For almost the entire Summer, and a very large part of the Autumn, Hollywood ground to a halt. The Writers Guild of America, later joined by the Screen Actors Guild, went on strike over a combination of streaming services decimating residual pay, the increasingly precarious nature of both parties’ job security due to wanton cancellations (even of films which were complete), and the lack of protections against AI and image licensing by the studios.
Literally right as people were going back to cinemas in exceptional numbers with Barbenheimer, proving there was still an appetite from the public for seeing films on the big screen after all, the industry shot itself in the kneecaps with an elephant gun because Wall Street-beholden CEOs with little-to-no pretence of interest in the artistic side of the Arts thought they didn’t need either guild. That they could squeeze, manipulate, and wait both parties out so they wouldn’t have to give up a cent or the potential to use actor likenesses over an AI body in perpetuity down the line.
The cost of their greed? About $6.5 billion to the Californian economy, torrid box office performances for damn-near every film which released between Barbenheimer and late November (the strikes meaning that promotional work was near-impossible), a tornado tearing through both the release and production schedules that will be felt for the next few years… and both guilds still seeing the vast majority of their initial demands met in landmark deals, making the entire thing a massive waste of time and money for those studios.
Sounds more like a Hollywood feature than most actual Hollywood features nowadays. The feel-good story of workers banding together, refusing to be bullied or broken up, with the public on their side, and successfully getting the giant corporations to suck a lemon. And in a year that’s seen even more films get vaulted for tax write-offs, entire swathes of the industry suffer devastating layoffs, even the ‘successful’ films turning out to be major money-losers, and the British film industry in particular be brought to its knees whilst an uncaring government refuses to help… Err, what was my uplifting point again?
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Shifting away from the business side of things – where discovering how the sausage gets made is both vital yet also a one-way ticket to nihilistic disillusionment – the actual films released in 2023 were quite alright. Below, you’ll find animated features pushing the boundaries of what’s possible in the medium, low-budget horrors haunting the nightmares of those who stumbled upon them, blockbuster franchise mainstays hitting new creative peaks by going back-to-basics, and romances capable of tearing out and mending one’s heart in equal measure.
Also Barbenheimer, both because they really did live up to the hype and because you cannot tell the story of cinema in 2023 without mentioning Barbenheimer; the kind of cross-cultural, cross-generational, cross-genre Event that Hollywood is so good at making when it stops trying to suck all the joy and freedom from talented creatives who want to do their goddamn jobs. There are a lot of great films we missed or didn’t have space for, and we’d love to hear your favourites in the comments or on Twitter/wherever people are congregating online nowadays.
Thanks for reading Set The Tape in 2023. We’re extremely proud of the work we’ve managed to pull together across the year for you, particularly since it’s been a difficult time behind the scenes for many of us in the editorial cabal. Happy new year. – Callie Petch
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Oppenheimer
What is the point of going to the cinema anymore? With many streaming services screening the biggest films only a couple of months after their initial release, and the affordability of monolithic home entertainment systems, as well as the fact that people in cinemas seem completely unable to shut up, why spend so much money on a ticket?
Oppenheimer. Simply put, this film is what modern cinema is all about. Yes, the female characters, especially that of Florence Pugh‘s Jean Tatlock, were underwritten to say the least. But everything else about this film remains amazing. Watching it at the BFI IMAX wasn’t a trip out, it was an experience. Christopher Nolan’s direction was masterful, and the cast he assembled excelled. Cillian Murphy and Robert Downey Jr have already received huge amounts of praise but Emily Blunt as Kitty Oppenheimer absolutely stole the screen from many of cinema’s biggest and best.
Upon leaving the screening there was a notable hushed reverence in the audience. Nobody was talking about where to go after, or what was on TV tonight. They weren’t even dissecting the film they had just seen amongst themselves. Instead, most people were quietly digesting what they had witnessed, absorbing the enormity of the experience. For some of us, that is the point of cinema. – Paul Regan
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Barbie
Barbies aren’t just for kids, they’re also for kick-ass adults who get that the patriarchy isn’t just about horses and needs tearing down. A toy-inspired film with more depth to it than you could ever expect, rapturously bright colours, musical numbers, and fantastic jokes that help to deliver an important message about the way society treats women and femme presenting people.
