AW_McGOWAN

I have long held a tumultuous disposition towards Wes Anderson's unique cinematic style. Cutting when the camera should pan, panning when the camera should cut, splitting his movies into chapters, and choosing distractingly vibrant color pallets, Wes tends to be a bit too flashy for my taste. Nevertheless, despite it still sporting all of these Wes-isms, "The Grand Budapest Hotel" is an undeniable gem.

Anderson's eighth feature, "Budapest Hotel" is a (double) framed narrative told over a 1968 dinner at the titular establishment. Aging hotel owner Zero Moustafa (F. Murray Abraham) tells an unnamed visiting writer (Jude Law) the tale of how he first came to the Grand Budapest in 1932 and served as a bellboy under the hotel's infamous then-owner, M. Gustave (Ralph Fiennes).

After M. Gustave's late mistress (Tilda Swilton) leaves him a priceless painting in her will, the family suspects him of manipulating or even murdering her. Rather than wait for the will to be verified, Gustave and a young Zero (Tony Revolori) decide to steal the artwork. What follows is a wild adventure involving bounty hunters, prison breaks, romance, friendship, and tobogganing down an enormous European mountain.

For everything wonderful about this film, it is Fiennes who steals the show. Gustave is an enigmatic anti-protagonist. At times he is admirable and at others appalling, but for the audience, he is wholly entertaining. It is nonstop fun to watch Fiennes break from his regular villain roles to play this larger-than-life hotel manager, who nevertheless delights through comedic subtlety.

Fiennes also has wonderful chemistry with the reserved yet stellar Revolori. It is not a funny-straight man match up, but rather a burlesque master-apprentice relationship where the master (Gustave) is undeniably the more ridiculous. Both characters are "straight," but Gustave gets himself in more outlandish situations where watching him retain his squeaky-clean demeanor becomes a source of laughter.

Outside of Fiennes and Revolori's dynamic duo, the regular Wes Anderson actors makes appearances. Willem Defoe, Ed Norton, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, and Owen Wilson all pop up as expected. Meanwhile, Harvey Keitel has a brief cameo while Adrian Brody and Saoirse Ronan play more integral parts. It feels like a big, all-star Anderson reunion surrounding freshmen Fiennes and Revolori at the story's center.

Moreover, I must admit that I even came to like the style in "Budapest Hotel." Unlike many of Anderson's other movies, this one takes place in the fictional country of Zubrowka. Therefore, I had an easier transition into Wes's Wacky World, willing to suspend disbelief and appreciate that I am somewhere outside of the familiar universe.

With that in mind, I could better appreciate the film's artistry. Despite its rich colors and sounds, it actually reminded me of early silent pictures from F.W. Murnau or even Georges Méliès. The sets are unapologetically fabricated with miniatures, and the aspect ratio is archaically square. Given that the film's bulk takes place in the 1930s, this felt tellingly transportive. For the first time in a live action Wes Anderson film, I found myself deeply relishing in the director's artistic liberties.

Christopher Nolan's "Tenet" is a labyrinth of a movie like no other. The renowned auteur's eleventh feature, it has all the elements of a Nolan film amplified to the nth degree: a layered plot mixed with a deeply original screenplay, stamped with mind-blowing visual effects and an ending that leaves us scratching our heads. To say we fully understand it - or even partially understand it - after a single viewing would be entirely false.

"Tenet" is a time travel movie, but the audience hardly recognizes it as such until the final act, and even then we still question what's going on. In a nutshell, future entities have created weapons that operate on inverted time scales. Somehow, these weapons have made their way into the present and it is up to John David Washington's character (simply known as "Tenet") to disarm them before they cause global annihilation.

At least that was my takeaway understanding of the highly intricate plot.

Time travel is a fickle topic that many filmmakers have failed to tackle. However, if there is one director suited for such a complicated challenge, its Nolan, armed with his sharp writing and reputation for digging into thought-provoking concepts with grace. "Tenet's" time travel thus comes with a dignified originality. Characters interact with each other on different temporal schemes simultaneously, some going with time and others against it, and the audience must listen carefully to figure out who is operating in which reality and when. It is such a dense and novel execution of the theme that audiences might struggle to recognize it at first.

In terms of temporality, it echoes "Momento"- Nolan's 2000 indie breakthrough film-but while "Momento's" use of inverted time was purely stylistic, "Tenet" handles it in the diegesis. The director briefly played with diegetic time travel in 2014's "Interstellar," but in terms of narrative, "Tenet" most firmly follows in the footsteps of "Inception." The the varying timelines operate very similarly to the 2010 film's portrayal of dreams. Unlike in "Inception," however, audiences do not arrive with a preconceived notion of how "Tenet's" logic works. Everybody has experienced dreams, but nobody walks into the theater with a preexisting grasp on Nolan's inverted reality.

The logistical science behind "Tenet" could fill shelves of encyclopedias, so perhaps it is best to move onto its more filmic elements. The special and visual effects are superb. Once again Nolan combines the best and boldest of practical and digital stunts for something truly spectacular. It may not have the visual scale of "Interstellar" or "Inception," but it has just as many moments where the audience wonders how they made it happen. The fact that only a handful of viewers were able to see the film on the big screen is a real tragedy, albeit one that almost all 2020 theatrical releases had to endure.

Furthermore, John David Washington is the latest to portray a slick Nolan protagonist. The actor plays the part with appropriate level of cool, complimented by an on-point aesthetic thanks to costume designer Jeffrey Kurland. Alongside Washington, Robert Pattinson plays somewhat of a sidekick, filled with knowledge and witticism to bring a touch of levity to the film's intensity. In contrast, Kenneth Branagh provides a deliciously menacing performance as the main antagonist. His severity serves the plot well, and it demonstrates his ability to play someone on the opposite end of the casting spectrum.

Lastly, "Tenet" is also Nolan's most action-packed movie to date. Outside of the time-travel archnarrative, it is a spy movie dealing with international espionage, perhaps the closest thing that we'll get to the director's fabled Bond aspirations. There are racing fist fights, prolific car chases, and an epic war scene of a climax, all of which incorporate elements of inverted time that make them visually stunning. It is essentially the hallway scene from "Inception" done many times over!

In total, for those who admire the Christopher Nolan's work, "Tenet" will be a feast of familiar quality and daring originality. However, for those who find the director's narratives cumbersome or overly serious, this might be a nail in that coffin of distaste.

Personally, I am an enormous fan of Nolan's filmography, and therefore believe that "Tenet" is the latest example of how he stands out not by subverting the language of cinema - as many of his contemporaries do - but by pushing its boundaries to new, incredible heights.

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Still, I must say that I left "Tenet" thinking "What?" just as much as I was thinking "Woah!"

Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig star as Milo and Maggie Dean in Craig Johnson's "The Skeleton Twins." Although these two "Saturday Night Live" veterans are known for their comedic talents, the film is only slightly a comedy. While "The Skeleton Twins'" casting and marketing suggested something humorous and heartwarming, the movie is a drama narrowing in on the quirky and troubled lives of two depressed siblings in their late thirties.

The film sets its dark tone in the very first scene when Milo attempts suicide by slitting his wrists in a bathtub. In the next location, Maggie stoically contemplates swallowing a handful of pills over a bathroom sink. Only a phone call from the hospital interrupts her, informing her of her estranged brother's near-death experience. Reunited by tragedy after ten years apart, Milo moves in with Maggie in their upstate New York hometown. Together, they fight, learn, and grow from their sinister pasts.

Hader and Wiig certainly deserve praise for their portrayals of such broken people. They both prove their dramatic chops here. Really all actors do good work in the film. Notably, Luke Wilson offers a wonderfully endearing performance as Maggie's simple-minded, but good-natured husband, Lance.

However, the script can often teeter on sappy. From the suicide introduction to both of the twin's unsavory backstories, the movie deals with some heavy topics, and sometimes they become too heavy for the film's colorful tone. "The Skeleton Twins" carries the romantic energy of an autumn-set adult family dramedy, yet it caustically splices that energy with ultra-solemn themes.

Meanwhile, despite Hader and Wiig's stellar performances, Milo and Maggie are far from relatable. Their issues (and their reactions to those issues) all seem over-the-top. Johnson reaches for the highest shelf of dramatic motifs all too hastily, pushing suicide, molestation, alcoholism, failed careers, failed marriages, and familial strife into two character arcs. Ultimately, the protagonists are so oversaturated with problems that it becomes difficult to feel for them.

What's worse is that the Dean twins are not entirely likable. They may have undergone immense trauma, but the audience cannot help but see them as immature. Milo is clingy, prissy, and foolish, while Maggie is humorless and selfish. Lance ends up being the only character offering any redemption, but Milo treats him like a dolt as Maggie takes advantage of his goodwill.

In the beginning, I rooted for these unconventional heroes, but by the ending, they just exhausted me. Perhaps Johnson intended for this reaction, as mental health issues are indeed constant unflattering fights for victims and their families. As a film, however, "The Skeleton Twins" suffers from tonal inconsistency and tiresome characters, creating an aura of forgettability.

