The Coffee Table (2022)
The Coffee Table is a twisted and darkly humorous horror film that pushes the boundaries of discomfort while delivering a sharp, satirical take on the horrors of parenthood. The film’s sick sense of humor blends with its unsettling premise, as it uses a seemingly mundane object—a coffee table—as the catalyst for an absurd but terrifying chain of events. Its pitch-black comedy amplifies the tension, making the film both deeply disturbing and strangely cathartic for those who understand the pressures of raising children. It’s a fearless examination of the darker side of family life, where humor and horror collide to expose the anxieties and struggles that often go unspoken. Mark: 8 out of 11
We All Went to the World’s Fair (2021)
We All Went to the World’s Fair (2021) falls short both as a horror film and as a rites of passage story. Its eerie, slow-burn approach creates an unsettling atmosphere, but the lack of a clear, escalating threat leaves it feeling aimless. Switching protagonists at the end does not work, and despite an excellent performance from Anna Cobb, the film spoils an intriguing premise. Mark: 5.5 out of 11
Where Evil Lurks (2023)
Where Evil Lurks(2023) skillfully employs well-known horror tropes—such as viral infection and monstrous transformations of humans—to deliver a fresh and intense experience. The film taps into the fear of contagion, using the idea of a mysterious, spreading evil that corrupts and distorts its victims. This viral-like menace is combined with disturbing body horror, as infected humans gradually turn into something grotesque and monstrous, making the familiar threat feel visceral and terrifying. The gradual, creeping transformation of people into monstrous figures is done with chilling precision, playing on the fear of losing control of one’s body and mind. By grounding these tropes in a strong narrative and unsettling atmosphere, the film elevates the horror elements, using them to amplify its emotional and psychological impact. Mark: 8.5 out of 11
Written by Scott Silver and Todd Phillips (Based on Characters by DC Comics) Produced byTodd Phillips, Emma Tillinger Koskoff & Joseph Garner
Main cast: Joaquin Phoenix, Lady Gaga, Brendan Gleeson, Catherine Keener and Zazie Beetz etc.
Cinematography by Lawrence Sher
Music by Hildur Guðnadóttir
*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***
In 2019, Todd Phillips and Joaquin Phoenix, as director and lead actor, unleashed Joker (2019) on the cinema public. It became an enormous critical and commercial hit, with Phoenix winning the ‘Best Actor’ award at the Academy Awards. Unsurprisingly, a sequel now reaches us. While the original 1980’s set period drama worked superbly, echoing the structure and themes of Scorsese’s King of Comedy (1982) and Taxi Driver (1976), the follow-up Joker: Folie à Deux (2024) is altogether different. In fact, given it experiments with musical, romance, crime, court-room and psychological horror genres, it is an altogether riskier film, which while compelling and fascinating, doesn’t always connect to a satisfactory whole. But perhaps that is the point. It is intended to reflect an inconsistent mind and unreliable narrator, a fractured soul in Arthur Fleck.
For me, in Joker: Folie à Deux (2024), Todd Phillips masterfully employs cinematic techniques of fragmentation and ambiguity to deepen the exploration of mental illness, echoing the disorienting and fractured experience of his protagonists. The film, much like its predecessor, blurs the lines between reality and delusion, but this time the ambiguity is intensified through musical elements, dreamlike sequences, and multiple perspectives. Phillips’ use of disjointed timelines and unreliable narratives immerses the audience in the chaos of Arthur Fleck’s (Phoenix) and Harley Quinn’s (Lady Gaga) unraveling psyches.
The musical numbers, set against stark, gritty environments, feel both fantastical and unnerving, reinforcing the characters’ distorted perceptions of the world. Moments of quiet introspection are suddenly broken by violent outbursts or surreal interludes, mimicking the unpredictability of their mental states. The film’s visual style shifts between stark realism and surreal imagery, reflecting the internal fragmentation of Arthur and Harley’s minds, keeping viewers on edge and questioning what is real.
Phillips’ direction ensures that the story remains rooted in ambiguity—much like the first film—inviting viewers to interpret the characters’ mental states without offering clear answers. This cracked narrative style doesn’t just illustrate their mental illness; it pulls the audience into it, makingJoker: Folie à Deuxa bold and unsettling exploration of madness through form as much as story. As such there isn’t much plot to speak of as Arthur’s journey essentially follows him from Arkham Asylum to court, with episodic splashes of song and dance in between, before we get to the climactic court room scenes.
As aforementioned, in Joker (2019), Todd Phillips drew heavily from Martin Scorsese’s The King of Comedy (1982), particularly in its portrayal of a lonely, unstable man seeking fame and validation in a world that cruelly rejects him. Arthur Fleck’s obsession with talk show host Murray Franklin mirrors Rupert Pupkin’s fixation on becoming a comedy star, and both films explore the dangerous consequences of societal alienation and delusional aspirations. The gritty, urban backdrop and character-driven narrative made Joker a powerful homage to Scorsese’s psychological explorations of fame and madness.