I wasn’t sold on the concept of this film, I didn’t know what to expect from it, and was ready to wait until it hit home release. Then I got taken to see it for my birthday, and it became a fantastic cinema experience. The only time I’ve seen a screen absolutely packed, the atmosphere was infectious. The jokes brought the room down, you could hear the sniffles when the film got emotional, and there were moments of quiet introspection, such as when America Ferrera delivered a speech on the contradictions and impossible standards that society puts on women; a speech that a lot of people should hear at some point.
With so many films and shows based on toys being little more than glorified advertisements, it’s easy to dismiss Barbie as nothing more than that, when in reality its introspective look at feminism wrapped up in nostalgic imagery and an intellectual property was what kept that audience coming back over and over again. So don’t just dismiss Barbie (Margot Robbie) because she loves pretty dresses and pink, because she’s got some stuff to say that you need to hear; and a final line you’ll never see coming. – Amy Walker
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Nimona
The fact that Nimona exists at all is a miracle. Originally in production at Blue Sky Studios before new corporate overlords Disney pulled the plug on the entire studio post-Fox acquisition, leaving the mostly-laid-out animated adaptation of ND Stevenson’s (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power) webcomic for dead. A year after its seeming confinement to the ‘what could have been’ pile of so many abandoned projects, Annapurna, DNEG Animation, and Netflix swooped in to revive the film, with almost all of the previous creative material, cast, and animation plans intact. The kind of feel-good industry story we rarely get in the age of nearly-complete films getting deleted from servers for tax write-offs.
The fact that Nimona exists as this proudly queer, pro-trans, anarchic, societal-questioning masterwork… we frankly need to invent new words to fully quantify how miraculous that is. Blue Sky’s swansong, and DNEG’s coming out party (following solid work on Ron’s Gone Wrong and Entergalactic), is capable of being screamingly funny and heartbreakingly vulnerable in equal measure; mixing chaotic chase scenes with gut-wrenching examinations of societally-enforced bigotry as weapons of ruling class control.
The visual aesthetic – medieval futurist sci-fi capitalism rendered with simple geometric shapes and fluid 2D-reminiscent animation – is unique, cohesive, gorgeous to look at, captivatingly boarded, and reinforces the social messages of the story at every turn. Chloë Grace Moretz and Riz Ahmed put in two of the best performances of the year as Nimona and Ballister, both having line readings which have taken up permanent residence in my serotonin receptors. And, yes, as an enby, the entire last half-hour had me in non-stop floods of tears; so intense in emotion yet also so sensitively handled by everyone involved.
Miracles are real. There is no other explanation for Nimona and I am so excited by the possibility of an entire generation of children – and multiple generations of adults and fellow queers – getting to see and be seen by it. – Callie Petch
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Renfield
One thing you could certainly never accuse Nicolas Cage of being is dull. Sure, he occasionally reins it in to play in more mainstream movie fare, like National Treasure, The Rock, or Gone in 60 Seconds. However, what we all want deep down is to have the unpredictable, manic Nicolas Cage who turns it up to 11. The one who whipped off his t-shirt, did somersaults, and flung money at the studio audience when he appeared on Wogan. That Nicolas Cage. The one who does a good line in acting batshit. Which is rather appropriate, given his turn in Renfield as Count Dracula himself, wholly channelling the late Bela Lugosi.
Yet Renfield is not really Nicolas Cage’s film. Yes, he casts a long shadow over it, but Dracula is not the star of the show. As the title indicates, this is rather the story of the Count’s bug-eating batman, lackey and aide-de-camp. Taking the role of Renfield is Nicholas Hoult, who has come a long way since being the kid with the bowl haircut from About a Boy over two decades ago. Hoult is just superb as the terribly-English enabler of his dark master’s nocturnal activities, who joins a support group and realises that he is deep within a harmful, codependent relationship and – after nearly a century of his doing Dracula’s bidding – decides enough is enough.
Influenced greatly by that mix of comic and supernatural you get in What We Do In The Shadows, this is a darkly funny take on the usual Dracula legend. Renfield is also an action-packed, splatter-filled gorefest, which unabashedly revels in wantonly splashing out buckets of blood alongside buckets of laughter. – Lee Thacker
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Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse
2023 was a great year for animation, but one film stood head and shoulders above them all and, once again, changed the game – Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse.