"Soul" is a first in many categories for Pixar. It is the animation studio's first film not to receive a theatrical release; it is its first feature to go directly to Disney+; and it is its first project to have a black lead and a black director.

Jamie Foxx stars as Joe, an aspiring jazz pianist stuck working as a middle school band director. While he treats his job with dignity, he truly wants to play music for a living, and on the same day that the school offers him tenure, he lands the gig of his life playing with renowned jazz musician Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett). During his elated walk home, though, he accidentally falls into an open manhole and wakes up in "The Great Beyond," transformed into a little blue caricature aboard a celestial escalator heading towards the afterlife.

Unable to accept his untimely demise, Joe jumps off the escalator and falls into "The Great Before," where unborn souls undergo mentoring before arriving on Earth. Hoping to avoid the Great Beyond and find a way back to life, Joe poses as a mentor and gets assigned a notoriously cynical soul known as 22 (Tina Fey). Joe must help the skeptical 22 find passion in living and meanwhile figure out his own return to Earth before his gig. An intimate adventure spanning the grounded real world and the fantastical afterlife ensues, culminating in a vital revelation regarding life and its subtler joys.

As a Pixar movie, "Soul" closely resembles "Inside Out." It has existential themes that all audiences can relate to, and it relies heavily on personifying immaterial concepts. Likewise, there is no clear villain, and the animation department takes artistic liberties to creatively fruitful ends. It is thus no coincidence that "Soul" and "Inside Out" both come from writer-director Pete Docter.

However, Docter (whose previous Pixar directing titles also include "Monsters Inc" and "Up") did not conceive "Soul" all on his own. While he originally wrote the screenplay with Mike Jones, African American screenwriter Kemp Powers eventually joined the development team. Once they discovered Joe would be black, Powers became co-director, and the movie took on a whole new importance.

Powers is the first black director to helm a Pixar film, just as Joe is the first black protagonist in a Pixar film. While the movie is not about race per-se, Powers's keen directing ensures that is not color-blind either. In a flashback sequence, when Joe's father brings him to a jazz club, the young hero's father remarks that jazz is part of their heritage. Later, in scenes where Joe talks with his family and community members, their culture and vernacular are distinct. All of this aids the film's sense of place and identity.

Furthermore, all of the black characters are casted appropriately. This is significant as animation frequently miscasts white actors as colored characters. That is if animation bothers to depict any colored characters at all. Historically, cinema tends to white-wash cartoons and siphon minority characters off to sidekick or one-off roles. Within Disney alone, "Soul" is studio's first black-led animated movie since "The Princess And The Frog" hit theaters over a decade ago.

Because of this breakthrough in representation, it is an even greater shame that "Soul" did not get a theatrical release. Released exclusively on Disney+, it will not get to tout major box office returns that validate its inclusive choices. Even more upsettingly, black children will not get to see these identifiable characters grace the big-screen for the very first time.

Hopefully, "Soul" will not be forgotten for being a direct-to-streaming product. On top of its importance regarding race and identity, it is as touching, imaginative, and fun as all other Pixar movies. Rather than being a cash-grabbing sequel in the vein of "Toy Story 4" or "Incredibles 2," however, it follows "Onward" as a definitive return to the originality that defined the company early on.

P.S. It should be noted that "Soul" is not a musical. Music plays a big part in the movie, but the overarching message transcends the beauties of song. Nevertheless, jazz enthusiasts will certainly relish in this movie's groovy tunes.

After junior analyst Harold Lee (John Cho) and pre-med slacker Kumar Patel (Kal Penn) get stoned in their Hoboken apartment, the two see a White Castle commercial on television and immediately develop an intense craving for the fast food chain's signature sliders. Upon learning that the closest White Castle has closed down, they embark on a hunger-fueled odyssey across New Jersey. The low-brow adventure brings them through a violent Newark, a party-infested Princeton, and various other side quests as they travel in search of delicious hamburgers.

This is the plot of the aptly titled "Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle," a buddy-comedy that is gross, outrageous, and laugh-out-loud funny. Writers Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg craft some very quotable dialogue and clever jokes in the screenplay, and who better to bring this stoner story to life than "Dude Where's My Car?" director Danny Leiner?

Above everyone else, it is Cho and Penn as the titular duo that make this movie so special. An odd couple for the modern era, Harold is an uptight and overworked straight man, while Penn is a genius who prefers partying to applying to med school. Although the two have their differences, their friendship is endearing and believable. Rather than having either character be the "cool one," they both face condescension from the people that fill their equally average lives. The fact that they are minorities living in New Jersey is not lost on the film either. Harold and Kumar both combat racism, but rather than making racism the butt of the joke, the movie places the casual racists as obnoxious and abusive while maintaining the main characters' rationally annoyed perspectives.

Ultimately, Harold and Kumar are relatable - ordinary people making an ordinary fast food run that gradually turns extraordinary. By the film's third act, the protagonists have undergone high speed chases, car accidents, a battle with a racoon, and an encounter with a disfigured Christian zealot in the woods. Later, they inexplicably pick up a hitchhiking Neil Patrick Harris (played by himself), who highjacks their car to go on a drug infused, horny bender. Oh, and they also impersonate doctors, break out of jail, and smoke marajuana with a cheetah in the forest.

It is hard to imagine all of that happening in a single film, but "Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle" fluidly offers one absurd episode after another with uncompromised pacing. It has the cult qualities of "The Big Lebowski" with the general comedic appeal of "American Pie." Admittedly, movie probably appeals to male potheads the most and to Academy members the least, but judged against other raunchy comedies circa 2004, it surely stands out. Given today's call for more movies focused on non-white characters, I wouldn't be surprised to see Harold and Kumar make a comeback. In an odd way, they were ahead of their time.

With "Good Time," brothers Benny and Josh Safdie direct a high energy blue-collar crime film that dances in the neo-realist tradition while also offering something strikingly contemporary. After Connie Nikas (Robert Pattinson) rips his mentally handicapped brother Nick (Benny Safdie) out of a therapy session, the two rob a bank together. Once they leave with the money, it does not take long for the cops to catch up with them. While Connie escapes, Nick ends up in handcuffs. Now it is up to Nick to bail out his brother, while also avoiding his own arrest.

The entire film takes place over the course of less than twenty-four hours, illustrating a gritty chase between Connie and the cops. However, "Good Time" shies away from explosions, gunfire, or epic standoffs. Instead, it takes a realistic approach. The script evolves serendipitously, as Connie adapts to one unfortunate situation after another. It is because of this fluid, unforgiving structure that I compare "Good Time" to neo-realist pictures - it does not care for Hollywood conventions and takes on a lifelike naturality.

Robert Pattinson is the star of the film, and he solidifies himself as a talented actor here. Conventionally known as a pretty boy for his roles in the "Twilight" and "Harry Potter" movies, Pattinson remains handsome in this role, but falls far from sexy. Connie is soft spoken and somewhat mysterious. His compassion for his brother comes off as genuine, but his choice to include Nick in criminal activities is questionable. The Safdie brothers are not interested in explicating the protagonist beyond the moment. We never learn where his motives come from, as the movie takes place intensely in the present.

For that same reason, none of the other characters (except perhaps Nick) get much depth. Although there are many speaking parts in "Good Time," each enters and exits Connie's journey unceremoniously. Every time we think we're getting to know someone new, he or she evaporates from the narrative. In most movies, such a lack of depth would be detrimental, but in "Good Time," it supports the film's lifelike authenticity.

Outside of Josh Safdie's highly original script co-written with Ronald Bronstein, the brothers also create a down-to-earth environment through the film's more technical elements. Shot on location in Queens, most of the movie takes place at night and depicts New York City in as unflatteringly opaque. At the same time, vibrant splashes of fluorescent storefronts and urban lights contrast the darkness. It is a harsh dichotomy - courtesy of cinematographer Sean Price Williams - that once again captures the movie's grim, yet truthful tone. At times, it even suggests a psychedelic visual effect.

Additional praise goes out to the sound department and composer Daniel Lopatin. For such a grounded film, "Good Time" has a raucously booming score that cuts into the auditory nerves. The movie makes equally daring use of diegetic sound. Characters frequently talk over each other, and organic background noise feels omnipresent, making the occasional bouts of silence all the more jarring as well.

Overall, there is a lot to chew on in "Good Time." The directors clearly had a subversive vision and executed it skillfully on levels beyond just the story. As a story, though, it echoes Tarantino's "Reservoir Dogs," David Simon's HBO series "The Wire," and even Vittorio De Sica's 1948 Italian classic "Bicycle Theives." All of this is to say that if you're looking for a movie with closure, "Good Time" might not be for you. However, if you seek something that is cinematically unique and very true to the seedy world we currently live in, then this definitely deserves a place on your watch list.

After his masterful work directing the serial killer suspense-drama "Se7en," David Fincher seems like the obvious pick to helm a feature film about the Zodiac killer. According to history, the elusive Zodiac killer committed several murders in the San Francisco Bay Area during the late sixties and early seventies. The killer shrewdly delivered encrypted messages to the local newspapers, providing hints about his motives and sending waves of hysteria up the west coast. Despite investigative journalism, extensive police work, and numerous suspects, no one ever caught the Zodiac and the story remains open ended.

