This is the year that I finally had the means to see all the films I’ve wanted to see: to go to the cinema as often as I would have liked. Still, I missed a lot of movies, but I feel like I finally got to the point where I can afford to go one, twice, sometimes thrice a week to tha pictures. “How can you afford this?”, you might be asking, “Are you rich?”. Well, no. I’m not. That’s just how I choose to spend what little money I have.

I also feel, and I may be imagining or inventing this, that this year yielded a stellar crop of independent films, with greater frequency of quality than in previous years. Perhaps this is just an illusion and I only feel this way because I’ve seen a greater number of motion pictures, but whatever. I also feel that this year disappointed me greatly in terms of big budget Hollywood stuff. I only actively enjoyed 2 big studio flicks: Bridesmaids and Scre4m, which both failed to impress on second viewing. That’s it. Tintin disappointed me, especially as a hardcore fan, My Week With Marilyn pulled off the extraordinary feat of featuring year’s best performances, set within a film of patronising fluff. The Help was immensely enjoyable, but completely forgettable. I actually fell asleep during a midnight screening of the final Harry Potter film (I had been up since 6am to visit the American Embassy, but still). The less said about X-Men: First Class the better.

Of course, as I grow older, my taste for big budget Hollywood fare has diminished. Call me a snob, tell me I’m wilfully pretentious because I have no desire to see Transformers: Dark of the Moon. Rant and rail at me. I don’t really care. That’s not to say that I don’t like anything that emanates from that supposedly halcyon place. I just feel that creativity has a greater change of flourishing outside of it. But what do I know. Again, perhaps it was just a bad year?

There’s still a lot I would have liked to see this year and just couldn’t fit in. To name just a few: The Deep Blue Sea, Margaret, Shame, Tyrannosaur, Martha Marcy May Marlene, Snowtown, The Artist. I was going to wait to see a few more of these before compiling my year’s end best of. But I couldn’t wait any longer. For a bit of fun, I’ve decided to call these awards The Pollies, after my semi-extinct nickname of yore: Polly. Here you go:

Best Film

• Sleeping Beauty
• The Skin I Live In
  
• The Tree of Life
• *Tomboy*
• Weekend

It is incredibly hard to pick my favourite film of the year, but when it really comes down to it, I think it has to be Tomboy, which, to employ perhaps one of the most overused clichés in the history of the world, broke my heart. I can’t think of anything more exquisite and perfect. That the film was shot in 20 days with a cast of unknown children by a second time director is even more of an astonishing feat. This film was met with ambivalence by most British reviewers but even in the face of Terrence Malick’s The Tree of Life, a vastly majestic film about All Time as told by a white Christian man via his crisis of faith, Weekend, the best film about gay romance I think I have ever seen, The Skin I Live In, a dark erotic horror by my favourite director, and Sleeping Beauty, the most strange and beguiling thing I’ve seen in recent memory, Tomboy, a tiny French drama about childhood gender identity, still refuses to loosen its powerful grip over me.

Best Director

• Pedro Almodóvar - The Skin I Live In
• *Andrea Arnold - Wuthering Heights*
• Julia Leigh - Sleeping Beauty
• Terrence Malick - The Tree of Life
• Lynne Ramsey - We Need To Talk About Kevin

Doing this has allowed me to imagine what awards ceremonies would be like in the idealistic feminist utopia of my naïve, frazzled brain, but it’s a wonderful place. In my head, female directors are as revered and acclaimed as their male counterparts, and having a 2/3 gender split either way is not uncommon and never remarked upon. Almodóvar’s place as a nominee is perhaps obvious, considering he’s my fave, but I really do think it’s deserved. I was genuinely thrilled and confounded by his literally glossy, menacing film. Terrence Malick is also responsible for one of my all-time favez (The New World) but The Tree of Life felt so all-encompassing and visually sumptuous and threaded through with wonder, my heart ached (no, not heartburn, before you ask, thanks). Julia Leigh, a first-time director, displayed a style so distinctive and haunting, I could think of nothing else for days. And Lynne Ramsey took a great sledgehammer to the story of a guilt-riddled mother, spattering potent, brilliant imagery everywhere. It was Andrea Arnold, though, who pulled off the most spectacular achievement: never, for me, has a period romance felt so brutal, vital and full of pumping blood. Visceral is the word I would use if I were unafraid of sounding like an A Level student who uses it every other paragraph, having recently discovered it and applying it liberally, like sticky lip gloss. I have never felt so invested in what is essentially a Mills & Boon romance about straight people’s problems.

Best Actor

• Antonio Banderas - The Skin I Live In
• Tom Cullen - Weekend
• Ryan Gosling - Drive
• Brad Pitt - The Tree of Life
• *Michael Shannon - Take Shelter*

I always struggle to pick fave male actors. I’m more interested in female ones because my brain has been pre-programmed to only respond to womb-carrying professional pretenders - genetically I can only respond to female fierceness. It’s a shortcoming, I know, but I don’t care and I don’t know how to fix it. Nevertheless there were some stellar Gruff Man performances in 2011 and I was particularly impressed by 5: Antonio Banderas, a man who is perhaps most beloved to my generation for voicing a Spanish kitty in a magic fairytale land, terrified me as a genius surgeon driven mad with grief. Tom Cullen, despite being a real life hetero, portrayed the tender uncertainty so many modern day homosexuelles feel, despite great advances in LGBT rights. Brad Pitt proved (again) that his name is not just a synonym for Hollywood totty with his stern, traditional father and Ryan Gosling (despite my rudeness about his thin lips earlier on this blog) exuded sex, power and charisma where many other actors would have faltered or come across as hammy caricatures. Michael Shannon pipped it to the post for me, though. His portrayal of a man slowly succumbing to mental illness (OR IS HE?!?!?!???) had me so affected, I did that clutching pearls hand thing without realising.

