I like lots of things about King Krule. I like his vaguely irritating voice – like an odd mix of Suggs and Jamie T. I like that his songs sound like early morning cigarettes on cold days. I particularly like his red hair. Archy Marshall, having ditched old moniker Zoo Kid, is barely legal, but his music is so good you’d never guess. I’m going to be honest here – I like it, a great deal, but my mind isn’t blown.

I have no idea what any of it means – the lyrics, or the noises, or the titles – but I like it anyway. Krule’s music is light on the stark, medium on the minimal and high on the wounded. The EP slides open into ‘363N63’ with gentle instrumentals, rich bass strumming and polyphonic flutters. It’s a real stunner, actually. Second track ‘Bleak Bake’ is angsty and assonant, with swells of sound punctuating that strange, strange voice. As the EP reaches its midpoint, it becomes more beat-driven, though maintains that same melancholy tone. I’m not sure quite how King Krule has captured a sense of nostalgia for early winter 2011 even before it comes to an end.

Closing track ‘The Noose of Jah City’ might just be the highlight of the album. ‘It eats away the brain,’ he says, and it really does. Lyrically, the track is complex and poetic, while the music is a perfect blend of jazzy chords, clumsy bedroom finger-picking and a far-off ambulance siren. Lovely. The EP has a slightly cavernous feel: the vocals appear to be coming from deep down and far away, and certain instrumental moments sound a little like a dolphin in tears. Add to that a sorrowful undercurrent, and the experience is practically submarine. This is not unlike James Blake, but much, much better.

I do not love this EP. I like it, which is probably clear, and I think there is something quite wonderful about it that I can’t quite put my finger on. In short: gently dubby, bluesy tracks with dark introspective lyrics sung in a strange voice. There are surely great things to come from this intriguing young man.

Bradford Cox has been a busy, busy boy.  Not content with the wildly enthusiastic reaction to 2010’s Halcyon Digest from his ‘main’ outfit, Deerhunter, he has chosen to set the bar even higher with Parallax, the third album under his solo moniker, Atlas Sound.

From the outset it is clear that the hyper-prolific songwriter has decided, once again, to re-invent; the cover art is suggestive of a new debonair and forthright slant for the previously murky Cox. Indeed, this uncovered openness extends to the music itself; his songs are more immediate than ever in their melody, and are, arguably, all the better for it. One might expect an album defined by the artist as ‘Science Fiction’ to be knee-deep in enigma, yet, while subjects broached include space, time, love and religion, they are presented in an unabashedly accessible manner.

Opener ‘The Shakes’ sets a clear precedent of warm simplicity for the rest of the album, with a tumbling rhythm and early 90s guitars abound. In digging up and brushing down the vocals which were buried deep under mounds of feedback in previous albums, Cox makes the leap from noise-rock auteur to full-blown crooner, and does it with aplomb.

This is not to say that Atlas Sound has regressed; his trademark atmospheric ambience remains. The marked difference here, though, is that each sound, even the minute-long, stuttering ending to ‘Flagstaff’, is essential to the overall arrangement of the album, contributing to its overall coherence.

Parallax is irrefutably Cox’s personal pet project, but he is still happy to play the Samaritan, enlisting MGMT’s Andrew VanWyngarden (and providing him, presumably, with some much-needed work) to assist on piano duties on the album’s standout track ‘Mona Lisa’, a gorgeously catchy slice of retrospective guitar-pop. Overall, this album sees Cox broaden his musical horizons and embrace the more infectious side of his music, without too much compromise and to a gorgeous, startling effect. 

Given that their name is taken from a misandric tract, Valerie Solanas’s notorious Society for Cutting Up Men, I started by asking Tom Cohen where he stands on gender relations. ‘That’s something we wanted to take into context with the artwork,’ he explained. ‘We had this idea of it being a masculine and feminine presence that is joint but somehow not particularly sexualised: a mangle of bodies and skin.’ Tom’s predilection for fleshy artwork, he tells me, is the greatest source of disagreement within the band.  ‘I’m really into flesh and skin. I’d always like to push it to more of an extreme.’