To follow in the footsteps of the Oscar-winning first film, Into the Spider-Verse, what its sequel manages to accomplish is a monumental achievement. Daniel Pemberton’s score and Metro Boomin’s soundtrack are career highlights. Its ground-breaking animation once again pushes boundaries, especially how it creates a watercolour inspired moodboard that surrounds Gwen Stacy’s (Hailee Steinfeld) universe and the Sex Pistols inspired motif for Spider-Punk’s (Daniel Kaluuya) entire attitude. But it’s the ambitious swings in its storytelling that take the film to elevated new heights. Yes, audiences are stepping into a bigger multiverse – with plenty of humour, homages and Spider-cameos. But the beauty of its execution is how the film never loses sight of what made this franchise so special.
Phil Lord, Christopher Miller, and Dave Callaham’s coming of age, meta-infused script reminds why Miles’ (Shameik Moore) story is a beautiful watch, thanks to never compromising on Miles’ Afro-Latino roots or how Jefferson (Brian Tyree Henry) and Rio Morales (Luna Lauren Velez) are the emotional anchor in his journey. But it is also how the writers engage with the Spider-Man mythology by asking a legitimate question: does Spider-Man’s story always have to be beset with tragedy? In playing with the canon, Across the Spider-Verse is a powerful recontextualization of what we’ve known before with Miles as the face of that change, a character not beholden by the past to re-imagine something better. Watching that evolution and growth only reinforces what Spider-Man has always been about. Spider-Man is for everyone.
With a jaw-dropping conclusion, the third film in the trilogy, Beyond the Spider-Verse, cannot come soon enough. Whatever happens next, the canon will never be the same again. – Kelechi Ehenulo
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Godzilla Minus One
I pitched Godzilla Minus One as my film of the year before I’d even seen it, and I was bang on the money. I love the Godzilla franchise, for its wackiness and silly stories, the cheap effects, and odd monsters. But there’s also a lot of depth to be found. Whilst this may have been somewhat diluted over the seven decades since he first emerged from the ocean, the franchise started off as a discussion of the horrors of war, a vein which Godzilla Minus One follows in. Whilst the original was a discussion of the horrors of the atomic bomb and the monstrous attack the US made on Japan (told by people who lived through it), this film puts Japan’s own government and culture in its cross-hairs.
The film follows Koichi (Ryunosuke Kamiki), a Kamikaze pilot who chooses not to follow through with his mission, too afraid to die. Koichi is haunted by the horrors of the war, of his desire to live, which goes in conflict with societal expectations to die willingly. Some treat him like a coward, others treat him like a hero. Through it all, his nightmares follow him. He’s a man broken by war. And when Godzilla emerges and kills thousands a group of civilians band together to try to create a plan to destroy the monster, unwilling to trust a government who have so willingly thrown life away before.
Godzilla Minus One is a film about a giant monster wrecking things (and it does so amazingly), but it’s also a film that says the Japanese government were wrong. It says that not dying in war is nothing to be ashamed of, and that never going to war is a good thing. A film with more depth and heart than you’d first expect, and a film that will move you to cry more than once. – Amy Walker
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Talk to Me
Released in cinemas back in July, Australian supernatural horror Talk to Me had modern classic written all over it. Whilst the possession sequences are very creepy, it’s coming-of-age-style storyline which the horror operates within, taking away the overdone church/religious aspect to instead be set amongst a group of school friends in a normal neighbourhood, that provides the unique spin on this much-saturated-of-late sub-genre.
Sophie Wilde puts in a brilliant performance as Mia, a 17-year-old struggling with the death of her mother two years prior and a strained relationship with her father. While at a local gathering, she becomes drawn to a mysterious game involving a severed embalmed hand. The game, which has a cult online following, involves holding the hand, saying “talk to me” and resultantly contacting the spirit of a dead person. Once the spirit is seen, the participant says “I’ll let you in” and becomes temporarily possessed. Of course, there are rules to abide by and it’s not long until Mia takes part in the game, feeling a rush that she’s never felt before and the opportunity to explore her grief, but soon that rush takes her down a dangerous and frightening path.
Talk To Me’s deeper subtext is what makes it one of the more intelligent horror movies released within the past few years. Gripping, unsettling, well-written, strongly performed, and electrically directed by brothers Danny & Michael Philippou; it’s no surprise that Talk to Me has become one of 2023’s most talked about films. – Adam Massingham
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Rye Lane
I rag on its health a lot around my corner of the web, but British cinema has quietly had one of its best years in a very long time. How to Have Sex, Femme, Blue Jean, Polite Society, Scrapper; each of these introducing talented new filmmakers with unique voices who speak to the current cultural moment rather than just reheating the same vapid leftovers aimed solely at Tory octogenarians or Take That jukebox musical enthusiasts. But my favourite of them all is perhaps the most straightforward, crowdpleasing, and fundamentally old-fashioned: a British rom-com, stripped to its barest essentials. Boy meets girl, girl and boy hang out, boy and girl slowly realise there might be something going on between them. No muss, no fuss, in and out before an hour-and-a-half has passed.
