Christopher Nolan's films are a testament to his mastery of immersive cinema, with each film offering a unique world, logic, and feel that captivates audiences. From the gritty urban landscapes of Gotham City to the vast expanses of outer space, Nolan's films are a journey through time, space, and the human condition. Here's a ranking of his films from worst to best, with a heavy focus on personal commentary and analysis.
Oppenheimer (2023): Nolan's first Oscar wins for Best Picture and Best Director were undeniably deserved. Cillian Murphy's career-best turn as the titular physicist and Robert Downey Jr as his bureaucratic friend-turned-foe Lewis Strauss, Nolan takes what on paper could be dry subject matter and transforms it into a dazzling, yet still thought-provoking, piece of cinema. The whole Barbenheimer phenomenon undoubtedly helped put more bums on seats, but even without Margot Robbie’s cheerful pink counterpart, Oppenheimer would still have pulled in the numbers. It's a testament to Nolan's ability to attract audiences to a three-hour, oft-monochromatic character study about the man who invented the atomic bomb.
The Dark Knight (2008): This was the comic-book movie to end all comic-book movies. After revolutionising the genre with Batman Begins, Nolan mastered it with a transcendent sequel rooted in the very real fears of a post-9/11 world. Heath Ledger – who tragically died just months before its release – deservedly garnered the most attention for his mesmerising, posthumous-Oscar-winning turn as the Joker, a force-of-nature villain with the most terrifying motive of all (“Some men just want to watch the world burn”). But The Dark Knight has more to offer than its paint-smeared anarchist, from the stunning IMAX-shot cityscapes to the dynamic bank robbery that evokes the classic crime noirs of the 70s.
Inception (2010): Will Smith turned down the lead in this labyrinthine sci-fi after being left utterly bamboozled by its plot. It’s possibly the only time he’s been relatable. Instead starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Inception tests audiences more than any other Nolan film, its dream-within-a-dream structure blurring the boundaries between fantasy and reality from its opening heist to its ambiguous spinning-top finale. Whether you understand all the subconscious infiltration or not, it’s still a marvel to behold, its intricate conceptual world producing numerous indelible sequences – most notably the folding streets of Paris – that redefined the art of cinema.
The Prestige (2006): The Prestige seems to be regarded as one of Nolan’s lesser films, perhaps because, like its two warring illusionists, it simply wants to put on a show. Indeed, despite portraying the real-life father of electricity Nikola Tesla (a magnetic David Bowie), this Victorian London, steampunk-indebted caper largely saws all logic and reason in half, utilising everything from secret identical twins to teleportation machines to pull the rug from under its audience’s feet. Bale and Hugh Jackman are also pitch perfect as the longtime rivals whose battle of one-upmanship comes at a repeatedly deadly cost. It’s Nolan at his sleight-of-hand best.
Memento (2000): Existential murder-mystery Memento instantly cemented Nolan as one of his generation’s most innovative storytellers, adopting an audacious use of colour and shifting timelines which curiously tied up all the many loose ends in reverse. Guy Pearce, no longer “Mike from Neighbours”, matches the intensity of the script as an amnesiac who relies on Polaroids and body tattoos to retain the invaluable information he hopes will lead him to his wife’s killer. Also one of the first films to harness the power of the internet – audiences could seek out further clues on its official site – this cinematic puzzle box is often disorienting but always thrilling.
Dunkirk (2017): Dunkirk is a Second World War movie like no other. Continuing his penchant for jumbling chronology, Nolan interweaves three different timelines during the titular evacuation, spending an hour in the air, a day at sea, and a week on the beach where thousands of soldiers waited for salvation. Despite a stacked cast of future stars including Barry Keoghan and Jack Lowden, alongside an acting debut for Harry Styles, it gives them little to say, instead allowing Zimmer’s unbearably tense score and visceral combat and rescue scenes to do all the talking. The result is an unforgettable quasi-silent film that honours the resilience of its troops without ever resorting to gung-ho jingoism.