Again into Eyes, S.C.U.M.’s recently released debut album, veers between dance and atmosphere, a variation controlled by the band’s drummer. ‘The electronics are vast, layered, and quite ethereal, but the dance element comes from Mel – she does things backwards, she’s amazing!’ An outtake from ‘Faith Unfolds’ became the short instrumental ‘Water’. ‘Initially the idea for it was to have it as an introductory track, like a prelude, but we thought that was too naff, so it became a pathway between ‘Paris’ and ‘Whitechapel’.’ The image of pathways reminds me of the sense of place that permeates the album. Several S.C.U.M. songs are ‘postcards’, named after the capital cities that the band visited on tour, Venice was the weirdest: ‘We ended up not sleeping anywhere and just being homeless in Venice.’ As for London, ‘there’s a lot of that desire to escape your surroundings and feeling slightly suffocated by it, but at the same time seeing all the beauty in it as well.’

So how did S.C.U.M. develop their sound from noise band beginnings? Tom cites ‘Amber Hands’ as a breakthrough in the band’s sound. ‘I think it really changed when Sam started to write for guitar. We really incorporated a stronger sense of melody. Before, we didn’t really have any songs, we just had a lot of noise.’ Might the synthesizer-heavy sound of S.C.U.M.’s music be part of a wider eighties revival? ‘I think there’s a correlation between now and the eighties in the sense that the eighties was the first decade when synthesizers were completely dominant in music. I think the only real association is that: the synthesisers and the reverb. I really can’t stand eighties clothing!’ Critics have often mentioned the band’s appearance. Tom doesn’t think their ‘look’ causes misunderstanding, necessarily, but it creates ‘this preconception, which isn’t necessarily true. It’s not contrived. We never talk about what we’re going to wear beforehand.’

Tom acknowledges shoegaze influences – he was ‘obsessed’ with My Bloody Valentine and Slowdive. He still cites film music as inspiration; for him, film soundtracks seem ‘to be the ideal way of making music, because you already get given the context and you just have to extend what the film does.’

We end on Tom’s experience of meeting teenagers at gigs, and he admits he sees himself in them. ‘In Manchester this 14 year old boy in a nice old suit came up to me and talked to me about music and he was saying, ‘I’ve got two violins with delay and a guitar.’ That’s exactly what I was like at that age, and that’s where S.C.U.M. came from.’ Talking to Tom, I gained the impression that that the band is always moving onwards into new sonic terrain. Hopefully they’ll send back some interesting postcards. 

Tim Hecker – Ravedeath, 1972

A year ago Montreal-based ambient/noise artist Tim Hecker spent a day in a church in Iceland, recording the ambience of the building’s vast spaces along with a collection of sketches for pipe organ. Whilst the occasionally explosive violence of the record that Hecker went on to make with these recordings couldn’t be further removed from its contemplative beginnings, the music of Ravedeath, 1972 inhabits the same imposing, cavernous space as that of its birthplace.

Central to the record is the juxtaposition of the opposing forces of the organic and the digital; the church organ, itself often contorted beyond recognition, is pitted against waves of harsh guitar noise. In less skilled hands, the dichotomy that Hecker has introduced here could easily have come across as emotionally divisive but Ravedeath, 1972 isn’t that simple; the album is laced with an almost forebodding sense of anxiety and alienation.

The striking emotional subtlety of this record is an extremely rare thing to find within the strict confines of ambient music and the same goes for Hecker’s attention to detail in production. Whilst the compositions on Ravedeath, 1972 certainly betray the workings of a perfectionist, nowhere does the music come across as at all clinical. Hecker sculpts rather than constructs, lending his pieces a remarkably non-linear flow and the result is an entirely immersive listening experience. A beautiful collision of order and chaos, Ravedeath, 1972 is an album staggering in both the scope of its artistic vision and the skill of its musical execution. When faced with music of this quality, the rest is just noise.

-Tom May

Fleet Foxes – Helplessness Blues

Helplessness Blues deviates a little from what one might expect from a Fleet Foxes album. They use the same elements that made their eponymous debut so highly successful, yet the sound on this year’s offering is decidedly more intricate, more mature and so much deeper than before. Sunny clap-along romps of romance and pasture are superseded by a greater depth and precision, giving way to a vastly interesting record.

The tremendous care that must have gone into this record is plain to see: a expanded range of moods and experimentation with new instruments gives way to textures that we’ve not heard from Fleet Foxes or arguably any of their folk rock contemporaries. Fronted in this album are the feelings of unease, discontent and bittersweet victory. Instrumental ‘The Cascades’ flickers between a mystical, almost medieval feel that resolves into a happier tone and then back again. ‘The Shrine / An Argument’ is a similar journey, but here the sound is kept fresh with the addition of discordant saxophones and a synthetic hum oddly reminiscent of traditional Indian folk.

