A Definitive Ranking of Every Danny Boyle Movie

Press Release: His name is Jack Malik (Himesh Patel), and he just hit the jackpot in a huge, surreal, and profitable game of karaoke. Imagine all the people waking up one day (in 2019) and no longer knowing a singles Beatles song or album. Who are the Fab Four? What’s a Sgt. Pepper? That’s the big “what if?” of Yesterday, where suddenly there were/are no Beatles, and it’s up to one struggling musician to bring those songs back. Through the power of magical realism, only he can remember them all. To the sticky notes and acoustic guitar!

Jack becomes a pop wunderkind overnight, because the rules of a post-Love Actually Richard Curtis screenplay embrace heartfelt absurdities as such. Jack considers the durability of the Beatles when squeezed out for a modern market. Jack has a songwriting face-off with Ed Sheeran, playing himself. Jack wants the world to know just how great the Beatles were, are, and will forever be. Even if the film never really says why.

The Sounds: Hey. Have you heard of the Beatles?

Yesterday managed to snag 20 songs for use in the movie (with 17 used in the final, theatrical cut), and they’re mostly redone in acoustic form by Jack. We’re talking “I Saw Her Standing There,” “Something,” “Here Comes the Sun.” You know, all the feel-goodies and none of the LSD stuff, as the latter doesn’t translate well to a man-and-guitar sound, one might reckon. It also sounds like it was a chore to get these songs. More in a minute.

Location, Location, Location: Geographically, Yesterday is like one of those Hollywood bus tours of celebrity homes. See the famous sites! Penny Lane is featured,(and the filmmakers would have likely been sacked if they hadn’t included it in some capacity). Liverpool is used as a side mission, for Jack to find inspiration in the town that bred history’s biggest pop band. And remember the famous Let It Be rooftop concert in London? 3 Saville Row, atop the Apple Records building? It’s not featured, but there’s a great bit of homage in Suffolk, where Jack plays to something like 6,000 extras atop a hotel.

Key Image: To the point of the aforementioned rooftop show, only the hardest-hearted viewers could dislike Boyle’s visual allusions to the famous “Get Back” performance. Boyle captures the look and feel of the moment with Briton enthusiasm.

It’s All Too Much: Listen up, Beatle-maniacs. Here’s a brief lesson in music licensing, and how it apparently works in the movies today. Some movies, like the original Shaft or Superfly, will select an artist to draft original music and scoring. Other films, like those of Quentin Tarantino, have soundtracks that are the products of a director making a wishlist and hoping for the best through a music supervisor.

Yesterday is an entirely different beast, starting at a company level. Respected British production company Working Title had to pitch the concept and use of the Beatles to their current holding teams at Apple Records and Sony. According to Boyle, the deal allowed for tinkering with song selections up to the last minute, and it factored in as a heavy percentage of the upfront budget.

Boyle sent letters to Paul, Ringo, Yoko Ono, and Olivia Harrison outlining the project and his intended usage of Beatles numbers. Every living Beatle connection approved, probably because Billboard estimates that it likely cost $10 million to clear the music for this. So everybody won, kind of. (It also doesn’t sound like Paul or Yoko wrote back, either.)

Anyways, remember this at the end of the film when [SPOILER] Jack gives the Beatles’ songs away to the public, fearing a world without their music. It’s free in the movies, but pricey and complicated in reality. [END SPOILER]

Cold play: Chris Martin was originally set for the Sheeran cameo, but scheduling conflicts forced the producers’ hands. At the risk of coming off derogatory, Martin would’ve been preferable over Ed “has a tattoo of ketchup on his arm” Sheeran. Sorry, Ed.

Analysis: This is a Danny Boyle film in which the auteur seems to sit at the third level of authorship. It’s a Beatles fantasy film, and subsequent advertisement for their catalog. It’s a Richard Curtis pitch about a world without Liverpool’s finest. And then it’s a film directed by Danny Boyle, long after allowed discussions of ‘appropriate’ and ‘tasteful’ use and interpretation of Beatles songs were finished.

As a matter of fact, it’s difficult to find much of Boyle in this movie, and it’s a shame. The gifted visualist is buried under conceit. At its best, Yesterday is fine, if sickly sweet. At worst, again, a glorified ad benefiting the owners of the Beatles’ work. Hello, Beatles movie. Goodbye, any meaningful input from Danny Boyle. We can’t work this out, it’s a dud. — Blake Goble

Watch Yesterday now on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: Sun’s dying, dude. Seriously. And so an international crew of astronauts are sent to drop nuclear bombs into its core, in a desperate bid to try and re-ignite it. Yikes. It’s 2057 as well, so take that, scientists who predicted the sun wouldn’t burn out for another five billion years. Ha. Now, you’re sweating nervously.

The Sounds: Electro maestro Karl Hyde (of Underworld) was given a cut of the film by Boyle and assembled a score influenced by Ligeti’s music in 2001, a leaden and serious soundscape, which would be later completed by English composer John Murphy. It’s an intense, meditative score. But curiously, the soundtrack was delayed a formal release for over a year due to legal issues between Fox Searchlight and Underworld.

Now, marketing agencies just can’t stop using Murphy’s “Sunshine (Adagio in D Minor).”

Location, Location, Location: Um... Filming took place at 3 Mills Studios in London.

Key Image: German cinematographer Alwin H. Küchler provides the film with ample memorable images using over-saturated color, Dutch angles, and an almost darkly comic use of dim space interiors. It’s all a bit much, but in the end Küchler at least nails Boyle’s grand design in a cathartic, over-bright shot, drowning Cillian Murphy in “sunshine."

Sci-Frightened: Boyle acknowledged that Sunshine would be his first, last, and only science-fiction film. The genre always scared the hell out of him, and he treated this production like a test of courage. From a Reuters interview: “I would recommend it to everybody. You should do one. But nobody does more than one — unless they're doing a Stars Wars or something like that — no director goes back into space.”

Boyle’s a feisty director, but one could argue that maybe it’s born from impatience or the fear of being locked down. He’s given to uptempo music and gobs of coverage, and that kind of fast-and-free vibe lends itself to Boyle’s thoroughly modern stories about hard-fought optimism. But he copped to not knowing about the long-game technical and financial necessities of sci-fi and called the experience “exhausting.” Between the budget wrangling, the heavy script prep, and the months and months of post-production, it’s no wonder Sunshine feels so crammed.

Breaking Q-Balls: Alright, Nye-nerds. Remember when we called this premise preposterous? Grab a drink and get ready for some light cosmic dread. The sun could actually die out faster than that gradual five billion year prediction. It’s called a Q-Ball, and we’ll keep this as brief as possible. (Apologies to any quantum theorists reading; please extrapolate in the comments if you like.)

