Built up to almost a mythical level as the "Short film that inspired 12 Monkeys", I honestly didn't expect Chris Marker's 28 minute sci-fi classic, La Jetée to live up to its lofty reputation. Well, thanks to youtube I finally got around to watching the short, and not only does it live up to those reputations, it completely surpassed them.

The film, as you may know, is actually composed entirely of still photographs. And yet, it feels just as cinematic as most hollywood flicks. Thanks to the film's narrator, beautiful black and white images, fascinating story and just how emotive and engaging the faces are, I forgot almost from frame one that this was not a standard motion picture.

Because if there's one thing I can say about this movie it's that those four things are perfect. The omnipotent storyteller that narrates the film has at his disposal an entrancing, friendly, knowledgable voice and one hell of a story to tell. Speaking of which, the time-travel, dystopian tale of La Jetée is one of the most compelling in any science fiction film I'm familiar with. After a nuclear war or blast, Earth is in ruin and a group of scientists begin to experiment with sending people through time. They eventually send the main character back, where he falls in love with a woman, but is not in control of his fate, snatched back to the present and eventually, future, at the will of the scientists. The goal is to find the technology to fix the present, I guess (and obviously the story is deeper than those few lines), but the important part is really the love found. It is, pun aside, the heart of the film. And though nothing but static images, is one of the most realistic, moving and emotional loves to be put to screen. This of course, because the characters have brilliantly photogenic faces. A snapshot captures a conversation midway through, and though clearly we don't know what about or what led to the image on screen, there is no doubt that it is real and meaningful to the pair speaking. Finally, the high contrast photography is rich and vibrant, bright with whites and dark in black; each picture clearly carefully picked and cropped for optimum effect. It makes the film, if it were nothing else, at least undoubtedly aesthetically pleasing.

It's kind of difficult for me to talk about a film as brilliant as this without rambling, so I'm sure I did. But needless to say, La Jetée completely lives up to its status as a brilliant sci-fi and is a film that really should be seen.

Two years from now, women will stop giving birth. Twenty years from now, the world will be in chaos. This simple premise surrounds 2006's greatest film, Alfonso Cuarón's Children of Men.

As the film opens, the world mourns the death of its youngest inhabitant. “Baby Diego” was a boy of just eighteen years. We are introduced to Theo (Clive Owen), who, like most of England’s citizens, lives out his days in a bleak, devastating existence where chaos abounds. The rest of the world is in a state of destruction, and England, the only surviving civilization, isn’t looking much better. Immigrants are caged off and shipped away to refugee camps, coffee shops are bombed and the government tries to keep order in the Orwellian-est of fashions. This is Theo’s life, until Julian (Julianne Moore), ex-lover from decades past and current leader of militant rebel group “The Fishes,” contacts him for help. She needs him to escort Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey), a young African refugee to the safety of “the Human Project.” Kee, of course, is pregnant, and could be the only hope to finding a solution to the impossible question of why humans have become infertile.

One of Children of Men’s greatest strengths is its characters. There isn’t much time spent on background information, but some of the best acting of the year makes each one a unique, real human to be cared for or despised.

Theo leads the pack. A cynical, tough man who trudges through his days without much hope. His only release is the afternoons he spends with his good friend, Jasper. They sit around and talk and smoke pot. And out there in the woods, with the smoky collapsing world left behind, you get a sense that Theo, and the world, is about as right as it gets.

Jasper (a stellar performance by the stellar Michael Caine), the marijuana farming, conspiracy theorist hippy, acts as the mentor. A good man who lives to take care of his ill wife, he’s there for Theo and always knows what’s the best course of action for the situation. He also provides a bit of comic relief (though there’s a surprising lot of humor throughout).

Ashitey plays the young refugee to perfection. Beautiful and innocent, Kee is a lost, scared girl in need of help. She doesn’t know why she’s to be the first mother in nearly two decades - she barely knows what a mother is. But she accepts it and with help, gets through it. And she does it all while keeping her spirits high in a world where it’s so easy to let

The film is littered with other strong characters. The grandmother figures of Marika and Miriam help Theo provide comfort and protection for Kee. Luke (Chiwetel Ejiofor) the new leader of the Fishes, is a terrific villain, but even he has an emotional breakdown (albeit juxtaposed rather frighteningly with his actions) that make you realize he’s not all bad. And of course, Syd a hilarious immigration cop looking out for himself.

