Latest articles

  • Martyn Conterio

    Martyn Conterio

    It was westerns that made me fall in love with cinema. Clint Eastwood’s Man with No Name. Even though he had a name in every single one of Sergio Leone’s Dollars trilogy. Joe, Manco and Blondie, for your information. Seeing those films as a kid was a revelation. Clearly my parents were rather liberal with regards to I watched. I live in London now and write for magazines and websites about films.


  • Hannah McCarthy

    Hannah McCarthy

    Hannah graduated in September 2009 with a Masters in Film and Literature, which is lucky because all she really wants to do is watch films and write about them. At university she was Film and TV Editor, then Deputy Arts Editor of The Yorker, the university’s online publication. Don’t judge her for the fact that her favourite film is ‘The Sound of Music’, as she’s open to pretty much anything. Now a freelance film journalist, she maintains her own blog and is happy to receive any enquiries about her work.


  • Richard Waters

    Richard Waters

    Irish and with a silly obsession for horror films, I am a sarcastic bastard with a kind heart and like to make the occasional film. Just out of college and with rose-tinted naivety towards the world, I write for the sake of it, with opinions that can seem peculiar. I like to engage in the odd debate and simply enjoy talking about films, and with those who enjoy them!


  • Kirsten Sweeney

    Kirsten Sweeney

    My name is Kirsten and I like films, comics and general nerdery. I also have an inordinate knowledge of the life and works of Nicolas Cage, which comes in handy more often than you’d think. Currently living in exile in the Midlands whilst working towards an English degree.


  • H Anthony Hildebrand

    H Anthony Hildebrand

    H Anthony Hildebrand is a writing and comedy type guy. He has been described as “an American actor, film director, and narrator” and is noted for his reserved demeanor and authoritative speaking voice. Hildebrand has received Academy Award nominations for his performances in Street Smart, Driving Miss Daisy, The Shawshank Redemption and Invictus and won in 2005 for Million Dollar Baby. Read regular inanities by following @hahildebrand


  • Siobhan Burke

    Siobhan Burke

    A self-confessed Bridget Jones (with infinitely better kitchen skills) writing gives me what Father Time does not – the opportunity to go back and alter the product of random thought. Praise be to tippex. A current student of English, Film and Theatre, I enjoy fine wine, good food and other luxurious things unavailable to the debt-infused scholar. Perfectly content to watch any film that contains traces of Brad Pitt, a captivating musical score or the capacity to blow my mind.


  • Daniel Eagleton

    Daniel Eagleton

    Daniel Eagleton is a graduate of the Creative Writing Programme at Bath Spa University. Since completing his MA he has been writing a novel, so reviewing for Best For Film is a good way of getting him out of the flat, allowing him to once again walk among normal society. He will bore anyone within earshot about the magnificence of Audiard’s recent crime classic ‘A Prophet’. He lives in London. He used to live in New York.


  • Alice Sinclair

    Alice Sinclair

    As an English graduate, I’m a sucker for any decent literary adaptation. Otherwise, give me Zack Snyder. Despite a tendency to take a violent fancy to whichever hot new actor currently graces the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread lists (step forward Tom Hardy), Hugh Laurie will always be the real object of my adoration. Despite Stuart Little. And 101 Dalmatians. And Maybe Baby. Some things are unconditional.


  • Cherise Huntingford

    Cherise Huntingford

    That’s me, self-confessed alliteration addict, born ‘n raised in the ‘hood of South Africa. Got a psych degree, but instead spent the better part of three years educating blank-faced teenagers on the implied homosexuality in Shakespeare’s Merchant of Venice and the blasphemy of mediocrity. I then ditched my hometown, spent an eight-month stint in a French village that stirred impulses to burst into song about hills being alive (with the sound of music) and wound up in London, the pit of glorious iniquity.