A Q-Ball is a concept in theoretical physics, proposing that a large “blob” of particles could essentially eat the inside of something like the sun. In the shortest terms, it’s like a random act of cancer in space that could kill a star. Again, this is theoretical. Q-Balls might even make up dark matter. But ... yikes.

Analysis: Boyle’s at his least when his reach exceeds his grasp. Bless him for thinking big, but in his case, "more" can be too much. And Sunshine just can’t get its act together. The larger-than-life idea of the sun dying and life as we know it being extinguished in a nuclear winter unless several brave souls achieve the impossible feels unusually small. And not in a claustrophobic way.

No, Sunshine’s defined by its repetitive sets and screen-saver space visuals, in a sloppy event film that wants to be 2001, but accidentally feels closer to ‘90s MTV with splashes of Hellraiser. It’s the kind of film that looks fascinating in still images. Gold, foot-thick space suits. Gape-mouthed multinational explorers bathed in yellow and orange light. Mark Strong in scabby makeup as a fundamentalist loner and space nut. But put it all together, and you’ve got a flickering mess.

Alex Garland’s script makes unique hypotheses, playing with theoretical physics, God complexes, isolationism, depression, and finer mathematics. But it's too much in too little time. Boyle’s blender aesthetics and small-fire ideation are chaotic in Sunshine, and it’s just one of those films that means well but leaves viewers wanting. Boyle flies too close to the sun, and the film’s a melting pot of chunky sci-fi. — B. Goble

Watch Sunshine now on Hulu or on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: A baby-faced gamer, twentysomething Richard (Leonard DiCaprio), travels to Thailand in search of adventure. But not just any adventure. A real kind of adventure. The non-touristy kind. The "hang out with a bunch of hippies on a gorgeous but deadly weed island" kind of adventure.

The Sounds: On the very Boyle-esque, electronic-heavy side, The Beach shared tunes from Underworld, Orbital, Leftfield, New Order, Moby, The Chemical Brothers, UNKLE with Richard Ashcroft, Junkie XL, and of all things, a John Cale and Brian Eno song covered by Sugar Ray, “Spinning Away”.

Bonus: there’s some Bob Marley, Lee “Scratch” Perry, All Saints, and a trip-hop remix of a Blur tune used during a drug-trip scene. The soundtrack’s pretty strong on its own. It’s a little new-age in the film, but we can forgive that because Boyle, when all else fails, knows how to set a mood with music.

Location, Location, Location:The Beach’s literal beach was captured and filmed in Ko Phi Phi Le, an island in the Krabi Provence of Thailand. It’s gorgeous. Part of Thailand’s national parks. Something this serene and untouched, however, was no match for 20th Century Fox and the graceless, land-grabbing perils of a Hollywood production.

Boyle has likened the production to that of a “conquering army” because The Beach, a $50 million star vehicle, came to a beautiful, untouched spot of the Earth and bulldozed the shit out of it. Boyle and crew were looking for an aesthetic — wide sands and secluded imagery. But it wasn’t natural and allegedly wreaked havoc. Environmentalists sued, restorations failed, and the production’s gone down as one of those infamous ones where it took years to assign the blame in court. Oh, and did we mention Thailand’s ban on the final film, due to its unsavory depictions of drug culture?

Key Image: Darius Khondji, a prestigious cinematographer with credits like Delicatessen and Se7en and Midnight in Paris to his name, took his high-contrast gift for color and provided Boyle with dazzling landscapes. Shutter effects, billowy horizon lines, and the ultimate tourist's gaze defines Khondji’s portfolio here.

But all that Ranger Rick goodness goes right out the window when Leo freaks out on drugs and the film turns into a Banjo Kazooie-like game. It’s. A neat idea. We guess. But it’s also an image we’re still mocking, frankly.

The McGregor in the Room: Note the struck-out mention of Ewan McGregor above. The Beach is incidentally the story of a great Hollywood falling out for the modern age. Boyle reportedly wanted McGregor to be leading man for his adaptation of Alex Garland’s novel, but Fox had the star of the world’s biggest film at the time, Leonardo DiCaprio, in mind. Fox even cast Leo before Boyle could intervene (which apparently added to the production’s budget).

McGregor supposedly blamed the studio, but the Scottish actor was hurt enough to not speak to Boyle for years. The two made one of the greats of the ‘90s with Trainspotting, ready for more, and then nothing for 15 years. Pity. The roles that could have been. The work the two could have done.

But, if T2 Trainspotting’s any indicator, the two mended fences. Here, watch Boyle and McGregor on Graham Norton, and bring a tissue.

Good for the Garland: Novelist Alex Garland wrote the source novel as a sort of Gen X meditation on the impossibility of reaching paradise, truth, and purity in a world set to destroy and commodify everything (hello, irony). But this was Garland’s big break, as he continued to work with Boyle, writing the scripts for 28 Days Later, Sunshine, and eventually 28 Years Later. Now Garland’s an Oscar-nominated writer and director thanks to his sensational Ex Machina, recognized for his knack for selling heady ideas with clever, creative writing. So, at least someone great survived all of this.

Analysis: Where to begin with this nonsense? The new-age hypocrisy? The tonal inconsistency? The fractured plotting piggybacked atop a shabbily developed leading character? The Beach just can’t get its head out of the sand. As a film, it doesn’t work on numerous levels, and Boyle flummoxes himself trying to blend crime thrills and spiritualist dogma in the framework of a youth film about a young guy just trying to find himself.

Read into the side texts and how the film squandered resources, overpaid its cherubic lead ($20 million to scream “FRENCH BOY!” in anger), and bombed at the box office, and the thing just lingers as a hellacious experience. This shore drama is Boyle’s D-Day. It’s a mild disaster. The Beach is arrogant, insecure, and shallow. When a beautiful, young French woman mocks Leo’s Richard for spewing bullshit after he waxes philosophical about the stars, you'll agree with her. But the music’s aces. — B. Goble

Watch The Beach now on The Criterion Channel or on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: It's 2030, 28 years after the zombie outbreak that began in 28 Days Later, and the remaining survivors living in Britain have been abandoned by the rest of the world. So, with nothing more than a bow and arrows, 12-year-old Spike (Alfie Williams) sets out through the undead-infested countryside with his sick mother Isla (Jodie Comer), in search of a doctor who might be able to help her. Shit gets weird from there.