Cuarón's direction and Emmanuel Lubezki’s work behind the camera join together (along with a superb script and sountrack) to form the best made film of the year. It’s evident that the director set out to make this movie with a clear vision of what he wanted in his head. Every shot is framed and filmed with care. There’s a scene in a rundown school in which Miriam explains how, as a housewife, she first noticed women not becoming pregnant. Besides being a rare, moving glimpse into the past, Kee, outside on a swing, is centered inside a broken pane of glass. With any other camera placement the scene would have been simply emotional; here it is so much more: The last time a woman whose life was babies dealt with them shares the screen with the first baby in twenty years.

The cinematography is both visually and technically outstanding. The future post-apocalyptic England is a dirty place, with perennially gray skies and rundown buildings coated in grime. It’s all grays, greens, and blues and is very pleasing to the eye. Lubezki films using what I’ve dubbed “horror-hallway handheld unsteady cam.” Long tracking shots follow characters and events like a ghost. Indeed, the camera becomes a character; in turn, the audience becomes the camera. As a result, they’re sucked into this world whether they like it or not.

Children of Men doesn’t answer many questions. We’re never told why humans stopped reproducing. But why should we be; when we join Theo and company, this world has had 18 years to discuss this question and still no one has an answer. To these people, and to this story, it is simply a fact of life. The world is dying and nothing can be done about it. We don’t know much about the Human Project, either. Will Kee be the key* to solving the mystery? Or is life really doomed? These questions are all left up to the viewer because, to me, they don’t matter. This isn’t a story of science. It’s not a story of war. It’s not police-state vs. rebels. It’s about a man and a woman who are both lost in a terrible world finding hope in another. It’s not about the end of the world, or death, but rather the beginning of life, birth.

There's something in this film for everyone. If you're just looking for a ride, this film is a funny, disturbing, entertaining film that, at times, dips straight into thrill-a-minute territory. If the action gets you into the theater, the drama will keep you in your seat as the credits roll; Children of Men is the most powerful, human, moving, beautiful film of the year.

"The last man on earth" is a fairly common phrase. Admittedly, it is usually preceded by "I wouldn't [blank] if you were," but it's common nonetheless. But what if you really were the last man on earth? The question has been asked as many times as the phrase has been uttered, but not until watching Geoff Murphy's 1985 sci-fi classic The Quiet Earth, have I ever really felt satisfied with a given answer.

In the film, Zac wakes up one morning to find that terrible fantasy has come true. His calls go unanswered, he finds cars littering the street, empty. A plane has fallen out of the sky, and though the seat belts are buckled, there are no bodies. At his job, where he works as a scientist/researcher, he tries to contact similar labs around to world to no avail. Eventually he accepts his fate and takes advantage of the situation. He takes up residence in a nicer home, raids shops and malls for food and clothing, and seems to settle down nicely as earth's last human.

Settles nicely for a while, anyway. The longer he's alone, the harder it gets. So imagine his (and my) relief when he runs into Joanne, a beautiful redhead who thought, like Zac did, that she was alone on Earth. The pair, not surprisingly, get along great. They discuss why everyone else is dead or gone and start to search for other survivors. With Api, a truck driver and all around bad ass dude, the duo becomes a trio, and together they eat, drink and are merry.

These three characters break the film up into three makeshift acts, each of which sheds more light on what exactly is going on in the world, but more importantly, in Zac's head. He is the central character and the film never forgets that. Which is good, because his situation and personality are easily the most interesting to focus on. In fact, seeing how Zac thinks and acts, the choices he makes, his ups and downs, makes for probably the most compelling viewing I've experienced this year.

