My Favorite Movies

Tim Robbins death penalty drama appears simple on the surface, but this is a complex and intelligent picture, exploring themes of redemption, salvation and truth with great responsibility and profound depth. The director may have his opinions on the subject matter, but they are certainly not readable from this film; he never manipulates our mindset, exploits political stance or takes sides. The film doesn't resort to sentimental tactics to rouse emotions, but draws us into conversation and debate, dialogue that entrances us, even if only momentarily, to believe in the characters words, and so endearingly want to empathise with almost everyone - this reflects the cleverness, maturity and challenging nature of the outstanding screenplay. Sarandon and Penn give superlative performances - she as the quiet, honest yet confused nun wanting to do good in a world she sees full of hate, and he as the sadistic, nasty murderer who hides a loneliness and need for acceptance between layers of macho persona. Then Robbins direction - there is nothing to fault. He uses reflection, flashback and barrier as marvellous technical symbols, and has created a compelling and absorbing film with an unfathomable sense of grief and wretchedness, one that balances both arguments to a point of gratifying frustration. He appreciates the complexities of reality, and his drama is as realistic as one is likely to come across - it contains black humour, awkward pause and a great sadness that we, as the film, are almost unwilling to express for fear of opening our minds, or hearts, to particular individuals. And despite such sorrow, anguish and desperate sadness, the film manages to end on a perfectly acceptable, appropriate high note, uplifting as it needs to be; for as Helen says in the final scene "Perhaps, together, we can find a way to overcome our hate". If the film is not about this, the spiritual philosophy of doing what is right, at least in majority - then it's hard for me to distinguish an alternative subtext.

Sam Mendes suburban drama encapsulates so much by saying so little it is almost overwhelming. It is, though, never preachy or frustrating, never melodramatic and soapy - the director finds the perfect tone to balance the actions of the film and never falters in maintaining it as such. 'American Beauty' focuses on a group of people, all linked through various emotions and moments of their lives. As the narrative unfolds we are presented with an insightful look into each of the characters inner souls, their most hidden and well guarded secrets, insecurities and fears. The director never takes sides, simply because there are none to take - he empathetically demonstrates how everyone involved struggles with themselves and the situations they find themselves in, and the lack of blame illustrates a strong humanity we are rarely presented with in cinema. The cast are all outstanding - Kevin Spacey and Annette Benning extremely passionate about their roles, Chris Cooper strikingly real and Mena Suvari perfectly capturing the unpredictable nature of those we least expect. The fantasy scenes are beautifully directed, enhanced by the delicate music and vivid cinematography. Moving, funny, haunting and emotional - a masterpiece in film-making.

Guillermo Del Toro's subverted, gothic fairytale is perfect in almost every sense. In post-civil war Spain, the rule of fascism had begun, and at a deserted military outpost on the edge of the country a young girl, Ofelia, has moved into the old mill with her pregnant mother and new father, the general. This alone seems an adequate human story, but the director reaches much further than this, and as the beautifully poignant opening narration informs us there are levels of fantasy close at hand, one that Ofelia comfortingly discovers in these times of peril. 'Pan's Labyrinth' is a remarkable achievement in the sense that it creates a complex story from two of the most difficult genres, and the fantasy and war elements are dramatically conveyed, and perfectly balanced - one never becomes suffocating, or too thin on script or character. They are both handled with great sensitivity and seriousness, and so we fully suspend our disbelief; the war and drama is never diluted, and the fantasy aspects never silly or immature. The director doesn't mask the harsh realities either; the levels of gore and violence are more shocking than we could initially contemplate, but they are necessary so the audicence captures the real moments of happiness later on, and they become all the more wonderful in the delivery. The visuals and aesthetics of the film are, too, extraordinary - from the authentic costume and sets, to the stunning cinematography and eloquent music score, the film excels in every possible way. Del Toro delves right back to the roots of storytelling, creating a magnificently constructed picture that intertwines gritty war drama and original fantasy to create an original concept that is hauntingly brilliant and so desperately sad. It avoids convention and cliché with ease, and is riveting, compelling and yet delicate in its execution. This is a real masterpiece.

'United 93' is a vivid and desperate realisation of the worst terrorist atrocities in modern history. It's an extremely intense and involving film that keeps you gripped at almost every moment, holding onto our own seats as the sudden oncoming of violence and imminent death feel the most real, genuine and foereboding they have ever felt. The director opts to unfold the events in real time, and combined with the use of a hand-held camera this adds to the authentic style, and the lack of an A-List cast helps maintain the realism and gives us a sense of how normality is interrupted by these disastrous events, and how it evokes the bravery and courage in what appear to be the most normal, regular people you are likley to meet in the street. Still, the film is not soppy or sentimental, as that would only be insulting - instead it is deeply moving, at the same time terrifying, and ultimately shocking - the predicatable quality of the film never deterring us from these emotions. Greengrass deservedly won a Bafta, and an Oscar nomination - he could not have delivered such a story in a more powerful and thoughtful way as this.