As Fincher's film makes note of, the Zodiac case has already inspired several movies before this one, most recognizably 1971's "Dirty Harry," which came out in the thick of the crimes. As morbid as the story is, it feels made for Hollywood, fit with a mysterious antagonist, colorful characters, and bouts of rapid intensity over a slow-burn narrative.

If developed today, "Zodiac" would likely be outfitted for a comprehensive miniseries. However, back in 2007-before the rise of streaming services-miniseries were not as widely embraced. Therefore, Fincher had to fit the Zodiac's long, complex story into a two hour and thirty-seven minute runtime, and make crucial choices about where to direct his focus.

Primarily, Fincher tells the story through the eyes of Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal), a cartoonist for the San Francisco Chronicle who becomes obsessed with finding the Zodiac killer from the moment the paper receives the villain's first coded message. Graysmith does not emerge as the primary protagonist until the third act, though. For the first half of the movie, he stands alongside Chronicle journalist Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) and SFPD inspector David Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) as the main characters.

These three stars all deliver wonderful performances. RDJ's charmingly hotheaded Avery almost feels like a prophetic peek into his career-defining role as Tony Stark, which debuted in "Iron Man" the following year. Meanwhile, Ruffalo plays an appropriately stressed lawman trying to crack this notorious case, and Gyllenhaal has the perfect balance of innocence and intensity to make Graysmith likable yet ambitious. John Carrol Lynch also does praiseworthy work portraying one of the prime suspects. For an actor who usually gives off suburban-dad energy, Lynch is fittingly discomforting here-it is akin to Robin Williams' type-defying performance as the antagonist in Chris Nolan's "Insomnia" five years earlier.

For all of these stellar performances, though, it is Fincher's tone and aesthetic that most distinguishes "Zodiac" in the true crime genre. The entire movie is bathed in low light and dark blues with the occasional flash of daylight for uncanny effect. One of the most memorable scenes is actually when the Zodiac, donned in a Renaissance-looking black cloak, ambushes two of his victims in the daytime. The contrast is an unconventional kind of eerie that stays with the viewer for a long time.

Fincher displays many of the Zodiac's alleged murders in the film, but never with gratuitous violence. In fact, relative to "Fight Club" and "Se7en," there's not too much blood on screen. He focuses more on the investigations than the killings and doesn't pretend to know more about the situation than what's featured in the source material: the real-life Graysmith's book, "Zodiac." Nevertheless, the director does offer some evidence-based direct glimpses into the titular murder's notorious crimes.

Some might deem this subject matter insensitive, for the Zodiac's victims were real people that would probably still be alive today if they weren't murdered. However, given how quickly audiences are to accept movies that fetishize real wars or depict mass destruction, the Zodiac killer falls far from the worst thing cinema has dramatized over the years, and Fincher's retelling of the story strays from anything sadistic

Lastly, the movie also has a nostalgic touch. I cannot say that I lived in the Bay Area in the 1970s, but anyone who did will probably have a rush of wistfulness watching this film. From the retro opening credits to the cars, costumes, and music, "Zodiac" effectively transports the audience to a bygone time. In a way, it partially feels like an homage to the neo-noir films of the Hollywood Renaissance.

Overall, this is a homicide-detective thriller on the level of "Silence of the Lambs." Because it has its roots in true events, it is not the kind of thriller that leads up to a climactic shootout, yet it still holds our interest through the end. While the 2010s would likely turn this story into a miniseries, there is something sacred about an infamous true-crime narrative cleverly paced into a single movie, especially when David Fincher is overseeing and crafting it.

Netflix's "The Midnight Sky" is an adaptation of Lily Brooks-Dalton's 2016 sci-fi novel "Good Morning, Midnight." George Clooney directs while also playing the main character-a dying scientist named Augustine Lofthouse. In the year 2049, Lofthouse is one of the last men alive on Earth after an unexplained event wipes out most people and sends the rest of them into evacuation. In his solitude, he tries to warn a returning spacecraft about the planet's inhospitable condition. In order for his signal to get cross, he must traverse the Earth's blizzardous remains to a different transmitter. Before he embarks on the perilous journey, though, Lufthouse finds a young mute girl named Iris (Caoilinn Springall), who was supposedly left behind when her family evacuated.

Lufthouse's story is just half of the movie, however. The other half is made up of scenes aboard the Aether: the ship that Lufthouse needs to warn. The Aether is returning from a journey to K-23, a habitable moon of Jupiter that flashbacks reveal Lufthouse discovered as a young astronomer. A pregnant astronaut named Sully (Felicity Jones) captains the Aether with her crew of Adewol (David Oyelowo), Mitchell (Kyle Chandler), Sanchez (Demián Bichir), and Maya (Tiffany Boone). Unaware of Earth's destruction, this crew braces the dangers of space travel with hopes of returning home.

With wide spacescapes and some highly cinematic sequences, "The Midnight Sky" was surely made for theaters. Unfortunately, a December 2020 release date forced it to embrace a direct-to-streaming debut. This is a shame, but one that many movies have had to face during the pandemic-smitten year. Perhaps if I were watching "The Midnight Sky" on a big screen I would think differently about its special effects, yet from my standard television set, the visuals were nothing exceptional. Ultimately, the earthly scenes consisted of snowy white-outs while the space sequences were no more spectacular than what we got seven years ago with Alfonso Cuarón's "Gravity." For a science-fiction drama, I expected something a little more aesthetically dazzling.

Meanwhile, Lufthouse's adventure is something that we've seen many times before-a hardened old man making a trecherous journey with an innocent child at his side. It echoes "Shane," "Logan," and even what would've been it's 2020 boxoffice competition: Paul Greengrass' "News of the World." While "The Midnight Sky" includes a slight twist at the end to make things more original, one could easily find the twist predictable or even cheap. At the same time, the adventure on Earth often feels disconnected from the adventure in space. Just when we get the most invested in Lufthouse and Iris' story, we switch away to Sully and the crew for an extended period. While there are elements of harmony, "The Midnight Sky" often gives off the impression that it hastily crams two movies into one.

And on top of that, the script is composed of unremarkable, sometimes clichèd dialogue. The soft spoken Lufthouse will occasionally drop a profound line, and Kyle Chandler and Demián Bichir's characters sprinkle in a little humor, but most of the talk is uninspiring. At its worst, it's even boring.

As a science fiction movie, "The Midnight Sky" is a bold outing for Clooney. The actor has directed only six films before this and most of them have been period-pieces grounded in reality. He obviously had to learn some new tricks for this highly technical picture, and it plays quite well as a freshman entry in such a difficult genre. I also applaud him for breaking his aging pretty-boy typecast to play a grizzled, crestfallen protagonist. Lufthouse maybe smiles once throughout the entire movie, and even then it is difficult to discern beneath the shaggy white beard hiding Clooney's frail face.

However, the film's best acting probably goes to Chandler and Boone, followed by Clooney, Oyelowo and Bichir. The young Springall also gives a stellar performance in her first motion picture. Oddly, despite being the picture's biggest star after Clooney, Felicity Jones does not display the most apparent chops here. Sully is simply not a deep enough character for such a dynamic actress. Although Silly holds lofty narrative importance, there's not much development for Jones to work with.

Unfortunately "The Midnight Sky" misses a few marks. A messy year for cinema ripped it from its intended big-screen release, but even then, the script could have used some work. In a year where Netflix has really rocked the boat with high quality films, "The Midnight Sky" garnered some hype upon release, but its legacy will probably parallel that Steven Soderbergh's "The Laundromat." In 2019, Soderbergh's Netflix original feature had a great cast and some positive buzz, but it ultimately fell to the shadows of "The Irishman" and "Marriage Story." "The Midnight Sky" will likely see a similar fate in 2020, fading from Netflix subscribers' memory behind "Da 5 Bloods" and "The Trial Of The Chicago 7"

"The Trial Of The Chicago 7" revives the bygone courtroom drama movie genre, but rather than reaffirm the conventional message of law and order, it recounts a real event with all of the unpleasant grittiness it deserves. In 1968, eight men were arrested for conspiracy to start an anti-Vietnam War riot in Chicago during the Democratic National Convention. While seven of these men did play a part in the riot's origins, they were not as connected as the Department of Justice would've liked to believe. The eighth man, Bobby Seal (Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), was actually just a member of the Black Panther party; he was not there for the riot and had no relation to the other defendants whatsoever.

The film tells the story of these eight men's trial, and the discrimination that they faced trying to protest an unjust war. It is a movie that enlights, inspires, and disturbs. The titular Chicago Seven is a motley crew, filled with different examples of progressive minded people in the late sixties, from Eddie Redmayne and John Carroll Lynch's diplomatic Tom Hayden and David Dellinger, to Sacha Baron Cohen and Jeremy Strong's long-haired dope-smoking Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin. It paints an image of Americans that is still relevant today, as diverse people with idyllic prospects for the country continue debating the means to attain them.

