#45 "Peter Pan" (1953)

"Peter Pan," particularly in its new restoration on Blu-Ray, is a visual treat. From its beginning in a well-to-do Edwardian household to Pan's flight over London with Wendy and the boys to the many different looks of Never Never Land, the hand-drawn backdrops are gorgeous. The character animation is silky smooth and appropriately graceful - Tinkerbell in particular is just a wonderful visual creation whether seen in long-shot or close-up.

However, watching it this time, it all felt narratively and emotionally flat. I say that as someone who loves and has always loved animation of all kinds and whose favorite movies include 'children's films' by Pixar, Ghibli and, yes, Disney. I never once felt like Peter or the gang were in any kind of real danger - Captain Hook's a cowardly buffoon, the crocodile is not so much his nemesis and the Tom to his Jerry and the relationship between Peter and Wendy never seems to go beyond surface-level affection.

Other than that, some of the songs (especially the pirate song) are great, some not so much (the 'red man' song the Indians sing feels particularly cringeworthy now). I love the moment where Wendy sews Peter's shadow back on him in the family nursery and Tinkerbell's jealousy of Wendy provides the film's best comedy (even if it's hard to really feel what she's jealous of, when the connection between Wendy and Peter feels so dull).

I like that the film gets in and out in a sleek 75 minutes and keeps pace from start to finish, but with a couple of moments and images aside, I found it easy to forget almost as quickly.

#44 "Nebraska" (2013)

Alexander Payne is that rare filmmaker who knows the Mid West and cares about the region enough to treat it as a truly worthy subject of creative exploration, rather than caricature, dismissal or sentimentalization. His work may be painfully honest and awkwardly funny, but it is never patronizing or schmaltzy.

"Nebraska" is certainly not a feel-good, rose-tinted salute to the Heartland. Nor is it a piece of self-serious miserabilism, even as it shows in authentic detail the lives of people who really are going nowhere, hanging on to past glory or an imagined future as their way of coping with the daily grind of a flat existence in a very flat land.

"Nebraska" is shot in black-and-white cinemascope - one of my favorite shooting styles for many of my favorite movies and a very clear statement of intent in 2013. But the intention here is not to evoke nostalgia for the days when black-and-white was Hollywood's bread and butter, nor is it used to create a kind of stylized beauty. Nope, this is just a grey world - one whose prairie inhabitants have no real color in their lives.

Woody Grant (played to perfection by Bruce Dern), the kind of grumpy old man who makes other grumpy old men look like loveable codgers, copes with the grey in his life in two ways. The first is the age-old remedy for depression - heavy drinking, but it's Woody's second strategy for finding purpose and meaning in his life that drives the film.

Woody has been sent a Publisher's Clearing House-style letter informing him that he has won a million dollars (terms and conditions may apply etc. etc.). Woody intends to collect his million, even though he has no real idea what he'd do with it beyond buying a new truck. And so, to his family's aggravation, Woody has started walking along the highway to claim his prize in person at the magazine vendors headquarters in Nebraska. In fact, Woody has been picked up on the side of the highway so many times that his younger son David (a wonderfully hang-dog Will Forte) decides that the best way to get his Dad to stop his regular elopements by taking him to Nebraska himself. Maybe then Woody will let go of his determination to collect the money he hasn't won - and after all, it's only a two day drive from their home in Billings, Montana...

While this could be the set-up to a great 10-minute short film, an obligatory stop with family in their old hometown along the way brings us deeper into Woody's past life, dragging up old friendships, enmities and untold secrets along the way. The running joke through all of this is that Woody's estranged family, old business partner and in fact all of his hometown really believe that Woody has hit the big-time, creating a bubble of envy, resentment and admiration David tries hard to deflate, but that his father basks in. Soon a whole number of old acquaintances start remembering that Woody owes them a whole lot of money and just want him to do the right thing by paying it back to them immediately.

All of which leads up to what I think may be the funniest shot in any movie in 2013: David's no-account cousin and his friend, big fat dudes with a serious lack of both ethics and smarts, waiting outside of Woody's old local bar, wearing balaclavas and pressed tight against the wall as if they are master ninjas who just happen to have beer bellies larger than a third trimester pregnancy.

"Nebraska" is a movie that does not smooth any of the rough edges of its characters, particularly Woody, who is bitter, selfish and often quite out of it. And yet, it's often a very funny film and even poignant in its own way. What I liked most about this film is actually its ending, often the hardest part to stick in a comedic drama (I'm trying not to say 'dramedy' - dear Lord, I am trying...). Payne wraps up "Nebraska" in a way that is surprisingly sweet, satisfying and absolutely true to his world and its characters.

There's no deus ex machina, no 180º character reversals and no easy resolutions to the problems of old age, regret and decades of familial dysfunction, but there is the possibility of real kindness and respect for another's humanity. And that can be more satisfying and genuinely touching than any studio-approved ending.

#43 "12 Years a Slave" (2013)

2013 was a hell of a year for film, with a number of movies (like "Her," "Gravity" and "Frozen") that I believe audiences will be watching decades from now. It was the first year where I felt compelled to see all the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' nominees for Best Picture - none of them were a dud nor were any the kind of 'worthy' but stodgy prestige pictures that the Academy too often settles on. "12 Years a Slave" went on to win that highest honor, and in a year in which it was first-among-equals, it thoroughly deserved it (as well as its awards for Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Supporting Actress).

This is the first film I've seen by British Director Steve McQueen (who first rocketed to critical attention with "Hunger," his tale of the last days of an Irish Republican Army hunger-striker in the 1980's) and it makes me eager to see his two previous features and excited to see what he will do next. McQueen could so easily have taken the true story of Solomon Northrup, a free black man and professional violinist kidnapped into slavery in the deep South in 1841, and given it the full Oscar-bait polish and production value with score by John Williams and reassuring voice-over by its protagonist, reminding us constantly that no matter how bad things get, he will make it out in the end.

That McQueen refuses to make his story any more palatable for his audience and consistently avoids any of the props a lesser Director (even a very good one like Steven Spielberg) would use is part of what makes this such a great movie. What makes "12 Years" such a grippingly intense experience is that it feels like an authentic portrayal of slavery in all of its injustice, sadistic hypocrisy and institutionalized cruelty. McQueen and writer John Ridley consistently respect our intelligence knowing that they we don't need any sentimental adornment or stirring speeches to experience the true and all-too-human evil of slavery - we simply need to witness it.

DP Sean Bobbitt does a great job of portraying the beauty and horror of the enslaved South, with lyrical moments that remind us of Northrup's humanity and that of those around him, while using a matter-of-fact, almost documentary style, to capture the moments of violence and degradation, making them all the more shocking. It's horrifying seeing two young black men being lynched by a small group of white men, but it's even more shocking to see Northrup simply walking by, trying to conceal his terror and outrage, knowing that for the sake of his survival he has no other choice.

Hans Zimmer's score is also effectively restrained stylistically. The only moments I really noticed the film's score was during a couple of heightened moments of horrific tension and again, beautifully, in the film's occasional moments of grace, where Northrup is reminded of his humanity and when he is finally liberated.

Most important of all, though, is that McQueen's cast are uniformly excellent. Chiwetel Ejiofor is perfect as Solomon Northrup. Northrup is a kind and educated man shocked by the horror and injustice he witnesses and experiences, but utterly determined to survive and re-gain his life, even when the cost of that is suppressing that same kindness, education and his innate human empathy and decency.

Michael Fassbender is once again mind-blowingly skilled and versatile as Epps, a sadistic, alcoholic and paranoid slave-owner. Epps is absolutely terrifying because he is so believably human - he feels no moral qualms about whipping the skin off the back of Patsy, his 'favorite' slave, but later playfully carries his child by her on his back as he wanders about the plantation. Lupita N'yongo is heartbreaking as Patsy, who wants just as much as Northrup to survive, but is broken by rape, violence and the enduring cruelty of Epps' wife who resents Patsy as if her slave were choosing to be the object of Epps' vicious and exploitative 'attentions' towards her.

"12 Years a Slave" is not an easy film to watch, but it is one that I look forward coming back to because it is so well crafted, so rich creatively and such an excellent telling of a story that too many Americans would be only to happy to never hear in the first place - but need to.

#42 "The Forgotten Kingdom"

"The Forgotten Kingdom" is the story of Atang, a young urban resident of Johannesburg, who must travel back to his homeland of Lesotho, a tiny land-locked kingdom completely surrounded by the Republic of South Africa, to honor his father's final request to be buried. Atang has not spoken to his father for four years before his death and is not happy to revisit his family past or to leave the excitement of Jo-burg for provincial Lesotho. However, he quickly meets lovely young school teacher Dineo who recognizes him from their childhood days and begins to develop feelings for her. Fate strands Atang in Lesotho after a violent mugging and when he finds that Dineo's father has moved her and her HIV-positive sister to the deeper countryside, he teams up with a local orphan and heads out on a quest through the mountains and plains of Lesotho to reconnect with her.

