2017 was perhaps the year of the noble failure for cinema. Failure from a variety of perspectives. Blade Runner 2049 failed, from a commercial standpoint, to ‘wash its face’ – the brilliantly simple industry analogy for a films net gross covering both its budget and marketing. Get Out failed to preach to anyone but the choir, judging from the continuous attention received by the ‘alt-right’ in the race relations conversation. The Death of Stalin failed to receive a significant cinematic audience in the one nation that needed to see it most. Oh, and Moonlight, well Moonlight failed to even get a best picture award without a ludicrous gaffe. Yes, 2017 was the year of the noble failure for cinema. Great art is often neglected in its own time, be it from a commercial perspective, a critical one or simply an inability to instantly enter the zeitgeist. 2017 was the year of the noble failure for cinema, but it was also a year that I am convinced will be remembered with reverence.

Matt Reeves appeared to bring the curtain down on this most resistant of franchises with a third act as impressively poignant as it is bombastic. Caesar, the messianic leader of the apes, leads a desperate struggle for survival against human forces determined on their extinction. Andy Serkis, the granddaddy of mo-cap, brings life and a sense of humanity to his performance as Caesar. An artificial computer-generated skin may layer Serkis during this performance, but the dignity and pathos he manages to project deserve recognition. The Apes franchise has always had the whiff of B-movie absurdity, but Reeves (and originally Rupert Wyatt) have achieved a rare feat in blockbuster film-making by maintaining the original concept and instilling a new sense of gravity. I cannot help but think of Richard Donner convincing audiences in 1978 that a man could fly. Taking in over $1.6bn at the global box office for the combined series, the Apes franchise is continued proof that intelligent popcorn entertainment has a market. Serious monkey business (sorry, not sorry).

Jump scares are cheap, a lingering sense of dread is built to last. My favourite horror-cum-thriller of the year and a welcome reminder that tired genres can still surprise. Set during an unexplained outbreak of a deadly virus, It Comes at Night is a survivalist end-of-world thriller that will linger at the base of your neck follicles long after you’ve finished watching. Drenched in an unsettling and claggy atmosphere of dread, the narrative concentrates solely on two families with understandable trust issues, guessing and second-guessing motives in the name of survival. Joel Edgerton is on reliable form as the stoic and patriarchal head of one family, continuing a rich vein of form with his customary understatement. It Comes at Night is likely only to be a footnote on a crowded genre page, but it is a considerable achievement for debut director and writer Trey Edward Shults.

Christopher Nolan continues to genre-hop, with a typically unconventional take on the war movie. Obsessed once more with time and the manipulation of it, Dunkirk confronts the historical concept and gradual mythologizing of the British stiff upper lip. Nolan’s soldiers just want a way out. The fight is lost and the only victory can be taken from getting away with as many pieces of themselves as they can carry. Nolan is both respectful of the event that Britain built its spirit of resistance upon, but ruthless in inspecting the reality of being cattle trapped for the slaughter. Un-showy performances all round, with special mentions to Mark Rylance and Cillian Murphy are the backbone of creating a believable portrayal. While not Nolan’s finest work, Dunkirk adds to an already varied canon.

As much a Western as anything else, James Mangold surprised both the comic book industrial movie complex and the wider cinematic community with this raw and unflinching conclusion to the Wolverine series. The near future has not been kind to Logan (or Wolverine). Living in a disused set of industrial buildings just over the Mexican border, Logan has become bound to a life of continuous struggle as he cares for the rapidly-declining telepath of mass destruction Charles Xavier. To make matters worse, his own powers of healing that have created an aura of invincibility are waning. Logan hurts and can be hurt. Not so much on the nose, as a punch to the nose, Johnny Cash’s overplayed, but undeniably haunting cover of ‘Hurt’ has never been more appropriate for appropriation. What is often missing from even the best of superhero movies is a sense of stakes, a sense of genuine danger to our protagonist. Logan convinces the audience that all cards are upon the table from the opening scene. A bold entry into a genre in dire need of caustic creativity.

The only entry on my list I have not seen in a cinematic format is typically one of the finest to look upon. Released to a limit run in cinemas, Mudbound is a Netflix-original production that most will only have had the opportunity to see on the small screen. Set following World War Two, Mudbound follows the contrasting receptions that two war heroes receive upon return. Class and more significantly, race, define the narrative in this withering and poetic production. Mudbound tightrope walks the viewer between differing emotions. Rarely have I been moved to tears and riled to physical-sensation anger by scenes just minutes apart. Dee Rees grounds the film in the economic reality of land ownership, with scenes of status quo racism often as impactful as Klan activity. Special mention must go to Mary J. Blige and again to Joel Edgerton as what might be considered a palatable racist; a man without malice and without determinable prejudice, but lacking in moral backbone. Mudbound makes the oft-argued case that all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

Armando Iannucci made a welcome return to the big screen with this adaptation of the same-titled French graphic novel. Interspersing wry satire, pure abyss-black comedy and belly laughs, it’s difficult to remember the last time I was this enthralled by a cinematic comedy. Semi-historical, The Death of Stalin creatively recreates the power vacuum and subsequent struggle between Stalin’s underlings in the wake of his untimely death. Singling individual performances amongst such a wonderful ensemble seems unfair, but Simon Russell Beale is a rare performer on the big screen and his reptilian portrayal of Lavrentiy Beria, snarling and contemptuous, is something to behold. The Death of Stalin is, at time of writing at least, banned in Russia, branded ridiculously as propaganda by certain institutions of the state. Looking at the film as piece of art rather than as a commercial venture, this feels like a final satirical flourish that Iannucci could not have planned better.