Robin Pecknold admitted that writing the album put so much strain on his relationship that his girlfriend asked to take a break. His confusion and personal conflict are aptly reflected in the incorporation of very different ideas within the same track. This isn’t to say that Fleet Foxes have shirked their original methodology. In equal measure to this newfound depth are songs of beauty made through their trademark simplicity (‘Lorelai’ and ‘Grown Ocean’), where vocal harmonies and uncomplicated guitar reign supreme. The rate at which they’re evolving is a testament to their self-reflective approach to their music and their lives. Helplessness Blues is a wonderfully crafted composition worth everyone’s attention.

-Moneeb Nasir

Jenny Hval – Viscera

‘The extreme perfection that we’re seeing now in music is very disturbing. So I really want to make music where there’s room for lots of imperfections.’ So Hval told me in a June interview. Viscera, the Norwegian singer’s first recording under her own name, boasts the most startling opening lyrics of any 2011 album: ‘I arrived in town with an electric toothbrush pressed against my clitoris, After a few weeks it ran out of batteries, humming silently between my lips.’ It clearly marks a significant change from Hval’s previous outings as Rockettothesky – 2006’s To Sing You Apple Trees and 2008’s Medea – with the erratic chimes of ‘Engines in the City’ and the smeared blocks of sound in ‘Golden Locks’ openly embracing textural experimentation. And indeed Hval’s musical journey over the years, shifting further and further away from the mainstream and traditional pop structures, has been one of increasing liberation.

It is Jenny Hval’s voice on Viscera that is most striking, slipping in and out of spoken poetry and sweet lyricism. Her crafted vocal edges, from opening attack through to breathy drifting, manage to convey an incredible sense of improvisational spontaneity. It’s a lyrical approach that always seems to verge on timbral instability. Of course, for an artist consciously working within the feminist tradition, there is important intent behind her choice of words. Uncompromising references to the internal body – erections, bleeding, itching – reverse the photoshopped pornography that the female artist is often subjected to, in striking juxtaposition to music that is often hazy, often dreamy. Here, imperfection is beautiful.

-En Khong

Danny Brown – XXX

There’s a striking scene in 1989’s Roger & Me in which the viewer is driven around the shuttered streets of Flint, Michigan – its livelihood destroyed by auto plant closures in the 80s – to the tune of the Beach Boys. The postwar exuberance of the California quintet is undercut in bitter visual irony. Things are even worse in today’s Detroit; the city is now in a state of permanent collapse, the reverberations of calamitous deindustrialisation: a 60% reduction in population since 1950, middle-class flight, emptying of the inner city, drugs, crime, ‘ghost’ neighbourhoods: ‘Abandoned house, field, field. Field, field, house.’

Such is the world that Danny Brown inhabits, and he is its chronicler: ‘Living in the system working kitchen for chump change / Lost in the streets, niggas playing that gun game / Where nobody wins, just a bunch of mommas losing.’ How to escape? Adderall. Hennessey. Newports. ‘Blunt after blunt after blunt after blunt.’ XXX is a drive through Danny Brown’s life: the substance-induced highs (the album’s first half), the sober realities (the latter half).

Brown’s flow – admittedly amphetamine-driven – is frenetic, his voice chameleon-esque; on the album’s early bangers (‘XXX’, ‘Monopoly’) it is frenzied, nasal, spastic, mocking: ‘Ready to hit the studio and shit all on your mixtape / Nah, literally, shit all on your mixtape / Wipe with the credits, leave stains on the jewel case.’ But Brown comes down from his narcotic fantasies, his voice gets deeper, huskier, angrier: ‘I’m living in the city where the weak get swallowed / Belly of the beast, we don’t care about tomorrow.’

With dark, stripped-down production from production wunderkinder Brandun Deshay and Skywlkr, the album’s lyrical intensity is matched with infectious beats just spacey enough to emulate the drug-delirious verses. Brown’s subject matter appears sombre, but he pulls it off with panache and characteristic humour: ‘Kush got me high like Pac’s bandanna’. Half party record and – dare I say it? – half sociology, XXX is one of the finest hip hop releases of the year, and with free distribution on the Fool’s Gold website, there’s no excuse not to listen.