Not to take anything away from the other two, or the three as a whole. All the acting is strong, and the other two characters are very complete and interesting themselves. Joanne's discussion and interaction with Api, for example, are believable and at times, (such as a beautiful, silent, one-way observation in a cemetery), quite touching. The three just seem perfectly comfortable with one another, like old friends. Which begs the question if, as the last people on earth, they can really afford to be any other way.

The story is thought provoking, buit's not an obtuse, philosophical sort of "Think about this!" way. It's much more subtle; it had me thinking along side Zac from the start, but only slowly crept up on me just how much there is in the film. And by the end, the characters and decisions and thoughts are so layered and interweaved and complex that I haven't really stopped thinking of it. Playing god, alternate realities, conspiracies? The president of the world. Love, death, family and friends. "I've been condemned to live." Thinking of how Zac, Joanne, and Api got where they end up, how they acted, what might have come after the credits rolled, but most importantly, how I'd think and act in these same situations. The fact that the film ends rather ambiguously, and, some might even say, abruptly, certainly doesn't give you less to think about.

On top of being fascinating and moving and a course in psychology and philosophy, the film is also just a blast to watch. The deserted streets of New Zealand make a perfectly eerie background for the last people on earth to spend their time. The settings are not extravagant, but are mostly beautiful. The score ranges from energetic to ominous, but is always appropriate. And scary as being the last man on earth might sound, Murphy manages to make it - often, anyway - look like a lot of fun; what could be better than picking up random cars and racing through empty streets? Or eating what ever you want straight from the shelves?

The Quiet Earth was a pleasant surprise. It's fun, scary, engaging. It has good characters and a lot to say. And it manages to create a post-apocalyptic world that I actually enjoyed visiting. I'm no expert in the realm of science fiction films by a long shot, but I'm pretty sure this deserves to be much more popular and respected than it currently is.

Hour of the Wolf is a film about Johan, an artist on the verge of a nervous breakdown, told as a documentary based on his diary and his wife's experiences after he has disappeared. From the film's opening shot, a static five minute monologue to the camera, its clear that Bergman knows what he's doing here. And from then on, he never lets up, crafting a psychological horror with the precision and perfection of a master.

The film stars Bergman favorites Max von Sydow and Liv Ullmann as Johan Borg and his wife, Alma. They live together in a sea-side cottage on an island. The pair start out as any happy couple, but as Johan becomes haunted by his past, and Alma by his demons, the marriage begins to deteriorate, in spite of Alma's loyalty and support. The "Hour of the Wolf," Johan explains to Alma, is the hour when most people either die, or are born. More importantly for Johan, it is when the 'monsters' most like to visit him, and the reason he cannot sleep.

Hour of the Wolf, Bergman's sole foray into the horror genre, is indeed, unsettling to watch. With the help of a haunting circus-music score and stark, high-contrast black and white cinematography that soak the film with an undeniably chilling atmosphere, he introduces the viewer into a world of unfamiliar situations beyond their control that they'd rather not experience, and, most importantly, one of the creepiest supporting cast of characters this side of David Lynch.

In fact, much of the film would feel at home in Twin Peaks or cruising down Mulholland Drive (lol. ). The point-of-view introduction to the castle's characters (and extreme close-ups throughout; see Alma's introduction to the old lady), the puppet show scene from Mozart's The Magic Flute, and certainly Johan's final encounter with past lover Veronica Vogler all jumped to my mind as especially Lynchian (er, despite the fact that this film pre-dates Lynch's first feature by 9 years).

In the film's most terrifying scene, Johan flashbacks to explain what really happened when he claimed to have been bitten by a snake. He is fishing by the sea when a young boy appears. After a while, Johan's temper gets the best of him and the deadly results are a horror of a different type. The entire scene is overexposed and silent, creating a surreal, gut-wrenching portrait of a troubled man.

The film leaves some questions unanswered, mostly regarding the reality of the whole thing. Are the demons real? And if not, why do they haunt Alma, too? A mix of a lonely, over-active imagination and reading her husbands diary; or is her theory correct that if you love someone too much for too long you begin to share their thoughts, to become identical?