Yet Raine Allen-Miller’s phenomenal Rye Lane is incontrovertible proof that such a time-worn formula can hit with the same ecstatic joy as the first go. All it takes is a little effort, a lot of love, two leads – David Jonsson and Vivian Oparah, both delivering what should be star-making turns – with excellent chemistry and great comic timing, and a commitment to the bit. Nathan Byron and Tom Melia’s screenplay is witty and earnest, but it’s arguably Allen-Miller’s direction which truly makes it sing. Her, and cinematographer Olan Collardy’s, usage of fisheye lenses and vivid colour palettes render South London’s many markets, parks, side-streets, and residential areas cinematic and full of characterful life. Her stylisation techniques, whether they be conversations shot in alternating profile or full-on stage show fantasy breaks, enliven without overdoing. And her investment in the emotional journeys of Dom & Yaz showcases a better understanding of and ability to communicate sincere heartfelt emotion better than a lot of those who were churning out rom-coms during the genre’s boom period.
2023’s class proves that British cinema features a roster of exceptional talent ready to lead this industry out of the doldrums, and Rye Lane has Allen-Miller leading the charge. It’s also, y’know, just an excellent little rom-com and we can always do with more of those. – Callie Petch
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When Evil Lurks
Demián Rugna seems to be on a mission to make horror actually horrific again. 2017’s Terrified showcased his ability with a terrifying set piece, but When Evil Lurks is several steps up in terms of its narrative scope, its cloying sense of dread, its brutality, and its sheer nihilism. It might be a strange pick for a ‘favourite’ movie of the year. But when so much horror is safe, sanitised, and predictable, a new, vital, and uncompromising vision should be embraced regardless of how hopeless it might make you feel afterwards.
When the residents of a village try to get rid of a man who is literally pregnant with evil, they disregard the warnings of the locals who are adherents to the mythology of the region and a wave of horrendous savagery spreads across the countryside. No one is immune from the infection, including children and animals. Two brothers throw themselves into the maelstrom to try and find the source before it births something much, much worse.
There are several scenes in When Evil Lurks that will elicit shock from even the most hardened viewers. Even with his ability to ratchet tension to unbearable levels, Rugna frequently shows violence springing from out of nowhere, and going to places rarely visited since the heady days of the New French Extreme. Yet this is not a movie of pure spectacle. It’s expertly made, with the tropes of the road movie, zombie, and possession film spun into a plague blanket made of bile and sickness. It’s also played deadly straight, even at its most outlandish. And it’s the grounded nature of the scenario that truly chills. Surely destined to be considered one of the finest ‘feel bad’ movies of recent years. – Kevin Ibbotson-Wight
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Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3
I didn’t see Guardians of the Galaxy 3 in the cinema. I was trying to find the time to fit it in, but then I had people warn me about watching it. My house is full of animals, and I’ve got four bunnies running around it. People who knew I’m a bunny mum told me to go into the film with care. And boy am I glad I waited until home release. This film broke me. There came a part – I’m sure you know which if you’ve seen it – that made me weep. But I had to do so quietly, because it was the kind of crying where if I’d have made a noise it would have been a wail.
I was watching perhaps the most emotionally devastating film in the MCU, one that put animal cruelty at the heart of it, whilst one of my rabbits was staying in our living room, only recently out of life-saving surgery that left her with scars on her head, and a permanent disability. I know it’s very specific circumstances, but it made this film hit all the harder. Bradley Cooper and the other animal actors made me care for a collection of pixels to the point where I couldn’t think of this film without crying. That’s damn good acting.
A film about family, trauma, loss, and the path to healing, this is not only the perfect conclusion to the Guardians story, but for me the most engaging and moving film in the entire MCU. It also showed that it was Rocket Raccoon, not Starlord (Chris Pratt), at the heart of this galactic corner of the universe, and demonstrated how even the most silly comic book concepts can be made into wonderful stories that will stick with you forever. – Amy Walker