Best Actress

• Viola Davis - The Help
• *Kirsten Dunst - Melancholia*
• Zoé Héran - Tomboy
• Tilda Swinton - We Need To Talk About Kevin
• Michelle Williams - My Week With Marilyn

Gosh there were lots of good ladies acting in films in 2011. WELL OF COURSE THERE WERE BECAUSE LADIES ARE ALWAYS GOOD AT ACTING. Womenfolk who specifically excited me (non-sexually, I’m gay, guys) in 2011 were Viola Davis, who produced a performance so seamless and technically assured I temporarily abandoned my cynicism (no mean feat). Zoé Héran (much like the real Oscars I have nominated a child because it’s edgy and gives me a God complex ‘lol’) out-acted most human beings twice and thrice her age in a deceptively tricky role. Tilda managed to be the Eva of my imagination (I’ve read the book, yes I did so just before the film came out, I’m white), harried, scarred but desperately ploughing on. And Michelle Williams did the unthinkable and created a full, rounded breast. No, sorry I mean: she created a full, rounded portrayal [/satire] of the most well known icon, like, ever in a flimsy, hyperactive, paper thin film about an actual woman as seen via the Horrible Male Gaze of Doom. But Kirsten won my heart. I rarely see depression portrayed on film. Maybe I’m just watching the wrong films? I don’t think so, though. Ms. Dunst trounced all expectations by returning from a hiatus with a performance so bleak and beguiling and brilliant that almost all of the people I know (and myself) said, very seriously, “I hate to say it, but her behaviour reminded me of myself”. Maybe I just know the wrong people, but Kiki blistered nevertheless.

Best Supporting Actor

• Kenneth Branagh - My Week With Marilyn
• James Howson - Wuthering Heights
• Ezra Miller - We Need To Talk About Kevin
• *Chris New - Weekend*
• John C. Reilly - We Need To Talk About Kevin

Kenneth Branagh, much like Michelle Willz, created a character of substance (accompanied by worthy hand gesture) amongst a sea of sub-ITV-drama silliness. James Howson, despite having his voice mysteriously dubbed over (I didn’t even notice it was that inconspicuous) leant intensity and dignity to his Heathcliff. Ezra Miller may be the most pretentious and unrepentantly smug young actor in America but his Kevin was brilliant. I can’t think of many young men with the chops to play a psychopath without doing embarrassing Young Hannibal impressions. John C. Reilly hasn’t seemed to have gotten any attention for his performance as Kevin’s dad, but I thought it was earnest and honest and exactly how I imagined it. Of course, I am right about everything so this means Mr. Reilly is a genius. My best ‘supporting’ performance by a bloke-man, though, was Chris New’s cocky, charming turn in Weekend. It’s very rare that I relate to a gay character on film. In fact, I can’t remember doing it ever. The closest I’ve come at all is to Marshall Gregson on United States of Tara, but that’s a tv series. Chris’ character wasn’t camp, but he wasn’t comically butch either. He was confident, intelligent, politically motivated, artistic and funny. A little bit annoying, yes, but then so am I. A genius turn.

Best Supporting Actress

• *Jessica Chastain - Take Shelter*
• Malonn Lévana - Tomboy
• Melissa McCarthy - Bridesmaids
• Octavia Spencer - The Help
• Bianca Suárez - The Skin I Live In

This is probably my favourite category. Don’t ask why, perhaps I simply favour the underdog. It’s also been the hardest to pick a winner. In the end I plumped for Jessica. Not just because of her excellent performance in Take Shelter, but because she won me over in a rather underwritten bimbo role in The Help but also in a mostly silent role as the obedient 50s housewife-cum-doormat (not a doormat for sperm, internet perverts, get your minds OUT OF THEM GUTTERS) in The Tree of Life. I’m so excited to see what she’ll do in more central roles where she’s not playing ‘the wife’, but this year she redefined ‘scene-stealer’ and has created a name for herself as an actress in what feels like one short year. Elsewhere Malonn Lévana who was 6 (SIX!) years old when she played Tomboy’s title character’s younger sister made me laugh more than most seasoned comedians in a sweet unstudied role. Speaking of laughs, Melissa McCarthy, who I’ve admired for years for her performance in Gilmore Girls, finally got the attention she deserved playing a raunchy, vulgar woman who has more to her than meets the eye (OOOOH! INTRIGUE!). Octavia Spencer brought yet more funnies. I was worried her part might be too Stereotypical Sassy Black Lady for my totes PC anti-racist world outlook, but she played Minny with such gusto and (*cliché klaxon explodes*) warmth. Lastly but not leastlyly, Bianca Suárez, much like Reilly, also doesn’t seem to have received any acclaim for her small role in Almodóvar’s The Skin I Live In, but her sheltered, terrified Norma was impressively touching.

Phew. Anyway.

That’s that. You can go now.