Fred Astaire never ceases to amaze me. The dynamic duo of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers is on full display in their first screen pairing, a wacky musical with a witty, energetic screenplay. Produced during the rise of talkies and before the enforcement of the Hays Code, the characters of Flying Down to Rio are charmingly frank, making one risqué comment after another without the fear of censorship by the MPAA (formerly the MPPDA). The film is chock-full of quotable lines, although a few of them may slip through the cracks due to differences in cultural contexts.

This is the type of movie that makes you long for simpler times, when the world was free and uncaring, and everyone knew how to jive and get down. The carioca dance sequence is absolutely joyful to watch, hitting the audience with one variation after another as Latinos, African Americans, and the electric Fred and Ginger pair all take a stab at the addictive upbeat tempo. This is a film that knows what it wants to be and embraces it – it is fun and playful the whole way through, and ends with a completely ludicrous aerial sequence as its grand finale.

Of course, Gene Raymond and Dolores del Rio received top billing for this movie, and they are also quite phenomenal as the center of a classic love triangle. Raymond is charismatic as lady-killer Roger Bond, and del Rio is lovable playing the leading lady. The editing gets a little crazy with so many different transitions used, but it matches the playful style of the film and is a good sign of their willingness to experiment. This is a great piece of early cinema with a clever script and great choreography.

Ernest & Célestine is a heartwarmingly faithful adaptation of the popular Belgian children’s stories by Gabrielle Vincent. The story is centered around the budding relationship between the two titular characters, Ernest the bear and Célestine the mouse, who struggle with their friendship in a world where their societies are at odds with one another. Although you can likely determine the theme of the story from a mile away – one of bigotry and intolerance – it is the sincere methodology in which directors Vincent Pater, Stephane Aubier, and Benjamin Renner have pieced this film together that captures the imagination and makes Ernest & Célestine a clever depiction of a timeless bedtime story.

Reflecting the musical talent of Ernest and the artistic talent of Célestine, the art and music of Ernest & Célestine are its greatest strengths. Off the bat, the film eases you in with its beautiful, hand-drawn artwork; the storybook universe is brought to life by a number of gorgeous set pieces that could all be suitably hung up as living room paintings, and the computer animation allows characters to betray a ton of emotion with just their movements and expressions. Ernest’s dopey naivety and theatrical flair, combined with Célestine’s warm optimism, wits, and fierce personality, provide a great dynamic that makes their growing relationship natural and lovable.

Meanwhile, the sound design is crisp and clear, whether it be the soothing vibrato of Ernest’s piano, or the individual clatter of falling plates and pots as he tips over everything in his cabin. The film’s soundtrack is equally robust, with each song having a child-like bounce and step to it that vitalizes each scene.

Perhaps the most surprising part of Ernest & Célestine is that there is always something interesting going on, whether it be in the foreground or background. When Ernest first comes back to his cabin, he throws his hat away into the dark and misses the coat hanger, which quickly falls with a resounding clank. The animators know when downtime can be used to insert a little whimsical humor, and when to let silence take over and do its work. As a result, the world feels fully alive, as if even the props and surrounding scenery are interacting with its characters and, oftentimes, mocking them.

Unfortunately, the price of intricate detail is the film’s short 80 minute runtime. It feels as if the movie is boiled down to its best parts, which inevitably left me feeling unsatisfied by the film’s quick and sudden ending – although I enjoyed every minute, I was left wanting more as the credits started rolling.

The film does not try to play down to its audience – there are some beautifully dark moments in the film, and they stick out in my mind as some of the most unique and memorable of the film. Together, the artists and musicians of Ernest & Célestine even manage to insert a few surreal dream sequences, each of which have their own unique style and are gorgeous with or without their contexts.

In the end, Ernest & Célestine is a simple children’s story about a bear and mouse who fall in love despite society’s bigotry and intolerance. Yet, in its sincerity and clever screenplay, the film shines as a beautiful European alternative to the standard 3D-animated Hollywood fare.

Mark: How was work today?