-Simon Torracinta

The Weeknd – House of Balloons

Abel Tesfaye’s debut album is definitely cooler, sexier, and quite possibly more intelligent than I can ever even hope to be. It makes me want to use words like ‘grimy’ and ‘delicious’ and generally be louche. His soaring vocals vie for attention with clever sampling from Beach House and Siouxsie, amongst others, to tell dark and nocturnal stories. All the standard hip hop tropes are there – narcotics, sexual conquest, giving the girl what she wants – but with a heavy dose of emotional awareness, open vulnerability and all-purpose self loathing. This album has edge, and makes for highly sophisticated, clever R&B. It’s almost three-dimensional at times: the slow jams feature lush, shag-pile carpet sounds over spaced-out synthesizer beats. ‘What You Need’ is perhaps the best example: a creamy, dreamy ballad that feels almost sinful at times. The harder hip hop, like ‘Coming Down’, matches glitzy beats with luxurious vocals. The lyrics themselves are raw, desolate and often very humble, in sharp contrast to some of Tesfaye’s peers. House of Balloons transcends my general disdain for contemporary hip-hop with charisma, intelligence and sparkle.

–Natasha Frost

Acid House Kings – Music Sounds Better With You

The Swedish indie-poppers Acid House Kings’ Music Sounds Better With You is the kind of album that you listen to on repeat, until every melody is permanently stuck in your brain and every word is memorised. At just over 30 minutes long, it’s a collection of ten songs built on the pop principles of the crafted and succinct. Every second charms; every note builds and breaks in just the right place. Music Sounds Better With You is all clinking keyboards and cute choruses, the sweet echoing interplay of male/female vocals, spiraling horns, and classic, love-worn lyrics. This album is a crusade for memorable moments, combining the influences of Felt, Saint Etienne and Motown with what must be the year’s most egregious use of castanets, and somehow, it works. At the risk of sounding syrupy and false, Acid House Kings plunge headfirst into the well-explored waters of twee, and emerge victorious and endearing — never cloying or forged. Standout tracks include ‘Are We Lovers or Are We Friends?’, and the silvery, bouncing ‘Heaven Knows I Miss Him Now’, but Music Sounds Better With You is that rare thing: a steady, consistent album containing only good songs.

–Kiley Bense

A$AP Rocky – LiveLoveA$AP

It’s amazing that in 2011 you can still get away with a name made of capital letters and dollar signs, and rapping about blunts, broads and Benjamins. What is perhaps more incredible is that it works. A$AP Rocky is a bit like what the bumblebee does: fly, when you think it should be impossible. And he’s creating a lot of buzz. Straight out of Harlem, Rocky’s sound takes in the best of Atlanta, Houston, Memphis, Los Angeles and his native New York. A mix of dystopian grime and high-end gloss, it would be perfectly possible to sneak a couple of tracks from LiveLoveA$AP onto either of Jay-Z and Kanye’s Watch the Throne or Tyler’s Goblin without arousing suspicion. His flow switches between sharp-shooting syllable-fire and the type of sluggish drawl – an exercise in studied laziness – that allows you to rhyme ‘billion’ with ‘forensics’. A$AP Rocky is doing all he can to live up the superstar price tag of his deal with Sony/RCA (reportedly a cool three million dollars), and 2012 will show if he has the swag to match the swag-bag, but on his full length debut, this self-styled ‘pretty motherfucker’ has produced something pretty motherfucking special.

–Steffan Blayney

Phaeleh – The Cold in You

Most of us are familiar with the proclamation that 2011 was the ‘year of dubstep’; artists such as Benga and Skream have become almost household names. Phaeleh’s album provides a masterly example of the mellowed, pared-down timbre that has loosely become associated with ‘post-dubstep’. Whatever label seems most appropriate, this is chilled-out music at its best: beautifully crafted and mesmerisingly ambient. Phaeleh is a classically trained musician, and a certain sensitivity derived from his thorough musical knowledge is very apparent here: he is a true IDM artist. At the album’s core lies a kind of frozen serenity, which chimes perfectly with its title. This is the kind of music that inspires lofty metaphors: it washes over you in icy waves, its beats are soft and subtle, yet still driving and edgy, while vocals are minimal but thoughtfully crafted. The resonance of the solo piano at the beginning of ‘Think About It’ provides a delicate and beautiful moment, as do the harmonies of the string quartet which open ‘Should Be True’. 2011 has been a year of exciting sounds, and this album is among the most exquisite.

–Rachel Coombes

Fionn Regan – 100 Acres of Sycamore

For me, this year belonged to the tender, hushed and startling 100 Acres of Sycamore. With his pudding-bowl haircut and hand drawn album covers, troubadour Regan’s previous two LP’s were often unfairly dismissed as ‘kooky’ by detractors, despite the almost uniformly excellent quality of his output. Here, there is a poise, fluidity and ease to the album that sounds anything but try-hard. The lush strings behind many of these tracks underscore the density and subtlety of his songwriting, the almost languid clarity of his melodies and delivery easily standing their ground within an orchestral backing. The four tracks that comprise the core of this album could stand as the best of the year by themselves, from ‘Dogwood Blossom”s stark observation of a friend’s life going off the rails, to the sparse depiction of a crumbling relationship in ‘1st Day of May’. What in lesser hands could sound trite and sentimental is executed with unshowy serenity, revealing new layers of quiet brilliance every time you hear it. These are songs given space to breathe, and have the weight of a gentle hurricane.