The Sounds: For his first big-screen adventure since 2019, Danny Boyle enlisted Oscar-winning sound designer Johnnie Burn (The Zone of Interest) to create... not so much a soundtrack as it is a soundscape, one that sometimes leans towards pure horror and sometimes utilizes the music of the band Young Fathers (making its scoring debut) for moments of transcendent beauty. Boyle told Bloody Disgusting that he deliberately chose to bring in new collaborators as opposed to the folks who worked on 28 Days Later because "we wanted the landscape to feel different, to feel fresh and different.”

Location, Location, Location: Shot in the north of England, Boyle leans hard on the outdoors, filling the movie with tranquil vistas of rolling hills and fields of wildflowers — tranquil, that is, until a zombie wanders into view (soon to be followed by many others). He also leans hard on little details to make Spike's small island village feel like a fully lived-in place, with its own rituals and traditions.

Key Image: The marketing for 28 Years Later heavily emphasizes the large towers of skulls that Spike and Isla encounter while searching for Dr. Kelson, played by a bright orange Ralph Fiennes. Out of context, they're without question eerie objects to observe, but one of the better surprises in 28 Years Later is how their meaning shifts by the end of the film. Yes, a giant pile of skulls isn't the most soothing image for anyone fully aware of what lurks under their own scalp, but when Kelson explains the full intention of what is essentially a decades-long art project, it takes on a certain beauty — especially when young Spike is tasked with the duty of placing a very important new skull in just the right position.

Alas, Poor Yorick: One of the better surprises of 28 Years Later is the nuanced development given to Fiennes' Dr. Kelson, initially introduced as a boogeyman living alone in the countryside, lost to lunacy. When Spike and Isla actually get to know him, they discover that, well, yeah, he's definitely not sane. But as mentioned, his life's work — an epic memorial to the lost, built from what they left behind — has a profound meaning once fully unpacked, and it's actually quite touching to realize that despite his years of isolation, he's still capable of great empathy. Not just for humans, even.

Also, he is bright orange (from the iodine) for the entire movie. And that's just kinda funny.

Put a Garland on It: It's really important to point out that it's not just Danny Boyle who returned for 28 Years Later, as Alex Garland is back as writer, after having spent the past 10 or so years focusing on his own work. He's been remarkably prolific during that time (certainly more prolific than Boyle), putting his imagination to work with projects like the FX series Devs, Ex Machina, Civil War, and Annihilation — the latter of which feels like a clear reference point for some of 28 Years Later's more surreal moments.

Analysis: It feels safe to say that Boyle and Garland reinvented the zombie movie entirely when 28 Days Later was released in 2002, and with their return to the genre, that same spirit lurks. Not that either of them could ever be called conservative, but there's a sense here that the time and distance from the original movie allowed them to unleash their wildest creative instincts.

Not all of it is successful — for some audiences, that aforementioned "soundscape" might be considered grating, and Boyle's heavy use of montage and archival footage feels unessential. It's also disappointing to see Jodie Comer, one of this generation's most talented actresses, trapped in a relatively thankless role (she acts the hell out of it, but she's a character without agency or form for far too much of her screen time). Still, as the movie's default star, Alfie Williams is a great casting find, and Fiennes brings a fascinating gravity to his scenes. 28 Years Later might feel pretty messy, but it's a thrill to know that Boyle and Garland didn't just shuffle mindlessly through this sequel. They attacked it. — Liz Shannon Miller

28 Years Later in theaters now.

Press Release: Two angels with a shitty track record on the job get handed a hell of an ultimatum: They’ve got to ace their next assignment or end up stuck on Earth forever. Before you can say “Bedford Falls,” they’re trying to manipulate two unlikely lovers — a down-on-his-luck janitor and the spoiled daughter of a rich asshole — into eternal bliss by way of kidnapping, death threats, poems, karaoke, and other terrible things. But mostly kidnapping.

The Sounds: Forget the title song — this sucker belongs to Beck and Bobby Darin. The latter’s “Beyond the Sea” sits squarely at the center of one of the film’s strongest scenes, the aforementioned karaoke outing in which Diaz and McGregor bond (what is it with Cameron Diaz and karaoke scenes?). The former’s “Deadweight” is the real standout, however, sitting atop an impressive list of tracks that includes Sneaker Pimps, Ash, R.E.M., The Prodigy, Squirrel Nut Zippers, and The Cardigans.

Location, Location, Location: Sadly, there’s precious little to report here. After Robert (McGregor) absconds with Celine (Diaz), they hide out in the woods of California. It’s impossible to watch a Boyle film without appreciating the man’s eye, but the glossiness of this thing makes it hard to appreciate the naturally beautiful setting.

Key Image: There are a few truly gorgeous shots in one of the film’s early scenes, as Celine is attempting to William Tell an apple off her would-be fiance’s (Tucci) head with a shotgun, but the real stunner here is found in that damned karaoke scene, when the first flush of love transforms a dive bar into something, shall we say, La La Land-esque.

A Film More Ordinary: In a searing take on the film for The A.V. Club’s My Year of Flops series, Nathan Rabin captures exactly how disappointing Boyle’s follow-up to Trainspotting was: “The ne'er do wells that made Trainspotting were coming for our daughters and their disposable income and bringing hunky Ewan McGregor along for backup.”

Yeah, no. Had Boyle made a dazzling mess, that would be one thing, but this thing borders on incoherent, and while there’s still some of the visual daring that made Trainspotting (and many of Boyle’s later films) such gems, there’s precious little to write home about. It’s not just a mess; it’s a dull mess, one that even the charms of Diaz and McGregor can’t save. What gives, Danny?

All hail Monk, saver of stories: Anecdotal evidence time. When researching and revisiting for this piece, this writer had a casual chat with a friend about A Life Less Ordinary. This writer’s friend summed up the unexpected delight in the film’s final act thusly: “It’s just an OK movie at best, and then Tony Shalhoub shows up, and it’s all worth it.”

Exaggeration? Perhaps just a little, but what is life without hyperbole? Regardless, one of the best lines in John Hodge’s screenplay arrives with Shalhoub, who delivers it with perfect, bewildered understatement: “Look at yourself. You're nothing. You're nobody. You're wanted in connection with a violent crime. You're cleaning the floor of a diner. She is an intelligent, passionate, beautiful, rich woman. The issue of whether or not she's your type is not one that you're likely to have to resolve in this world, or indeed the next, since she will be going to some heaven for glamorous pussy, and you will be cleaning the floor of a diner in hell.”

That it’s also the most sense anyone in the whole film makes is just a bonus. Thank you, Tony Shalhoub. And hey, thanks to this writer’s friend as well.