Johnny: Oh, pretty good. We got a new client and the bank will make a lot of money.

Mark: What client?

Johnny: I cannot tell you; it’s confidential.

Mark: Aw, come on. Why not?

Johnny: No, I can’t. Anyway, how is your sex life?

Nothing more needs to be said about Tommy Wiseau’s epic drama. Nothing about the film’s gratuitous sex scenes, or the myriad of repetitively cheesy pop songs used to complement the sight of Wiseau’s flabby meat packets. Nothing about the mind-bogglingly one-note acting, or Wiseau’s dopey hand gestures and odd, slurred cadences. I won’t say anything about the film’s head-scratchingly convoluted screenplay, or its inability to complete a full conversation without multiple unrelated interjections along the way. I won’t talk about the excessive number of San Francisco establishing shots used to transition between every scene in the movie, or the constant use of camera cuts to make sure the audience knows who’s talking during every moment of the film’s 99 minute runtime. And I won’t mention the obviously green-screened rooftop, or the absurd frequency at which football is played in every imaginable setting.

The fact that every review and commentary on The Room seems to point out the same terrible flaws and eccentricities of what is often described as “the worst movie ever made” is perhaps a testament to the greatness of this film.

There are no words to capture the feeling that comes from watching this movie. Watch it with friends. Watch it with alcohol. Watch it with an open mind and be prepared for a roller coaster of emotions.

“I feel like I’m sitting on an atomic bomb waiting for it to go off!”

After hearing a load of praise from both friends and critics about Attack on Titan, I finally sat down and watched the first series of this well-acclaimed thriller. Although the first four prologue episodes highlight many of the problems that persist throughout the series, notably its overuse of melodramatic music and voice acting, these flaws are eventually overshadowed by Attack on Titan’s beautiful set-pieces and awe-inspiring animation. Further strengthening AoT’s cause is its surprisingly complex world, which starts off with a solid, if stereotypical, backstory and progressively comes into its own as more lore and technology is weaved in. When it comes to titans, the writers are masterful in breaking the boundaries of what we, as viewers, expect – a testament to the show’s ability to contain our perspective and keep us thinking, learning, and guessing alongside the characters.

The series constantly strays from the norm of serial anime, surprising viewers with sudden tonal shifts and displaying a large amount of gore and violence. The series is highly touted as being addictive and hard to stop watching, largely due to the structure of its stories: 25 episodes split into 5 story arcs, each leading into the next. Conflicts often span multiple episodes, but unlike some notorious animes, they never feel dragged out or unnecessarily long. On the contrary, much of AoT seems to go by too quickly due to the buttery animation, which displays the speed and skill of both humans and titans in gloriously mesmerizing detail during battles. The animation style makes use of beautiful camera angles to highlight the dynamic nature of human-on-titan interaction, but also uses moving freeze-frames and bullet-time to slow down the action and bring viewers into characters’ minds. Considering the large majority of AoT is spent in battle, I was pleasantly surprised by the variety in which both humans and titans fight; new fighting styles and strategies were frequently introduced to keep AoT feeling fresh and dynamic.

The series wastes no time in letting viewers know that all characters are disposable. The first large story arc is a bloody gore fest, and is filled with a large number of one-dimensional stereotypical or utility role characters that never get their chance to develop into truly relatable people. The ones that survive, however, all get their moments in part 2 (episodes 14-25), where the plot kicks itself into high gear and develops a medley of vibrant and complex characters. As society begins to learn more about the titans, the melodrama cools to a suitable level and the series begins to look at its world in a more social and political context, dealing with questions on morality and providing a gateway for deep character relationships.

Attack on Titan serves up a fresh experience of uncensored, unprocessed action. It executes and delivers with style, but lacks substance early on due to its lackluster dialogue and uninspired characters. Fortunately, Part 2 manages to improve on Part 1 in nearly every aspect, and it almost certainly makes up for an unimpressive prologue. The world of Attack on Titan will surprise and impress with its complexity and dynamism – the question is whether viewers can withstand early troubles to get to the meat.