If the film is truthful to what actually happened, then the trial makes "The People v.s. O.J. Simpson" look like an everyday case. Between Bobby Seal being denied a lawyer, Hoffman and Rubin's theatrical interruptions, and Judge Julias Hoffman's (Frank Langella) blatant biases, it is frustrating to witness the lack of justice occurring in the courtroom. This comes to a boiling point when the unrepresented Seal lawfully tries speaking for himself, and Judge Hoffman sentences him to be disciplined in the most violent and inhumane manner. It demonstrates how the court system was far from blind in this chapter of American history, and we truly feel the defendants' anger at the situation.

Given that "The Trial Of The Chicago 7" came out in 2020, when America is rife with racial reckonings, national protests, and political turmoil, the film feels timely. Unfortunately, much of the discrimination depicted on screen is still occurring in a de facto manner. Politics are far from impartial and many would still deem the American judicial system bias. On that same token, though, I cannot help but watch "The Trial Of The Chicago 7" with a bit of optimism. In 1968, these progressives were the counterculture, but now, thinking critically about and wanting more out of American democracy is something widely encouraged. There is still work to be done for sure, but at least more people are conscientious towards the real issues and voting accordingly. In a way, the film is thus a call to action - without being preachy or propagandistic, "The Trial Of The Chicago 7" ultimately leaves viewers wanting to do some good in the world.

Steven Speilberg allegedly planned to direct the film, but scheduling conflicts put it in the more than capable hands of screenwriter Aaron Sorkin. Ultimately, this was a blessing, as Speilberg's approach to the story might have been too conservative, tonally emulating 2015's "Bridge Of Spies." While "Bridge Of Spies'' is a masterful film and Speilberg is undoubtedly one of the greatest directors working today, Sorkin's taste for intense political realism is a perfect match for "The Trial Of The Chicago 7." Part of that intensity is also due to Alan Baumgarten's A+ editing, which can blend humor, violence, and suspense within a single sequence to create an emotional tour de force.

Additional praise goes out to Michael Keaton for his small, but mighty role as Ramsey Clark, Alex Sharp's Rennie Davis, and Joseph Gordon Levitt's comeback as the morally layered prosecuting attorney, Richard Schultz. I also applaud the casting department for picking such appropriate actors for these unsung historical figures.

Because of the COVID-19 pandemic, streaming sites have been the home for many movies throughout 2020. Netflix distributed "The Trial Of The Chicago 7," and I would say that it is second to Spike Lee's "Da 5 Bloods" for the site's best movie of the year, and is certainly a contender for best picture overall.

Ben Affleck directs, stars in, and wrote the screenplay (with Peter Craig and Aaron Stockard) for 2010's "The Town." To no one's surprise, the film is a Boston crime story about Charlestown bank robbers, based off of Chuck Hogan's 2004 novel, "Prince Of Theives." The plot centers on blue collar criminal Doug MacRay (Ben Affleck) trying to turn his life around after he falls in love with Claire Keesey (Rebecca Hall), an upscale victim of his most recent heist.

Keesey does not know that the man she's dating is the same guy who recently put her through such horrors. Meanwhile FBI Agent Adam Frawley (Jon Hamm) investigates MacRay and his entourage, as MacRay's best friend and criminal colleague, James Coughlin (Jeremy Renner) prepares for the next job. The film offers rich excitement and the unique Boston flavor that Affleck is known for. It is not unlike the director's previous use of the same city in 2007's "Gone Baby Gone." This time, however, he ups the local ante with a Fenway Park heist at the film's climax, epitomizing how the director has retained his roots while growing to embrace larger scale operations in this sophomore feature.

All actors in the film deliver stellar performances. The ones who stand out the most might be Jeremy Renner and Blake Lively, who play brother-sister Charlestown natives with tough, unapologetic outlooks on life. For such conventionally glamorous actors, they play these downtrodden personas strikingly well. They are still pretty, but in much rougher ways, demanding kudos for the hair and make-up departments as well.

Few of the characters are good people at their core, but thanks to a good script, they all have their empathetic elements. From beginning to end, no one is entirely without sin. Nevertheless, we somehow want the best for all of them, especially Affleck's character who possesses a clear heart of gold despite his criminal past.

As far as Boston crime movies go, "The Town" might deserve a silver medal behind Martin Scorsese's "The Departed." In contrast to Scorsese's epic, "The Town" operates on a much smaller scale, following lower-level criminals with no empire outside of their own working-class neighborhood. It also distinguishes itself through its ending. As always, I will not give anything away, but the conclusion displays something other than cynicism. For a crime movie, that alone demonstrates something new to the age-old genre.

"E.T. The Extraterrestrial" may not be Steven Spielberg's best film from the 1980s - "Raiders Of The Lost Ark" or "The Last Crusade" probably holds that prestigious title - but it still ranks very high on the list, and unlike the Indiana Jones movies, it is the one that plays best with children. Therefore, it retains a far-reaching, family oriented appeal for the generations.

When an alien is left behind on a scientific journey to planet Earth, he befriends a ten-year-old boy in the San Fernando Valley named Elliot (Henry Thomas). Curious and compassionate, Elliot takes the creature into his home and upon learning his celestial origins, names him E.T. Elliot introduces E.T. to his older brother, Mike (Robert MacNaughton) and his younger sister, Gertie (Drew Barrymore). Fearing that grown ups will want to capture and experiment on the lost being, though, he keeps him hidden from all adults, including his mother (Dee Wallace).

It is a story of friendship and learning. As Elliot and E.T. get to know each other, the alien builds an understanding of human feelings and language. Eventually, he is able to articulate his desire to return home, and creates a satellite to call out to his space-dwelling peers. At the same time, however, sinister forces from the government are searching for E.T., wanting to study him and blockade his departure.

Because the adults view E.T. in such clinical terms, the film champions the triumph of childhood innocence and imagination. Despite how unfamiliar E.T. is, Elliot does not hesitate to help him. Although the mother and government officials are not necessarily evil, the kids are the true heroes here. Only they are willing to save the titular being, and in the end, they succeed over the adults in their good-natured actions. The movie reminds us that the complicated, cautious, or bureaucratic grown up solutions are not always the right ones.

Since E.T. is an alien, the film is partially a science fiction movie as well. However, the only obvious piece of sci-fi iconography is the extraterrestrial himself (and the brief instances of his spaceship). E.T. is a unique looking brown thing, designed by special effects artist Carlo Rambaldi. While wrinkled and stout, E.T. also has the capacity for expression through his wide emotive blue eyes. Even if the picture's other special effects - from floating ornaments to flying bicycles - appear dated by today's standards, the practical E.T. puppet has stood the test of time, much to the movie's benefit.

Other causes for celebration include John Williams' fantastic score and the great child acting. Through "E.T.," Speilberg proved his aptitude for working with children. Not only does Melissa Mathison's script tap into a childlike perspective, but the signature directing style is something that evokes nostalgic wonder.

Thirty-eight years later, "E.T." still excites audiences. Parents who grew up with it can now watch it with their own children, and parties both new and old will find inspiration in the timeless tale. Without giving anything away, in the final scene, E.T. assures Elliot "I'll Be Right Here." Given the movie's legacy, he might as well have been addressing the audience.

Thanks to TBS' annual 24-hour marathons, watching "A Christmas Story" on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day has become a household tradition for many. Choosing this film as the must-see holiday classic for the Big Day is a well-deserved honor. The movie has a wide family appeal and joyous warmth that wholly captures the Christmas spirit.

Set in the 1940s, but released in 1983, "A Christmas Story" is riddled with nostalgia. Nevertheless, even kids watching today can appreciate the movie's acute grasp on a child's wonder surrounding Christmas. Much of that keen portrayal comes from Peter Billingsley's timeless performance as Ralphie Parker, a nine-year old boy eagerly awaiting the holiday in a small Indiana town. This season, Ralphie has his eye on a very particular gift: "an official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time."

While Ralphie has his heart set on the gun, it seems as if everyone in his world is against him finding it under the tree on Christmas morning. His mother (Melinda Dillon), teacher (Tedde Moore), and even "Santa Claus" himself (Jeff Gillen) warn him that he'll shoot his eye out. It is Ralphie's top priority to convince them otherwise. Through Billingsley's performance as well as Jean Shepherd's narration as an older Ralphie recounting the story in retrospect, we come to deeply identify with the young protagonist, remembering the excitement and anxiety one feels as a kid approaching December 25th.

However, the movie is about much more than a boy with an ideal Christmas gift. It is filled with episodic escapades between Ralphie, his family, and his friends. Through these side-stories, the film offers some of its most iconic sequences - Ralphie getting his mouth washed out with soap for swearing; Ralphie's mom and dad (Darren McGavin) fretting over a scandalous leg-shaped lamp in their window; and, of course, Ralphie's friend (Scott Schwartz) sticking his tongue to a frozen metal pole on a bet. While the Red Rider BB Gun gives the story direction, it's the copious deviations from that direction that have become so flavorfully memorable. It does not follow a generic Christmas movie structure, but creates its own by combining humorous originality with heartfelt familiarity.