With Joker: Folie à Deux (2024), Phillips shifts toward a different Scorsese film for inspiration: New York, New York (1977). Much like Scorsese’s semi-musical about a turbulent romance between two performers, Folie à Deux integrates musical elements and centres on the chaotic relationship between Arthur and Harley Quinn (Lady Gaga). The film’s blending of harsh realism with the stylized, dreamlike sequences of musical numbers echoes New York, New York’s mix of glitzy performance and dark personal struggle. Thematically, both films explore how dreams of stardom can clash with mental instability, but Folie à Deuxtakes it a step further by embedding this conflict within its characters’ delusions, making the musical sequences feel like an escape from—or reflection of—their psychotic minds. This potential homage to New York, New Yorkallows Phillips to expand Joker‘s cinematic language, fusing psychological drama with surreal musical spectacle.
Joker: Folie à Deux (2024), at time of writing, has polarized critics and cinema-goers. As someone who watches a lot of “art-house” and European cinema, I can see why this film is dividing opinion. This is what happens if Jacques Demy, by way of Bergman, were given $200 million to make a DC comic-book film. Todd Phillips takes many risks in form and structure, most notably denying the audience catharsis at the bleak finale. It is truly downbeat and it felt like Phillips and Phoenix were finally done with this clownish killer and anti-hero.
As a cinematic experience the musical score is striking. Moreover, the production is grey and oppressive and claustrophobic, set in enclosed cells and shadowed court rooms. There is little light in this film nor even a shadow at the end of the tunnel for Arthur and Harley. Phoenix is fantastic again, while Gaga’s romantic partner-in-crime is under-cooked as a character. Nonetheless, Gaga still sparkles amidst this gloomy, musical, existential journey into the mouth and down the throat of madness.
Produced by: Coralie Fargeat, Tim Bevan and Eric Fellner
Main Cast: Demi Moore, Margaret Qualley and Dennis Quaid
Cinematography by Benjamin Kracun
*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***
The Substance (2024), directed by Coralie Fargeat, is a visually striking and visceral film that pushes the boundaries of body horror and psychological terror. Fargeat, known for her raw and relentless style in Revenge (2017), once again delivers an unforgettable experience by weaving references to classic literature and horror cinema into a narrative that is at once familiar and entirely original.
Demi Moore portrays a former Hollywood star, Elizabeth Sparkle, now relegated to doing a mildy successful cable TV aerobics show. However, Dennis Quaid’s oily production executive is on the lookout for younger talent. Elizabeth soon finds herself on the media scrapheap. Desperate to regain her youth and career, Elizabeth is drawn to the hypnotic promise of a new product called ‘The Substance.’
Before you can say, “Dorian Gray”, Elizabeth is lured to a strange white room full of lockers and has committed to the process. Similar to Gremlins (1984), there are rules to follow. As she follows the steps and injects the potions, Elizabeth goes through a painful and incredibly impactful transformation process. She literally gives birth to a young and beautiful alter ego called, Sue (Margaret Qualley). Elizabeth and Sue then get seven days each to live their life before they have to swap back. What could go wrong?
The film’s core themes draw heavily from Robert Louis Stevenson’s Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, exploring duality, identity, and the monstrous potential hidden within human nature. Like Stevenson’s tale of inner conflict, The Substance delves into the consequences of scientific ambition. It investigates moral transgression but with a modern, feminist twist. Fargeat’s use of body horror, particularly in the transformation sequences, echoes the grotesque, unsettling work of David Cronenberg. The nightmarish atmosphere and surreal visuals are reminiscent of David Lynch’s unsettling dream logic. This is notably seen in Eraserhead (1977) andMulholland Drive (2001).
The film also pays homage to John Carpenter’s The Thing (1982), with its transmogrifying frights, sense of creeping paranoia and rising conflict. But rather than a group of men fighting each other Elizabeth and Sue turn on each other over ownership of their physical existence and Hollywood status. The final act descends into hellish and bloody satire echoing Peter Jackson’sBraindead (1992), with gore galore. Moreover, Stanley Kubrick’s influence is palpable in the film’s meticulous framing, production design and tension-building. The climactic body-morphing scenes, however, most clearly nod to Brian Yuzna’s Society (1989), with its grotesque depictions of class and conformity, fused with Fargeat’s unique vision of female empowerment, revenge and resistance.
The Substance (2024) feels like a bigger budget film in look and style, but you soon realise the minimal number of sets used and a lack of crowd scenes, finds the narrative effectively becoming a two-hander in the middle act by focusing on Sue and Elizabeth’s internal retaliatory vindictiveness. There are some amazing framing, colour design and cinematographic choices as showers become tombs to trap the protagonists. The book-ended Hollywood star montage and returning final shots are imaginative and unforgettable. Got to say that Demi Moore, as an actress taking on a role of an aging and neurotic former star is genius casting. While Qualley delivers a sexually charged and energetic performance, it is Moore who carries the weight of the complex themes as Elizabeth’s journey dives deeper into the stuff of nightmares.
Overall, The Substance (2024) is a postmodern classic and a film that honors its influences while forging its own path. Fargeat uses these references to enrich the narrative, creating a damned ugly and beautiful satire on those seeking narcissistic perfection through unnatural means, ultimately paying the price of those seeking eternal youth and fame.
The Cinema Fix presents 