Analysis: The world of film is dotted with disappointments, and plenty of those dots are rom-coms. As anyone who cable-surfs on the weekends can tell you, these films have their moments, and it’s all too easy to suddenly realize you’ve watched more than half of You’ve Got Mail, despite the fact that You’ve Got Mail is just okay at best and sexless and boring at worst. Still: Tom Hanks! Meg Ryan! A solid supporting cast and a Nora Ephron screenplay! Make the mistake of killing time with this movie for a few minutes and odds are good it’ll still be on an hour later.

A Life Less Ordinary comes on, and odds are you’ll keep on flipping. That’s not to say it’s without its merits — the powers of Boyle, Hodge, and producer Andrew Macdonald are not to be denied — but it’s neither coherent enough to float along inoffensively, nor daring enough to justify such a sloppy narrative. Every few scenes something sparks, but before long it’s washed away by whatever new piece of nonsense arrives. Not even the charisma offered by its two leads serves as an anchor. It also has the rare distinction of containing a Holly Hunter performance so bewilderingly over the top that it makes it hard to remember why she ever won an Oscar, but that can be remedied by watching nearly any other Holly Hunter performance.

In a 1997 interview with the Independent, Boyle justified all that messiness thus: ‘"Looking at the film now, I think one of the good things about it is that it is slightly free-form. If people get caught up in it, they will enjoy the fact that some of it is pretty inexplicable - not in the way a David Lynch film would be, because it's lighter than that - but it is quite free. And the justification for that," he grins, "and this is the pompous bit, is that that's a bit like what it's like to be in love."

It is pompous. It’s also bullshit, but it sure sounds good. If only that were the movie he made. — Allison Shoemaker

Watch A Life Less Ordinary now on VOD via Apple TV.

Press Release: The life and times of famed Apple mogul Steve Jobs, as visualized through the frantic backdoor dealings leading up to three major events in the early years of the company's history: the Macintosh's public debut in 1984, the launch of Jobs' short-lived NeXT in 1988, and the unveiling of the game-changing iMac in 1998.

The Sounds: Daniel Pemberton's staccato-heavy synth score sounds exactly like you'd imagine the score for a film about a tech mogul would sound: digital, scattered, and with a propulsive forward momentum that screams "new discovery." It's deliberately minute, set up like much of the rest of the film to underscore the argument-heavy dialogue. If anything, Pemberton's work makes for an interesting counterpoint to the mile-a-minute cadences of Aaron Sorkin's screenwriting, populating the off beats between the rapid verbal exchanges.

Location, Location, Location: Where Boyle has often been known for his memorable locales, one of the more daring stylistic choices he makes in Jobs concerns the drab, unremarkable conference halls and backstage areas in which nearly every second of the film takes place. This is an "actor's movie," as they say, and Boyle keeps the backdrops as unmemorable as possible to highlight the film's numerous outstanding performances.

Key Image: Going with final shots in a category like this almost feels like a cheat, but whatever you might make of Steve Jobs, it's hard to deny the power of the film's last moment. Boyle frames Jobs' first great triumph from the perspective of the daughter that (as the film alleges) Jobs barely knew, gazing out with the rest of the crowd at a man who would revolutionize human interaction, him remaining as elusive and mysterious to her as anyone else.

The Fog of (Corporate) War: The accuracy of the film's version of real events seems to depend heavily on who you ask and when. For his part, Steve Wozniak (Jobs' renowned partner in Apple's infant stages) says that the film's exchanges between he and Jobs, particularly some of the more contentious ones, never took place.

Former Apple CEO John Sculley found the film impressive, but mentioned that Jobs was a kinder figure than the one that Boyle and Sorkin depict. And Pixar president Edwin Catmull went as far as saying that Jobs would have been appalled at the film's depiction of him, arguing that "Steve learned some major lessons, and he changed. He became an empathetic person, and we all saw this when [the Walter Isaacson book] was being written. Nobody's going to psychoanalyze Steve while he was alive. That aspect of the change of Steve was missed. That's the real story."

Building the Better Machine: There's a rigorousness to every aspect of the film that reflects its subject's obsessive and fastidious approach to technological development, and that extended to its production as well. Boyle shot each of the film's three sequences over one month, with two weeks allowed for rehearsal and two weeks for filming. That regimentation is reflected in the ruthlessly efficient filmmaking, which adds a much-needed breathlessness to what's otherwise a chamber drama about tech moguls having loud shouting matches.

Analysis: Steve Jobs is far less a traditional biopic than a structurally unorthodox character study about a celebrity figure, and this is to the film's distinct benefit. Boyle uses his characteristic energy in more muted ways throughout, allowing the interpersonal drama to drive the film's rhythms.

It's an anxious piece, both in the dramatic and filmic senses, as Boyle's camera tracks through endless hallways, lingering on his actors while they chew through Sorkin's typically verbose passages. It's as much a Sorkin film as one by Boyle, although the director proves himself as adept as David Fincher at creating a context in which the oft-debated screenwriter's grandiose prose can work. If the film gets excessively Sorkin-esque at times, that's how the man works.

As a chronicle of Jobs the mogul, Boyle's film is (for the most part) uncommonly candid about the significant roles that other people, and Jobs' elite marketing acumen, played in Apple's ascent to cultural ubiquity. There's a lack of hero worship for much of the film's runtime that feels refreshing, Fassbender pitching Jobs as less of the big-dreaming creator that Apple sold to the masses and more as a ruthless corporate type who could and would pull rank on even his closest confidants as needed.

It's then a letdown when the film's final minutes make a tone-deaf attempt to reel back the film's most incisive criticisms, instead ending on a resounding shrug and the cop-out of "Well, he did make the iPod, so it wasn't all bad!"

Ironically, the moments in Steve Jobs that try to canonize him the most are also the film's weakest. When it doesn't, though, Boyle does appealingly straightforward work in imagining what one of the most powerful people in the world actually looked like when the doors were closed and the cameras turned off. — D. Suzanne-Mayer

Watch Steve Jobs now on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: Twenty years after the events of Trainspotting, Mark Renton (Ewan McGregor) returns to Edinburgh to reconnect with the friends he left behind: Spud (Ewen Bremner), Sick Boy (Jonny Lee Miller), and Francis Begbie (Robert Carlyle). Before long, he's dragged back into the moral bankruptcy of his youth and yet another get-rich-quick scheme. Nostalgia, regret, and life-threatening peril ensue.

The Sounds: Some old, some new. In addition to an incredibly clever cue drop on "Lust for Life" early in the film, there's also a Prodigy remix of that Iggy Pop classic, as well as a poignant ambient reduction of Underworld's "Born Slippy". There's also a wealth of classics (Blondie, The Clash, Queen's "Radio Ga Ga" in a blaring nightclub) alongside new gems (Young Fathers, Wolf Alice). In its stylish pop, this is definitely a Danny Boyle movie.

