How do you solve a problem like Christopher Nolan, an man who can turn cerebral puzzles into blockbusters but still makes you feel like you're watching cinema directed by a brain in a jar? Answer: Give him a massive WWII set piece to recreate. The filmmaker somehow turned his massive spectacle about a turning point in Britain's battle against the Nazis (the old ones, not the shitty modern-day ones we're dealing with now) into something with urgency, humanity, a pulse, a soul. You could actually hear a heartbeat beneath all of his usual bells and whistles, which only made the cross-cutting between three chronologically mixed stories feel that much more of an achievement. We always knew he was a technically proficient and someone who could intellectualize pop. Dunkirk proves, once and for all, that he's also an artist, full stop.