Good things come in threes – case in point, Martin McDonagh’s Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. His third full length feature, it has earned him his first Best Picture nomination at the Academy Awards (expected to be one of the frontrunners this year), while the motion picture has also garnered its three main performers Best Actress/Supporting Actor nods, and, though it may be a tad of a stretch, when eliminating the four above mentioned Oscar nominations, it has also earned three other chances for the elusive statuette (for Original Score – Carter’s Burwell’s composition brimming with mysterious western melancholy; Original Screenplay; and Film Editing). Interestingly, the film could very well have had another title, “Three Letters from a Sheriff in Ebbing, Missouri” – but more on that later. Bringing to life another fascinating dark premise, McDonagh scribes a heart-wrenching tale of how human beings deal with anger, loss, hate, guilt, grief, injustice, and the seemingly cruel fate of life, yet, as always, combined with his sharp wit – a rare movie that, despite its pitch black subject matter, will have you laughing on and off throughout, much like his earlier gems, 2008's In Bruges and 2012's Seven Psychopaths.

Perhaps the end of something very special. . . that is, if Daniel Day-Lewis does follow through and retire from acting after his most recent lauded performance in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Academy Award Best Picture nominee Phantom Thread. It is this nuanced role that will bookend a career that has consisted of six deserving nominations and three well earned Oscars (four, if he wins this year). At the heart of this tale of gothic romance (Anderson’s narrative and classic visual aesthetic reminiscent of movies like Rebecca), Reynolds Woodcock (Day-Lewis) is a renowned dressmaker (circa the 1950s), a man who, like his flawlessly tailored clothing (he hides secrets in the work), expects everything to be just perfect. He is peculiar in his cleanliness and rigidity – every hair in its place, absolute quiet at breakfast (his entire day ruined if his stringent routine interrupted). . . obsessive in every which way, including in that he is still haunted by the death of his mother. An example of this fiefdom of rules and attitude – after tea is brought to him at the wrong time, he exasperatingly exclaims, “the tea is going out; the interruption is staying right here with me”.

The third and final part of filmmaker Luca Guadagnino’s thematic ‘Desire’ trilogy (following 2015's A Bigger Splash and 2009's I Am Love), 2017's Call Me by Your Name once again challenges its audience with themes of love (sometimes first) and loss, desire, sexuality and so much more. Nominated for four Academy Awards this 2018 (including Best Picture), the story, set in 1983, follows seventeen year old Elio (Timothée Chalamet – nominated for Best Actor in a Leading Role), a whip smart, though somewhat aloof and self-conscious teen who is spending the summer with his family in Northern Italy – he is a voracious reader and talented musician (a near prodigy). His father, Mr. Perlman (Michael Stuhlbarg), is an archaeology professor who has invited a graduate student, Oliver (Armie Hammer), to aid him as a research assistant.

A rare horror movie to be nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, 2017's Get Out, written and directed by Jordan Peele, fuses its slow-burner tale with creepy atmosphere, relevant social commentary and touches of comedy, making it so much more than just a straight-forward horror flick. With a story somewhat reminiscent of The Stepford Wives, protagonist Chris Washington (Daniel Kaluuya – an Oscar nominated performance) is an up and coming photographer, an African American twenty-something living a fulfilling life in the big city. In a loving relationship with Rose Armitage (Allison Williams) for the past five months, she has decided to bring him home to meet the folks – a weekend trip that is not exactly the most enticing scenario for the man.

There is a scene in 1954's Creature from the Black Lagoon where the female lead, played by Julie Adams, swims through the water. Shot from both above and below, there is a loving elegance to the camera work, and, in a few of the underwater moments, the lighting almost makes it seem as if she is swimming in the nude. Eventually, the Creature appears, and what develops can be looked at in two lights. . . one – that he is stalking her, murder in the monster’s every fibre; two – his movements, mirroring hers, are almost like a sensuous dance, a love-match for the long secluded and lonely Creature. This year’s Academy Award Best Picture contender, The Shape of Water, accepts the second perspective not followed in the Universal horror classic, developing a movie that very much could be its long lost alternate reality sequel. Written and directed by horror maestro Guillermo del Toro, he sews several threads together so that movie afficionados could almost believe that this is the case – perhaps most importantly that it is set only a few years after 1954 (a moment when xenophobic fears were running high with the Cold War at its most tense) and that the creature comes from the Amazon as well. . . while security expert Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon) makes it very clear that it was no easy feat transporting the powerful and mysterious amphibian back to America. Its look is also very much influenced by the horror classic.

One of the most originally creative scripts to be found on either side of Ebbing, Missouri, Martin McDonagh’s Seven Psychopaths, released in 2012, is an example of the writer/director’s many talents (twisty nuanced stories, richly drawn characters, beautiful dialogue, and so much more) that have made his most recent effort, hinted at above, Oscar bait this Awards season. With a screenplay that keeps the audience on its toes for quite a while, we are often guessing what we are truly watching. At first glance a meta cinematic commentary on writing a screenplay – Colin Farrell’s Marty has writer’s block, it is perhaps best summed up after he heads out into the desert with his two buddies. . . leading to one of them, Sam Rockwell’s Billy, describing how his treatment of the script should conclude. With Marty in disbelief at its over-the-top violence, the third friend, Christopher Walken’s Hans responds, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, “It’s got layers, you know. . . it’s got. . . It’s got many layers”. Adding another ‘layer’ of meta, we eventually realize that not all that is written on the page is fictional and that we may be watching flashbacks from several characters’ pasts.