This is a truly beautiful film, filled with breath-taking vistas and the rich texture of a land that is both familiar and unfamiliar to our protagonist. It's also a film with a real generosity of spirit - Atang and Dineo's relationship is charming and engaging, whether they are playfully flirting or emotionally confronting each other. The real highlight of "The Forgotten Kingdom," though, is the interplay between Atang and the unnamed orphan, played with mixture of mischievousness, vulnerability and wisdom beyond his years by Lebohang Ntsane. Director Andrew Mudge does a great job of telling his story in a culture that is vastly different from anywhere in the Western world, but in a way that is always relatable and compelling.

#41 "Infernal Affairs" (2002)

"Infernal Affairs" is best known in the West as the film that Martin Scorsese remade as "The Departed" in 2006. As I've often said, I think that one of the best ways of understanding more about the ways films work (and don't work) is by studying an original and a remake comparatively. I may have loved "Psycho" since I first saw it as a teen, but watching Gus Van Sant's shot-by-shot remake helped me appreciate even more and in much clearer detail quite how Hitchcock's original worked - largely by doing everything (and I mean everything) the same but worse.

The relationship between "Infernal Affairs" and "The Departed" is of course very different, as the original is a taut, effective Hong Kong thriller and the re-make is a creation of one of the greatest directors of all time, culturally transposed with great skill by writer William Monahan into the down-and-dirty world of the Irish-American underworld and Whitey Bulger's Boston.

"The Departed" follows the same narrative arc as the original quite closely, though with much more in the way of subplot and more time spent on the texture of both characters and setting. In both films, two young men begin on diametrically opposite life paths (one a member of a powerful gang, the other a gifted police cadet) and at a critical moment early in their lives switch over. The upcoming gang member joins the academy and becomes a mole inside the police department for the gang boss. Meanwhile, the police cadet is put under deep cover (a cover that includes him being very publicly expelled from said academy) and is planted inside the very gang his counterpart originates from.

To complicate matters further, after 10 years of following the same tracks, the gang and the police clash in a life-or-death struggle for power. Not only that, both gang and police become almost simultaneously aware that they have an informant from the other side undermining them. And as fate and script would have it, in both cases it's that very informant on each side who is most trusted by their leader and tasked with hunting down the mole within - i.e. themselves. It's a hell of a conceit, but in both films, it's one that is efficiently and entertainingly set up and we are quickly sucked past any disbelief we might have and drawn into the endless narrative possibilities and dramatic tensions that the scenario creates as the game is played out.

And yet, the differences between the two films - their philosophical and cultural takes on the same narrative - is made immediately clear in the opening minutes of each movie and emphasized again in their closing frames.

"The Departed" starts with the voice of Jack Nicholson's master criminal describing his philosophy of crime and power, laced with bigotry and contempt, over a montage of Jack at work being his evil self. The film ends (no spoiler here) with a shot of a rat scurrying past a window. By contrast, "Infernal Affairs" (whose Chinese title literally translates as "The Unceasing Path") begins and ends with imagery of traditional Buddhist sculptures and quotes from the sutras about the worst of the eight Hells being 'Continuous Hell.'

"The Departed" positions itself as grim and grimy but darkly comedic, complete with a visually punning punchline that could not be more on-the-nose. "Infernal Affairs," though definitely hinting at the bitter comedy of its set-up is much more concerned with the tragedy of each character, stuck in the continuous hell of living a life-sized lie that they cannot truly extricate themselves from.

"Infernal Affairs" is strengthened by all-round great performances for all the major players, very much including Eric Tsang as the shrewd and brazen gang boss and Anthony Wong as the police handler, absolutely dedicated to the mission but with real human sympathy for his undercover agent. Andy Lau is great as the corrupt Inspector Lau, a man who is used to enjoying respect and confidence from his colleagues and his fiancee, but who is constantly aware that his world may melt down at any time. Best of all is Tony Leung as undercover agent Chen, who combines a sense of bone-deep world-weariness living in a job that gives him neither prestige nor security with a sense of real human warmth and a deeply ironic appreciation of the absurdity of his situation.

"The Departed" is a ballsy, well-crafted movie with images that are hard to forget but in the end I much preferred "Infernal Affairs." Where Scorsese's remake twists and turns itself over and over to the point of absurdist existentialism, the original never loses focus on its narrative and tells a much more authentically human story with admirable economy. This difference isn't just subjective - at two-and-a-half hours, "The Departed" goes on for an exhausting 50 minutes longer than the lean 100 minutes of the original. I think that that sense of exhaustion and the absurd futility of it all is quite deliberate on Scorsese and Monahan's part, but I felt much more invested and excited by the efficient pace of the original.

#40 "High Noon" (1952)

Growing up in England, I never understood how anyone could possibly care about Westerns (anymore than I could imagine who the hell would actually listen to Country music...). They all seemed like the same story over and over and over and not even a story I could in any way relate to. It was like watching "Scooby Doo," minus the talking dog and with gun shots and big hats instead of ghosts and "pesky meddling kids." I avoided Westerns on TV the same way I instinctively changed the channel when faced by a rugby game or gardening program or party political broadcast for the Tories.

That would all change in my first year in college in the States, when I was actually watching Westerns with some context from my professors, seeing them on the big screen instead of packed tightly into our 14" telly. I saw "The Searchers" and "The Wild Bunch" and "Josie Wales" and started to really get it - or at least start to care about the best told stories, particularly the ones that took the accepted formula and mythology and did something different with it, something subversive or personal or beautiful.

But there was one exception right from the beginning, long before I re-patriated myself to the US for college. "High Noon" always made sense to me on a gut level even if I couldn't care less about the mythology of the West or John Wayne or Hop-along-whatsisname. And it still speaks to me in the same way. "High Noon" is just damn good visual storytelling - disciplined and efficient, almost existentialist in its depiction of a man alone in the face of his mortality and yet always utterly human and relatable.

So much of that has to do with its central character and the man playing him. Will Kane isn't an archetype or a superheroic gunslinger - he's never anything other than a man who doesn't just want to do the right thing, but is physically incapable of doing otherwise because his conscience and values won't let him do anything else. Gary Cooper has the right physical presence - upright, dignified and solid - without any of the grandiosity, posturing or smugness typical of a Western hero. Kane has no interest in glory or martyrdom - he has no more interest in dying at the hands of the Miller gang than any of the townsfolk who leave him hanging and he feels real fear of death and suffering. What makes him a hero isn't his fearlessness - it's his dogged persistence in the face of that fear, all the while knowing exactly what he's getting himself into as the situation becomes more and more desperate.

There's a great character moment where Kane comes in to ask the help of the local carpenter / store owner, whose laborer is out back busily and noisily working on constructing the new coffins the store owner knows will be needed in the afternoon. Embarrassed, the store owner tells his worker off-screen to hold the work and continues his conversation with Kane pretending that nothing's wrong. Cooper's deadpan is perfect as he wraps up his business with the store owner then turns and tells him with a look that shows just slightest trace of irony that he can tell his man to get back to work.

Kane knows exactly what the shopkeeper's man is working on, and in that subtly knowing look lets the shopkeeper know that he knows the score and isn't going to pretend that he doesn't. Marshal Will Kane may be about to die within the hour, but he's not about to start bullshitting himself or anyone else or go along with the comfortable lies and pretenses the 'good folk' of the town use to avoid doing a damn thing when the danger is real.

#39 "Blade Runner" (1982)

I've seen "Blade Runner" a number of times over the years in all three of its 'official' cuts and it's a film I will keep watching regularly. I'm not going to try to get too deep into it here, but just wanted to make a couple of quick observations from seeing it again last night.

If anyone reading this hasn't seen this film - see it. It's a work of outstanding vision and influential on so much of the dystopian science-fiction that would follow.

This time around I was even more impressed with the world that Director Ridley Scott creates, but felt disappointed and even disconnected from the narrative. Let's look at the positive first.

"Blade Runner" will be 32 years old this year and, set in 2019, is only five years away from that situation almost unique to sci-fi of being a film that predicts the future we've already lived. That always make it easy to see quite how dated some of the film's 'future' looks now that it's the present, but this is a vision of future past that stands up really well.

As a film made before CGI could do much other than simulate 'futuristic' computer displays, "Blade Runner" creates a very tactile world that is compelling and easy to relate to, no matter how different from our actual present it is. Most of the effects work stands up remarkably well. Some of the 'flying car' shots look a little bit off, but there are no effects here that pull me out of the film's world - which isn't something I can say of most older sci-fi films.

Part of the genius Scott and Production Designer Laurence G. Paull (also the Designer of "Back to the Future," another sci-fi film that has aged very well) is that they imagine a future in which by no means is everything 'futuristic' - there may be flying cars and synthetic animals and humans, but there's still old-fashioned booze, poverty and crumbling apartment buildings. The rising tide of technological progress and bio-engineering may have created wonders for the increasing number of humans living off-world, but much of the lives of those not so privileged remains only tangentially altered by technology here on Earth.