Also, McGregor sings a ridiculous song about anti-Catholic colonialism. It's hilarious.

Location, Location, Location: Many of the locales will be familiar to fans of the original film, from the back streets of Edinburgh to the wide-open countryside in which the film's motley crew does a little more complaining about the futility of their lives. The pub owned by Sick Boy (or sorry, Simon now) is a central hub for the film, as is Simon's perfectly bachelor-esque flat. The locations are just a shade more glamorous this time around, at least except for poor Spud's apartment, which resembles the flophouses of its characters' youth.

Key Image: Boyle returns to a number of his old motifs throughout the film, but one of the most resonant comes in the one scene where Simon and Renton get back into the very worst of their old habits, shooting up together as a series of hallucinatory projections swallow the room. Boyle frames them slumped on the floor and bathed in lurid blues, almost as though the two of them were treading water and are now drowning anew.

Porno, but Not Quite: When T2 Trainspotting was first announced as being in the works, many viewers assumed it would be a film adaptation of Irvine Welsh's novel Porno, which revisited the Trainspotting protagonists later in life. However, as Boyle has frequently mentioned while doing press for the film, it's less a straight adaptation of Porno and more a sequel to Boyle's original film itself, with elements of Porno used as relevant throughout. For instance, the story of Simon finding out about Renton's new life in Amsterdam comes from the book, with the context slightly modified.

Spud's Words: One of the film's more clever updates of character comes when Spud is encouraged to start chronicling his misadventures as a literary project, which leads to the foursome reckoning with their behaviors in an entirely new way. As it turns out, all of Spud's prose comes straight from Welsh's original novel and the original descriptions of their story.

Analysis: It's hard to pull off a sequel to a film as widely beloved as Trainspotting, but T2 avoids the typical pitfalls of easy nostalgia by framing the continued misadventures of Renton and co. as a meditation on the hazards of easy nostalgia. Both in the literal (they were all junkies once, some still are) and filmic senses, T2 lingers on how age can make even the worst times seem better and what a crock of shit that so often is.

It's not that Renton left anything worth missing (aside from maybe Spud, who Bremner plays as endearingly as ever); it's that he left the only thing resembling a life that he had in deciding to "choose life" and now finds himself in his 40s, childless and soon-to-be-divorced, wondering what the hell he left for in the first place.

Yet, T2 doesn't go for the easy solution of celebrating its central reunion. Begbie is as much a bastard as ever, and Simon's half-cocked plan to open a brothel in the bar he inherited soon runs them into trouble with everyone from local crime lords to each other. These are people unable to know genuine peace or contentment, and Boyle re-envisions them as charming fuck-ups who're starting to lose their luster in old age, whether by impotence or the realization that they can't live this way forever, and that "forever" is nearer than it was ever supposed to be.

All the while, Boyle returns to the rapid-fire editing and stylized, free-form photography of his own youth in capturing their midlife crises, and the film is a more appropriate sequel to its wonderful source material for it. Boyle understands well that there's no going back in a true sense, but also that people will naturally spend their lives trying anyway, so why not just lean into it? — D. Suzanne-Mayer

Watch T2 Trainspotting now on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: Boyle's debut feature, Shallow Grave, follows three best mates/roommates (Ewan McGregor, Christopher Eccleston, Kerry Fox) who stumble upon the dead body of their mysterious new flatmate (Keith Allen), along with a suitcase filled with money. Deciding to cover up the death and keep the money for themselves, the three encounter complications, from nasty gangsters looking for their newly dead tenant to their own interpersonal fractures.

The Sounds: Simon Boswell's score for Boyle's debut film is appropriately minimalist, much of it consisting of simple orchestral strains during the trio's more dramatic turns of fortune. Still, the bits and bobs of '90s-era electronica interspersed throughout tease the deeper levels of menace our three protagonists will reach by the end.

Location, Location, Location: Juliet, David, and Alex's mundane, ordinary-looking flat is an ironic setting for much of the film's deceit and violence, highlighting the depravities the three eventually inflict on themselves and others.

Key Image: In a bit of foreshadowing of Trainspotting’s hallucinated infant on the ceiling, Shallow Grave also features a darkly comic shot of a motorized baby doll, its soundbox cackling wildly as it crawls along the floor with a dart in its head, while gangsters rough up the flatmates for their missing money. Even without the metatextual connection to Boyle's later film, it's a beautifully experimental image.

Early Experimentation: Even in Boyle's debut feature, glimmers of his slick, presentational style can already be found. Boyle makes heavy use of discomfiting close-ups, cheeky narration to the audience, and stylized camera movements to make the film feel immediate and kinetic. The spiraling close-ups of Eccleston's face that bookend the film remain some of his most visually potent work.

All About Ewan: In addition to being Boyle's first film, Shallow Grave is also the feature film debut of longtime Boyle collaborator Ewan McGregor, and early signs of his future stardom are easily found here. His Alex is beautifully acerbic and acid-tongued ("I'm not frightened! I'm a little terrified, maybe!"), allowing him to easily steal scenes from the more measured Eccleston and Fox.

Analysis: Right from the get-go, Boyle made an impression with the stylish, darkly comic 1994 thriller Shallow Grave. Taking a story right out of The Canterbury Tales (the plot bears a striking resemblance to "The Pardoner's Tale"), Shallow Grave is a cracking crime thriller whose command of tragic irony and fluid, mid-'90s aesthetics falls somewhere between Edgar Allen Poe and Quentin Tarantino. Fox, McGregor, and Eccleston have a wonderful dynamic as the fortune they find — and the lengths to which they must go to keep it — tests their friendship in unexpected ways.

Compared to Boyle's more formally ambitious efforts — Slumdog, 127 Hours, 28 Days Later — one can be forgiven for feeling that Shallow Grave is his most stripped-down, bare-bones film to date. Still, considering its microbudget (made for around $2.5 million), it's clear that Boyle was cutting his teeth on Shallow Grave, testing out new techniques and modifying his style to suit the comparatively modest demands of this particular film. Every Boyle masterwork after this has Shallow Grave to thank. — C. Worthington

Watch Shallow Grave now on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: 127 Hours recounts the real-life story of Aron Ralston (James Franco), a young, adventurous rock climber who, after an accident, finds himself trapped in the middle of nowhere with a rock pinning his right arm to the canyon wall he has fallen into. With nothing but a DV camera, sports bottle, and a too-dull knife, Aron must deal with his own internal demons while finding a way to extricate himself from the rock.

The Sounds: A.R. Rahman, Boyle's collaborator on Slumdog Millionaire, returns with a plaintive, guitar-focused score that infuses Aron's journey with an intriguing sense of pathos.