This is probably the most controversial pick of my top ten, knowing that this film is forever associated with the alleged abusive behaviour of its star Casey Affleck. While the alleged behaviour is not said to have occurred during production of Manchester by the Sea, it haunts the legacy of what is otherwise an exceptional piece of filmmaking, and it has to be said, a towering performance from Casey Affleck. Lee Chandler is our solitary and ravaged protagonist, living in isolation away from his hometown of Manchester following an awful incident that leaves him unable to cope. The death of his brother Joe means Lee becomes the legal guardian of Joe’s teenage son Patrick, forcing Lee to remain in Manchester. Directed by Kenneth Lonergan, Manchester by the Sea is a study of grief and guilt, shot compassionately and with real nerve. This isn’t a world where redemption can be found easily. Manchester by the Sea is brave enough to ask the audience to consider if there are some things in life you just can’t recover from. Irrespective of his alleged abuse, Casey Affleck fully embodies his character in a performance that I have rarely seen the likes of. Bleak and honest, but with traces of real beauty, Manchester by the Sea is an essential watch.

The majority of films on this list can be categorised with relative ease, but Get Out could sit comfortably within three genres. Part horror, part black comedy (pun honestly not intended, but it’s staying) and part thriller, Get Out was arguably the best surprise of 2017. Starring Daniel Kaluuya, an actor of real magnetic presence, we join Chris as he visits his white girlfriend’s wealthy family in the country. A pleasant time is had by all. The end. Hah. Get Out satirises the worst of wealthy white America, scything away at the façade of pleasantries that mask the reality of current race relations with wit and unpredictability. Never letting the audience sit comfortably, Get Out achieves a genuine disquiet that left me often out of sorts with my own emotional reactions to events on screen. This power to leave an audience suspended between mirth and unease is the real strength of the film. Without going into detail, for risk of spoilers, I wonder whether Get Out would have been even stronger with the ending flipped. Jordan Peele addressed the subject and said he couldn’t bear to end the film on the note in question. Despite the worldview on show, the film never relents to hopelessness and this feels like the right decision. Described by a fellow Stick Around reviewer as world-view altering, my only fear is that the people who need to see and correctly interpret Get Out the most, will either never see it or miss the point entirely.

An entirely worthy winner of the Best Picture award at the 2017 Oscars, in spite of the farcical nature of the ceremony and the fall-out that enveloped proceedings (sorry, not sorry). Moonlight is a special achievement that circumvented the trepidation I had before viewing. Beautifully shot by cinematographer James Laxton and meticulously orchestrated by director Barry Jenkins, we follow the coming-of-age of Chiron through three different stages of his life. Despite its weighty subject matter, dealing with race, LGBT issues and poverty, Moonlight is immensely watchable from start to finish with hyper-real performances in contrast with artistic direction. I was drawn into the narrative and I was reminded of Boyhood, a film I narrowly prefer, as we journey through the stages of what felt like a very real life. Barry Jenkins is clearly a superlative talent, capable of building a reality the audience is dropped right into, without need of exposition. I am not qualified or educated enough to discuss the reality of LBGT life in the African-American community, but it struck me that Moonlight approached the subject with a confidence and grace that could only have been achieved by an African-American LGBT director and an entirely African-American cast. This isn’t to say that an outsider couldn’t have achieved similar results, but Moonlight has a really authentic feel.

It gives me immense pleasure just not be disappointed by Blade Runner 2049. A sequel 35 years after an original, and an original that was never crying out for a follow up. When initially announced, the news of a Blade Runner sequel was met with fear as much as anything else. The original Blade Runner was a one of a kind science fiction film with great levity and intellectual class, never imagined as the first of a franchise. Blade Runner 2049 did not need to be made and nor was the news that it would be made met with welcoming arms by just about anyone, especially yours truly. Thank fuck it was. Blade Runner 2049 is a titanic, staggering achievement, taking the best elements of the original film and grafting on new ideas. Denis Villeneuve, director of recent sci-fi success Arrival, wasn’t an obvious choice, despite the quality of his work, but here he excels balancing raw entertainment with weighty concepts. Told with breath-taking scope visually and immense sound design, Blade Runner 2049 is a feast for the senses, with Roger Deakins surely a shoe-in for best cinematography at the Oscars. 14th time’s the charm, eh? Ryan Gosling is back to his stoic best as blade runner K, a replicant designed to hunt his own people. K's counterpart Luv, played with icy indifference by Sylvia Hoeks, forms the backbone of the film alongside him. What most makes Blade Runner 2049 such a success is the decision creatively, I assume consciously, to be a sequel and an original creative property simultaneously. It wasn’t welcome and it wasn’t needed, but Blade Runner 2049 is an instant classic, superb in just about every facet.