Wedded to the incredible detail of clothing, props, architecture and screen displays both tiny and gigantic are the elements of late '40's / early '50's style, lighting and design that make "Blade Runner"'s world truly succeed as 'neo-noir.' Harrison Ford's worn-down android hunter Deckard may face uniquely futuristic dangers and dilemmas but the way that he walks 'down the[...] mean streets' explored by Raymond Chandler is in many ways the same as Bogart's Sam Spade. Lights from passing airborne vehicles is always bursting through the windows and blinds of "Blade Runner"'s world, but it's as much a reminder of the darkness inside as it is a form of illumination.

What disappointed me this time around was that I didn't feel much of any real emotional connection to the story. I don't know the film's different versions well enough to say if this is a weakness of Scott's 'final cut' of the movie, but a lot of the 'poetic' moments the film lingers on and the increasingly out-there behavior of Rutger Hauer's chief replicant felt forced, even ridiculous at times. I have loved this film ever since seeing a 35mm print of the 'director's cut' in college, so I want to think that maybe I was in a bad mood or just overly familiar with the story. The narrative itself holds up just as well as it ever did, but I'd like to go back and visit that earlier cut again to see if I feel an emotional difference.

Whether it works for me emotionally or not, though, "Blade Runner" is a work of imaginative genius, one of the most perfect examples of a film creating the sense of a complete world that is different from our own, but feels just as real. This is the kind of film that makes a sci-fi lover like myself wish that the Ridley Scott who made this film - or a new filmmaker with the same level of talent and resources - was still creating the same kind of visionary work today.

#38 "End of Watch" (2012)

At first glance, "End of Watch" looks like it's going to be another found-footage movie, though one set in the cop drama and not horror genre. Over dash-cam video of an all too real looking car chase that ends in a quick and brutal firefight, Jake Gyllenhaal delivers a monologue that defines both his character, LAPD officer Brian Taylor, and the film's themes (not too unlike the 'This is my rifle...' passages from "Jarhead").

One big elliptical cut forward and we see Gyllenhaal and his partner Mike Zavala, played by Michael Pena, returning to the force after what we learn is a month off for the investigation into their fatal shooting of the suspects has been concluded. Brian just happens to be taking a film class as part of his extra-curricular schooling so he has his own camcorder rolling, along with micro-cameras clipped to his and Mike's uniform chest pockets.

Over the course of the movie we see footage from Brian's camcorder (a constant source of annoyance for his fellow officers), the micro-cameras he and Mike wear, their police car dash-cam, a kind of reality-show wide angle lens fixed inside the camera and numerous cell-phone videos taken by different civilians as they witness and / or participate in various crimes.

Luckily though, Director David Ayer (writer of "Training Day") doesn't keep our view pinned to the various found-footage-finding cameras inside the film's world. Although he sticks with diagetically motivated cameras for the first few minutes of the film, Ayer quickly 'cheats' with gritty camerawork that is obviously from taken from the filmmakers' point of view and not that of the characters, along with some classically gorgeous aerial and establishing shots.

The overall effect is to put us squarely on the ground in the lives of the LAPD officers and residents of some of the most dangerous parts of Los Angeles. This also spares us, for the most part, the found-footage cliche ("People have to know!") that justifies the ludicrous notion that anyone would actually keep shooting video in these increasingly dangerous situation.

Ayer really takes advantage of this immediacy to connect us to the characters of this world with uniformly strong performances. Gyllenhaal and Pena have the kind of relationship that one can see in any bog standard "buddy movie," but what makes this film so effective is that their friendship, which includes practical jokes, raunchy banter and a fair amount of mutual button-pushing, feels completely real thanks to the strength of the writing and of their performances.

Ayer really succeeds in making us feel that there is a very real world 'outside the frame.' While there is an overarching narrative thread as Brian and Mike find themselves in the crossfire of a black vs Latino gang turf war and are ultimately targeted by a cartel leader, Ayer lets his characters and narrative breathe. Narrative strands collide and coincide, but in ways that feel much more plausible and satisfying than much of "Training Day," where the film's entire resolution turns on a coincidence that is improbable in its plotting and absolutely ridiculous in its timing.

We see much more of the day-to-day lives of Brian and Mike and their department than in a more programmatic narrative - and the material is often great. The two partners respond to the kind of calls that give child protective service workers nightmares. Brian talks directly to the camera about the joys of department paperwork and captures co-workers bitching about the politics inside the department. Other characters also at times 'kidnap' Brian's camcorder and talk directly to him (and us) through it.

Brian also falls in love with and eventually marries a lovely young engineer, played by the completely adorable Anna Kendrick. The moment where the two of them in full wedding regalia perform an obviously well-rehearsed 'first dance' to Salt 'n' Peppa's "Push It" is one of the funniest things I've seen in a long while. In fact, for a film about the terrifically violent fall-out of a savage gang war, "End of Watch" is often a whole lot of fun (especially in the family gatherings we see outside of duty) and a number of moments are outright hilarious.

I'm an experienced / jaded enough viewer to know that a movie like this will in the end have a conventional narrative arc (Neo-Realism this ain't) and I started to pull back, feeling like all of this additional character-revealing material (complete with loving familial attachments) was a typical emotional 'fattening-up' of the audience. Like the war movie cliche of the soldier who talks about his wife, children and / or mother being marked for death because 'hey - tragedy,' crime dramas tend to set up their protagonists as more-than-just-their-badge just so we'll feel sadder when they suffer and / or die.

Now, it's not that the film isn't doing all that (in fact, there's nothing unconventional about the film's plotting) but those great human moments and the detailed depiction of the film's world are as much 'the point' as the narrative itself. "End of Watch" is something special because it works as a memorable character piece and document of its world just as well as it does as a cop thriller.

#37 "Trollhunter" (2010)

I took this one out from Family Video at the same time as "[Rec]", which was probably too much found-footage filmmaking for one week, but even though the narrative hook has gotten old quickly, "Trollhunter" certainly has pleasures all of its own to offer.

This film follows a group of three young folk who are looking to do some attention-getting investigative reporting on recent bear attacks in a remote part of Sweden. However, they quickly learn that something much more dangerous and fantastical is responsible for these attacks and they team up with a reluctant and reclusive insider who takes them behind the curtain at their own peril.

OK, so far, so standard. Swap out 'Sweden' for anywhere in the States and 'bear attacks' for 'mysterious disappearances' or 'strange occurrences' and you've a scenario that would fit about 90% of all found-footage films languishing on store shelves or flooding the 'Recent Releases' section of Amazon, Netflix or Hulu.

And indeed, we do get elliptical edits, scenes shot all in night-vision green and running-with-camera shots that make Sam Raimi's 'shaky-cam' in the first "Evil Dead" movie look like the steadicam shot from "Goodfellas." We get moments where we wonder why anyone with any interest in survival would keep shooting. We get shots that may look cool, but how on earth could any of our characters actually be shooting that? And we get an ending that just... ends, because 'hey man - found-footage.'

But as the screen-shot above shows, this is also a film that shows every bit as much as it suggests and in a really good way. The trolls themselves aren't wonders of seamless CGI (though the 'final troll' pictured here is pretty damn great), but they make an imaginative and enjoyably absurd difference from the zombies and evil spirits that are the staples of the found-footage craze.

And all of this comes with just enough character reality and detail to make the story compelling and a sly sense of humor that respects our intelligence. Otto Jesperen as the titular trollhunter is awesome - the straight man of the narrative, Jesperen carries the unspoken self-confidence of someone who is a veteran professional (whose profession just happens to be troll-hunting) along with the bone-deep weariness of a man who is simply getting sick of his job. He's tired of the physical wear, lousy pay and bureaucratic bullshit he's experienced in his 30-some years of keeping everyday Norwegians blissfully unaware of - and uneaten by - the monsters hidden in their back-fjords.

"Trollhunter" doesn't give new life to the found-footage horror sub-genre, but its imagination, absurdist humor and deadpan lead performance certainly make it a cut above the rest.

#36 "The Lego Movie" (2014)

"The Lego Movie." Released in February. With a hyperactive trailer and bubblegum pop of the gummiest sort. Product placement that gets you to pay for a ninety minute commercial. Yeah, I'd seen the trailer and enthusiastically added this movie to my list of films that I will happily go to my grave without seeing.

But then all kinds of good reviews from people I trust and respect started coming in - the kind of reviews the film I was so ready for this to be would never, ever get. In a couple of days, "The Lego Movie" became my first must-see new release of 2014.

And it's good. I'd love to see it again right now because there is so much detail and creative energy in this movie from start to finish, so many great gags and nice little touches that pay off years of genuine goodwill built (pardon the expression) by the product with a sly wink to the adults in the audience that almost never relies on the crude humor or simple pop-culture reference that so many kid's movies think their non-children viewers will find hi-larious.