'Beauty and the Beast' is one of the few pictures in the history of the fairy-tale genre which can truly boast perfection; it is, in every respect, unashamedly enchanting, magical and romantic. No other words suffice to encapsulate the sheer majesty of this film. Disney put together exemplary displays of animation, character, plot, colour and wonderful melody to bring definitive legend to life; 'Beauty and the Beast' is the pinnacle by which so many other animated films and fairytales should be judged.

The tale begins Once upon a time, (as the best ones always do) on the outskirts of a small French village. The animation and iconography are spellbinding; never has there been such detailed forestry and tumbling waterfalls as in the opening scene, or such an imposing, awe-inspiring gothic castle as the Beast's isolated home. The meticulous detail and soft score enhance the traditional prologue with great effect. It's a moving, involving introduction.

The story, well known as it is, includes some modern revisions; Belle is now an only child, and a feminist in the 18/19th century village. The beast's attendants and servants have also been transformed into household objects under the witch's magical spell. And Belle's suitor, the arrogant, masochistic Gaston, will do anything to make the headstrong girl his wife.

Already you have the classic elements of a great story. But it is in the advanced character development and strong emotional thrust that elevate the picture beyond it's counterparts. This isn't a love at first sight, by any means. As one of the character's observes "These things take time". But the Beast has little time before the enchanted rose withers, and earning the love of a beautiful woman is no easy feat here. The mature screenplay by Linda Woolverton centres on this struggling romance without ever reducing the stakes to call it 'a children's picture'. You sense the Beasts love and Belle's sympathy simultaneously, slowly evolving, until you want the pair to fall for each other; that she takes longer than him underpins an urgency in the film, where the audience are desperately seeking final happiness.

The direction too, is crisp and refined around romantic ideals. In embarking on endless creative endeavour directors Gary Trousdale and Kirk Wise use a 'camera' that swoops, zooms and swerves around character movement and magnificent settings, wonders of artistry themselves. The film has a great dose of humour too, but by restraining itself to an 'internal reality' where magic exists but, unlike most animated pictures, animals do not speak and physical pain is possible, the film holds a sense of logic. Feeling isn't always articulated. Actions have consequences.

And who doesn't remember 'Beauty and the Beast' if not for its marvellous, striking music. Composer Alan Menken and the late lyricist Howard Ashman crafted some of the finest songs in the Disney canon, each with the benefit of advancing the narrative or adding character insight. And they are marvellous to listen too. The Oscar winning titular ballad, sung in the famous ballroom sequence, is a naunced showstopper.

'Beauty and the Beast' remains to this day the only animated feature film ever nominated for the Best Picture Oscar. In such a weak year it ought to have won, and picked up additional directing and screenplay nominations among the six it already garnered. I cannot heap enough praise upon this picture. You just have to watch and be swept away by its sheer grandeur and feeling. So few animated films now are willing to embrace traditional storytelling. They are overloaded with crude gags and pop music, and suffer for it. 'Beauty and the Beast' remains a masterpiece. A lot could be learned from it.

Steven Spielberg's 'Saving Private Ryan' is a revolutionary war film, pushing the boundaries of what an audience is comfortable witnessing but ultimately becoming an affirmation of human life itself. The direction is relentless; in exposing the grotesque, graphic violence of warfare, in unearthing the trauma and unstable mentality invoked by battle, and in the realisation that war shapes not only a personality, or characteristics, but changes the individual so deeply the process is forever irreversible. In this true life story eight men are sent on a mission to find Private Ryan, so he can return home to his mother, his three elder brothers having already been killed in combat. As Captain John Miller - leader of the task - Tom Hanks excels; he gives a profound performance that emotionally resonates with the viewer continuously, through speech, comfort, humour and actions. Spielberg demonstrates a true passion and dedication to this material, and we are so inexplicably drawn into the realistic world he creates. There is no melodrama, no conventions, no soppy cliché's - he treats war as sensitive subject matter, and not a single scene, line or shot is wasted in delivering an insightful, truly original masterpiece of cinema. It is technically perfect, artistically, sometimes beautifully shot, authentically created and realised and constructed with precision and flair. With 'Schindler's List' Spielberg illustrated how one man helped save hundreds of lives by doing the seemingly impossible; here, he reveals how several men save just one life, but it deserves exactly the same praise and admiration. At times 'Saving Private Ryan' is gut wrenchingly sad, and then later situational humour edges away the tension - it appreciates the complexities of the character's lives and how they must deal with such horror, such anguish and despair of war. From the dramatic opening sequence to the harrowing climax, Spielberg grabs hold of your gut, forcing you to consume this story with fullest impact. He acknowledges the trivial, understands moral dilemma, the hazy fog between the seemingly right and wrong, and urges us to remember; as the closing credits roll the echoes of those lost don't ever seem to fade. That this failed to win Best Picture is a travesty - 'Saving Private Ryan' is a triumph of a film.