Location, Location, Location: This one's easy: the deep, unyielding crevasse in which Aron is trapped for much of the film's runtime is a hauntingly beautiful location. Boyle makes the place seem claustrophobic and yet impossibly cavernous, its deep walls torturing Aron (and the audience) with the impossibility of escape.

Key Image: Boyle's many close-ups of Aron's face through the screen of his small DV camera, which acts as companion, confessional and audience for the 127 hours he spends stuck in the cavern.

A Real One-Man Show: Commanding the entirety of a film's runtime by yourself is no small feat, but Franco's command performance in 127 Hours is something to behold even for his most ardent critics. He's pitch-perfect as Aron, the self-proclaimed "American superhero" who's immediately humbled by his experience and forced to reckon with his own demons in order to escape. There's something heartbreakingly innocent about Franco's performance, depicting a man who is unwilling to stop and look himself in the mirror until literally held in one place by circumstance. He was nominated for an Oscar and deservedly so (though the same can't be said for his duties as co-host that same year).

Getting Amp(utat)ed Up: The story of Aron Ralston is nothing without his eventual self-amputation to free himself from the rock, leading to some of the most visceral, nail-biting sound design of Boyle's filmography. Nothing in recent cinema gets you in the fillings more than that high-pitched screech illustrating the white-hot pain of Aaron's nerves being severed by an unsharpened Swiss Army knife.

Analysis: Man-against-nature stories are nothing new; from Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea to Cast Away and even The Martian, stories of mankind's ability to persevere in the face of tremendous, uncontrollable forces and odds are as old as time. Ralston's story, however, gave Boyle (and co-writer Simon Beaufoy) room to create a taut, effective thriller in the most restrictive of circumstances.

Boyle himself described 127 Hours as "an action movie with a guy who can't move"; as such, the film smartly takes the focus off the logistics of his plight and turns it into a uniquely self-reflexive character study. Boyle is concerned less with how Aron gets out as how he got there in the first place.

As the refreshingly self-aware Aron cheekily admits in a faux interview he gives to the camera, "I'm something of a ... well, a big fucking hard hero. And I can do everything on my own, you see?" It's this awesomely minimalist exploration of masculine attitudes about achievement and independence, anchored by Boyle's excellent direction and Franco's incredible performance, that elevates 127 Hours into something special. — C. Worthington

Watch 127 Hours now on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: After the death of his mother, a little boy takes solace in the saints who appear to him in visions, particularly in the cardboard fortress he’s built alongside a train. When a bag full of fat cash comes flying in through the cardboard roof, he sees it as a gift from God with which he can save lives, while his brother sees it as a chance to be real damn rich. With Britain set to switch from the pound to the euro, whatever they do with the money, they’ve got to do it fast.

The Sounds: While there are some appropriately sunny pop tunes and one perfect entry from The Clash on board, Millions mostly floats by on John Murphy’s score, by turns mischievous and enchanting. Sure, it’s about one magical twinkle short of being entirely too precious, but given that this is the only feature in Boyle’s filmography to be rated anything but R, let’s forgive a little whimsy — particularly because this is a film that earns every damn twinkle it gets.

Location, Location, Location: Like fellow British-movie-about-a-kid-with-a-gift Billy Elliot, Millions has an incredibly rich sense of place. This isn’t a story that would work if it was suddenly set in Texas, and it’s not merely because the US is unlikely to switch to the Euro. Damian’s family is new in their Northern English town, and the audience experiences this new place right along with Damian and brother Anthony. Every scene feels honest and lived-in, a world where everything is familiar to everyone but the new kids in town. And yes, as a bonus, it’s just lovely.

Key Image: Cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle and Boyle work pretty well together, it seems — see the next two films on this list, one of which won them both Oscars — and Millions is no exception. Each and every appearance by a saint is in its way a stunner, and the same can be said of an early sequence when Damian and Anthony watch as their new neighborhood gets constructed around them. Still, let’s give it to the glorious sequence when Damian and a ramshackle donkey follow a star through the streets. Still gets me, every time.

Kids: They’re People Too!: One of the great strengths of Millions lies in the fact that Boyle and screenwriter Frank Cottrell Boyce seemingly rejected all of the pat-on-the-head spoon-feeding typical of so many family-friendly films. One explanation for this is that maybe the men who brought you such kid-friendly outings as 28 Days Later and 24 Hour Party People don’t really have it in them to make such a film. The real secret, however, is probably that they’re good at their jobs and found kids who were also good at their jobs in Alex Etel and Lewis McGibbon.

Take, for example, Damian’s open acceptance of his visions, or his honest surprise that the money isn’t a hallucination. It’s all very simple to him. Better still, look at Anthony’s reasoning for keeping the cash after they learn its origin (“It isn't the money's fault it got stolen”) or his plan to take advantage of the switch in currency. These kids are smart, brave, and honest. One sees the real problems of the world everywhere; one has learned to view life as practically as possible. Both are treated like people and not cherubs, and that’s a sadly rare thing in movies of this genre.

Best Adapted Novel: Boyce’s first novel was, you guessed it, Millions — but the screenplay came first. While the novel, which went on to win the Carnegie Medal, landed on shelves months before the film’s release, Boyce didn’t begin to write it until after Boyle suggested he tackle an adaptation of the script. It’s a lucky thing, too, as a scene written for the adaptation found its way into the film after Boyle read the novel based on the movie he was almost done making. Then the universe collapsed on itself.

Analysis: Boyle doesn’t seem like a no-brainer choice for a kids’ flick, does he? Yet here we are with Millions, a deliriously warm and earnest film that never stoops to tawdry sentimentality or blatant tear-jerking. As stated above, it doesn’t live or die by Boyle’s knack for visual flash, but on his ability to tell an honest, surprising story by grounding it in the lives of its characters and in unshowy but impressive-as-hell performances.

That’s not to say that Millions would work every bit as well as, say, a play — although stage that thing with Boyle attached and then take all this writer’s money — but that it’s deeply intimate and unshakably grounded. Any indulgence in whimsy or moment of wonder is well and truly earned by the good, honest work that brings such moments about, and even if the saints didn’t have little halos and an otherworldly glow, it would still be a winner.

But the halos are there, as are countless other moments of visual trickery and cleverness, and thank god they are. In Millions, Boyle takes the aesthetic that’s made so many of his grittier films unforgettable and lends it to a genre for which, somehow, it seems to be an even better match. Instead of Boyle’s world, we feel we’re living in Damian’s, seeing visions that only he can see and at which we’re permitted to peek. Look at a still, and you can pick it out as a Boyle film straight away, but watch it, fall into this remarkable little world, and suddenly Danny Boyle is an afterthought. This is how Damian sees things, and that is all that matters. — A. Shoemaker

Watch Millions now on VOD via Apple TV.