"The Lego Movie" isn't quite on the level of the very greatest Pixar films, but it's up there with, say "Cars" or "Monsters Inc" (and way above their sequels) as an imaginative, excellently crafted entertainment. The voice acting's excellent and varied (major kudos to Will Arnett's brazenly narcissistic Batman), the imaginative twists keep coming while the narrative never drags and best of all, for a computer animated movie about everyone's favorite interlocking brick, the actual tactile quality of the Lego itself is top-notch.

A sequel is already in the making and although I'm cautiously skeptical about the creators' ability to bottle the lightning crazy again, the set-up for the next movie rates as one the best. I won't spoil anything here, but it's a great gag that punctuates the narrative and tone perfectly while suggesting creative possibilities that talented minds could have great fun exploring. In the meantime, bring on the Blu-ray and pack it with as many behind the scenes special features as its 50 gigabytes will hold.

#35 "Inside Llewyn Davis" (2013)

"Inside Llewyn Davis" is a very Coen brothers take on the east coast folk singing scene in 1961, a time when the clean-shaven squareness of the '50's is on the wane, but the creative craziness of the '60's proper had yet to arrive. Titular folk singer and guitarist Llewyn Davis is a classic Coen character in the same line as Barton Fink or Larry Gopnik of "A Serious Man" - a not-so-loveable loser whose level of talent and dedication aren't enough to save him from the obstacles he creates for himself or from the uncaring, fickle world that deems him not quite good enough.

And yet, equally typical of the Coen brothers, while our protagonist's journey is largely a series of setbacks and crises, the writing and direction (both of visuals and of performance) help make what could be quite a bummer compelling, intellectually satisfying and even funny in a dark, skewed, absurdist way.

One of the Coen brothers best choices throughout the film is their exercise of stylistic and narrative restraint, while putting Oscar Isaac's playing, singing and acting front and center. Where many films would fade out from a song in progress to hurry along with the story or play it out over a narrative-forwarding or detail-building montage, the Coen brothers leave their camera squarely on Isaac and let us care about and better understand an often unlikeable, self-destructive man through his music. It's an excellent choice as Isaac plays and sings each song, giving authenticity, soul and even heart to an otherwise downbeat tale.

Just as Isaac completely embodies Llewyn, Carey Mulligan is once again brilliant, beautiful and disappears into the character of Jean, Llewyn's best friend Jim's girl and sometime lay (for whose abortion he pays early in the film). Justin Timberlake in a bit part is also excellent as Jim, a lighter, less pompous singer of earwig novelty pop tune "Please Mr Kennedy" about an astronaut not wanting to be launched into space (it's still going around my brain as I type this). And then there's John Goodman - there's always John Goodman - as a heroin-addicted jazz player who succeeds both in popping Llewyn's balloon of self-seriousness, while Llewyn simultaneously deflates the pretensions of Goodman's character.

The Coens are obsessive about detail and it shines through here, richly recreating the New York (and Chicago) folk scene in Greenwich Village at the time and giving Llewyn's actions and motivations context in the world.

"Inside Llewyn Davis" shows the Coen brothers maturing in their story-telling and stylization, while still making compelling cinema that couldn't really belong to anyone else.

#34 "Oscar-Nominated Shorts - Live Action" (2013)

And the live action shorts...

- "Helium" The story of a nurse who tells a dying boy the tale of the magical world of Helium that he will be going to when he passes on, this is Oscar-bait in its purest form. It's acted well and the CGI animation of Helium and its balloon-suspended world look great, but everything about it feels calculated to win that little golden statue. I will be pissed if it does.

- "The Voorman Problem" A Douglas-Adamsy tale of psychotherapist Martin Freeman interviewing prisoner Voorman (Tom Hollander), who believes he is God and has the other inmates agreeing with him. The film starts off on a bum note as Freeman meets the prison's despairing governor (Simon Griffiths) - it's not a badly written scene but the difference in acting ability between Freeman and the unknown Griffiths is almost painful. Hollander is brilliant as Voorman, Freeman is excellent as ever and there's a great joke about Belgium (poor, poor Belgium). Even still, the whole thing feels a little too forced and the ending way too obvious.

- "Avant que de Tout Perdre" ["Just Before Losing Everything"] Utterly gripping filmmaking. A film where the plot is best left undescribed, not because of a Shyamalanesque 'twist,' but because so much of its power comes from just following the characters and gaining an understanding of their situation by being with them, not by heavy exposition. Xavier Legrand draws Hitchcock-like suspense and real emotional engagement by playing straight with a narrative that is unnerving precisely because it is so plausible and realistically portrayed. Lea Drucker is exceptional in the lead role and this is a film that makes me genuinely excited to see what its Director does next. This is the one I'm rooting for.

- "Aquel No Ero Yo" ["That Wasn't Me"] An amazingly powerful and emotionally draining mini-epic following the kidnapping of a small group of NGO workers by a bloodthirsty commander and his army of child-soldiers in an African republic at war with itself. Director Esteban Crespo gets excellent performances from all of his cast and drags us in emotionally with incredible speed to a horrifying situation which he portrays without pulling any punches but also without exploitative sensationalism.

- "Pitääkö Mun Kaikki Hoitaa?" ["Do I Have to Do Everything?"] A short, sweet piece of pure comic relief after the emotional gut punch of "Aquel...", here we see a typical middle-class Finnish family rushing to get ready for a wedding they're running late for. The actors are truly endearing and although it's all essentially a set-up for a single punchline, it's a hell of a good joke and paid off with perfect deadpan ridiculousness.

#33 "Oscar-Nominated Shorts - Animation" (2013)

Gonna keep these next posts short to catch up. So, scattered impressions of this year's Oscar-nominated animated shorts:

- "Get a Horse!" An incredibly well made homage to the black-and-white Disney cartoons of Steam-boat Willy vintage. This short combines the lovingly detailed feel of a 1933 cartoon with a fourth-wall breaking leap into Pixar-level 3D animations of the same characters. A cartoon-lover's cartoon with precise, disciplined visual story-telling.

- "Mr Hublot" Charming, wordless comedy about a man and his robot-dog set in a kind of retro-future world that looks a lot like indie adventure game "Machinarium." Doesn't do anything dazzling, but tells a good, simple story in an entertaining way with subtle shades of pathos and affection for its characters.

- "Feral" The story of a boy who's grown up in the wild adopted by a traveler who wants to give him a home in the civilized world isn't anything at all original. But the grace of the black-and-white animation and the rather lovely way it exaggerates human and animal forms is something special.

- "Possessions" The tale of a samurai-like tinker who encounters a hut full of living and overlooked tools and clothes. Beautiful cell-shaded animation makes each frame look hand-drawn while allowing for 3-dimensional camera moves both sweeping and subtle. A truly satisfying narrative that is unlike anything I'd seen before.

- "Room on the Broom" Narrated by Simon Pegg and starring Gillian Anderson and Timothy Spall and with sky-high production value, this one feels like the 'over-dog' to me (though the Academy may be more likely to go with Disney). But damn it all, it's perfectly paced, utterly loveable and beautifully crafted in a faux-Claymation style that really succeeds in feeling as wonderfully tactile as any Wallace and Gromit adventure.

#32 "[Rec]" (2007)

Is it too much to hope that someday, perhaps someday soon, horror filmmakers will stop finding "found footage" footage?

Oh yes, it most certainly is - and it's all down to supply and demand. So, like a bad Reagonomics pundit, let's start with the supply side first...

Horror films have always been cheap to make. Not that all of them are low-budget of course, but it's almost unique as a genre in that its audiences do not demand - and do not even necessarily want - high-production values, technical brilliance or name actors. And as the cost of independent film-making has gotten lower and lower over time, it's been easier and easier to crank out horror flicks with only a location, a cast of aspiring (read: dirt cheap) actors and a modest budget for special effects make-up.

Found footage films take the DIY ethos of the classic '80's slasher movies and run with it, making films like "Friday the 13th" and "My Bloody Valentine" look like "Gone with the Wind" in their production values. Needing little to no crew, a tiny cast, no more equipment than a camcorder and an Arri light kit and very little time, a film like "Paranormal Activity" can be made for $15,000 and (with some digital tidying and an admittedly hefty publicity budget) take in gross theatrical receipts of almost 10,000 times that much (or about 1,000,000% of the production budget). And that's before DVD, Blu-Ray, on-demand, basic cable, merchandizing and - of course - franchising. Forget Apple or Exxon Mobil - if you want to look at mind-bending bang for your production buck, the smart money's in found footage.

Of course, anybody can make a low-to-no-budget feature film these days (really, anybody) and can spend $15,000 on a film that exists only on its Director's hard-drive. The second part of the profit equation is obviously demand - and that's where the audience comes in. It's easy to see why Producers make found footage films, but even the cheapest film needs to compete for time and space with other movies on store shelves, theater screens, even iTunes and Amazon product line-ups. So why all the demand?