I wonder if 'patriotic' is an appropriate word to describe 'Born on the Fourth of July'. Given the title alone it would seem so, and those iconic opening scenes of a fifties post-war street, flags waving vigorously and family units huddled together really encompass the American meaning of the word. They aren't mawkish, and the protagonists justifications in applying for the U.S Marine Corps on the verge of the Vietnam War aren't immature or squeamish; here is a kid who is truly devoted to serving his country, not for personal honour or glory, but because he genuinely believes it is the right thing to do; it is what should be done, and by all lads his age.

'Born on the Fourth of July' is the true-life story of war veteran Ron Kovic, who did once believe in such sentiments. It may seem predictable today, even a cliché, but it would be completely unexpected to him that those war experiences would change him; change what type of person he is, change him physically, mentally, emotionally and sexually. He was unprepared for such changes, and director Oliver Stone brings together a drama that truly embodies this ideal, with the inclusion of how Kovic would eventually adjust to them in the anti-war riots that follow back home.

This is a superb piece of cinema on so many levels; empathetic without indulging into romanticism; realistic and, at times, brutally shocking; and quite literally mentally straining, because you realise how unimaginable and incomprehensible such experiences are to those who haven't felt such terror, hurt or anguish. Pain in the face of apparent victory, or guilt over the accidental, unnecessary loss of another.

Remembering the film is pre-'Saving Private Ryan' I wondered if Spielberg was influenced by the Vietnam section, which is rather grotesquely violent for 1989, and realised how innovative the film truly is. It's impact hasn't been forgotten, and it's influence still stands strong.

John Williams rousing score stands as a masterpiece alone among the great technical achievements of the film, including cinematography laced with an authentic edge and the director seamlessly weaving the film's different eras without making the narrative choppy or inconsistent. Tom Cruise also proves he is more than worth actor status than his 'celebrity' label would offer, delivering a riveting, and emotional performance as Kovic.

'Born on the Fourth of July' is an expertly crafted chronicle of one man's life, and how he strove to do right first in one way, and then by other means. The picture stands the test of time, and that is what makes this a masterpiece in film; stirring, haunting, and emotionally poignant. Stone's best director Oscar was truly deserved. It's all too easy to rally aside Kovic by the film's end, and the picture depicts how so very few will truly understand how he and so many others suffered, for a misled cause.

It's odd to think on how one change to a seemingly perfect family lifestyle can shatter the preset dynamics that have existed for so long, those that were comfortable, and reassuring. Gone is all the precedent you have you have settled with; the family holidays, lengthy conversations about nothing in particular, or the assumption that a parent's love is strictly, truly, unconditional. 'Ordinary People' deals with one change to a family, but it is a shattering one, and the film is a moving observation of the rippling effects that arise from such a shocking and unprepared loss.

Timothy Hutton is Conrad Jarret, a shy and introverted teen who tried to take his own life, and is desperately attempting to rebuild his complacent sanity. He feels disconnected from his parents, Beth and Calvin (a stern, resolute Mary Tyler Moore and Donald Sutherland, an actor who plays the bemused father trying to keep the peace in a brilliantly understated fashion), and struggles to maintain school relationships. He starts clinical therapy, something his father is keen to try, but his mother dismisses as indulgence. Judd Hirsch is also excellent as Dr. Berger, who opens Conrad's eyes, and shows him a promising way future not too far from the thunderstorm that engulfs him.

Robert Redford's directorial debut swept the Academy Awards back in 1980, and it isn't hard to see why. The film makes every attempt to live in the real world, and the uplifting ending is no way the preferred conclusion this family would, or could have taken. The sophisticated screenplay is honest about how difficult it is to empathise with an opinion so far from what you firmly believe is truth, and the audience will find it easy to judge certain characters until they realise the reasons behind seemingly alien actions or decisions.

'Ordinary People' never drags or falters, and employs an extraordinary use of eloquent music to elevate certain moments of heightened emotion, or tension. Flashbacks work as spontaneous snapshots into tortured minds, and the strength of Redford's direction at exposing personal feelings means even if we disagree, we are inevitably involved.