–Adam Lebovits

Motion Sickness of Time Travel – Seeping Through the Veil of Unconsciousness

My first experience of MSOTT’s music was the sublime ‘Electric Rain’ mix for mnml ssgs. The tracklist reads like a who’s who of the synth world, made up entirely of low-fi gems released in criminally small quantities on CD-R and cassette. Seeping was originally produced as a run of 80 tapes in 2010 and was repressed in similarly small numbers by Digitalis in 2011. I was extremely lucky to get hold of the third edition (white vinyl, catalogue no. ‘digiv032’, for all the trainspotters). It was certainly worth the wait and is quite simply the most beautiful, emotive hour of music I have ever heard.

Rachel Evans, the goddess behind the moniker, is clearly influenced by nature and the mysticism of the forest; reflections from her log cabin studio in LaGrange, Georgia. The tracks feel organic. Not acoustic, but, equally, not purely electronic. Evans laments in her Siren tones over hazy kosmische pulses, and a guitar can even be heard on ‘Mental Projection’. You can never quite decipher what she says, but the vocals transmogrify the sounscapes into something more accessible and human than her peers’ offerings. Evans’ aim with MSOTT was to make her voice sound as beautiful as possible. The voice here is the music. The synths are extra. And the synths themselves are incredible.

Considering Seeping is a collection of six tracks, each of unique character, there is a surprising coherency to the album. You are aware of the beginnings and ends, but in the middle you float, unaware of the passing of time. The album isn’t warm, uplifting ambience, nor is it dark, soul destroying drone. Instead, it strikes a perfect balance along the spectrum somewhere between melancholy and longing.

–Harry Scholes

Beirut – The Rip Tide

Being asked to pick a favourite album is difficult, but statistics don’t lie and four of my top seven most-played songs on iTunes all come from the same album. This album is The Rip Tide by Beirut. Beirut are basically a folk band but they draw their influences, as the name might suggest, from all around the globe and combine eastern European influence with more traditional western pop.

The Rip Tide is a great album because it retains these less familiar influences whilst at the same time being the most accessible record they have put out. The frontman and sole song-writer is Zach Condon, a staggeringly talented musician, who originally started out as a trumpeter but seems to be able to play a bit of everything. He lived all over the world in his youth and his song-writing has, in the past, often focused on foreign lands, for instance the song ‘Nantes’ from second album The Flying Club Cup. With The Rip Tide, however, the focus has shifted to Condon’s homeland and with this homeliness comes a warmth and simplicity to the songs which see the band release their most pop album to date. Whether it be the teen angst of ‘East Harlem’ (which Condon wrote when he was 17!), the wistful piano of ‘Goshen’, or the bouncy ‘Santa Fe’, this album has at least something for everyone and is well worth having a listen to, if only to say that you’re into Balkan-inspired folk.

-Patrick Scott

Bon Iver – Bon Iver

Bon Iver, Bon Iver. Breathe, fall into a couch and be soothed after a long day at work, writing those endless essays, reports, reading endless papers and books. Bon Iver is bona fide ambience at its best. They continue to charm us after the much adored debut album, For Emma, Forever Ago, broke the mould in 2008. Forget about those noisy, cheesy pop tunes that seem to dominate the radio these days, this album offers something that is far, far from the repetitive and lack lustre drear that is Justin Bieber and the likes. Be ready instead to be captivated by Justin Vernon’s raw, crooning falsetto teamed with artfully processed choirs, alluring textured instrumentation and intriguingly poetic lyrics. The music is melancholic, hauntingly beautiful, lets you float away in a daze, in a dreamlike tranquillity. It exudes calmness, dripped with lush and even bizarre soundscapes. Perhaps, one is reminded of Sigur Ros or maybe Radiohead at times: ethereal and moving. Bon Iver does possess both those qualities, but their trump card is the sheer uniqueness and imagination in their sound. This gem of an album that is as intense as it is fragile, will grow with each play as each track gradually builds in tender, spellbinding layers. This eponymous album has truly put Bon Iver out there, not as a one hit wonder, a freak accident, but as a major creative player in the music industry that much craves the imaginative and truly mesmerising sounds which embody Bon Iver.  