That's a harder and much more interesting question to answer and one that may only become clearer once more time has passed. Horror films are the nightmares of their times and, just like any dream worth its time on the couch, they often reveal things about our culture and ourselves things that we might not want to otherwise face. 'Torture porn' like "Saw" and "Hostel" (and their many, many sequels and imitators and imitators' sequels) were all the rage from 2004 until around 2009. Essentially torture porn took off when mainstream Americans heard of Abu Ghraib and started to realize just quite how much torture their government was committing in their name - and then came crashing down in popularity after the election of a determinedly anti-torture President. Sure there are still hold-overs like "The Collection" that try to re-capture the glory-days of graphic, voyeuristic sadism, but over all that kind of horror has moved back to the extreme.

We now live in an era in which there are cameras everywhere, they've become smaller and cheaper than ever and they're recording all the time - to the point where we often forget about them in the moment. We've gotten used to 'filming' ourselves and our friends and to documenting even the minutest details of our lives. And the monster in the closet no longer looks like abduction by mysterious, faceless captors who will torture us for their amusement (and maybe for our own sins - like being complicit in the torture of others...). The fears are a lot closer to home - indeed they come from our homes, from our daily lives, from our relationships with those closest to us.

"The Blair Witch Project" was a huge success back in 1999, but what really strikes me is how little successful imitation followed it at that time. It wasn't until 2007 / 2008 that the genre exploded and has become the phenomenon it - for better and for much, much worse - it now is. With the end of the Bush administration in sight, America fell head-over-horrified-heels for "Paranormal Activity" and "Cloverfield" (both movies I really enjoyed myself). If "Saw" was the horror franchise for the Bush era, seemingly unstoppable every single Halloween, "Paranormal Activity" has become the post-Great-Recession franchise for the age of Obama.

But in the same way that Charles Darwin and Alfred Russel Wallace came out with their theories of evolution at practically the same time with little mutual contact, on the other side of the pond a little film called "[Rec]" was getting the kind of buzz "Paranormal Activity" was in the States. And like "Paranormal Activity," "[Rec]"'s success would kick off its own mini-franchise with 2 sequels out and another on its way later this year.

"[Rec]" starts off nicely by introducing us to reporter Angela immediately (no credits to distract us or remind us that what we're seeing is fiction) who is having trouble keeping a straight face and remembering her lines as her cameraman Pablo records the open to her 'human interest' segment on the night-time lives of local firefighters. What follows really does look like the kind of unedited footage a segment editor for a local news channel might receive filled with the kind of staged interviews you would expect as well as Angela's little asides to Pablo immediately before and after the 'real material' is being shot.

The firefighters we meet are likeable and so is Angela in her kind of bratty way - even with her obvious boredom with the material she and Pablo are shooting, she stays game and does her best to bring some life to the proceedings. That boredom goes away as soon as the fire alarm she's been all but praying for comes and she goes for a 'ride along' with the firefighters to an apartment building in which an old lady seems to be trapped in her room. Then, of course, things quickly get weirder and more dangerous and her tame 'filler' piece turns out to be the story of the decade - if only she and Pablo can get the tapes (and themselves) back out of the building in one piece.

Honestly, writing about "[Rec]" after watching it for the first time 7 years after its release seems a little unfair. Moments that are now cliches were a lot fresher at the time. A good example is the inevitable justification for keeping the camera rolling ("People have to know the truth!") when surely any sane person would just be cowering somewhere or running for their lives. This line is now such a well-worn plot crutch that it's nicely parodied by "Psych"'s own found footage episode ("Lassie Jerky"), but it wasn't at the time and it actually does make sense given that Angela is a reporter - and one hungry for her 'big break,' at that.

As it is, despite some drag in the middle of the film, "[Rec]" does what it sets out to do and does some smart things with its central idea. At one point, locked out of the room where the 'contaminated' firefighter and policeman are being held, Pablo stands on a table shooting through a cracked window to avoid being seen. When the 'treatment' suddenly turns into a violent attack, we want to see more to understand what is happening, but the suspense and shock we feel are increased by the fact that our vision is limited to what Pablo's camera can catch.

The very ending is also effective, played out through the green night vision of the camera as this is the only way to see in the dark with the onboard light broken and a hostile presence stalking nearby our protagonists. The impact of this hunt in the dark is undermined, though, by a scene of ham-fisted exposition right before that involves a conveniently cued-up tape for Angela to discover and play that 'explains everything' (or at least way too much).

It's the kind of exposition that would be fine in an adventure video game, where we expect there to be lulls in the action and accept that there will be audio-logs and written messages for us to discover - but in a film, it's bad narrative technique and bad horror. So much of the real fear in horror comes when we don't know why the killer is murdering his victims, why the dead have suddenly come back to life with a taste for... us or who the Blair Witch actually was or is and why the hell is Josh standing in that weird way against the wall?

"[Rec]" isn't the horror masterpiece it was hyped as in horror circles before its release in the US and its impact is considerably lessened by everything that's come since. Nevertheless, it's still a well thought-out, at times very effective horror film that - unlike the found footage genre itself - doesn't outstay its welcome.

#31 "The Great Gatsby" (2013)

Like so many teens, I first read "The Great Gatsby" in high school and absolutely loved it. It was one of very few books I read, out of choice, more than once. So when our English class got the chance to see the film adaptation (with Robert Redford as Gatsby) I was really excited - I mean, I loved films, I loved "Gatsby" so put them together and... Oh, dear.

I remember only two things about the film (1) I was amazed at quite how boring the story could be made in the right hands and (2) the shirt sequence. Oh, the shirt sequence - with the pastel colored linen flying from left to right and right to left... in hilariously overplayed slow motion. It took me another reading of the book to confirm that, yes, it really was the film that was awful, not the original material.

The shirt sequence is here too, in Baz Luhrman's "Gatsby" (as it in the book), but there's no slow motion, no rapturous shots of Mia Farrow lost in shirt-rapture. Instead it plays like the scene it is - with Gatsby acting as a child showing off in front of his girl, and Daisy clearly reacting poignantly to his naive flirtation, not to the shirts themselves.

To my surprise, I really liked Luhrman's take on the novel. Luhrman always does a good job with over-the-top surfaces, but he's not exactly known for his emotional depth. And to be sure, the surfaces in "Gatsby" are stunning - Luhrman's hyperbole and gaudiness fit perfectly the spirit of Gatsby's bacchanals and the hyped-up spirit of the Roaring Twenties. That's what I'd expected of Luhrman and he delivers fabulously - but what impressed me even more is how he handles the quieter moments, as when Gatsby asks Nick to bring Daisy over for tea in the shadow of his walled-off mansion. Luhrman uses CGI skilfully to bring an era to life, especially the depressed, industrial no-man's-land that bridges West and East Eggs with the hopped-up energy of New York City.

Luhrman is not known as an actor's Director, but the performances here are first class, allowing us to understand and feel for characters who are not intrinsically relatable to those of us outside of the 1%. Leonardo DiCaprio was born to play Gatsby and he wears the role, which comes with almost impossible expectations, very well indeed. Indeed, all the cast are great. Tobey Maguire's mild-mannered awkwardness works as go-between Nick Carroway, and while it would be easy to play the character simply as a spectator and catalyst for the plot, Maguire does well to suggest that Carroway has much more of an idea of what he's doing than he might admit.

Carey Mulligan, with her natural soulfulness, does a great job with Daisy - bringing emotional depth, vulnerability and genuine playfulness to a character who is essentially a bored aristocrat's wife. Joel Edgerton, an actor I'd never really noticed before, is an excellent Tom Buchanan, capturing both Tom's selfish blindness and his ability to cut others to the core, as well as his pure animal brutality and hedonism.

I had very limited expectations coming into this film, but I enjoyed it, I was moved by it and I would gladly watch it again.

#30 "Beauty and the Beast" (1991)

Bah, humbug. OK, maybe I don't feel quite as much of a committed party-pooper as old Ebeneezer himself, but I can't help it - I've always seen "Beauty and the Beast" in comparison to other films and it's always felt like the lesser movie as a result.

I first saw "Beauty and the Beast" when it came out in 1991. I loved the quality of the hand-drawn animation, which had been dropping at Disney even since their Golden Age classics, as well as the way it was enhanced by (carefully buried) computer-enhancement to create the swooping 'crane shots' in the ballroom and the dance of the plates.

But the narrative felt too simplistic and too sentimental and although the Beast looked hella cool, none of the characters really stuck with me. It also felt to me, though I don't know if I would have articulated in this way at the time, that the sentimental love-story wasn't really integrated with the more enjoyable comic relief of the enchanted household items that had been the Beast's human servants before the curse.

Then I saw "Aladdin" the next year and there was no doubt - "Aladdin" and not "Beauty" was the Disney renaissance I'd been promised. Better spectacle, silky smooth animation, a more tolerable song and the best possible use of Robin Williams' bipolar style in the Genie.