Bergman's Hour of the Wolf is a fantastic film. At once a horror tame enough for those who aren't into ghosts and gore, and an intense mind-trip for even the biggest of horror fanatics, this movie is a must for horror heads and Bergman buffs alike.

PS - Interesting fact: Swedish is the greatest language ever made. Like a lyrical, soft, beautiful German.

After watching Lars von Trier's Dancer in the Dark, its easy to see why so many love this film. And it's definitely clear why this film comes up second only to Requiem for a Dream on lists of the most depressing films of the decade (though Requiem is not half as powerful as this film). To be fair to the film, I think that it is sad more than depressing, and I actually left it with an odd sense of calmness; to some degree, maybe even happiness.

No, the conclusion of the film is not in any way a happy one. It's undoubtedly a sad film with a sad ending. It's that rare film for me that hit me on a gut level; literally, my stomach was in knots during multiple moments. It's that rare film where I felt the need to talk back to the screen at some points. And it's even that most rare film of all that had me close to tears. But at the same time, and perhaps rarest of all, Dancer in the Dark is a film that made me truly appreciate the power and importance of life, love, and cinema.

Selma (Björk), a Czech-born immigrant to the United States, works in a factory. She has a son of 12 and a love for musicals. She is also on the verge of complete blindness, and knows someday her son will suffer the same fate. Her goal, the whole reason she came to America, is to save the money she needs to get her son an operation so he will someday see his grandchildren. She starts out doing well, and I think, "This movie is more uplifting and exhilarating than anything."

Because it is. Selma is a happy and alive young mother. Her life is difficult, sure, but she provides for her son and finds escape in the wonderful world of hollywood musicals. She's even going to star in her own production of "The Sound of Music." You can see the joy and splendor and love all over her face every time she watches a musical or sings a song. Or I should say, all over Icelandic pop singer Björk's face, because her performance is the film's true star. It is a heartbreaking but energetic, lovely, lively turn and one I could not look away from.

I should probably back up a bit. When I say Björk's acting is the film's star, it is true of course. But even more than her acting, it is her voice that makes this movie work. When life proves too much for her and the movies aren't an option, Selma "daydreams", as she calls it, her life itself as a musical. She hears the music in everything, from footsteps to machinery, and uses these rhythms to burst into song. It's impossible to explain in words just how powerful and beautiful these portions of the film are. Björk, with whom I admittedly was not terribly familiar before watching this movie, transcends perfection and falls mere steps short of angelic. Her acting throughout, but especially her voice during the music numbers are why I didn't feel "depressed" once during the film. Just when things hit a low, when my stomach would tighten and my breath, shorten, a scene such as the one on the train would come forth and give me faith and make me happy. And when it was over and the lows come back, I always had hope for one last song. One more moment of happiness for both Selma and myself. They may be bittersweet in lyrics, but they were never short of delicious in sound. Björk in this film is without a doubt my favorite performance of the current decade.

Which is saying a lot, because the entire 140 minutes of running time are planted firmly on her shoulders. She has to deliver because frankly, not a whole lot else in this film does. It's mostly adequate, yes, but with any other actress and any other voice, I doubt the movie would have ever surpassed the stage of "It was good."

Von Trier's direction, surely inspired by, if not completely conforming to) his Dogme95 movement, is as strong as can be expected, but did little to help engage me in the story. His handheld camera ranges from documentary style to home video and back to a conventional narrative use, never settling on one for too long and always there to remind me I was in my room. Which further highlights why the music works so well. When it is music time, Trier switches to classic hollywood style complete with wide shots and tripods. And I get lost in it all. The supporting cast is also fair enough, but are never anything but supporting, and they know it. Stuff comes out sloppy or awkward, but it doesn't matter too much because they're just setting up Björk anyway.

I think that Lars von Trier's Dogville was a fantastic cinematic achievement. It was unique and fascinating and the style and direction of that film suited the story and moods perfectly. But what he manages to here is something else entirely. The "depressing" I had been promised was never more than sad, and thanks to Björk, more often inspiring than not. I can't imagine rewatching it often, though the train scene (among others) could play looped in the background of every room I ever enter. I think this is an amazing film and a must see for just about everyone.