So, the November lists are out. The usual monthly ritual of looking at what’s coming to the cinema, and trying to work out what, if anything, is actually worth leaving the house for. And this month, it feels like a particularly strange, jumbled-up collection of things.
You’ve got the big, shiny, inevitable sequels. You’ve got the serious, beard-stroking Oscar contenders. You’ve got the quirky indie darlings. It’s like a slightly chaotic dinner party where nobody knows each other, and you’re not quite sure what the dress code is.
Let’s start with the big stuff. The noise. Wicked: For Good. The second half of the musical behemoth. The first one made a ridiculous amount of money, so this is a foregone conclusion. More songs, more spectacle, more Cynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande. It’s not really a film, is it? It’s a cultural event. A pre-packaged, guaranteed hit. You don’t review it. You just get out of its way.
And in the other corner, you have the other kind of guaranteed hit: the next Knives Out mystery. Wake Up Dead Man. Daniel Craig is back with the ridiculous accent, surrounded by another ridiculously starry cast. This time it’s in a church, apparently. A bit more gothic, a bit darker, they say. But we all know the formula. A clever puzzle, some witty dialogue, a group of famous actors having a lovely time. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It’s comfort food. A perfectly made, very expensive cheese toastie. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you want.
So that’s the big, loud stuff. But what’s going on in the quieter corners of the room? This is where it gets more interesting.
You’ve got a new version of The Running Man, directed by Edgar Wright. Now, that’s a combination of words that makes you sit up and pay attention. The original Schwarzenegger film was a cheesy, glorious bit of 80s action. But the Stephen King book it was based on is dark. Properly, horribly bleak. And Wright is promising a version that is more faithful to that darkness. With Glen Powell, who is on a mission to become the most interesting leading man in Hollywood, in the main role. This could be something special. A proper, nasty, disturbingly relevant bit of science fiction.
And then you have the proper, grown-up dramas. The ones with the Oscar buzz already humming around them. Nuremberg. Russell Crowe as Hermann Göring and Rami Malek as the psychiatrist interviewing him. A two-hander, a psychological chess match. It sounds like a pure, old-fashioned actor’s showcase. The kind of film that lives or dies on the strength of its performances. With those two in the ring, you have to be curious.
And then there’s Hamnet. Chloé Zhao, who made Nomadland, adapting Maggie O’Farrell’s novel about Shakespeare’s son. With Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal. Every single part of that sentence is dripping with quality. It sounds… intense. Emotionally pulverising, as one critic put it. It’s the kind of film you have to be in the right mood for. You have to prepare yourself. But you also know it’s probably going to be extraordinary.
At first, I thought this was just another month of sequels and serious dramas. The usual autumn fare. But then you look closer, and you see the weirder stuff. The stuff that doesn’t fit into a neat box.
What about Die, My Love? Jennifer Lawrence and Robert Pattinson, directed by Lynne Ramsay. Lynne Ramsay does not make comfortable films. She makes films that get under your skin and stay there for days. We Need to Talk About Kevin. You Were Never Really Here. So a film from her about a young couple in a secluded house in the countryside? It’s not going to be a gentle romance. It’s going to be a nightmare. A beautifully shot, psychologically brutal nightmare. And I can’t wait.
And then there’s the reunion of the team behind The Worst Person in the World. Director Joachim Trier and actress Renate Reinsve, with a new film called Sentimental Value. The Worst Person in the World was one of those rare films that everyone just seemed to love. It was funny, and sad, and messy, and it felt completely, painfully real. Can they do it again? It’s a huge amount of pressure. But you have to be rooting for them.
The whole thing feels a bit like trying to navigate a particularly eclectic car boot sale. Over here, you’ve got the big, shiny, brand-new stuff still in its box. The Wicked and Zootopia sequels. Reliable, you know what you’re getting. Over there, you’ve got the beautiful, handcrafted, potentially priceless antiques. The Hamnet and the Nuremberg. And in the middle, you’ve got the strange, unclassifiable, slightly risky stuff that might be the best bargain of the day. The Edgar Wright, the Lynne Ramsay.
The real wild card for me, though, is Jay Kelly. George Clooney and Adam Sandler, in a Noah Baumbach film. A bittersweet comedy about a Hollywood superstar having a crisis of confidence. It could be a self-indulgent, navel-gazing mess. Or it could be a sharp, funny, and surprisingly moving look at fame and anxiety. With that combination of talent, it could go either way. And that’s what makes it so intriguing.
So what’s the verdict? It’s a messy month. A lot of noise, a lot of big names. But if you look past the obvious stuff, there are some real gems to be found. It’s a month that reminds you that for all the talk of franchises and shared universes, there are still people out there trying to make strange, difficult, personal, and properly interesting films. And for that, we should be grateful. You just have to know where to look.