In chronological history as well as audiences' minds, "A Christmas Story" occupies a space between the classic Christmas movies such as "It's A Wonderful Life" and "Miracle On 34th Street," and more contemporary additions such as "Home Alone," "The Santa Clause," and "Elf." It possesses the humble simplicity of the former group, but also the vivacious energy of the latter. Maybe it is because of this central location that it continues to be so relevant, beloved, and accessible.

Nonetheless, credit it still due to the wonderful child actors (both Billingsley and Ian Petrella, who plays Ralphie's little brother, Randy), a lovable script and voice-over from Jean Shepherd, and imaginative directing from Bob Clark. Because we've all seen "A Christmas Story" so many times, its magic can easily be taken for granted. In reality, though, this family-comedy could have gone unnoticed if initially taken in the wrong artistic hands. Its success is the product of soft yet masterful creativity, which keeps us tuning in year after year.

Long after I enjoyed "The Adventures Of Milo & Otis" as a child, I was surprised to learn that this cat-and-dog comedy-adventure film is actually Japanese. Directed by zoologist Masanori Hata, the picture originally came out in Japan in 1986. Not until 1989 did Columbia Pictures adjust it for an English re-release, featuring a new script from "Sesame Street" veteran Mark Saltzman and a familiar narration from Dudley Moore.

"Milo & Otis'" Japanese origins surprised me so because the movie feels very Western. The episodic journey of "a curious cat and a pug-nosed pup" who flea from their farm to face the woes of winters and bears whilst mingling with foxes, deer, turtles, owls, and pigs, "Milo & Otis" could be a Disney movie, or something based off of a European children's book. Even the look of it - from its deciduous scenery to its multi-species cast - gives the impression that we are in pastoral areas of Britain or the Eastern United States rather than Asia... That is, based off of my American-bred schemas of how these places should appear.

Visually, the movie is humble. There are a couple game-winning wide shots, but most of the aesthetic appeal comes from close-ups of animals interacting with each other. Not a single human appears in the entire film, and Moore provides voices for all anthropomorphic characters. Because of this, we feel truly immersed in Milo and Otis' world, where small creatures' perspectives render the ordinary dangerous and wonderful.

That being said, something uncanny simultaneously lurks beneath the film's surface. As wondrous as the human-less atmosphere can be, it also takes away opportunities for identification. "Milo & Otis" can thus feel a little distant, as every character is just another iteration of Moore's voice. After a while, it becomes borderline surreal.

The surrealism only expands in the third act when the titular characters meet their mates, and Moore lends his voice to a white female cat named Joyce and a French female pug named Sandra. He continues voicing them as they bare Milo's kittens and Otis' puppies. The camera spares no images as these animals give birth onscreen. It's a tough sequence to watch as an adult. For the film's young target audience, it might be confusing, if not terrifying.

On the topic of terror, one cannot reflect on "Milo & Otis" without bringing up the allegations of animal abuse on set. The American Humane Society along with similar groups in Europe and Australia all accused the production of mistreating, intentionally wounding, and even killing members of its animal cast. A shot of Milo falling off a cliff and a scene of Otis tussling with a humungous black bear make it easy to believe that a few animals were definitely harmed in the making of this film.

Still, there is undeniable charm in the final product. Perhaps because of increased animal rights protections, we no longer see many movies featuring real animals as the main characters. Over the course of four years, Hata allegedly shot over seventy hours of footage, which he then edited down to the film we have. That is a degree of passion that few filmmakers have. If "Milo & Otis" were made today, it would certainly be an animated feature, and not have nearly the same effect.

"The Adventures Of Milo & Otis" might have a dark past, and a couple disturbing moments within the film, but we cannot deny that it is cinematically impressive and a relic of something bygone. For kids blind to the abuse claims and able block out the birth scene, it remains funny, cute, and (in a campy, subdued sort of way) jovially exciting!

I admit that I never read Shelia Burnford's "The Incredible Journey," nor have I seen the 1963 film of the same title. However, I am very familiar with 1993's "Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey," the live-action Disney movie that many would consider the definitive adaptation of this beloved tale.

"Homeward Bound" is a story about three house pets - a wise old Golden Retriever named Shadow (voiced by Don Ameche), an impudent Himalayan cat appropriately named Sassy (voiced by Sally Fields), and a wily young American bulldog named Chance (voiced by Michael J Fox). Each pet belongs to a child in the Seaver family, but when the family makes a temporary move to San Francisco, the kids reluctantly leave their animals at a farm in eastern California.

Not understanding that the family is only leaving for a few weeks, the animals grow nervous in their humans' absence. After a few days, they take it upon themselves to escape the farm, cross the Sierra Nevadas, and make "the incredible journey" back home. Along the way, they encounter bears, skunks, porcupines, mountain lions, rushing rivers, waterfalls, and the loathsome pound. All the while, the Seavers make efforts to find their beloved pets, but keep on missing them while assuming the worst.

Heartwarming, funny, and beautiful, "Homeward Bound" just might be the best canine (and feline) movie ever made. All of the voice actors give unparalleled performances, truly capturing the mental and emotional nature of their non-human figures. Perhaps animal psychologists will disagree, but the pet characters behave and think in the exact way we'd expect them to. Their minds are racing with simplistic perspectives, but they show the capacity to learn and all demonstrate undying instincts to protect, love, and reunite with their humans.

Much of this effect is thanks to Caroline Thompson and Linda Woolverton: two legendary screenwriters known for crafting family friendly films. In "Homeward Bound," the duo make maximum use of the anthropomorphism to develop melodramatic temporal schemes. Because the animals cannot understand the human language, and vice versa, they constantly misinterpret each other. Therefore, the animals and the humans narrowly miss opportunities for reunion time after time again. Only the audience sees the story from both perspectives, and therefore witnesses it as a constant state of dramatic irony. This provides a highly emotional viewing experience that hits with the upmost elation when things finally fall in place towards the end.

Director Duwayne Dunham also deserves high praise for capturing the animal cast in an acutely expressive and naturalistic way. In today's Hollywood, Disney would likely resort to CGI creatures for a movie like this, but "Homeward Bound" benefits from its realism. Actual animals filmed on actual, breathtaking locations give the movie an authentic warmth that no virtual simulation could ever rival. Directing humans can oftentimes be painstakingly meticulous, so kudos to Dunham for his patience and perseverance in working across the boundaries of species.

Because of "Homeward Bound's" realistic approach and its masterful depiction of pet-human relationships, it's a truly timeless movie. While generic and heavily predictable, its conventions are all executed to a masterful degree. Children might seek out "Homeward Bound" first, but anyone who loves their pets will reliably tear up watching this wholesome, fun, and uplifting picture.

Eight years after the release of 1994's "The Santa Clause," Tim Allen dons the red suit and white beard yet again for "The Santa Clause 2." Rated G rather than its predecessor's PG, "The Santa Clause 2" is much more kid-friendly than the original - made more exclusively for children rather than for the entire family. Still, all can find enjoyment in this wholesome holiday comedy.

At "The Santa Clause 2's" opening, nearly a decade has gone by since Scott Calvin (Tim Allen) knocked the previous Saint Nick off his rooftop and assumed the role of Santa. Since then, kids have been happier than ever; the Christmas spirit is abloom worldwide and North Pole productivity is at an all time high.

This façade of perfection in Calvin's life soon falls apart when his head elf, Bernard (David Krumholtz) and number two, Curtis (Spencer Breslin) inform him of another Clause in the Santa contract. In order to remain Santa, Calvin must find a Mrs. Clause before Christmas Eve. Meanwhile, he also learns that his teenage son, Charlie (Eric Lloyd) is on the naughty list for acting out at school. With less than a month before the big day, Calvin must leave the workshop to reconcile with Charlie and hopefully find a wife, lest he give up his job as Santa and Christmas face cancellation.

"The Santa Clause 2" has just as many jokes as the first in the series, but it does not have the ordinary-guy-in-an-extraordinary-situation comedic trope that adults so readily relate to. In the first movie, Calvin is cynical and must learn to accept and appreciate the Santa Claus title. By the time the sequel begins, he loves the title more than anything in the world, and goes to great lengths to preserve it.

In a word, "The Santa Clause 2" is much cuter than "The Santa Clause." On top of the shift away from adult-oriented themes, the film puts greater emphasis on the fantastical North Pole environment with more elaborate sets, panoramic shots, and elven characters. It also includes more reindeer and slapstick humor, plus an action climax where elves launch snowballs at giant toy soldiers while Calvin chases an antagonistic toy Santa through the air to prevent a worldwide coal delivery on Christmas.

All of this makes "The Santa Clause 2" a highly cartoonish film, befitting the children's movies of the early 2000s rather than the more subtle, heartwarming family comedies of the 1990s. Pandering to its youthful target audience, the sequel feels more like something made for Disney Channel than a theatrical feature. Nevertheless, it is still enjoyable. Thanks in large part to Tim Allen's endearing performance, adults will retain regular laughs and bouts of intrigue throughout the otherwise childish movie.

