I finally caught Craig Brewer's Hustle and Flow, and walked away impressed. It's as assured a début as I've seen in the last few years. The mature screenplay, as well as Terrence Howard's solid performance, really elevate the film beyond the 'urban' genre tag that some critics and audiences used to label it. The journey and struggle of creating something was honestly illustrated, with rapt attention paid to the cost of success. Therefore, the exploitative appearance of Brewer's follow-up, I believe, just might be a red herring. The prejudicial trailer worked on me back when I saw it before Snakes on a Plane, and just by associating it with the film that it previewed ahead of, I demoted it to the 'Guilty Pleasure' category. Now I'm convinced that Black Snake Moan is hiding an altogether different tale, one which delves beyond the sensational images of whips, chains, and slinky clothing. But sometimes it takes a little sensationalism to get people to see a challenging film, and if that opens up a tougher film to a wider audience, I'm all for it.

For my taste, people were a little too hard on The Life Aquatic, Wes Anderson's last offering,. Sure, it wasn't his best work, but as with all of Anderson's oeuvre, Aquatic has something lingering beyond the precise, symmetrical camerawork and quirky dialogue. Perhaps it's Anderson's own fault—he created a masterpiece in Rushmore, and he's been struggling to equal it ever since. But it's because of Rushmore, and Anderson's directorial tenacity, that I'll watch every film he makes. He might even be trying to re-capture some of that Rushmore magic by bringing Jason Schwartzman back into the fold with Darjeeling, a tale of wayward brotherhood and the three men trying to re-claim it in the wake of their father's death. It appears to have all of Anderson's usual panache, and maybe...just maybe...a return to that masterful balance of comedy, drama, and euphoria.

Everyone I know who's seen this story of early Irish republicans and their anti-British rebellion walks away moved, impressed, and offering the heartfelt recommendation, "Definitely see it." It might not be the action-packed, shaky-cam-fest that Paul Greengrass' Bloody Sunday is, but this miniature epic commanded a lot of attention at the '06 Cannes Film Festival. Of course, that means it's been generally ignored here across the pond, even though it took in a decent haul for an independent release. The director, Ken Loach, is a student of realism, and that's part of the reason most Americans don't pay too much attention to him, even though we'll all flock to the gimmick of 'realism' if, say, a giant monster attacks New York. Maybe it's time we all decided to check out whence 'real' realism comes...

Danny Boyle, Danny Boyle. Director of Trainspotting. Also director of The Beach. But despite that debacle, he's rebounded, pushing genre boundaries with 28 Days Later...and Millions...and, now, he arrives with the Sci Fi thriller Sunshine, a movie that, from its trailer, looked fantastic. But it came and went, lost amid the bigger budget summer blockbusters, and I nearly forgot about it until writing this column. It's Sci Fi with an idea behind it (the best kind), a "Twilight Zone"-esque scenario wherein the sun is dying, and Earth with it. A group of astronauts are sent as Earth's last hope, and the mystery unfolds from there. Like Loach's film, the few who've seen Sunshine are crazy about it, and since science fiction has become fodder for empty-headed action-disaster flicks, repetitive comic book stories, and vapid pseudo-philosophies, anything character-based that can re-invigorate the genre is a welcome change.

Many people were surprised that this strange little doc didn't make the Oscar cut—the story of a couple carrying on a secret affair, the woman breaking it off, the man turning violent...yet, they still manage to live happily ever after. It's a courtship unlike any other, an odd commentary on the pitfalls and rewards of infatuation and passion. We see so many cookie-cutter rom-coms—stories where kooky situations beget fervid love affairs and fairy-tale endings—that it's easy to forget how dirty love can get, how dark affairs of the heart can turn. This story looks like it gives us a little bit of both.

Few truly indie films have attained the success of Once—rendered on an actual indie budget, a mere $150,000. But it's rung up nearly $10 million in box office receipts, a cult phenomenon that carries none of the marginalizing characteristics that tag usually brings with it. This is no exploitation film, no mind-bending genre anachronism, no gut-check indie downer; it's a musical, made up completely of songs written by the characters as they fall in love in modern-day Dublin. It's the way, if I may be so bold, musicals should be written—without silly dancing, and free of pretense. The focus becomes the music and the characters, and each number becomes more poignant, more focused, elevating the story to the heights of symphonic bliss. Or so I've been told. After all, this is still on my list to see. But this little indie-that-could received the ultimate honor: an Oscar nomination for Best Original Song. I wonder if writer/director John Carney ever imagined his labor of love would become the darling of so many, and honored among so few.