Even if you think you are sure where 'Ordinary People' is leading, or if you feel a deep understanding with certain characters, the script still holds surprises in store. Real life is so indescribably unpredictable, and the film conveys the lies and falsity behind smiles and jokes until it culminates into one of the story's most shocking and affecting moments.

You quite simply won't find a better family-drama, and if you do, it does nothing to diminish the enlightening impact of 'Ordinary People'. It radiates human energy, holds a strong heart and never settles to a strict absolute. It is a drama for those who dismiss the genre, and a film for just about anyone. You watch these two grief-stricken souls, and how close they come to following a positive path instead of the destructive one. In the final moments, they each take a different route. Not through choice, but circumstance. It is a sad lesson of life that regret makes more sense and holds more truth than impulsive decision, which is never what it seems at the time.

Some films need nothing other than a well-written, well-acted simple story to propel it to the top section of cinema's greatest achievements. 'Stand By me' is not only such a film, but has a lot of hidden meaning under all that light-hearted fun and mischief; not that this meaning is too deep or disturbing - it simply complements the ideals behind the film, enhancing the joyous atmosphere and making the meaning all that more profound. The four young actors show talent and promise, but most of all genuine enthusiasm for the film. The director takes the best option to not interfere too much, so the gentle pace and uncompromised observation portrays the themes so well: we are not only presented with the naivety and innocence of childhood, but how utterly peaceful and content with life this make us. The film has it's darker moments, but only in the context of the character's ages - it's amazing to remember how we once felt about such trivial things, and how much humour it gives us now. The film is a strong ode to friendship, not only to the strength and courage it creates, and the happiness it brings, but how it is such a rare thing to come across as we grow up. And still, you can't help but walk away from the film brimming with sheer delight, and an extreme desire to watch it all over again.

She was a simple girl, with "no personality and not being pretty". He combed his hair and looked like James Dean, and she thinks "he is the most handsomest man I've ever seen". They secretly fell in love after meeting on her front lawn. And when her daddy found out he shot him so they could be together.

Terrence Malick's directorial debut 'Badlands' is a haunting love story, a journey about two lost souls who find themselves hunted by the authorities after turning to murder to escape their past. The press claim she has him wrapped around her little finger, but he seems to be leading the way for the most part. Malick's vision is almost classical in it's philosophy, but eccentric and unique in execution.

Inspired by the committed murders of Charles Starkweather and Caril Ann Fugate, Kit and Holly are a pair of loved-up teens who are almost alienated from the rest of the world. Spacek narrates as shy and naive Holly as though writing the memoirs of an Austen love story in her diary, and views the world through her teenage glasses with an intense and unperturbed vulnerability. A young Martin Sheen is Kit, the boy out to do good by her at the expense of quite a few lives.

What sets 'Badlands' apart from many killing-spree thrillers or teenage romances is its soft avoidance of the generic. Malick layers the occurences with rich cinematography and dusty scenery to help align the tone with the poetic and melodious music; the result is one of hypnotic fascination. As Kit and Holly descend into their abyss of crime and punishment, they only ever treat their actions as minor inconveniences to an otherwise idyllic 'marriage'.

Through the potent atmosphere and barren landscape what shines through is the inescapable loneliness of both of the characters. Their relationship and crimes are forced to take a back seat so Malick can effectively advance the equally banal and peculiar isolation of two simple individuals, and it makes for absoloutely compelling viewing. The humour is offbeat and quirky, the acting stellar, and the picture bursting with rich and passionate argument, and a vivid lens.

'Badlands' is pure poetry.

'Million Dollar Baby' is a film experience at its most raw and powerful, uncompromising and unflinching in unravelling meaningful character relationships and ultimately, decisions that have to be made. It transcends the usual boxing flick by moving beyond the barriers of the ordinary and into a realm rife with moral ambiguity and a character's internal struggle to do the right thing, whatever that may be. It tugs at your heartstrings in the most passionate way but never feeling like it is actually doing so, and packs a visceral punch until emotion is at its peak; gut-wrenching seems something of an understatement.

Frankie Dunn is an elderly boxing trainer. Owns his own gym, and is currently taking his fighter to the top. He goes to Church every Sunday. He is also estranged from his daughter, and insists to the priest he writes to her every day. When he refuses a title fight for his man, assuring him he needs just a little more work, the boxer drops out for a new manager.

Maggie Fitzgerald is a fighter determined to win Frankie as her manager. She knows it is only him who can take her to the top to become a world champion, and she wants know-one else. But Frankie doesn't train girls.