-Susan Yu

I’m finding it hard to resist following everyone else in describing The Ides of March as Machiavellian. It may have become a cliché to describe any film involving dirty political tactics in this way, but there’s still no better word for summing up the feeling that what we see is a story where the ends are certainly said to justify the means: and those means may be just about anything.

It doesn’t start off this way – for the first half an hour you’d expect the film to be a discreet homage to the euphoria of 2008, when we were all swept off our feet by Obama for the first time, and any cynicism surrounding politics seemingly evaporated overnight. The same aura of optimism dominates the portrayal of the candidacy of Mike Morris here, but soon enough the darker side of electioneering comes to the forefront, and idealism is replaced by some ethically dubious techniques and behaviour.

Morris is played  by Clooney, but his part turns out to be minor. The focus is instead on Gosling, starring in his third film released in the last few months. If the role were smaller he would have Best Supporting Actor wrapped up, but he ends up being the unquestioned lead. I don’t think there’s quite enough here for him to bag that honour, but it’s another solid performance warranting a rise in his reputation.

He’s helped by the fact he plays such a brilliantly cryptic character. Stephen Meyers is Morris’ junior strategist, and whilst starting off drunk on the politics of hope like everyone else, The Ides of March ends up being his rude awakening. The film is, primarily, a tale of his loss of innocence; the learning of the lesson that if you stay clean in a world of dirt, you’ll quickly be trampled on, and so the only way to stay at the top is to stoop to their level.

His situation changes so drastically and rapidly that it’s easy to lose sight of his motives. We get clues, but it’s never obvious if and when he’s thinking first and foremost of his own interest, or his candidate’s or his country’s. In the end the likelihood is there’s an alignment, but what started off as undoubtedly being primarily about his nation, evolves into an egotism of sorts.

This is where the juice is. Not in the aesthetic, which is slick, professional – everything you’d expect, but hardly groundbreaking. Nor in the acting, despite a high standard being maintained throughout. The satisfaction lies in tracking Stephen’s thoughts, and experiencing twists and events unfold out of nowhere just as he does. When the film’s scandal starts rolling and the fireworks fly, the momentum at which the action seems to unfold and its gravity is quite something. And as it unfolds, we’re reminded that we’re seeing a world that is clearly real, but it’s also a world we’d probably prefer not to know about. There will be better, more innovative films to reach cinemas between now and the Oscars 2012, but this is solid stuff, sure to deservedly grab a handful of major nominations. First among which will be for Ryan Gosling.

This year saw some the release of some long-awaited and hugely anticipated films. In  our last issue of the year, Cherwell Film sums up the good, the bad and the ugly of 2011’s highest grossing projects.

 1 Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – Part 2 $1,328,071,855

The one we were all waiting for, Harry Potter concluded in magnificent style with Voldemort roundly beaten and future Ron sporting an incredible paunch. Unsurprising that it has claimed the top spot, but a worthy winner.

 2 Transformers: Dark of the Moon $1,123,196,189

Another sequel, this third film in the trilogy can’t beat the exhilaration of the first movie, yet is much  more exciting and more fulfilling than the second. As long as all attempts at comedy are ignored this film is good, culminating in a climatic scene of utter destruction and robot decimation as skyscrapers fall and metal flies.

 3 Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides $1,043,871,802

A hunt for the fountain of youth seems apt for this sequel, which sadly appears like the aging uncle of the previously sprightly Pirates films. Johnny Depp’s incredible facial expressions were brilliant, but Jack Sparrow seemed strangely out of place in London and Penelope Cruz achieves little but feistiness.

 4 Kung Fu Panda 2 $663,024,542

With Jack Black voicing the eponymous, ever rotund panda, this film deserves its spot at fourth for amusement alone. It seems to have less depth than its predecessor, but anyone looking for slapstick humour and beautiful 3D animation won’t be disappointed.

 5 Fast Five $626,137,675

Featuring the traditional combination of toned guys driving fast cars watched by girls in hot pants, this film is very similar in tone to its predecessors. Fast Five is race-paced and action packed with some comic moments thrown in, not to mention a wanton disregard for the architectural survival of downtown Rio.

 6 The Hangover Part II $581,464,305

Funny and at times shockingly outrageous, with a flashback structure that fits the ability of the characters to maintain a shaky grasp on reality at best. However, this film does rely too much on its hugely successful first movie for inspiration;  what was once hilariously innovative now seems rather formulaic.