This year's proof that, in the rest of the world, animation isn't just for kids. Though Pixar has gone a long way to rejuvenate classic family storytelling, the overall state of American animated films is pathetic. If you don't believe me, notice that there are only three films nominated for Best Animated Feature, and one of them is this French production. What, no Beowulf? No Simpsons? No Shrek the Third? American animation is little more than an outlet for computers nowadays, as story and expansion of the medium is cast aside to reformulate tired television shows and movie franchises or attempts are made to perfect the human face. Perhaps once it is, we can get back to basics—basics that this 2D film, telling the story of an Iranian girl coming-of-age during the Islamic Revolution seems to prioritize. based on both a novel and comic, the film embraces not only 2D animation, but a mostly black-and-white palette, and challenges the meaning of family-oriented cinema by showing a young girl's world slowly devolving from one full of possibilities to one of impervious fundamentalism. A smash at Cannes, it's been a hit everywhere it plays, wearing its heart on its sleeve and continuing to call into question the very notion that 2D animation is a lost art.

Atonement has been gathering accolades ever since its opening at the Venice Film Festival, where nearly every critic gushed that it was easily the film to beat at any major awards ceremony for which it qualified. Alhough its momentum has cooled since then (and been overtaken by two distinctly American near-masterpieces), the Rashomon-like film of a war-torn love story sometimes told from different perspectives has plugged along quite well. Its source is a 2001 novel with an admiration for literature, while the film has been praised for its exquisite cinematography and wonderful performances, often evoking comparisons to Casablanca. It appears to avoid the death-knell of the barren costume piece, creating a confluence of both classical storytelling and visual acumen, completely in the style of the Golden Age of Hollywood.

If you discount the Ocean's series (and who doesn't want to do that?), George Clooney is really an actor from another era. His recent films indicate a passion for the same Golden Age of Hollywood that Atonement emulates. And Clayton is another in a long line concerned not only with the crooked direction that America is heading down, but also with reviving that Golden Age commitment to story and purpose. Even though its name would seem to indicate a biopic of some form, Michael Clayton is much more; it's a legal melodrama-slash-thriller with a heavy moral compass. And Tony Gilroy, the man behind the Bourne films (don't let people tell you it's Liman or Greengrass...it's the writer!), is just the person Clooney needs to pump a little energy into these passions.

The number one film on my list to see, right now, is Todd Haynes' vignettes on the life of Bob Dylan. For me, the collection of actors telling the story of one of our country's most iconic auteurs is reason enough to see the film. But to know that Todd Haynes is the director behind the film is to know you're in the hands of one of the few skilled craftsmen still at work in the medium. This is no biopic; this is interpretations of a life, a career, an artistry—and the trailer shows that the stories are unfamiliar territory. It's fresh and exciting to know that cinema still has possibilities, and that actors want to take part in these experiments. The lack of boundaries within the film isn't only a testament to the bravery and strength of Todd Haynes, but to the very subject, himself. I can't think of any other way to portray and honor this mysterious myth of a man than with a film as equally playful and enigmatic as he is.

As flawed as it is, Julie Taymor's Across the Universe is direction at its most sublime. Tthere aren't many eyes as sharp as Taymor's; she's a master constructionist, creating images both surreal and powerful, imbibed with an energy that practically bursts from the screen. The sheer number of songs she's wrapped into the story is incredible, .and you'll still be asking why 'this favorite' or 'that favorite' didn't make the cut. But many have misunderstood this film. Its detractors say its simplistic view of the turbulent '60s is juvenile, its use of the Beatles' catalog an embarrassing crutch. But while a masterwork would have taken the '60s and truly explored the complicated politics and emotions dividing the country, this film aims to paint in broad strokes—.namely, it aims to have fun and rejoice in the greatest pop group of all time. The renditions of Beatles songs aren't meant to erase or outdo the originals; they're supposed to be a celebration of them. Like "Hair", Universe is a pastiche of the ideas permeating the counter-culture paid tribute through song. Inevitably, a film such as this won't approach the depths of the films at the top of this list. Yet, even the Beatles, themselves, reveled in the success of their bouncier tunes before graduating to more resonant work. So, does the fact that you respect and adore "Let it Be", '"Eleanor Rigby", and "Come Together" mean that you no longer tap your foot and sing along with "All My Lovin'", "Penny Lane", or "I Want to Hold Your Hand"? Ask yourself that and, if the answer is no (as I suspect it is), then you might just find Taymor's latest quite the enjoyable ride.