As it is, the best thing about "Beauty" is the supporting cast, with loveable Angela Lansbury, charming David Ogden Stiers and a brilliant Jerry Orbach (of all people) as the outrrrageously French candlestick, Lumiere. Paige O'Hara and Robby Benson do just fine as the titular Beauty and Beast, but they're not given much character material to work with.

It's still a fun movie. It's still a pleasant way to pass 90 minutes in the company of Disney's animators. But it'll always be second fiddle to me. Now, if only I could shake that bloody earwig of a theme-song...

#29 "The Master" (2012)

"The Master" tells the story of a critical moment in the rise of Lancaster Dodd (a slightly fictionalized L. Ron Hubbard) and his movement 'The Cause' (a slightly fictionalized Scientology) as seen through the often admiring eyes of Freddy Quell (described by Dodd as 'my guinea pig and protege'), a psychologically disturbed and intellectually limited ex-navy WWII veteran in 1950.

Like any of Writer-Director Paul Thomas Anderson's films, there's a hell of a lot of movie here, with much more going on thematically, dramatically and artistically than I could possibly hope to even scratch the surface of here. What really linger in the mind are the detailed depictions of the mind games Dodd plays to draw his followers in and the terrific performances by Philip Seymour Hoffman as Dodd,  Amy Adams as Dodd's wife and Joaquin Phoenix as Freddy Quell.

Hoffman owns the movie as the titular Master - his depiction of Dodd is unforgettable. Hoffman has great material to work with in Anderson's script, but what he really brings out is Dodd's humanity. Yes, Dodd is a grandiose, pretentious and venal leader of a pseudo-scientific cult, who is part charlatan, part confidence trickster and part madman. But he is also an utterly charismatic man, who disarms with his bonhomie, self-deprecating wit and (apparent) utter confidence in what he is doing. Hoffman makes it impossible not to be drawn to Dodd and whenever he's on screen, he draws our eyes to him no matter what he is doing.

Anderson's most intriguing narrative choice is to not make Dodd the protagonist of a film that he dominates so completely, but to portray him as experienced by - and in relation to - Joaquin Phoenix's troubled, crude and at times violent perma-loser, Freddy Quell. Anderson also chooses to put concentrated focus on a moment in 1950 when Dodd is on the rise, encountering his first serious legal problems and publishing his all-important second book, which will transform 'The Cause' from a fashionable phenomenon to a worldwide movement. Put together, both of these choices help Anderson avoid the predictability and narrative staleness of the 'biopic' and get in close to the character and thematic details that really excite him.

There's a lot to be said for revealing a central character (particularly one as iconic as Dodd) through his relationship to others (as in "Citizen Kane"). However, Anderson's choice of Quell as protagonist and our main entry into the world of Dodd and 'The Cause' makes the film a lot less accessible and a lot more alienating than it could be otherwise, and I'm not sure if it gains much from that. Phoenix’s performance is certainly powerful and fully committed (man, did it make me miss Theodore Twombly from “Her,” though...).

Like Jennifer Lawrence's Rosalyn in “American Hustle,” Phoenix’s Quell is a very intelligent portrayal of a very stupid person. As a supporting actress in “Hustle” Lawrence’s performance is part of a great ensemble and adds to the texture of the film’s world and ups its dramatic tension in a believable way. But if Rosalyn were our protagonist and the story was told through her eyes and in relation to her? Not so much fun.

Anderson is a unique Writer-Director, a true auteur with an incredible range of gifts. “The Master” is one of those films that reminds me quite how alive grown-up cinema is in America in this second decade of the millennium and it has moments that I will not forget soon. I also respect the way that Anderson goes out of his way to avoid narrative and dramatic cliche and the choice to tell the story of Freddy Quell is certainly a gutsy one. It just makes “The Master” a film that’s a whole lot easier to admire than it is to love.

#28 Prometheus (2012)

"Prometheus" is Director Ridley Scott's return to the sci-fi universe of "Alien." While it doesn't (really) feature everyone's favorite post-Freudian xenomorph, it's very much a part of the world complete with devious corporate leaders, white-blooded near-human androids and a spaceship's crew who are for the most part more interested in getting paid and getting home than pursuing any higher calling.

The basic premise is the same as god-awful 'reality' show "Ancient Aliens" which airs on the 'History' Channel: Our ancestors were created and guided by powerful, ultra-intelligent aliens because otherwise how could you explain Stonehenge or Easter Island (since obviously anyone who didn't have an iPhone, HDTV and e-mail account couldn't have been very clever). Maybe if "Prometheus" were coming earlier in the decade I'd feel more forgiving to its central conceit, but it isn't and I don't - it just feels insulting and that's no way to kick off a movie.

Aside from re-visiting the universe of his seminal sci-fi film - a great idea in itself as its world has always seemed ripe for exploring - Scott is also repeating himself in ways that aren't so fun. The corporate big bad, played ably by Guy Pearce under layers of old-person make-up, is just too  one-dimensional, as are most of the characters, even with what is basically a very able cast. Once the cast attrition sets in as our ragtag crew are picked off by... something, everything feels so been-there, done-that that overall I found it hard to care about much of anything.

There are a couple of bright spots in the performances. First off is Michael Fassbender, often the best thing in any given movie, who does a great job of portraying 'David,' the apparently servile and perfectly polite droid-servant who has a lot more going on under his surface (and like his droid predecessors in "Alien" and "Aliens" does a remarkably good job of continuing to speak calmly after being ripped apart). David gets the most interesting character beats and has a wonderfully satisfying (and chilling) character arc.

The other truly three-dimensional performance belongs to Noomi Rapace, who plays the overly curious archaeologist determined to find the truth about our species' origins on the desolate planet where the bulk of the film takes place. Rapace doesn't get material that's nearly as interesting as Fassbender's (no-one does in this film), but it's nice to see her really taking to a not-Lisbeth-Salander role. She also does a terrific job with the film's most intense sequence as she performs a particularly harrowing self-surgery that is the very definition of 'pro-choice.'

In the end, this just felt like a wasted opportunity to me. The "Alien" universe is so ripe for story-telling and it deserves better stories than this one. It's still a pleasure to watch Scott's skilled craftsmanship and the lovingly crafted set-design, imaginative use of CGI and location shooting. I may hate the central premise of the film, but it's fun spending time in such a detailed and textured world - if only there were characters and a narrative to match it.

I'm not giving up hope, though. Apparently there is a "Prometheus 2" in the works and if it can go deeper into the story and world without needing to do the whole naive crew discovery / cast attrition / final girl schtick that this film does, it might be something special.

#27 "Trance" (2013)

Sometimes a group of talented, experienced filmmakers (say, Director Danny Boyle, Screenwriter John Hodge and D.P. Anthony Dod Mantle) come together with a group of gifted, dynamic performers (for example, Vincent Cassel, Rosario Dawson and James McAvoy) who are unafraid to bare it all physically and emotionally and create something that... just really doesn't work.

Yes indeed, "Trance" is that movie.

I was excited for this one, despite some lukewarm reviews - I love "Shallow Grave" and really enjoy Danny Boyle at his twisty and twisted best. The idea of James McAvoy as a young art-dealer caught up with criminals in the heist of a rare Goya painting is already appealing. Add in the twist that he has actually forgotten where he put it and is forced by gang boss Frank (Cassel) into hypnotherapy with a sexy, enigmatic doctor played by Rosario Dawson, and I'm ready for some mind-bending, plot-twisting, stylized fun that doesn't need to have any deeper meaning as long as it makes for a rollercoaster good time.

To be fair, the film feels like just that as it starts, with McAvoy as auctioneer Simon giving an ironic to-the-camera monologue about the history of art theft and current security procedures at the high-end galleries like Delancy's, where he works. All this is intercut with shots of how those procedures are supposed to go and how they actually work as Frank's gang kicks off the actual heist of the Goya. So far, so fun.

After Simon is captured and worked over by the gang, who have discovered that they've stolen the frame but not the painting, they realize that the crack on the head he sustained during the heist may have actually caused him amnesia and that Simon cannot remember where he stashed the loot. Lacking other options, Frank sends Simon in to see ace hypnotherapist Elizabeth (Dawson), wired for sound so the gang will hear it when he spills the beans.

Up to this point in the basic set-up I'm with it. I mean, sure, the hypnotherapy idea is one hell of a dramatic conceit, but it's one with all kinds of possibilities. And Doyle and Dod Mantle do have some fun with Simon's liminal imaginings, including a great conversation Simon has with a near-decapitated Frank and a gallery Simon walks into that contains all the world's stolen artwork.

But then the twists come and they keep coming and coming. It doesn't help that there are practically no shots in the film that look like they take place in reality - wide-angled lenses, diffusion filters and color schemes that range from good ol' teal-and-orange to expressionistic reds to a world full of lavender. It's kind of entertaining to see what the lads do with it all, and some of it's quite pretty, but when every single frame screams "It's not real! None of this is real!", it's mighty hard to feel invested in anything or anyone.