 7 The Smurfs $559,615,167  

The first non-sequel on our list, this adorably cute film has a conventional plot where our tiny heroes turn up in modern New York  to be pursued by an evil wizard and hopeless sidekick. The best thing about this film is Neil Patrick Harris. The worst thing is the repeated use of the word “smurf” in the place of a swear word. Just why?

 8 Cars 2 $551,734,428

 Another animated attempt to capture the brilliance of the Toy Story sequels, Cars 2, whilst engaging for small children, sadly fails to match up to expectations.  Whether it is the forced inclusion of a new brand of eco friendly fuel or the feeling that this film generates new characters simply to sell merchandise, it is hard to argue that this film deserves eigth place. 

 9 Rio $483,866,518

A lovely family film which leaves you with a fuzzy feeling inside as you watch the romance blossom between parakeets Blu and Jewel. Sweet and funny, although it does present a rather sanitised Rio.

 10 Rise of the Planet of the Apes $476,459,875

A prequel this time, this reboot of the 1960s Planet of the Apes series combines suspense-filled science fiction with unexpected tenderness as you watch Caesar growing up and realising his destiny. Digital FX technology brings these super intelligent apes to life in glorious detail.  

Settling down to watch Michael Anderson’s 1976 sci-fi classic Logan’s Run, I was struck by an acute awareness of two things. One was that I felt intense relief having escaped existence in a future age where skin-grafted polo-necks are mandatory. The other was a brutal awakening to the comparative squalor of my surroundings. Logan (Oxford alumnus Michael York) might be forced to run from the governing computer’s distinctly ageist machinations, but the running is done safe in the sanitary comfort of endless reams of gleaming corridors and white, varnished tunnels. More than this, there is a distinct lack of anything recognisably homely; furnishings are utilitarian and usually pod-shaped. No wonder 23rd century entertainment relies on sex.

Whilst to some, the achingly 70s aesthetics might seem bizarre, it is undoubtedly an Obsessive Compulsive’s utopia, with not a speck out of place. This theme of exterior cleanliness covering internal corruption pervades the look of many films of a futuristic ilk. The realm of the similarly tyrannous computer Hal, is the chalky caverns of the spacecraft in the fantastic 2001: A Space Odyssey. Here the stark backdrop glares in an incessant spotlight that provides no shield from Hal’s unblinking, one-eyed surveillance.

It is a terrifying brilliance mirrored in Danny Boyle’s more recent Sunshine, which, though an altogether uneven film, is most successful when pronouncing its indebtedness to Kubrick. The awesome presence of the sun is kept on the peripheral, until glimpsed in flares and agonising moments of fear, paralysed in the glare of white light. Again, the action is trapped within a cold, white shuttle. The presence of earth and dirt is a reminder of nature and home, and a relief to the eye from all that whiteness.

Journeying into the future becomes a kind of cinematic equivalent to the medieval morality play; they both ask the audience to reflect upon reality, having been exposed to the fictitious consequences of bad choices played out. Costumes and scenery, even down to basic representative colors, are used functionally, to aid interpretive tracking through the morality tale. The ‘futuristic’ use of white suggests and signifies clinical sterility, and by extension an absence of humanity. A tradition of dystopian worlds blanketed in snowy white-wash has been established in films ranging from A Clockwork Orange to I Robot.

If suspiciously clean surroundings, then, are used as warning bells to send chills down our radar, the leading man must stand out from this bland uniformity. Casting Ewan Mcgregor in The Island seems risky when his natural facial fuzz and characteristic mole denote irreverent grit, unbefitting of the perfection of his white onesie.

However, it is exactly these imperfections that distinguish a sci-fi hero as ‘the man against the system’, translating into wholesomeness and trustworthiness. With Ryan Gosling recently announced to star in a Logan’s Run remake, all that is left to discover is how to make him less than perfect.

A love story, a spaceship, some anarchists and futuristic holograms all come together in Broken Stars, Oxford’s latest new writing which will be performed for the first time in 8th week. Broken Stars is the brainchild of a pair of writers-cum-directors: Zoe McGee and Jordan Saxby. The pair is clearly passionate about their play, but the combination of sci-fi and co-writing breeds a confusing plot despite interesting concepts.

The play draws on ideas from Orwell’s famous 1984 novel, with themes of dystopia and control by an ultimate party: ‘the Simons’(the Broken Stars sci-fi version of policemen). However, although the concepts are meaningful, the play lacks the depths created by Orwell’s novel.  Instead the anarchists seem one-dimensional, the Simons are pitied, and the relationship between the couple in space and the current world is bewildering.