Truth be told, I am not incredibly versed in the world of Japanese animation. I've seen some of Hayao Miyazaki's work, watched a few episodes of Pokémon as a kid, and in 2018, accompanied some friends to see "Dragon Ball Super: Broly" in theaters. Coming from outside the culture, I liked what I saw, but left feeling quite puzzled.

Nevertheless, I sought out Mamoru Oshii's "Ghost In The Shell" for its famed reputation as well as its hefty influence on Western cinema. Allegedly, this 1995 Japanese cartoon was one of the Wachowski siblings' main inspirations when creating "The Matrix." Aesthetically, I can see the similarities, but narratively, it seems to fall more in line with Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner," or even more so with Denis Villeneuve's "Blade Runner 2049."

Based on a manga of the same title, "Ghost In The Shell" takes place sometime in the digitized future, "where corporate networks fill the Earth with electronic and optical communication lines, but society has not yet been too computerized to erase nations and races." The plot focuses on cyborg government agent Motoko Kusanagi (Atsuko Tanaka original, Mimi Woods dubbed) tracking down an infamous hacker known as "The Puppet Master" (Iemasa Kayumi original, Tom Wyner dubbed). This elusive menace has worked his way into the consciousness of cyborgs-human hybrids, jeopardizing their free will. In her pursuit, Motoko faces philosophical questions about human nature that, as a full android, she never before considered.

That is the boiled down version of the story. Having only watched the film once, I cannot say that I fully grasp all of its intricacies. It's hard science fiction mixed with dystopia, creating endless avenues for universe exploration and deeper contemplation. Meanwhile, its parallels with American live action films are ubiquitous. One could perhaps trace the whole domestic interest in cyberpunk back to this Japanese cartoon.

While watching, however, I paid more attention to the film's visuals than I did to its plot. Like most foreign animation, the medium is used differently here from what we might expect in America. For the most part, "Ghost In The Shell" could emulate a Saturday morning cartoon, but it distinguishes itself with some pretty graphic images (blood, guts, and nudity) that commercial American animators would probably shy away from.

Still, the movie looks pretty slick. The character designs are original and neat, and I especially liked the futuristic cityscapes in the background. I won't judge whether it's better or worse than the American animation put out in that same year - "Toy Story" and "Pocahontas" in theaters; "Gargoyles" and "Batman: The Animated Series" on television. All I will say is that it is of an entirely different style.

That style might estrange some American audiences. Also, pairing a high-concept story with the medium of animation could feel drastically unfamiliar. This is probably why "Ghost In The Shell" retains but a cult following in the United States, even though it inspired so many of our mainstream filmmakers. Therefore, the film itself is a ghost, invisibly dancing in the shell of American action iconography.

There was a time when Marvel movies failed to pique my interest. I would see the latest one, enjoy it as an action film, and quickly forget about it shortly after leaving the theater. All of that changed when "Avengers: Infinity War" came out in 2018.

"Infinity War" is the nineteenth film in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and it can be read as the climax to the 10-year-old franchise's vast story. Ever since the first Avengers film debuted in 2012, Marvel has been teasing an arch-villain named Thanos (Josh Brolin) being responsible for most of the mayhem taking place in the massive degesis. In "Infinity War," Thanos finally emerges as the direct threat, enacting a plan to wipe out half of the universe's population for ecological stability.

The movie brings together all of the MCU heroes minus Paul Rudd's Ant-Man and Jeremy Renner's Hawkeye. Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr), Captain America (Chris Evans), Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman), Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen), Vision (Paul Bettany), Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), Doctor Strange (Benedict Cumberbach), Spider-Man (Tom Holland) and Thor (Chris Hemsworth) all come together to combat Thanos. The impressive cast only grows when the Guardians of the Galaxy (featuring Chris Pratt's Starlord, Zoe Saldana's Gamora, Dave Bautista's Drax, Vin Diesel's Groot, Karen Gillian's Nebula, Pom Klementieff's Mantis, and Bradley Cooper's Rocket Raccoon) also join the fight.

The star power alone is almost overwhelming, but somehow, all characters get their due, each playing a crucial part in the surprisingly balanced plot. Nothing feels forced into "Infinity War." It is a huge film, but a well-orchestrated one. Obviously, there is a lot of action and adventure, but the film also makes time for captivating dialogue and humor. Some of the movie's best moments consist of witty bickering between Starlord, Thor, and Iron Man - all of whom are at their finest here.

Really, all of the characters - with the exception of maybe Black Panther - shine brighter in "Infinity War" than they do in any other MCU movies, including their standalone titles. Meanwhile, Thanos also stands out as the heroes' greatest enemy thus far, and the series' best-constructed villain.

From the antagonist's perspective, he actually wants to save the universe. A consequentialist, Thanos believes that killing half of all living things will solve the Malthusian Crisis that all civilizations eventually face. This philosophical stance is antithetical to that of the superheroes, who prefer to maintain a status quo despite any long-term detriments. Thanos is thus a character of significant depth, and his presence makes viewers consider the limits of heroism in a perpetually jeopardized universe - a similar theme to the one tackled in Alan Moore and David Gibbon's legendary graphic novel "Watchmen."

It is because of Thanos that I changed my mind about Marvel. Through the villain, "Infinity War" stands out as a subversion of the superhero genre. However, it would not be nearly as impactful if it weren't the product of the eighteen movies leading up to it. Because of its predecessors, "Infinity War" can be larger than itself and hit even harder when defying preconceived notions of superhero ethics.

One can still view the MCU as an amplification of blockbuster sequelization in modern Hollywood, or as an excuse for Disney to sell toys, or as a cash-grabbing, CGI-infused appropriation of cinema. But despite all of these criticisms, Marvel movies remain effectively entertaining, and "Infinity War" demonstrates that producer Kevin Feige has been cleverly engineering this behemoth from the beginning. Intricate details going all the way back to 2008's "Iron Man" culminate for a momentous conclusion here.

Of course, "Infinity War" is not the end of the MCU. In fact, it is not even the end of the Infinity Saga - 2019's "Avengers: Endgame" takes that title. Nevertheless, the film still feels like the extensive narrative's most pivotal chapter. It might be somewhat inaccessible for people not caught up on the Marvel universe, but even an outsider can appreciate it as an epic, game-changing movie that justifies the MCU as a wholly worthwhile cinematic endeavor.

There's not much reason to watch "My Best Friend's Birthday" other than the fact that it is Quentin Tarantino's directorial debut. The man who would go on to birth indiewood via offbeat hit films like "Reservoir Dogs" and "Pulp Fiction" began his career with this humble, 16mm black-and-white entry. Therefore, although there's not much going on in this 36-minute movie, it is intriguing to watch what a young Tarantino does on a $5,000 budget, and spot some of his trademark styles early on.

The story - if there is a definitive one - follows radio disc jockey Clarence Pool (Quentin Tarantino), who hires a call girl (Crystal Shaw Martell) to show his best friend Mick (Craig Hamann) a good time after his girlfriend leaves him on his birthday. It's more straightforwardly comedic than much of Tarantino's filmography, but the style of comedy can be seen as a precursor to his later screenplays. Sharp dialogue, copious pop-culture references, and a focus on low-brow, unsexy characters make it distinctively Tarantino.

A jukebox soundtrack also foreshadows a staple of Tarantino's work. Recognizable music from the 1950s-80s fill the movie's background, beginning a trend of rock-n-roll hits setting the tone for most of Tarantinos' universe. That universe being fun and laidback, but heavy and volatile at the same time.

Also, "My Best Friend's Birthday" offers a brief glimpse into Tarantino's taste for Kung-Fu, as the short features an action scene where one character shows off his affinity for mixed martial arts. The sequence might not have the grandeur of "Kill Bill," and the actor might not be as dexterous as Uma Thermon (or her stunt double), but clever editing gets the message across, making it Tarantino's first fight scene.

Surprisingly, the movie doesn't include much violence - the stamp that Tarantino is now most known for. Then again, vibrant bloodshed would not come across very easily on the film's grainy quality. Nevertheless, the movie opens with a downplayed cocaine overdose, so there is at least something keeping "My Best Friend's Birthday" controversial. There is also a direct reference to foot-fetishes, another outlying motif of the director's films.

The short film is an amateur project through-and-through. The blurry picture and choppy editing make it look like something fished out of a basement box of home videos. Still, at just over a half-hour long and available for free on YouTube, "My Best Friend's Birthday" is worth a watch for anyone interested in Quentin Tarantino's work.

For the general public, "Pulp Fiction" might be the movie that put Quentin Tarantino on the map, but for cinephiles and filmmakers, it will always be "Reservoir Dogs." Before production began on the film, Tarantino had only directed one previous title - a 36-minute amateur project called "My Best Friend's Birthday." "Reservoir Dogs" was thus Tarantino's debut feature, and it introduced a broader audience to the trademark techniques that keep his movies unique to this day.