Waitress is the type of film that's pure comfort—a sweet and endearing tale with just the right amount of sentiment, just the right amount of heartbreak, and just the right amount of self-fulfillment. The story is as satisfying as the film's central imagery—a vast array of delicious pies—but it's not as toothsome or saccharine as that might suggest. The very serious thread of creating something of one's own, and of finding happiness no matter how hard the decision may be, is shared by many of the characters. But it's ultimately Adrienne Shelly's assured direction—quirky, inspired, and candid—that brings this tale to life. And her final film is a fitting farewell to an unconventional artist who never aimed to fit the Hollywood mold.

It's odd to find a movie like Juno the same year as a Waitress; the two have so very much in common, yet both are quite successful and acclaimed. Usually two films like these—especially of the 'indie' variety (though neither exactly fits that description)—step on each other's territory or exhaust the audience's patience for frankness and quirk. But here's a yearin which audiences seem to relish such material—although Juno has, by far, received more of the attention at the box office, crossing over the $100 million mark. And with a budget of only $7.5 million, that's quite a feat. The popularity is mostly a result of Ellen Page's luminous performance as a pregnant teenager. Her supporting cast of Jason Bateman, Allison Janney, JK Simmons, and Michael Cera sparkle, as well, but the real find is Jennifer Garner, who displays a depth of character we've never witnessed from her. With her work, here, she shows herself capable of so much more than she's been given, and I can only hope that other directors pay attention. While also frequently lauded, Diablo Cody's script borders on smug, on quite a few occasions, but is rescued by the note-perfect Page and delicate direction of Jason Reitman. Another strong and sweet film, with loads of promising talent.

The winner of last year's Best Foreign Language Film Oscar, this German Hitchcockian thriller holds up to the tough expectations that come with both the award and that adjective. It's a thriller Hitch would have been proud of, wrapped up in spies and love stories, with "wrong men" and "notorious women" (to borrow from the Criterion Collection's box-set title), and a gripping pace as the story progresses. The film was quite controversial in Germany—the Berlin Film Festival even refused it entry—but, ultimately, it became quite successful, a sign that despite over 25 years having passed, the pain of the once-divided nation still stings a progressing society. And like all great thrillers, this one uses that knowledge to strengthen its story, creating a vision of the past and the present, evoking a link that helps to heal and to inform.

The wonder and faculty of Brad Bird continues to amaze me, as he continues to weave the best animated films of the past ten years. After the The Iron Giant and The Incredibles, he changes course completely, coming aboard an existing production that was having major story problems. This is rarely a good proposition for a filmmaker: taking over another person's work rarely ends well, and almost never gains them any friends. But Brad Bird is the exception to the rule. Watching Ratatouille, it's impossible to imagine it as a failure; the story is too fluid, the direction too spot-on, and the animation too rousing. Bird takes us into the world of Remy, a rat—bringing us to his level, keeping the perspectives accurate, the world larger than life. It'd be easy to make a film observing a rat in the kitchen, causing havoc, wishing to cook...but to make us identify with him, we must be with him, we must empathize with his need to cook...and that's the step that Bird takes. Remy is as likeable and memorable as any Pixar character, and his journey—so different from re-uniting with a father, as in Finding Nemo; fighting evil with one's family in The Incredibles; and escaping monsters in Monsters, Inc.—is cooking. And for kids to identify with a longing to cook...well...that may just be the oddest and most extraordinary journey Pixar's come up with yet.

The controversy of Michael Moore and his films will never go away...unless, of course, the entire country becomes so liberal that Dennis Kucinich suddenly seems too far to the right. But I continue to view Moore for what he is: an editorial filmmaker, espousing his views on the world in his own manic way. Moore is no pretender; he wears his heart and politics on his sleeve, and he's always tackling issues sure to draw impassioned responses from both sides of the aisle; however, the real reason Moore does what he does is to elicit a response—to create an argument, to begin the discussion on issues that have too long lay dormant behind the veil of Washington. It's why he confronts congressmen with asinine questions, brings people without health insurance to Guantánamo Bay, and corners Charlton Heston in Heston's own home. The issues demand confrontation, and the only way to get to the answers is to be the one to get the ball rolling. Would healthcare be as big an issue in this election if it weren't for the efforts of someone like Moore? I'm not ascribing the entire movement to him or this film, but only three years ago, healthcare barely registered as a widespread concern, just as global warming wasn't on the agenda until Al Gore brought it to the forefront. Sicko is Moore's best film—not because it's his most polished, but because of its humanism. Though he still takes politicians to task for their inaction, his main points are how we, as a nation, put our health and security in the hands of those who merely use us as ATM machines. If our health is important to us, we must make it our own priority…and that's the provocation presented to us via this film.