The play has two main plots – that of an urban dystopia with anarchists vs Simons, and then a love story set on a spaceship narrated by ‘hologram’ to the anarchists. Sound confusing? The two plots seem rather nonsensical in the preview, despite being showed scenes from throughout the play. It seems that the directors were undecided between two stories with little connection, but wished to include them both anyway. Broken Stars would benefit from a deeper explanation of the interchanging plots.I certainly didn’t understand why the anarchists are watching an illegal ‘hologram’ about a couple in space, but hopefully it will be revealed in the performances in 8^th week. 

The performances themselves varied among the cast. The opening scene where the anarchists become part of the audience is both dramatic and enticing. However, their lines are often forced, and the script prevents us feeling an overwhelming amount of sympathy for the group. The anarchists’ ignorance is revealed later in the play when Sergeant Carson (Ben Cohen) as the leading ‘Simon’ bursts in on the anarchists with a notably strong performance. His passionate monologue explaining the control of the Simons lends sympathy to the controlling group. The Simons also provide intimidating performances from Huw Fullerton and DJ Gordon wielding baseball bats.

In the spaceship, watched by the anarchists far away in urban dystopia, Alice (Sophie Ablett) as half of the lovestruck couple is certainly a good actress, and acts her character well. However this means that she spends much of her time whining, and teasing, causing her to become slightly tiresome to watch. Alice’s other half; Ben (JY Hoh) is an intelligent chemist who is clearly deeply in love with Alice. The pair have good chemistry, reacting well to each other and as we watch Alice’s illness cause her to deteriorate, it is clear that this will lead to Ben’s demise also.

It is certainly difficult to translate sci-fi writing to stage without the help of special effects provided by cinema. Whilst the preview was definitely the rough cut, with the set design for now only in the minds of McGee and Saxby, the passion that has gone into this play is fantastic, and the premise is interesting. However Broken Stars has fallen into the trap of new writing where the concepts aren’t fully realised in the production. McGee and Saxby create a dystopian world with potential, but unfortunately the play is too confusing in practise without reaching necessary depths to pull-off a sci-fi play.

2.5 STARS

Alan Bennet is famed as a comedian, as the voice of Winnie the Pooh and for many of his plays, but not, strangely, for Kafka’s Dick. However, directors Ellie Keel and Tris Puri bring this rarely performed play to life with wonderfully comic subtlety during 8th week at the Burton Taylor Studio.

This humorously surreal work is based around a visit by Franz Kafka and his friend and biographer Max Brod (both of whom are dead) to the house of an insurance salesman, Sydney and his wife Linda, a nurse. Unperturbed by their deadness, Sydney, a Kafka fan, uses the visit as an opportunity to quiz both men on Kafka’s life for a biography that he intends to write. Confusion unsurprisingly follows, punctuated by the arrival of Kafka’s father Herman with various revelations about his son’s genitals and ending in a visit to heaven. The comedy plays upon the nature of biography and how artists are often perceived through facts about their life as opposed to their works – something as relevant today as it must have been when Bennet wrote the piece in 1986. As Sydney notes: ‘This is England. Facts… pass for culture. Gossip is the acceptable face of intellect.’

This universal message is delivered, as you might expect with Bennet, with an easy humour by the cast. Although I was faced with a somewhat empty stage (promises of a set for the actual performance have been made), what took place upon it was a pleasure to watch. The opening scene between a dying Kafka (Sanjay Mewada) and Brod (Peter Huhne) is a little uncertain at first but quickly warms up as the dynamic livens between Huhne’s comically ridiculous and very imposing presence and the self-pityingly huddled figure of Mewada in the bed. As is often seen with Bennet a very serious message – that of the future of Kafka’s work – is delivered through a humorous medium, and the two actors dealt with this very successfully, achieving an appropriate balance of tone.

The production improves further when we are transported to the present day – to Sydney and Linda’s (Alex Stutt and Lara McIvor) home. McIvor especially gives a very impressive performance, displaying that unawareness of her own comedy that the best comic actors possess. The surreal humour develops subtly without ever becoming unpleasantly absurd, something that is as much due to the acting as to Bennet’s script and some of the interchanges (the sexual tension between McIvor and Huhne being especially noteworthy) are incredibly funny.

As I only saw the play in the midst of its rehearsal stages, undoubtedly it could and will be tightened but despite the occasional flicker this should be an impressive production. Definitely recommended.

4 STARS