Great Expectations (1998)

Alfonso Cuaron’s adaptation of the Charles Dickens classic is a treat for the senses. The original setting of 18th century London is updated to reflect contemporary New York, the plot is edited whilst retaining the novel’s basic premises and themes, the romantic tragedy is given a sensuous spin, and the result is brought to life through an enchanting visual and aural design. With the help of the acclaimed Emmanual Lubezki, Cuaron navigates through the central relationships with a profound understanding of his characters, an uncanny eye for detail and an ability to create and sustain a vivid visual tone. It isn’t the narrative that excels in this rendition; it’s the visuals and score that breathe life into this doomed love affair and fantasy.

 

Bioshock Infinite

There’s a certain predictability to the un-predictableness of Bioshock finales but Infinite somehow unearths some truly startling revelations in the final few sequences. The climax – made of a complex web of mysterious time-bending concepts and twists – brings to mind Mulholland Drive in the way it suddenly loses clarity and focus of the predictable yet symbolic “reality” to reveal the ugly truths buried deep beneath the manufactured illusions. Despite its imperfections, there’s something worth celebrating about Infinite’s ambition.

Why Louie is one of the best shows on TV right now

In the fourth episode of Louie’s fourth season, the goofy, titular protagonist reluctantly accepts to go out with an overweight woman, Vanessa (Sarah Baker). The two have chemistry and there’s a sinking sensation in Louie that he might have been judgmental by putting off this charming woman for so long. But then, in one abrupt moment, he ruins the pleasant mood by point-blank stating to the girl: “you’re not… fat”. What follows is an uncomfortable yet utterly poignant seven-minute monologue from this self-aware, overweight woman in which she firmly calls Louie out on his bullshit.

The Amazing Spiderman 2 (2014)

Much like its underwhelming predecessor, The Amazing Spiderman 2 doesn’t make a compelling case for the rebooted franchise, reusing familiar narrative beats without much skill or originality. The paint-by-the-numbers sequel juggles the comedy, drama, romance and action elements in Peter Parker/Spiderman’s romantic entanglement with Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone), his friendship with Harry Osborn, and his nemesis, Electro, but none of these synergize to rise above the basic superhero film formula. Save for a few memorable moments, Marc Webb’s movie stutters and stumbles under the weight of its bloated, rambling narrative, uninteresting characters, and predictable execution.

Her (2013)

Artificial intelligence has long been used in film and art to challenge our preconceived notions of existence. In the Terminator series, the power-seeking machines gain sentience and send to the past a powerful robot to ensure a future in which the human resistance is eradicated. In Spielberg’s AI, the director contemplates what it means to be alive, finding unsettling religious parallels between creator and creation. In the groundbreaking 2001: A Space Odyssey, a prideful machine becomes cognizant of its errors and acts treacherously for the sake of its survival. In all cases, the machines gained self awareness, evolved based on their experience of reality and made autonomous decisions. But their most uncanny trait is what really blurs the line between man and machine: the ability to feel. If an intelligent robot can intangibly taste joy, sadness, excitement, pride, regret, fear and love, is “it” alive? Set in the not-so-distant future, Her swifts through these questions in its depiction of a lonely, middle-aged man named Theodore (Joaquin Phoenix) who falls in love with his intelligent operating system. Conjuring a charming poignancy and compelling aesthetic, Spike Jonze’s sublime direction explores the budding relationship with a gravitas usually reserved for human romances. And in his exploration of this peculiar romance, he finds catharsis in the most unexpected of ways. 

Blue Jasmine (2013)

During the first half of Blue Jasmine, a satisfying comical tone underscores Woody Allen’s rendering of the trials of his titular protagonist, Jasmine (Cate Blanchette). The woman’s self-indulgence, hypocrisy and materialism easily paint her as an unsympathetic character who deserves to be in the predicament she has landed herself in, making the comedic digs against her feel like cosmic justice. But if there’s a hint of a familiar redemption arc forming in Jasmine’s early attempts to exert control over her uncertain future, it becomes clear that Allen is aiming for something much more ambitious. In his nuanced character study, the prolific director contemplates what happens when our lies and rationalizations foster delusion, a perception far removed from reality, because we’ve chosen to forget abhorrent truths. And the results are splendidly real.

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014)

The rapid-fire frequency with which superhero films are churned out nowadays doesn’t bode well for the already mediocre quality of the popular genre. The lavish budgets require the filmmakers to appeal to the widest possible audience, including the avid fans of the comic books, the superhero-and-violence-craving children and the casual viewing public, to reap those high returns for the film studios. It follows that not all artists are able to balance this inherent commercialism with an inspired artistic vision, resulting in bland, formulaic movies that boast only ostentatious, dazzling CGI (see: Pacific Rim, Thor: The Dark World). Yet, while Captain America: The Winter Soldier, the sequel to Captain America: The First Avenger, is indeed another in the long line of such slickly edited, meticulously constructed and fast-paced action extravaganzas, it smartly distinguishes itself from those of its ilk by wrapping its superhero elements in a decent political/espionage thriller.

12 Years a Slave (2013)

After how many painful lashes, mutilated backs, ear-piercing screams, raped women, and vile slave-owners does a movie depicting the harsh realities of slavery come close to rendering the real thing? The sky’s the limit for Steve McQueen in his troublesome 12 Years A Slave, an adaptation of the true story of a free, black man named Solomon Northup (Chiwetel Ejiofor) in the 1840s who was exposed to the unfathomable cruelty of man after being treacherously enslaved for several years. Abandoning all form of restraint to treat his subject matter with a deserving seriousness, McQueen captures human evil and cruelty at its most devastating with a bleak, suffocating intensity. And although he succeeds in creating an indelibly painful experience portraying the tragedy of human slavery with the artifice of cinema,12 Years a Slave ultimately has little more to say than “slavery is bad” – ad nauseam.

Stoker (2013)

From the maker of Oldboy comes another tale of sexual perversion, familial decay, damaged psyches and innately twisted moralities. In this story about a grieving widow and daughter who are visited by an odd yet charming uncle at the funeral of the family patriarch, Chan-wook brings the stylishness that is largely characteristic of his popular films, confirming that his penchant for heightening drama remains largely uninhibited even by a domestic setting. In Stoker, with every visual motif, precisely edited montage and dexterously planned camera movement, he carefully attempts to gain a visual momentum to add a much needed dose of flavor to the tried-and-tested routine suggested by the film’s basic premise. He succeeds… sort of.

Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)

Turning to the Greenwich Village music scene of the 1960s for their latest venture, the Coen brothers infuse their unique flavor of bleak comedy into their depiction of a week in the life of the titular character, LLewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac), as he struggles to get his professional career off the ground after his eponymous record fails to take flight. The Coen’s penchant for the bizarre and mysterious manifests here in the typically colorful characters, the absurd conversations, the symbolic accidents and a missing cat. All of this coheres into a riveting character study amidst Coen’s usual philosophy concerning life’s unknowability, its paradoxes and mysteries.