The crux of the plot takes place in an abandoned warehouse after a jewelry store robbery in Los Angeles. Eight men were involved in the heist, but one of them supposedly tipped off the cops, for police were waiting at the scene of the crime from the very beginning. Through flashbacks, we learn more about the characters' backstories, as they spend the present trying to weed out the rat in their entourage.

Flashbacks are a staple of Tarantino movies, and he evidently began his taste for non-linear storytelling here. Narratively, "Reservoir Dogs" centers around a diamond robbery, but the crime itself is never shown on camera. The director only shows instances from before and after the event. In doing so, he creates something derivative of a standard crime movie. The film fits no absolute mold and takes on the gangster genre from a novel angle.

Another way "Reservoir Dogs" stands out as a Tarantino movie is through its dialogue and characters. Tarantino wrote the screenplay as well as directed the movie; he therefore created its ensemble of slimy people and penned their ruthless vocabulary. Particularly through their language, the characters in "Reservoir Dogs" bring new meaning to the term "toxic." Few of them are easy to root for, but all are thrilling to watch and hear. Much credit is due to the film's superb performances, but the script alone is truly memorable. The lines are edgy, and perhaps offensive, but nevertheless fitting for this raw kind of film.

And speaking of rawness, "Reservoir Dogs" also introduced Tarantino's most infamous trademark - over-the-top violence. Each character appears soaked in blood, sweat, or spit at one point or another, and the camera does not shy away from depictions of torture or death. All of this bloodshed is presented with an uncanny sense of fun, though. Tarantino will place upbeat music over gruesome scenes, and some characters seem to relish in their sadistic actions. One could easily call the film morbid, but Tarantino wears that criticism like a well-earned badge of honor. In reality, it is no bloodier than the average horror film, and as a movie, it's equally victimless. In today's market, it honestly feels more dicey for lacking diversity or any female speaking parts than it does for gratuitous violence.

Nevertheless, I applaud Tarantino's daringness. Before this film, the director was working at a video rental store in Manhattan Beach. He was going to make the movie out of his own pocket until Harvey Keitel read the screenplay and decided to co-produce it. In 1992, it premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and made lots of noise. Miramax acquired it for distribution and it effectively began the indiewood trend of the 1990s. With "Reservoir Dogs" Tarantino established himself as an auteur, but also paved the way for other experimental filmmakers to find popular outlets in the mainstream movie world.

Staring Harrison Ford, directed by Steven Spielberg, and produced by George Lucas, "Raiders Of The Lost Ark" brought together three legends of 1980s Hollywood for a truly magical piece of cinema. An adventure film in the purest form, "Raiders Of The Lost Ark" is like "Star Wars" in the sense that it took an outmoded, B-movie genre and brought it back with unprecedented scale and dignity.

Harrison Ford plays Indiana Jones, an archeologist in 1936 tasked with finding the Ark of the Covenant before the Nazis do. The Ark - a hollowed chest from the Bible, claimed to hold the original Stone Tablets of the Ten Commandments - carries an awesome power that, if fallen into the wrong hands, could be catastrophic.

Jones' quest sends him on a worldly journey. The film begins in a Peruvian jungle, then after brief stint in the United States, travels to Nepal, Egypt, and the ocean before climaxing on a small island in the Aegean Sea. Not all scenes were filmed on-location, but the settings are convincing enough. Practical effects and miniatures also make "Raiders Of The Lost Ark" a relic of the 1980s American blockbuster.

It is also an accessible film for people of all ages and interests. Not a science fiction or fantasy piece, it does not cater to an esoteric fan base. History buffs will enjoy the film for its archeological themes, but it is not made for academics alone. Regular moviegoers seeking action-packed thrills will find it just as satisfying.

Furthermore, the story is smart, but simple enough for kids to enjoy just as much as adults. The good guys and the bad guys are clear, as are the simple messages of justice and heroism. This is thanks to Harrison Ford's spot-on embodiment of Jones, as well as that special Spielberg touch. The director evokes something of a John Ford Western in this movie, but cuts out anything archaic while adding in a dash of James Bond excitement. There are chases and shootouts, along with romance and humor, and an iconic John Williams score to tie it all together. Not a single frame passes as dull.

The movie is not just easy to enjoy, but it is hard to imagine anyone not enjoying it. Many movies have tried to capture the spirit of Indiana Jones over the years, but barring the sequels to "Raiders Of The Lost Ark," few have hit the mark. It's sense of adventure feels familiar and easy to emulate, but somehow, it remains one-of-a-kind.

"Manchester By The Sea" is a pure melodrama. It is not a period piece, bildungsroman, dramedy, or story entrenched in identity politics. Nor is it based on a book or true events. It is just a heart-wrenching tale about a heartbroken man going through a tough situation.

In recent years, pure melodramas have not received much attention, often existing in the independent realm or adding in dashes of experimentation to keep them cinematically interesting. "Manchester By The Sea" does not fall into either of those categories. With a dazzling cast of Casey Affleck, Lucas Hedges, Michelle Williams, and Kyle Chandler, as well as Matt Damon in the producer's chair, the picture is far from an indie flick. Likewise, it is in no way subversive. It stays within cinema's fundamental language and doesn't try to emulate anything other than a straightforward movie.

Instead, writer-director Kenneth Lonergan simply crafts an original story riddled with unforgiving tragedy. When Lee Chandler (Casey Affleck) learns that his brother (Kyle Chandler) passed away, he must return to his hometown of Manchester-By-The-Sea, Massachusetts, to become his nephew's (Lucas Hedges) legal guardian. However, Lee has demons in this prosperous New England coastal community, making him an infamous face amongst the residents. Through flashbacks, the movie slowly reveals Lee's dark past and it becomes evident that coming home brings him immeasurable pain.

At its center, the film deals with family and death, two highly relatable subjects that many melodramas attempt to dissect. "Manchester By The Sea" thus stands out by never depicting these complicated matters in sappy or clichéd manners. Much of that is thanks to Affleck's breakout performance as Lee. Every syllable that the soft-spoken character utters carries melancholic weight, and his every action seems emotionally excruciating. Even before the movie explains his tragic backstory, audiences can tell that Lee is a broken man.

Another contributing factor to "Manchester By The Sea's" effectiveness is the music. Composer Lesley Barber fills each scene with appropriate choir or orchestral scores that capture the emotional tenor. Not knowing much about music theory, I cannot necessarily back this up, but the songs also seem fitting for the setting - an upscale New England town reflecting terrible personal history for our protagonist.

As its title probably gives away, "Manchester By The Sea" is a deeply New England movie. Each character has a signature Massachusetts accent and references to the Boston area and culture are abundant. Narratively, it profits from the greater-Boston setting the same way "Good Will Hunting" did nineteen years before. The location helps sustain the notion that the characters are aggressive types with hearts of gold, just trying to make their way through the bitter winter.

In the end, "Manchester By The Sea" does not offer a full resolution, but it doesn't leave the audience hanging either. The characters overcome a lot and they surely grow, but the film does not trick us into thinking that happy endings come for free. By the final scene, the waters have cleared substantially, but Lee still fights, and there is not a dry eye in the house - such is the nature of the pure melodrama.

"Thor" is a weaker entry in Phase One of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. When the film came out in 2011, the franchise hadn't quite figured out the titular character, and the story deviated heavily from the more pure science fiction of its cinematic predecessors.

Before "Thor," the MCU only included "Iron Man," "The Incredible Hulk," and "Iron Man 2." While each of these movies had their fantastical elements, those elements were based in soft science rather than anything celestial. "Thor" changed this, taking a turn into harder fantasy with Norse mythology and the real world intersecting.

As one could easily guess, the film focuses on Thor (Chris Hemsworth): the cocky God of Thunder and son of Asgardian ruler, Odin (Anthony Hopkins). Although Thor is next in line for the Asgardian throne, his pugnacious arrogance leads him into exile. Odin casts his son down to Earth to live as a mere mortal in a small New Mexico town. Here he meets scientists Jane Foster (Natalie Portman) and Erik Selvig (Stellan Skarsgård), and college intern Darcy Lewis (Kat Dennings), who eventually learn his mythological origins and assist him in returning home.

In Thor's absence, Asgard also faces a threat from within. Thor's mischievous brother, Loki (Tom Hiddleston) learns that he was adopted and carries blood of the Frost Giants - a race of Asgard's enemies. Angry and envious, Loki attempts to overtake the Throne for himself while also unleashing sinister forces on Earth. Thor must defend both realms while also gaining a sense of humility.

The plot is not terrible, but it's a lot of magic to drop into a previously grounded superhero franchise. Thor states that magic and science are "one in the same" on Asgard, but I hardly think all viewers are convinced. Leading up to "Thor," the MCU was pretty accessible for people outside of geek culture. "Thor" thus makes it more esoteric, as we now have to imagine Robert Downey Jr's Tony Stark occupying the same canvas as these mythological beings and vast environments.