Press Release: A Mumbai teenager is one question away from becoming a millionaire on a game show (you know the one), but the host and security staff find it impossible that an uneducated ruffian could know so much. Forced to justify his success, Jamal explains where he learned the correct answer to each question, and if he just so happens to tell his life story along the way, so much the better.

Soundtrack: A.R. Rahman wasn’t short on acclaim outside the US when Slumdog earned him two Oscars, but they probably look very nice on his bookshelf. His evocative, often thrilling score pairs pulse-raising percussion with electronica, jazz, and hip-hop. A cool-as-hell collaboration with M.I.A. doesn’t hurt, either.

Location, Location, Location: India. There’s a reason the film’s chaos and color are so striking — Boyle and company set up shop all over Mumbai, including shoots in neighborhoods that perhaps weren't entirely safe.

Key Image: For all the glorious scenes and shots in Slumdog, the one that dazzles most is simple: Jamal catching a glimpse of a yellow scarf between the cars of a passing train. The fact that an awesome dance sequence follows just a minute or two later is a nice bonus, but that scarf all by itself does the trick.

Hire Dev Patel: In December 2016, Patel told ABC that after Slumdog, the roles weren’t, erm, rolling in. “I just stepped off this red carpet, surrounded by all these amazing actors and Oscar winners, and there was nothing," he said, presumably while brushing his gorgeous hair out of his perfect face, because Dev Patel is a goddamn movie star and the fact that his big breakout film didn’t have him swimming in scripts is a farce.

Things have turned around — he got an Oscar nomination this year, and he was one of the good things about the admittedly terrible The Newsroom, and he’s still a fox who is also very talented. Still, according to IMDb, he’s got one project in post-production and that’s it. Perhaps it’s time for Hollywood to go ahead and hire this dude, a lot, for lots of things. Then he can get an Oscar nomination for something that isn’t Lion.

There’s No Way to Make a Cute Title When You’re About to Address Potential Cultural Insensitivity in a Crowd-Pleasing Movie: Want to feel kind of weird about a great film? Spend some time with this Wikipedia page. For a white girl to attempt to sum up something this complicated would be foolish at best, so instead this writer suggests that you read up, think about the complaints lodged by many (but not all) Indian film critics, and think about whether or not it’s weird that Jamal suddenly starts speaking British English.

One thing that seems pretty straightforward, however: Slumdog Millionaire is a great film, but it’s a British film, and rather than just celebrating a tribute to Indian filmmaking, perhaps we should also spend some time celebrating Indian filmmaking itself.

Analysis: With Millions, Boyle honed his knack for feel-goodery, but with Millionaire, he took that impulse and made an impeccably structured chase movie that’s also a love story that’s also a coming-of-age story that’s also a look at a culture unfamiliar to many Western viewers that’s also a damn game show.

With the help of Loveleen Tandan, his co-director in India, and armed with Simon Beaufoy’s impeccably structured screenplay, Boyle dropped audiences into Jamal’s story and then let him run. It’s exhilarating, often frightening and surprisingly funny, but behind the frantic feel and the cool-as-hell structure, it’s just a story of a kid who loves a girl, and that simple fact anchors all the carefully controlled chaos that follows. The train may be racing, but it never leaves Boyle’s tracks.

Perhaps it’s not surprising that Boyle’s sole Oscar arrived courtesy of a flashy crowd-pleaser — it’s not as though we live in a world where 28 Days Later is likely to rack up statuettes, brilliant as it is — but to view it as a safe, little movie would be to underestimate its power.

As with Millions, Boyle and company make sure that compelling characters and grounded performances come first. In doing so, they buy so much goodwill that a big dance number in the credits is not only earned, it’s practically demanded. Slumdog Millionaire may make you feel good, but that’s not because it’s lazy. It’s because it works so damn hard, and all that work pays off. — A. Shoemaker

Watch Slumdog Millionaire now on VOD via Apple TV.

Press Release: Zombies appear at the dawn of their latest resurgence in the pop cultural mainstream. This time, it’s like Outbreak: a rage-inducing mega-virus is unleashed when a monkey bites an activist trying to free lab animals. And with that, the title and phrase, 28 Days Later becomes like new “yada yada yada” as we smash-cut to a British apocalypse with limited survivors.

The Sounds: John Murphy had the honors here, providing Boyle with a moody, ambient, post rock-tinged score that runs the gamut from airy astonishment to death-march guitars. There’s Brian Eno, Grandaddy, and Blue States contributions sprinkled in, but Murphy’s “In the House — In a Heartbeat” became the film’s calling card. (The track’s used repeatedly in the sequel.)

Location, Location, Location: Boyle and crew make magnificent use of London’s more thronged locations by staging some impressively empty imagery. Early on, lone survivor Jim (Murphy) is starkly placed in wide shots, by himself, in iconic locales like Westminster Bridge, Piccadilly Circus, Horse Guards Parade, and Oxford Street. One might assume digital enhancement was at play, but this was 2002, and the $8 million production budget might not have covered that kind of hardware. Ever the optimist with a nifty eye, Boyle went quick and lean, shutting off streets on Sunday mornings for mere minutes at a time.

Key Image: There’s maximum pulp here, with invigorating Boyle images to behold at every turn. “Hell” on Earth. Eyes being gouged. And again, those awful running zombies. But those empty streets truly pay off early and astonishingly.

Would you look at the desolation? Not even the aging DV camerawork hampers the impact of a lone Jim, surrounded by trash, empty streets, and an eerie Big Ben. It’s the film’s best effort at scaring through considered concepts, more so than any jolt or jump or gory bit.

“I’m not dead yet!”: Semantics time! Did you know that the zombies of 28 Days Later aren't technically supposed to be zombies? Well, at least not in the traditional undead sense. The running, biting, blood-spewing abominations of Alex Garland’s script, while inspired by the likes of Resident Evil, are not actually zombies.

The “rage virus” leaves its victims alive, but leaves them vicious and mindless, with a taste for human flesh (not brains). It's a spin on the modern fear of viral infection and more of a metaphor for modern anger and the rage phenomenon. You know, road rage. Social rage. So, they're not zombies. Just ill, messed-up people that would still be fucking scary to meet in an empty tunnel.

“Radical Alternative Ending”: Spoilers on a 15-year film coming up. Then again, is it a spoiler if said content was never actually filmed? At the end of 28 Days Later, Jim, Selena (Harris), and Hannah (Burns) make it out against all odds. It’s an implausibly upbeat end to such a dire film, but it sure does feel cathartic given what precedes it.

