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A lighter, less cynical version of the spaghetti western style, A Pistol for Ringo easily epitomises the things that made the Italian western so special, although relatively straightforward in comparison to later efforts in the genre, it's an unpretentious film that emerges as more akin to classic American westerns than the Italian powerhouses. Ringo is the complete antithesis of Leone's Man with No Name, talkative, well-dressed, clean-shaven and preferring milk to whiskey. A role that former Italian stuntman Giuliano Gemma takes in stride, he has a great screen presence, one that balances boyish innocence with a deadly edge, and the endearing and tragic love affair he shares with the gorgeous Nieves Navarro is well-realised. It helps that the script is filled with acute dialogue and peppered with just the right amount of sarcastic humour to keep his rather dickish persona likeable. Director Duccio Tessari has a very distinct visual style; although it occasionally delves into the mundane, it remains engrossing throughout, while Ennio Morricone delivers yet another fine score with an absolutely incredible title song to boot. It may not be amongst the top ten titles of the genre, but A Pistol for Ringo is still absolutely worth searching out, no doubt about it. Offering a simple story that manages to explore some interesting ideas without actually being confrontational, and a genre film that attempts to reinvent itself without actually stirring the pot. It doesn't try to make some sweeping artistic statement and ultimately stands as a fun western that can be enjoyed on multiple levels, and one that makes for required Christmas viewing.

A chilling allegory of survival that turns the mundane act of strolling into a living nightmare, The Long Walk feels more relevant now than ever, a horrifying endurance test that holds a mirror up to our society, making for a brutal viewing experience. Walk or die, such a simple concept, yet so terrifying. There is no victory. A film that sees Stephen King at his best, one that's rife with characters to ache for and despise, with shocking moments of depravity and transcendent humanity. The sacred and the profane, all wrapped up into an anti-fascist cautionary tale. One that casts itself as a frightening saga about tyranny's capacity to acclimate its subjects to slaughter and slavery, and to coerce them into performing and celebrating self-destruction under the guise of unity, strength, and progress. It's darkly comedic, yet it manages to touch on the wonders of life and relationships with director France Lawrence crafting a heartbreaking journey through oppressive bleakness, where beauty can be found in the unique and meaningful bonds formed by the walkers as they strive to walk just a little further. Being that the vast majority of this film is walking, limping, staggering, talking, shouting, baiting and crying, in the wrong hands, this could become tedious, but under Lawrence's skilful eye, every second is compelling. It reminds me of an Alan Clarke film but with the violence turned up to 11. Buoyed by Jeremiah Fraites' incredible score in tow and stellar performances, particularly from Hoffman, Hamill, and Jonsson, The Long Walk is undoubtedly a painful watch, but all of the nightmares feel in service to the story, a film that is so complex in its simplicity that every emotion it brings out of you comes as a surprise.

A most peculiar and potent cocktail of romance, theology, global bridge-building and national tub-thumping, A Matter of Life and Death bursts with tantalising ideas, surprising connections and suggestive flights of fancy, championing individual rights over nationalist prejudices that endure beyond the grave. Its political outspokenness and visual audacity set in a gorgeously photographed Technicolour England and a monochrome heaven searingly conveys a world grappling with uncharted new places, trying to pick up the pieces after unimaginable calamity. An intellectual battle, held in an amphitheatre as large as a galaxy, about the right to life and the inherent tensions in US-UK political relations. It's the best kind of story told at the smallest level as Powell and Pressburger layer breathtaking visual tricks on top of the film's whimsical premise. Every shot in this piece is a marvel, achieving such vivid depth of colour that it makes modern cinema seem almost dull in comparison. Apart from being technically brilliant, Peter and June's story, along with the exploration of fate and mortality within, is conveyed brilliantly by its cast, David Niven, Kim Hunter and especially Roger Livesey, all of whom do an outstanding job. Despite its thematic bleakness, A Matter of Life and Death succeeds in being a sparkling fantasy picture; the duo put so much care and love into the film that in the end, we know they're right: love really is the greatest of all virtues.