Batman Begins (2005): Eight years after box office bomb Batman and Robin appeared to Bang! Boom! Pow! superhero films into oblivion, Nolan single-handedly resurrected the genre by gravitating – both figuratively and literally – to the dark side. Eschewing the cartoonish costumes and camp one-liners, Batman Begins instead grounds its themes of vengeance and redemption in a much grittier, gloomier world, but one that Bale’s Caped Crusader still feels obliged to protect. Furthermore, it established several long-running creative partnerships, with Michael Caine, Cillian Murphy and composer Hans Zimmer all becoming Nolan regulars. Unfortunately, its success also gave Hollywood carte blanche to give every superhero their own self-serious origin story with diminishing returns.
Interstellar (2014): Influenced by what Nolan described as the “key touchstones” of science-fiction (most blatantly, hero Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey), Interstellar boasts some truly breathtaking cosmic visuals and, thanks to input from real-life astrophysicist Kip Thorne, a keen understanding of everything from time dilation to supermassive black holes. But in a rarity for the stiff upper lip Brit, he seems equally interested in exploring human emotion. None more so than in the scene where Matthew McConaughey’s space traveller – on a mission to find a replacement habitat for a dust-ravaged Earth – tearfully watches decade-spanning family footage from back home. Who knew that Nolan does indeed have a heart?
Insomnia (2002): A remake of the 1997 Norwegian thriller of the same name, Insomnia is the only film in Nolan’s catalogue he didn’t have a hand in writing. He still makes his mark throughout, capturing the bleakness and chilliness of the wild Alaskan landscape so effectively you’re soon reaching for your scarf and gloves. He also draws top-notch performances out of Al Pacino and Robin Williams, the former a sleep-deprived detective consumed by guilt over an accidental death and its subsequent cover-up, and the latter playing against the wisecracking type as a scheming killer. It’s a refreshingly straightforward yet still compelling watch which, as argued by the man himself, stands up as Nolan’s most underrated work.
The Dark Knight Rises (2012): Having set the superhero gold standard with his previous venture into Gotham, The Dark Knight, Nolan set himself a near-insurmountable task with its follow-up. The Dark Knight Rises, which brings Christian Bale's brooding Batman out of an eight-year self-imposed exile to save the day again, is a perfectly solid trilogy closer containing all the comic-book bells and whistles you’d expect. But although Tom Hardy’s masked man Bane makes for a physically imposing – if indecipherable – villain, he’s no Joker. And while Nolan has since dismissed accusations of pro-capitalist propaganda, its anti-Occupy Wall Street messaging suggests otherwise. It might be the highest-grossing film in the franchise (and his career), but it’s the least essential.
Following (1998): It almost seems churlish to compare Nolan’s directorial debut – a no-budget 70-minute affair shot at weekends with the help of family and friends – to the cash-splashing, A-list blockbusters that have attracted so many fanboys. The filmmaker, who also served as writer, editor, producer and photographer, couldn’t even afford professional lighting. The story of a voyeuristic novelist (known simply as The Young Man) who, while searching for inspiration, becomes embroiled in London’s criminal underbelly, Following inevitably lacks Nolan’s usual shine. Still, with its neo-noir visual style, non-linear structure and twists and turns that practically demanded a rewatch, it resourcefully hinted at the greatness to come.
Tenet (2020): Positioned as the saviour of Hollywood in the summer of 2020, Tenet was the first tentpole release to hit cinemas once the early lockdown restrictions were lifted. But many of those who flocked to its socially distant screenings were left wishing they’d stayed at home baking sourdough instead. Leaning into his worst impulses – metaphysical mumbo-jumbo, wafer-thin characterisation, painfully humourless dialogue – Nolan’s attempt to put a time-inverting spin on James Bond was an impenetrable slog that suggested he’d been blinded by his own hype. Tenet sure looks cool, but it’s all style and no substance.