Furthermore, too much time is given to Thor's adaptation to the real world. One could compare "Thor's" premise to that of 1992's "Encino Man," a forgettable low-brow comedy about modern teenagers who resurrect a prehistoric caveman. As we now know from more recent Thor movies, humor works well with this character, but this first film does not quite nail the execution. It flips between campy and ultra-serious all too casually and never finds a precise tone.

Part of that is due to the fact that Thor himself is treated with too much dignity. He is a protagonist of an insanely high mimetic. He is hyper-masculine, jacked beyond belief, and comes off as an infallible being. This perfect depiction of a superhero is a little outmoded, for audiences struggle to relate to him. Later in the MCU, director Taika Waititi will show that Thor needs to be parodied in order to be likable, but this premiere feature - directed by Kenneth Branagh - is not so self aware.

Perhaps I am being too harsh on "Thor," though. After all, it was a necessary movie to expand the Marvel universe and introduce topics that would be pivotal for 2012's "The Avengers." Plus, it brought Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston to well-deserved stardom in their iconic roles. Most importantly, though, it demonstrated that Marvel Studios could create more than just standalone superhero stories of this world.

However, the cost is a somewhat underwhelming movie that probably estranged some non-comic-book-savvy moviegoers from the whole Marvel phenomenon. As a character, Thor has gotten much more rounded over the past nine years, but his origins remain something short of godliness.

John Hughes and Chris Columbus respectively return as writer and director for "Home Alone 2: Lost In New York." The sequel to 1990's "Home Alone," the film follows the same beats as its predecessors, only this time ten-year-old Kevin McCallister (Macaulay Culkin) is not left at home, but finds himself wisped off to New York City without his family.

In a parental improvement from the first movie, Kevin's mom and dad (Cathrine O'Hara and John Herd) remember to bring their youngest when they go to the airport for another holiday vacation. Rushing through the terminal, though, Kevin gets separated from his family and ends up on the wrong flight. While the rest of the McCallisters head down to Florida, Kevin accidentally flies off to LaGuardia Airport in the Big Apple.

Mimicking the first film, once Kevin realizes that he's on his own, he celebrates, traveling all across Manhattan to see the City's greatest sites. Using his Dad's credit card that he conveniently has on him, he checks into the Plaza Hotel, run by a goofy manager portrayed by Tim Curry. Kevin lives the high-life here, ordering room service, renting a limousine, and exploring the city-that-never-sleeps with his signature confidence.

The illusion of perfection soon falls apart, however, as returning antagonists Harry (Joe Pesci) and Marv (Daneil Stern) bust themselves out of prison and arrive in New York at the same time and place as Kevin. Back on the prowl, the fugitives plot to rob a toy store on Christmas Eve. It is up to Kevin to stop them.

In a climax that matches the first film's in terms of hilarious slapstick violence, Kevin lures Harry and Marv to his uncle's abandoned Manhattan brownstone. The boy once again defeats the villains with over-the-top booby traps - some of them very similar to those in the original, and some entirely new.

Like those in the original, many of the booby traps should probably leave Harry and Marv paralyzed or dead, but "Home Alone 2" demands a suspension of disbelief. Its pretty unlikely to imagine the McCallisters getting on another plane without Kevin, and it is near-impossible that Harry and Marv would run into Kevin in the middle of America's biggest city. However, paralleling "Home Alone," "Lost In New York" is told from a kid's perspective where certain actions have diluted consequences. Hughes and Columbus have a knack for capturing this youthful vantage point without pandering, creating something warm and fun for all audiences.

Indeed, "Home Alone 2's" conclusion is just as heartfelt as "Home Alone's," and its comedy is just as crisp throughout. As essentially a repeat of the first film, it's not winning any originality points; the characters have not grown in any novel way, but they remain fun, the jokes haven't gotten old, and the message is one we can still appreciate.

"Home Alone" might be cinema's last great live-action slapstick comedy, and the first in a long line of family oriented holiday movies from the 1990s. Coming out in the decade's first year, the John Hughes-written, Chris Columbus-directed movie was an unexpected blockbuster that quickly became a modern classic.

Macaulay Culkin plays Kevin McCallister, "Home Alone's" mischievous, but good-intentioned eight-year-old hero. After getting into a fight with his family the night before they are supposed to leave on a Christmas vacation, Kevin wishes that his family would disappear. Coincidentally, his parents accidently forget him when they hurriedly leave for the airport the next morning.

Kevin wakes up to find that his wish came true and immediately makes the most of it, eating junk food, staying up late, and watching R-rated movies with no supervision. All is fun until a criminal duo known as the Wet Bandits start eyeing the McCallister household for robbery. The Bandits, Harry (Joe Pesci) and Marv (Daniel Stern), figure out that Kevin is home alone and attempt to hit the house with the kid inside. It is thus up to Kevin to defend it.

And defend it he does. Kevin sets up outrageous booby traps to essentially torture the antagonists during their heist. This is where the slapstick comes in, as Harry and Marv are burned, tripped, whacked, and "shot at" by the boy. Many of the injuries would probably leave the characters in the hospital - if not the grave - but the movie keeps moving along to our delight. It is a hilarious sequence that quietly joins the ranks of iconic movie climaxes.

In the spirit of John Hughes and Chris Columbus, "Home Alone" is not exclusively for kids. The main character might be a child, but its depiction of childhood is neither patronizing nor obscure. People of all ages can enjoy the movie, whether they are kids, parents, or average moviegoers watching apart from a family structure.

Still, a heartfelt family theme weaves the film together. Beneath its comedic surface, there is a warm message of familial love that solidifies "Home Alone" as a Christmas classic. The whole idea of seemingly good parents leaving their children behind on a vacation is a bit incredulous, but once Kevin's mother (Catherine O'Hara) realizes that he is missing, her determination for returning to him feels very true. Both characters ultimately learn lessons in the end.

The movie thus asks the audience to suspend our disbelief to a certain extent, but we willingly do so without even realizing it. Once again, the film centers on a child and consequently tells most of the story through a child's perspective. It takes place in the real world, but warrants an element of impracticality. Through that subtly fantastical and vivacious lens, "Home Alone" effectively becomes both timeless and magical.

Lindsay Anderson's "If...." begins rather slow, establishing itself as a typical boarding school drama, as students arrive and get into routine at a 500-year-old public school in Britain. In the second half, though, the film takes a turn for the surreal, becoming a dreamlike dark comedy with cultural relevance and artistic wonder.

Watching "If...'s" first few scenes, we expect that the main character will be a first-year student at the school who adapts to the institution's rigorous standards and social hierarchies. However, it slowly becomes apparent that our protagonist is actually an upperclassman named Mick Travis (Malcolm McDowell).

With his two loyal friends Johnny (David Wood) and Wallace (Richard Warwick), Mick refuses to conform to the school's conservative agenda. Late in their academic career, the trio decides to give into their rebellious desires, relishing in rule breaking and defying the school's snootier patrons.

The film is thus a commentary on 1960s British counterculture just as much as it itself is a product of that revolution. Mick, Johnny, and Wallace reflect the time's rebellious youth as the rock-n-roll generation turning against society's archaic norms. Meanwhile, the movie partakes in the same counterculture as a piece of subversive art. The surrealist sequences, experimental editing, sexual undertones, and nudity all go against traditional British cinema to offer something novel, and perhaps even appalling for the formalists.

One of the most blatantly defiant methods that Lindsay Anderson endorses is the use of both black-and-white and color film in the same movie. Timing and lighting restraints initially forced Anderson to use black-and-white when filming in the school's chapel. Allegedly, he liked the effect so much that he decided to shoot additional scenes in the outmoded style. There's no telling why Anderson chose certain scenes for color and others for black-and-white, but the nonconformist blend aids the movie's dreaminess. The audience wonders what is real and what is depraved fantasy.

Malcolm McDowell certainly stands out for his performance as Mick. In fact, McDowell is so convincing as a rebel that this performance led to Stanley Kubrick casting him as the lead in "A Clockwork Orange." McDowell also reprised Mick in two additional Anderson films: 1973's "O Lucky Man!" and 1982's "Britannia Hospital." The character has been hailed as an "everyman," and he certainly has our attention, empathy, and support all throughout "If...."

An unfortunate outcome of that support, however, comes at the film's ending. The finale is climactic and in an odd way satisfying, but has aged horrendously. Without giving too much away, I will say that the denouement involves Mick, his friends, the school, and some guns. In the current age, it is hard to cheer the characters on through such a conclusion, given the real-world relevance of gun violence in schools.

None of this is to say that Anderson is at fault for finishing the movie in this way. In 1968, he could not have imagined the weight this ending might someday carry. Also, the conclusion is not necessarily inappropriate watching it today, but it is definitely darker. We can no longer champion Mick's rebellion in its entirety, but must come to terms with its limits and morality after the screen goes black.

Regardless of the lens we see it through, "If...." is an overlooked movie in British (film) history. While it might retain interest from scholars and critics, the general public - at least in America - has sadly forgotten it. Such is a shame, for it is a brilliant piece of cinema that acutely captures the light and dark sides of a pivotal transition in modern Western civilization.