As is always the danger with this kind of twisty movie, all the reveals and reverses and fake-outs and mind-fucks quickly become exhausting and end up being ridiculous rather than thrilling or moving or even surprising. "Trance" is still worth seeing for its one-of-a-kind nutsiness and visual experimentation - and it certainly keeps moving - but it's not a film that elicits much of any emotional response. Kooky images aside, I feel like I'm starting to forget the actual film already, just like waking up from an involved, confused and strangely lavender-shaded dream.

#26 "The Visitor" (2007)

In 1999, shortly after the release of "The Matrix," Britain's venerable film journal Sight & Sound published an editorial proclaiming the soon-to-come end of humanistic cinema. With the new heights of realism and spectacle achieved by computer-generated imagery, the article reasoned, and the desire for simplified narrative to reach worldwide audiences, fewer and fewer films about nuanced, believable characters in real-life situations would be made. Oh sure, there'd still be the odd Mike Leigh or Ken Loach mining that vein of intimate drama and neorealism to the bitter end, but the writing was on the wall. The editorial was striking, articulate, prophetic and, of course, completely wrong.

As with popular music and video games, our age of globalization, readily accessible high-end technology and internet distribution has made the world of filmmaking much, much bigger and much, much smaller simultaneously. Not only that, but these technological forces have made it easier than ever before for the smallest to compete with the biggest for audience, critical attention and even dollars.

In the world of video games this has meant annual "Call of Duty" and "Madden Football" sequels and personal, inventive gems made by tiny teams (or single creators) like "Fez" or "Gone Home." For film this has meant that micro-budgeted films as diverse as "Once" or "Paranormal Activities" have been able to take the world by storm even as "Harry Potter" and "Iron Man" sequels continue to thrive. And even as the latter keep breaking their own records to become the highest-grossing films ever made, the world of small, humanistic films, like "The Visitor" is alive and well.

In "The Visitor," Richard Jenkins, a superb character actor who has been on the New York scene for over 30 years now, takes center stage as Walter Vale, an uptight professor going through the motions at a college in Connecticut. Forced by his department to present a paper at a conference in New York City, he returns to the apartment he owned there with his deceased wife, only to discover that it has been unofficially 'subrented' by a third party to Tarek (played by Haaz Sleiman) and Zainab (Danai Gurira, who would go on to fame as Michonne in AMC's "The Walking Dead"). They are a young creative couple (he a player of West African drums, she a bracelt and earring maker) who are also illegal immigrants. After the initial shock of discovering each other, Walter and Tarek form a bond with Walter allowing the couple to stay at his place and Tarek teaching Walter how to play the djembe and taking him out to his drum circle and professional gigs.

The beginning of this beautiful friendship is cut short, though, by Tarek's accidental apprehension on the subway and consequent discovery of his illegal status in the country. Tarek is moved to a detention center in Queens, a place which neither Zainab nor Tarek's family can visit for fear of being detained themselves. With the threat of deportation facing Tarek, Walter decides to step up, visiting Tarek regularly, passing on messages from his loved ones and hiring an immigration lawyer to fight Tarek's case. Eventually word of his detention reaches Tarek's mother who, against Tarek's wishes, travels to New York to be as close as she can to her son, while forming a real bond with Walter.

If you had to shoe-horn "The Visitor" into a particular genre, I suppose you could call it a slice-of-life drama - although its impact is more joyous and emotionally satisfying than that might imply. Director Tom McCarthy (working from his own script) does a great job of creating characters we really care about, supported by universally excellent performances from all four leads - in particular from awkward but likeable Jenkins and gregarious extrovert Sleiman, who are a terrific odd couple. Starting slowly, McCarthy crafts a story that, following Tarek's detention, becomes more and more involving with real emotion that never descends into miserabilism or sentimentality.

This film definitely touched a nostalgic nerve in me, as it is an excellently textured portrayal of the real New York City - as well as being the kind of low-but-not-no-budget indie I have worked on as a Line Producer (it even has a lovely cameo appearance by Laith Nakli, one of my frequent - and favorite - collaborators). Even beyond that very personal appeal, I really respected the way that Tom McCarthy told a story that was so different from the quirky-white-people-with-introspective-personal-problems that has become indie cliche, without being preachy or heavy-handed.

From the first ten minutes I thought I knew exactly where the film was going and I was happy to be wrong. Beyond the original conceit of Tarek and Walter's meeting (not that hard to imagine given New York real estate practices, actually...), this is a story that always feels authentically driven by its characters and the social forces they interact with."The Visitor" is a great reminder of everything that's most awesome about human beings, while never letting us forget the bigger social realities that also shape our lives in ways that are not always fair or in keeping with who we are and who we want to be.

#25 "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" (2011)

I first saw the original Swedish adaptation of Stieg Larsson's novel"The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" (or "Men who Hate Women," as it was entitled in Sweden) almost four years ago and although I didn't like it as much as I thought I would, it did leave some very strong impressions.

The first of these impressions was completely personal - a strong sense of relief that I had not taken my mother and uncle, who I love going to the movies with, to see it at the cinema. The film's portrayal of sexual violence was more than I would have wanted them to be exposed to - and it would have been beyond uncomfortable watching it with them.

I was certainly struck, as I think everyone who saw the film was, by Noomi Rapace's career-making performance as brilliant hacker and investigator Lisbeth Salander. Lisbeth is a talented but deeply wounded young woman who wears her heart on her skin in her punk hairstyle, piercings and (naturally) tattoos but who has so much that her emotions are deeply internalized, often causing consternation or outright offense to others.

Certain moments in the film are unforgettable, largely due to the plot rather than original Director Niels Arden Oplev's craft - the sexual violence Lisbeth suffers and then retaliates with being first and foremost. But for such a long film with subplots about industrial corruption, the dangers of pursuing truth in a superficially respectable society and the effects of profound abuse and reactions of those who suffer it, I'd really expected more depth. Instead, the film felt like a particularly long, particularly sensational episode of a TV procedural, with an incredible performance at its center.

Finally, I couldn't shake the feeling that Michael Nyqvist in the main role of journalist Mikael Blomkvist was almost an exact Swedish doppelganger for Daniel Craig...

Apparently David Fincher had a similar feeling about Mr Craig, for he does indeed star as Mikael Blomkvist, an investigative journalist who has just had a jury rule against him in a libel case brought by a powerful businessman Mikael had just profiled. Mikael is then approached by old industrialist Henrik Vanger (a perfectly cast Christopher Plummer), who wants Mikael to investigate the murder of his niece Harriet, who disappeared on the remote family-owned island of Hedeby where Harriet disappeared 40 years ago.

Under the pretense of writing old man Vanger's memoirs, Mikael begins to research and feel out the Vanger family but finds himself stymied by an unspoken code of secrecy and the length of time that the case has been 'cold.' Appealing for assistance with his research, Mikael is matched up with Lisbeth Salander (the titular 'girl') who brings with her exceptional talent, unsentimental determination and an intensely personal but emotionally internalized hatred of men who enjoy hurting women.

Craig does excellent work as Mikael - a flawed but sympathetic protagonist who is driven by professional ego and the need for personal (and financial) redemption, but also by a genuine determination to find the truth and personal loyalty to Henrik, a man who has helped Mikael in his darkest hour. Stellan Skarsgard is equally superb as Martin, Henrik's nephew, who is Mikael's greatest champion and ally in the family after Henrik falls into a coma midway through the investigation. Skarsgard brings a real sense of bonhomie to the role of Martin, while revealing an intensity in the climactic scenes of the film that feels true to the character he has created. That reveal in the original film felt too many too much like a self-conscious plot twist, almost arbitrary in its nature - Skarsgard and Fincher make it feel like all too convincing believable and uncomfortable.

But the film, of course, belongs to Rooney Mara as Lisbeth. Fincher was never in danger of being eclipsed by Niels Arden Oplev, Director of the original, but Mara's taking on the role of Lisbeth as unforgettably embodied by another actress seemed like a creative kamikaze mission - no matter how good she was, how could she possibly compare to Rapace? Excellently, as it turns out. With her bleached-out eyebrows, Mara looks even further out-there and more alien than Rapace, but her real accomplishment is to completely disappear into the role. And this is a role which requires extensive, unglamorous nudity and an ability both to suggest emotional scarring and hidden vulnerability under a deadened surface and to plunge unhesitatingly into real rage and grief when that surfaced is penetrated physically and emotionally.

Fincher is one of the greatest living craftsmen in film, a Director with a deep understanding of his medium, but he brings more than just craft (and the resources to better implement that craft) to his own take on the story. The most important of these creative decisions is simply that he leaves the story in its original time and setting. The temptation, and studio pressure, for any Hollywood adaptation of a foreign-language is original is to transplant the original story and characters into an American setting much more easily relatable to a domestic audience. Sometimes this works well ("The Departed" and "Let Me In" make nuanced, well-realized cultural transpositions from the Hong Kong and Swedish originals), but most of the time this studio-approved transplanting kills the patient.

