X-Men: First Class (2011)

"I've been at the mercy of men just following orders all my life. Never again!"

Wow. Best X-Men film ever, or at least so far. Thank you, Matthew Vaughn.

Of course, this is the Fox continuity, in spite of only a cameo appearance by Wolverine linking it to its predecessors, and rather divergent from the comics; Banshee seems like he's going to die, for example, and doesn't. And there's the silly fact that Chares Xavier has a British accent and has done since childhood, in spite of having grown up in that mansion in Westchester County. And why is Moira MacTaggart now an American CIA agent, having previously been shown as English and never Scottish?

But we'll ignore all that because this is a brilliant and exciting tale of a deep friendship unable to withstand ideological differences; you really believe in the friendship between Charles and Erik. James McAvoy is good, but Michael Fassbender is exceptional.

It's interesting that Mystique is Charles' step-sister, and to see her gradually being drawn towards Magneto. Her connection to Hank McCoy is well-handled, too, as is the question of whether mutants ho look unusual should visually conform or not. The Beast's fate is cruel but poetically appropriate, especially given the allusions to Jekyll and Hyde.

The Hellfire Club gives us two impressive villains in January Jones as Emma Frost and the ubiquitous Kevin Bacon as the mercurial Sebastian Shaw- perhaps he's Joseph Dashwood in this continuity? But there are striking similarities between Shaw and what Magneto becomes although, of course, he killed Magneto's mother and must die.

The plot is superb- using the Cuban Missile Crisis is inspired- but ultimately the film works because of its successful focus on Erik and Charles as characters. Superb,

Frost/Nixon (2008)

”Hello, good evening and welcome!”

“I don’t actually say that...”

For all that Ron Howard is an unflashy director his style certainly works, and his work on bringing this excellent Peter Morgan stage play to cinema is the perfect example. Oh, its stage origins are certainly very obvious, but there’s nothing wrong with that. What matters is the extraordinary performances, with Michael Sheen once again perfectly inhabiting a real figure in the form of David Frost as we know he can, but just as much with the equally sublime Frank Langella, who may not look or sound like Nixon but, for the length of the film, simply is him.

The script is of course superb, bizarre though it is to see everyone’s least favourite BBC director general John Birt as a character in a film. The four interviews are treated and shown as though they were rounds in a boxing match; this film is the Rocky of political interviewing, always reminding us of Frost’s apolitical nature and light entertainment background. It makes for gripping viewing, with high stakes for everyone, and the time just flies by while watching. We see Frost genuinely struggle and Nixon’s confession, when it comes, feels both earned and deeply powerful. The film is a triumph.

Perhaps the true centre of the film, though, is Nixon’s drunken phone call to Frost and the huge chip on his shoulder about his class background that is revealed. Nixon was a fascinating man, a character of Shakespearean depths and an ambiguous legacy, certainly tragic, an introvert in an extroverted profession and, beneath it all, a human being. Sheen may be superb in playing the mannerisms of a talented but uncomplicated man, but Langella deserves real credit for conveying such fathomless depths.