Her is one of those films that summaries can only ever grasp at. It is pure and brilliant science fiction, one with a premise that seems more like a joke than anything else and certainly starts off like one. Yet, Spike Jonze gathers a mesmerizing cast of characters and manages to tell a story that examines how we live today and meditates on the most fundamental parts of being human. Joaquin Phoenix, despite spending most of his screen time talking to the disembodied voice of Scarlett Johansson, is so enveloped and believable in the role that one often forgets there is nobody in the room with him. Johansson, providing the voice of the joyfully child-like OS Samantha, dominates every second of “screen time” and manages to express the full range of human expression and emotion, to the best extent that an A.I. can do as it learns what it means to be human and deals with the repercussions of evolving faster than those around her. Finally, Amy Adams gives a fantastic performance as Theodore’s long-term friend, who lives through her own movie off-screen and provides context to a world where OS’s are quickly becoming the norm.

There are many other aspects of Her that I could talk about for ages: the gorgeous cinematography, the eye-catching architectural design, the visceral color palettes, and the fantastic soundtrack music fronted by Arcade Fire and Karen O. Instead, I’ll tell you what everyone else has already said: this movie is one of the best of 2013, and anyone who hasn’t seen it is missing out.

Beautiful, poignant, funny, and heartwarming, Brie Larson stars in the self-contained world of Short Term 12. Perhaps the most striking thing about this film is how completely Destin Cretton’s intimate knowledge of the short term facility is on display. The children of Short Term 12 are the true stars of the film, each shining with their own personalities, dealing with their own troubles and insecurities, and finding joys in the little things along the way. Every shot is finely crafted, every piece of dialogue touching and funny, every moment heartwarming and sweet. All of the characters feel genuine, and the beautiful handheld photography really lends the film a greater sense of authenticity. Larson is fantastic as the strong-headed caretaker of the facility, hitting all of the right notes and exuding just the right amount of vulnerability beneath the surface. Even at its breaking points, Short Term 12 provides the perfect mix of tension and humor, and the structure of this film maintains a great balance accentuated by Mason’s sincere starting and ending stories. The film truly shines due to its cast and script, and it is a wonder to watch the unorthodox manners in which emotions are expressed and relationships are developed.

For me, there’s a fine line between a thoughtful, introspective film and one that meanders along. As much as I loved the premise and tried to enjoy this film, the dialogue fell short of engaging me and I was not emotionally invested with any of the characters in this movie, save for Gosling’s Luke Blanton. Perhaps this is due to the film’s 3-part structure not allowing a full film’s worth of familiarity to develop, but I have become emotionally attached to many characters in the span of five to ten minutes, so for a film to fail at that in 40+ is worrying. Despite the film’s gorgeous cinematography, I just could not care enough about the characters to feel anything during most of the dramatic moments. There are scenes where the tension is built up very well, but it is often unsustained and the plot moves past it with nothing of substance gained. One thing I will say is that the film lends itself very well to analysis, with Gosling, Cooper, and their two fictional sons all entangled in a web of resembling traits that give insight into why they act the way they do. If you are looking for a film to write a paper on, this is a good candidate, but I would not be jumping at the heels to watch this film again.

After watching Mamoru Hosoda’s first full-length feature film, The Girl Who Leapt Through Time (2006), and falling in love with his charming characters and engaging story structure, I had high expectations for Hosada’s follow-up. Unfortunately, the bubbly, eye-catching animation of Summer Wars was not enough to salvage its stereotypical characters, lack of emotional investment, and overdependence on ludicrous plot devices. The film is unable to develop any believable connection between the protagonist and his love interest, although the rest of the family members are lovable and have great chemistry when interacting with one another. The film’s attempts to say something profound about society’s dependence on technology is constantly hindered by its inability to develop a relatable world, starting off with an unlikely technological premise and introducing one inexplicable detail after another that would never work in real life. Separately, the family dynamics of the Shinohara/Jin’nôchi house and the action-packed world of Oz may have been great, but the disjoint feeling between the characters actions and the feats they perform in the virtual world is tough to shake off.