But that ending took effort to reach. There were four alternate endings before 28 Days Later came out the way it did, and three endings were shot and even tested. One where Jim dies (bummer), one with a dream (blech), and one where Jim’s big rescue is cut around Hannah and Selena’s survival (huh).

But perhaps the wackiest ending was only developed in storyboards. The soldiers in the last act would have been cut, and Jim would have gone all MacGyver and rescued Frank (Gleeson) with a blood transfusion after encountering a mysterious scientist. It's mildly rubbish, but fascinating as an insight into Boyle’s creative process. He apparently considered that ending, without being asked by the studio, in the middle of post-production.

The other endings are on the DVD and Blu-ray. Or YouTube, if you don’t want to pay money and stuff.

Analysis: Fifteen years later, this film is still a rush. 28 Days Later is a new classic. It’s nightmare-inducing horror (this writer can prove that) with a bodacious blend of social panic, Lord of the Flies survivalism, and can-do kick-ass indie invention. What’s more chilling: a snarling zombie that wants to kill you or becoming aware that man has intentions to kill, zombie or not, with science, military, and selfishness as its driving factors?

28 Days Later is a bold vision of society at the brink, and its outlook is often quite fatalistic and grim. It’s also a shot in the arm and a wildly compelling watch that races along impressively. But above all, let us not forget, this film is scary as fuck. Boyle lets loose, giving an amped-up take on a staid monster trope. This shows that Boyle’s at his best when he’s reinventing genre films — drug films, holiday films, and in this case, a zombie flick.

Every idea gels, and every technique collides to startling effect. It’s a seriously confident Boyle effort, and his jittery instincts and fast-paced style lend themselves extremely well to scares. His digital camerawork is quick and immediate, adding urgency and a sense of reality. Every fleck of liquid and dirt feels dangerous in a viral atmosphere. Alex Garland’s script courses with unease. The ideology and symbolism of a large-scale plague is rooted in modern medical fear and real-life scares ranging from Mad Cow to 9/11.

And the tight-fisted storytelling makes for compelling “what if?” fiction that invites concern for characters and dread of their situation. Flat tires are never this dangerous. Abuse of power seldom feels so immediate. The will to survive is ugly, but necessary. Jim was just a courier, and the perils of his life revolved around car doors. Now he must witness severed limbs, the threat of rape, and the loss of human life in too many ways to count. Any ease is short. A trip to the grocery store is a blip of joy amidst ultra-violent defense and the creeping meaningless of human normalcy and attachment.

Boyle and Garland devised a series of dire scenarios and perfectly wrapped them in frightening ways. Survive this and you will have experienced a modern masterwork of fraught-nerve filmmaking. — B. Goble

Watch 28 Days Later now on Pluto TV or on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.

Press Release: Adapted from Irvine Welsh's classic novel, a bunch of young junkies in Scotland navigate the perils of their early 20s: love, lust, relationships, nightclubbing, and child rearing. That is, when they're not stealing electronics to fund their habits or planning out the "great skag deal" that could reverse their collective fortunes for good. But Renton (Ewan McGregor) has more ambitious plans for his life: sobriety, and whatever lies beyond it if he can get himself there.

The Sounds: As a filmmaker, Boyle has always been known for his musical acumen, and here's your reason why. The Trainspotting soundtrack belongs on any and every list of the all-time greats, with its classic uses of Underworld and Iggy Pop underscored by New Order, Pulp, Blur, Lou Reed, Brian Eno, Heaven 17, Primal Scream, and a host of other tracks setting the tone of a synth-heavy, drug-addled '90s Europe. Hell, that ending set to "Born Slippy" is arguably in the conversation for greatest uses of music in any film.

Location, Location, Location: Aside from maybe Under the Skin, Scotland has never looked so despairing on film. But there's a bit of cinematic trickery happening on Boyle's part; only the opening scenes of the film were actually shot in Edinburgh, where the film is set; most of the photography took place in Glasgow, with the finale actually filmed in England. Nevertheless, Boyle drifts through the pubs and flophouses of the city with equally weary exhaustion. It's telling that most of the film's energy comes from its leads and their irresponsible actions, while the city remains relentlessly still around them.

Key Image: Come on. We're talking about Trainspotting. You all know exactly where this is going.

Begbie's Quiet Outrage: Robert Carlyle has previously touched on in interviews on the fact that he always imagined Francis Begbie as a closeted homosexual, whose bursts of violence and anger were a function of his fear of being outed. For his part, Welsh has supported this version of the character, which makes sense given Begbie's ambiguous sexuality in both the book and film. (T2 Trainspotting would seem to walk this back, but even the closeted sometimes get married to the opposite sex. These things happen.)

The Worst Toilet in Scotland: After the ghost of the dead baby, the next most famous image in Trainspotting is probably that of Renton crawling whole-body into an unimaginably dirty toilet in pursuit of a pair of heroin suppositories. While the sequence is disgusting, particularly for the germaphobes out there, it wasn't as bad as it looked. In fact, it was well-arranged chocolate syrup that gave the toilet its grisly colors. So, if you ever want to perform an absolutely terrible prank on your roommates, there you are.

Analysis: Trainspotting might be one of the all-time great "drug movies," but it's the film's unwillingness to simply bathe in the horrors and humiliations of addicts that elevates it to that realm. Boyle's film perfectly captures the agonies and ecstasies of Welsh's misfits in equal measure, which is crucial; the film is as much about why people would ever start doing heroin as what it does to the body once taken up.

It's also a youthful film in every sense, from the breathless performances to Boyle's untamed filmmaking to the sense of immortality that drives Renton and his friends forward. Rarely has any film captured being young in this way, the film's most unspeakable tragedies usually bridged by a conversation about Bond movies or a joke about the plight of Scotland.

But even the jokes ring hollow after a time, and it's in the film's pensive comedown phase that Trainspotting becomes more than a giddy '90s throwback. Boyle artfully shifts the film's tone from liberated to exhausted so subtly that it's hard to notice how different the film's tone is in its last few scenes, but it's a sadder one for sure.

Once Renton figures out that getting clean and staying with his friends are mutually exclusive plans, Trainspotting becomes more than a tale of heroin addiction. It's a parable for aging out of your own life, for the sensations that come with getting older and realizing that maybe even your best friends don't have your best interests at heart.

And ultimately, it's about the pain of leaving them behind and the greater (and more honest) pain of realizing that there might not even be anything worth leaving them for. There are just cars, families, and the other conveniences of the modern world, the things you want because you're told you want and need them. But in choosing life, that's the deal you make. — D. Suzanne-Mayer

Watch Trainspotting now on Kanopy, Hoopla, and Pluto TV or on VOD via Apple TV and Amazon.