By removing the cultural specifics that made the original so textured and compelling, the Americanized re-makes typically end creating forgettable and generic junk. Just like the trend in the '90's and early '00's to adapt Shakespeare for modern teen audiences, the studio's mistake is that what made the original interesting was its story (though Shakespeare freely stole most of his) when what really attracted the audience was the way the story was told. Watch Stephen Frears' "Dangerous Liaisons" and "Cruel Intentions" back-to-back for a perfect illustration of this principle in action. The latter film was directed by Roger Kumble, in case you were wondering, who also went on to direct "Cruel Intentions 2" (and yes, there is a reason why you've never heard of the guy).

I know very little about Swedish society, but I can say that certain crucial story points just wouldn't make sense in an American context: the weight of European libel laws and the absence of 1st amendment protections on journalists, Lisbeth's status as a 23-year-old 'ward of the state' and the vulnerability that creates for her, the specific dull respectability of the Swedish business establishment and the proximity of pure, lethal Nazism. These would need to either be erased, making the story that much blander, or forced into the script, stretching our suspension of disbelief and making it harder for us to believe in and identify with the character's motivations.

Fincher also does a much better job than Oplev of getting beneath the surface of the salacious story. This means that the story goes well beyond its main dramatic climax (as, to be fair, does Oplev's version), but it gives much more meaning to Mikael's motivations as an investigator and to the theme of the profound corruption of what we would now call 'the 1%,'  a corruption that is buried beneath a thick veneer of respectability. The film's epigrammatic tag line, "What is hidden in the snow, comes forth in the thaw," is a Swedish proverb that is a rare example of the form that is both strikingly memorable and true to the themes and feel of the movie.

In Oplev's version, that dramatic climax, in which Mikael seems to have no means of escape from a truly horrifying fate, feels more intellectually than emotionally awful. Fincher's skill at creating all-too-believable psychopaths makes this scene genuinely chilling and physically menacing, the killer's motivation and elaborate set-up the terrifyingly plausible result of a history of abuse combined with an awareness of their unchecked inherited power.

Similarly, Fincher's staging and the performances of Mara and Yorick van Wageningen, as Lisbeth's predatory state 'guardian,' make the sensationally cruel abuse that Lisbeth suffers and then avenges herself for, seem more real and humanly motivated. In Oplev's original, these scenes felt effective but utterly manipulative, a skilfully played version of the most exploitative kind of rape-revenge story.

As I mentioned, both films go well beyond their main climax and resolution of the 'whodunnit' mystery, but again Fincher's version does more and more interestingly than Oplev's. I haven't read the novel, so I can't say (and don't really care too much) which is more faithful to Larsson's original, but Fincher's resolution of the tale of what happened to young Harriet Vanger is more narratively satisfying and a more meaningful take on the theme of what is hidden beneath the surface than Oplev's.

It would be an interesting exercise to watch both movies back-to-back for scene-by-scene detail, and I'm sure I would see strength's in Oplev's telling that I may not be remembering some four years on. I think Fincher's is the far stronger film, but I don't think it supplants the Swedish original, if only because of Rapace's dazzling performance. What is certainly true is that "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" is a perfect fit for Fincher's themes and craft and one that he obviously took seriously as his own work of art, rather than just as a higher-production-value remake by a Director-for-hire. If all English-language remakes were this good, I would look forward to them in the same way I look forward to seeing a new staging of "The Tempest," rather than seeing their only creative value as a reminder of quite how good the originals were.

#24 "Mama" (2013)

Guillermo del Toro, one of our most imaginative and visionary filmmakers, has taken up a side-line as Producer and Executive Producer of a series of independent films that neatly fit with his most cherished themes and his passion for stories that take place on the border between the Horror and Fantasy genres.

"Mama" is the latest of these films - a spooky tale of two young girls almost killed in the woods by their desperate father (who has just murdered his wife) saved by a mysterious, supernatural creature (the titular 'Mama') and raised by her in the wild. Discovered by their paternal uncle's search party five years later, the sisters have become truly feral, and uncle Jeffrey (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) gains custody of them with his girlfriend Annabel (Jessica Chastain). Little do they know that the girls did not survive alone and that their previous 'foster-mother' has no interest in letting her girls go that easily.

It's easy to see why the material appealed to del Toro: "Mama" is an intimate, relationship-driven combination of horror and fantasy with a strong focus on the children who have the closest connection to the supernatural. But while the first of these del Toro-'branded' projects, 2007's "The Orphanage," was a true artistic success, "Mama" falls well short of the mark, despite a strong visual flare and a couple of nice directorial touches.

The film looks lovely, with an appropriately desaturated color palette, chiaroscuro lighting with rich blacks and good use of effects work - both practical and CGI. 'Mama' herself is very well-crafted, a combination of effects augmenting a brilliant motion-captured physical performance by Javier Botet. The general wisdom these days is that you want to show as little as possible for as long as possible of the creature in the feature, a la "Jaws" or Val Lewton's RKO pics. That's generally a great strategy when the primary purpose of the movie is suspense and / or horror, but "Mama" takes a different approach, showing us more and earlier than other films might. I think that was appropriate here, because this isn't a pure fear-driven movie. "Mama" has some serious failings but, to its credit (and also its detriment), it has more on its mind than just making us jump.

But, oh, does "Mama" want us to jump - in fact, it could be Exhibit A in the People's Case against over-used jump scares. Almost every horror movie has those moments when the creature / killer / really dangerous thing pops up and attacks, menaces its prey or just terrifies us (the old "he's behind you!"). Usually this is accompanied by a sudden audio sting, often a very high note - a shriek of violin or a pling! of a piano key. If you turn the volume down, though, you realize that it's usually the sudden noise that makes you jump, not the image alone. It's like William Castle's Tingler (TM) - a little buzzer under your seat that makes you feel a jolt of fear, whether you want to or not.

When jump scares are used skilfully by a Director who has created an atmosphere of suspense, dread or just good old-fashioned horror, it can be a very effective way of taking the viewer past suspension of disbelief and into pure identification with the terrified characters. It's the final note of a well-constructed crescendo.

Used lazily, though, it's a lot more like the Tingler - a cheap trick, and one that, minus the wacky William-Castle-style novelty, is kind of insulting to its audience. And that's exactly how it's used in "Mama," over and over (I think I actually told the film to "piss off" out loud at least once). The feral kids pop up out of nowhere, Mama pops up out of nowhere, the light flickers, Annabel wakes up from a nightmare and it's audio stings and Tingle all the way.

"Mama" is Director Andres Muschietti's first feature and it really shows in his lack of confidence that his story, characters and visuals will pull us in. It's not just the Tingling that he uses to hammer us over the head.

Exposition in a horror film is never easy, as it generally involves stopping the story's forward motion and diffusing its tension to explain something that's fundamentally nonsensical. But, boy, does Muschietti blow it here. The kid's psychologist, Dr Dreyfuss, out to make a name for himself, does the research and explaining here and I cringed for actor Daniel Kash whenever he doled out or received the information-that-explains-it-all.

The narrative has its own clunkiness, too, both in predictability and contrivance. For the former, just look to the moment when the (not-so) good doctor decides to go down to the cabin in the woods where the girls were raised by Mama. He does so in the dead of night, alone and without telling anyone. How do we think that will work out for him?

As for contrivance: For an example of the latter, the girl's uptight, unsympathetic Aunt Jean who wants custody of the girls decides that she should break in to the girls house to get 'evidence' for Child Protective Services on the very night the supernatural excrement hits the ventilator. Why? Not because it's true to her character as established, not because it really makes sense as a plan, but because it's really, really convenient for setting up the film's finale.

There's one scene that really worked for me, which feels like the work of a more confident Director. Holding a completely static shot with no cut-aways, Muschietti shows us on one side of the frame the upstairs hallway and on the other the children's room. On the right side, we see younger sibling Lily in her room happily playing with a game of tug-of-war with a blanket. On the left we see Jessica Chastain as Annabel walking toward the room. Instead Annabel sees Victoria and turns around.

It takes a second to work out, but Lilly is obviously playing with Mama, and Annabel is heading towards seeing the creature full-on. It's a creepy scene both because of the tension of wondering if Annabel is walking into danger - a tension unreleased in the long shot until the end of the scene, and enhanced by the fact that we never see Mama. But what makes it more interesting is that, while we know from the get-go that Mama is fully capable of being lethal, she and Lilly really are just playing together and having a great time - Annabel might be in danger but Lilly isn't.

More than anything else, "Mama" feels like a missed opportunity to me. Mama herself is a great creature not only visually, but also narratively - she's a monster / villain with actual complexity of motivation, not just a 'killer who had a traumatic think happen and now he / she needs to everyone because trauma.' This is a film with an intriguing premise that would be well worth re-making. If put in the hands of the right Director,  this could be a great little B-movie.