Watching Maggie's seemingly futile attempts to get Frankie on side is what leads us to admire this woman. She befriends gym janitor Eddie 'Scrap-Iron' Dupris, and we discover her true composure. Maggie is lonely but desperately wants someone to believe in her. She wants to move past her 'white-trash' background and prove the sceptics wrong. To make something of herself, like she knows she can. With a little help from Eddie, she eventually wins Frankie round. But only till she's trained, he insists.

The following middle-section of the film follows the conventional boxer-movie path, albeit in a more understated and realistic manner. Dark and dreary lighting and mise-en-scene lend the picture a more haunting glow, and the fight scenes are brutally, shockingly intense. Eastwood's direction is about timing, character dynamics and the realisation of one girl's dream, and what it means to this man who fell into a routine where he failed to look beyond titles. Undercurrents of unspoken feeling and the soft, reserved tone are what make the film so sincere and definite. So unspectacularly alive.

Hilary Swank, Clint Eastwood and Morgan Freeman all give sterling performances, possibly the best of their dramatic careers. Maggie seems fierce and unaffected, but she is a woman out to prove herself, and Swank's mild-mannered persona exudes that vulnerability at just the right tone. Freeman plays a man haunted by the fights of his past but able to offer sound advice to a girl in whom he sees much of himself, and Eastwood's portrayal equals Swank's in that tough exterior protecting an uncertain interior shell.

Slowly, a sense of inspiration begins to shroud the opening tone of melancholy. As Maggie and Frankie begin to find in each other that person missing from their lives for so long, the atmosphere reaches uplifting. And then the third act strikes with a deafening chord. Paul Haggis' masterful screenplay takes a whole new direction, and while it doesn't feel detached or off-key it takes the picture - and the characters - to a whole new level of humanity. Maggie and Frankie have reached a mutual respect and understanding, but he has a challenge before him that so few could come to accept. His decision is inevitable, but it makes it no less painful, disturbing and heart-rending.

'Million Dollar Baby' is a remarkable achievement. Whether you agree or not with the final subject matter is immaterial in its devastating effect. The ending is awash with sadness and hurt, but tinged with hope. You can't care more for characters or a final outcome than how Eastwood has managed here. And even though the fight is over, the final punch will persistently, inevitably reverberate.

It really does seem that Pixar cannot fail, and no matter how simple their films seem on the surface, they are as intelligent and thought-provoking as mainstream ones, 'The Incredibles' being their best outing yet. The film takes a satirical approach to superhero and crime fighting films, but it embraces their qualities rather than ridiculing them - a simple parody would be more than a disappointment. The result, therefore, is a wonderful tounge-in-cheek rollercoaster ride of cliches and conventions, from secret hideaways and gadgets to the fantastic score. It goes beyond the simple story, however; the wonderful humour, colourful characters and exciting pace are only the surface - the film is so full of heart and soul that it enables us to truly value the points made, connect with the family and have an amazing time watching. It is both bold and bright, maintaining the balance so we feel as though we are in the midst of a James Bond picture. It is flawlessly crafted, perfectly paced and a new step for the animation genre - unmissable.

Forget his gothic trademarks, because Tim Burton's 'Big Fish' is probably the director's best achievement to date. Departing from his customary iconography Burton instead tells the quaint yet extraordinary fable of Edward Bloom, and he succeeds magnificently. The film wins you round on pure charm, but is honest enough so that sentimentality never becomes nauseating; 'Big Fish' is strong and soulful to the very end.

The film's transitions between past and present are smoothly done as the director recounts the life story of Ed, but the film isn't just a pleasant story; Edward's now adult son, played by Billy Crudup, struggles to distinguish truth from fantasy, and him and his father's (Albert Finney) awkward conversations add sensitive drama to an otherwise light-hearted tone.

Burton flits between several eras and stories to unravel Edward's life, adding a sprinkling of humour, a genuine romance and a poetic touch to the darker elements of the tale so while the film's messages ring profound, sitting through the film never becomes an unnerving struggle.

The cast are all fantastic, particularly Albert Finney and Jessica Lange as the older couple, whose love is as enduring as when they first met. Burton leaves it up to the audience to determine what is and isn't reality, but in the end it seems rather insignificant; the adventurous incarnations of Edward Bloom are interesting, uplifting and marvellously individualistic.

From the soft music by Danny Elfman to the unbelievably unique and quirky set designs, 'Big Fish' is a visual marvel, a poignant celebration in the art of storytelling and a moving father-son character study. Tim Burton toys with the border of reality and the metaphysical, but 'Big Fish' remains a magical film in either sense. An unexpected masterpiece.