Listen, I saw The Hurt Locker. It was amazing and totally worthy of winning that best picture Oscar. Moreover, I’m sure El Secreto de Sus Ojos is a great movie too, although I have yet to personally see it.

But, in my mind, if Kanye had walked up during Kathryn Bigelow’s acceptance speech and pushed Martin and Baldwin to the ground to say: “I’m really happy for you Kathryn and I’mma let you finish — but Jacques Audiard’s movie A Prophet was one of the best movies of all time! of all time!!!!”

I probably would have not behooved him, because fictional Kanye meme is right — despite being nominated for best foreign film and not even winning his own category, I truly believe Audiard has made a movie for the ages.

Even though it nearly won the Palme D’or at Cannes last year, me and a friend walked into a late night showing of A Prophet last Sunday to see a completely empty theatre. There was one other, lonely individual in the room. Later on, another brave soul would join us right as the lights dimmed.

Two and a half hours later, four guys walked out of the only cinema in Toronto showing this movie with our minds thoroughly and utterly blown.

Exiting onto the streets afterwards, my friend and I talked feverishly with one of our fellow audience members (meaning I surveyed 75 per cent of the viewers at the screening) about what an amazing film it was. We all bonded instantly over the secret our de facto private screening revealed: A Prophet is an almost indescribably good movie.

To find an apt analogy without simply tossing out adjectives, A Prophet is to prison movies as The Wire is to television cop shows. To say both blow preconceived notions out of the water would be, frankly, doing both an understated disservice.

Although it subscribes to some classic storytelling conventions, Audiard’s film never feels rote. Part of this is because, if taken superficially as just a prison movie, it would still be the best prison movie ever made. At an epic running time of two and a half hours though, the layers of the film are as numerous and nuanced as a Joyce or Dickens novel. Few films approach A Prophet‘s sheer ambition; even fewer actually pull it off.

Audiard captures the visceral, claustrophobic atmosphere of prison; the gritty moral ambiguity of crime and socio-economic class; the twists and turns of a great caper; the tautness of a classic thriller; the pathos of religion and ideology; the philosophy of art; the emotion of the human condition; the epic satisfaction of a heroic journey; the ebullience of life’s minutiae; the nuance of our own code of ethics.

A Prophet is nearly all things to all people. Yes the action will keep you riveted and the story is, to use a cliche, a tour de force. But the French film also forces the audience to dig deeper, analyzing the films symbolism and the commentary long after the credits have rolled.

The only demographic who might not revel in its awesomeness might be individuals not fond of graphic violence or swearing in multiple languages. Basically, if you are incredibly sensitive, really enjoyed The Proposal, do not understand male entertainment or all of the above, you may not be as impressed by this film. But it will certainly still entertain you – the writing and acting are both undeniably strong.

There are no weak performances in this movie and lead Tahar Rahim arduously carries the audience through every dirty crevice of of his travails and triumphs.

It may not have won an Oscar, but in my estimation, A Prophet contains all the best qualities of The Hurt Locker and simply takes it to another level — one that forces you to consider not just the issues of the characters, but questions about your own life and those around you writ large.

Simply put, to me it was the movie of the year. Everyone should see this film.

In keeping with the atmosphere of progress following Kathryn Bigelow’s two big wins at the Academy Awards and the spotlight of  International Women’s Day, let’s take a look at two prescient Marvel comic books that came out last week: the first issue of the 3-part anthology series, Girl Comics and Valerie D’Orazio’s one-shot Punisher MAX: Butterfly, both of which show the scope of what can be achieved when we have more female voices in the creative industry.

Girl Comics collects a bunch of short stories by female writers and artists that range in tone and style. The intro pages by Colleen Coover are incredibly charming (no really, that’s the word to use, I’m not just trying to sound cultured!), featuring a bunch of different heroines in different poses with different facial expressions. It does a good job showing that although they are all collected here under a title that some might see as reductive, Marvel’s female characters exist across a wide spectrum — or at least they should. “It’s not because we are different…Yet we are all unique,” goes the dialogue.

This line of thinking follows throughout the anthology, where stories range from cutesy to gritty, whimsical to sad.

Not all of them work as well as others, but I’m a big fan of D’Orazio’s Punisher short, as well as Devin Grayson’s take on the Cyclops/Jean Grey/Wolverine love triangle, which usually concentrates on Wolverine’s tragic longing but here offers up something more nuanced from Jean’s perspective. The story will ring true with anyone who has battled stray thoughts or felt the sting of jealousy while in a committed relationship.

In all, Girl Comics is a good read and I’m looking forward to the next two installments. The question remains though whether Marvel treats it as a quirky side-project, or if the series signals a genuine movement towards more female representation both behind the scenes and on the page. We’re seeing strides here and there. Grayson can now count herself as the first woman ever to hold down a regular writing duties on a monthly Batman book, but considering Ms. Marvel just got her series axed, I’m a little skeptical overall. Dollars do the talking, of course, so go out and buy the book.

Girl Comics for me just drives home the importance of diversity of voices. More voices = more and different stories and that’s something that’s always good for us as culture consumers, no matter what medium we’re talking about. To go back to the movie analogy, some have already started to backlash against Bigelow and The Hurt Locker saying that she won by directing a “guy’s” movie. I think the stupidity of that speaks for itself, but even if that statement is correct, the solution is STILL to start giving more opportunities to more women directors.

I mention Bigelow because of the next book, Punisher MAX: Butterfly, which in some ways is very much a “guy’s” comic book. The art is dark and moody, and the story centers around a woman who was sexually abused — something which a lot of people are tired of seeing in comic books. The difference is that while abused females are all too often used as narrative devices by male writers to make the lives of male characters seem more interesting, D’Orazio makes Butterfly strictly about the woman in question. This isn’t a story that abuses its female character. It’s a story about a female character that has been abused. The difference might be splitting hairs to some, but all I have to say is to read the book.

‘Nuff said.