An England riven by political division turns to superstitious persecution of people for the sadistic thrill of victimising an out-group. A charismatic leader makes money off his sadistic prejudice while commanding those less educated than him to bully, torture, and kill women. All the more horrific for taking place in broad daylight under the cloudy sky of a perpetually autumnal England with winter fast approaching. The least successful of the Unholy Trinity of British folk horror, for my money, despite its horror feeling more tangible and immediate.

Like the film’s wyrd combination of paganism and Christianity, it’s the combination of elements that elevates this early entry into what we’d now call the folk horror subgenre. Aside from the striking French location, the British production mixes in other elements of French filmmaking from the time with editing and dynamic cinematography evocative of the Surrealists and a beguilingly erotic performance from Sharon Tate. The Francophone elements combine with a British horror of the rural and distrust of Roman Catholicism to create a fascinating mood that Robin Hardy would build upon to make THE WICKER MAN.

I watch this every year around this date and I would do so even if it were nothing but Maya Rudolph’s ‘Key Change’ song. It’s interesting how it showcases the different comedy and performance styles of the various UCB-style comedians involved even as it feels distinctly like The Lonely Island and Comedy Bang Bang.

Albert Brooks’ early satire of reality television is almost too dry for its own good with a lot of the best parts carried entirely by Brooks’ delivery. This is a blessing and a curse since it pushes Brooks to carry the film himself (albeit as the worst kind of twat) rather than having confidence in his premise and its comedic potential. Nonetheless it’s very clever and very funny with incredibly sharp writing that really sticks with you. Without this, you don’t get other postmodern takes on reality TV like Peter Weir’s THE TRUMAN SHOW or Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal.

An adaptation less confident in its source material might have focused on what comes before and what happens after but WOMEN TALKING focuses in on the crux, the critical moments of decision that determine the fate of these women, their community, their families, and their religion. In so doing, the colony becomes a synecdoche for patriarchal society and their decision reflects the myriad of difficult decisions women need to make to survive and keep themselves safe. Excellent performances from Claire Foy and Jessie Buckley bring the film’s stagier aspects to life and an astonishing score by Hildur Guðnadóttir fills the silence between the talking.

What’s it called? Cumbernauld! Bill Forsyth has an incredible ability to draw a whole character in only a few brush strokes. The world of the film feels so fully realised, aided by genuinely hilarious background visual gags like the boys’ toilets as some kind of speakeasy and the hapless high jumper. There’s a charming awkwardness about not only the lead performances but the whole atmosphere of the film that makes it feel authentically teenage despite the somewhat heightened world. Not up to the level of LOCAL HERO but not far off.

Instructional video parodies always the best Disney cartoons.

It’s a shame that this is so clearly made as a (apologies) copycat of THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS since it actually has some interesting things to say about the influence of true crime on its audience and about serial killer fandom and it’s a shame a lot of that is watered down by the film’s adherence to the structure and tone of its predecessor. We’ve been relaxing on weekends by watching mid-budget ‘90s thrillers and it’s noticeable how much more consideration even the most disposable of them give to shot composition, scene lighting, and camera movements than a lot of ultra-high-budget franchise blockbusters today. Unsurprising to learn that the Director of Photography was the great László Kovács.

You wonder why they kept this title until you hear the screenplay’s idea of dialogue. For a film about time travel shenanigans, it’s ploddingly leaden and self-serious all the way through with dialogue either being outright expository or sour-faced portentousness (apart from the protagonist’s sister who actually speaks quite naturally usually about her quote best friend unquote). Considering how central it is to the plot, the depiction of time travel and memory retention didn’t seem coherent: if they could remember things temporarily after a timeshift, why not just write down what they remember right then before they forgot? What was with the time-proof servers for storing jpegs? What is a timestack?

When I was at school, a teacher wrote the word ‘prat’ on a pupil’s forehead in permanent marker. I wasn’t in the class where this happened but it became legend throughout the school, passed on through gossip in the corridors and the schoolyard. Such mythic status was leant to this story that to this day I can remember the name of the teacher and the name of the pupil. MY OLD SCHOOL works by tapping into the gossipy but friendly tone of old classmates reminiscing at a school reunion about those high school events that seemed so significant but no-one remembers with 100% clarity.