Finding Nemo - While not my favorite Pixar (that would probably be Inside Out), in many ways I think Finding Nemo is as close to perfection as they've gotten. Characters are well defined, has emotional heft, action scenes pop, has great animation, is frequently funny. I really don't have any criticisms against it. Except there aren't any criticisms. There aren't any little moments for me to really latch on to and feel are my own. It is more for the world than just for me (the nerve!). Finding Nemo continues to exist in its perfection and I slide off of it when I try to come up to it and give it a hug. It's a good example of why executing something nearly flawlessly can have the negative effect of diminishing it through rewatches. I always know exactly what it is when I put it on. It never surprises me. Always exactly the same. Perfect. But it is still impressive regardless of this handicap.
Adaptation - This is one of those movies I admire in theory. I love to think about it. And it has just about as much to say about the hell of the creative process, and the pitfalls of your talents bringing you the attention of those who'd like to profit from it, as any 'fictional' movie. Cage's dual performance is also probably his best ever. But as clever as I think the movie is, I don't necessarily fall under its spell when I watch it. Everything in it seems calibrated to make the central idea of the film work, and that usually is a problem for me. When I can see all of the moving parts of the screenplay moving deliberately towards its point, I end up becoming hyper critical. Of course, seeing all of the moving parts of what is going on here is very much the point. The movie wouldn't work as well if it didn't, and it's good Kauffman isn't taking my notes. But for my personal sensibilities, it is one of the few Kaufman's I've seen where I feel I'm kind of standing outside of it, watching it through a window. Admiring it like it is some kind of brilliant thing in a gallery, and not just a movie.
Gladiator - I shouldn't even bother talking about this one. A film I really wanted to see when it came out (I generally like movies where people are forced to fight to the death) but one that has left me about as cold towards it as any movie I have ever seen. In many ways, this isn't surprising, because I think it is mostly a straight-up bad movie. It's an empty vessel for its simple plot, which you could probably write on the back of a cocktail napkin for yourself if you've never seen it. It is unbearably bland. It never works as something terribly cinematic, and all of its human emotions doled out exactly as you expect them to be, arriving exactly when you expect them. But what has always been mysterious to me about this is that I've never been risen to anger the handful of times I've seen it. Normally something I don't like as much as this can get generate some kind of flop sweat out of me. Kindle some kind of reminder that I'm alive and watching a terrible movie. At least that is something. But Gladiator has this weird effect of providing me with nothing as I watch it. It's like I'm watching the shadow of a house plant on a wall. The kind of thing I might do when I refuse to get out of bed, but certainly not what I expect out of a hot and tasty best picture winner at the oscars. So, no, I don't even hate this movie. I have no idea how I can even begin to try. It barely exists as it is. At least it raised Oliver Reed from the dead though. I thought only a morgue enduced embalment of Scotch could do such a thing.
Before Sunset: Another one that always makes me enemies. I've only seen the first two of these movies and found them both insufferable. I've already expounded on this one during another list, so no need to get into it again. But the short of it is whether all of this dialogue was written or improvised, it all has the sheen of such artificiality I will never fall under the supposed spell of these two people growing to know eachother in natural time. I feel the intent is for me to be watching the natural rhythms of conversation between these two, but all I hear is the squeak of a pen scrawling out the things they say. And if improvisation was also a factor here, it all seems to be coming from a deeply artificial place. Generally I love all the babble Linklater provides his characters with. He can carve great characters out of the words he gets them to say. They usually feel like both cinematic avatars and real people you might meet. But with the Sunset films, he creates two characters who I wouldn't talk to if they came anywhere near me while I was waiting for the bus. Would get me reaching for my earbuds.
Lives of Others - Nothing negative to say about this. I remember liking it quite a lot. Tense, well acted, all the things you'd expect from such a movie. Should definitely give it a rewatch at some point though. Memories are hazy.
Sideways - Very good movie from Payne, who has been remarkably consistent in all the films I've seen by him. Some people seem to get caught up on what a couple of low-life losers these two guys are, and they very much are. But I always go back to the 'empathy machine' description of film that Ebert once made. Film is this perfect vehicle to give us windows into other lives, other cultures, and allow us to identify with them. Or at least pause a moment to try and understand them a bit. But I think this goes for not only peoples and cultures and causes that are noble and worth getting to know better. I think it also applies to all of the people with sad, irredeemable stories. I don't like these two guys either. Giamatti in particular is insufferable to the point he wouldn't even qualify to be one of my sad sack, nightmare friends. But I hurt for him when I watch this film. And there is a poetry to his dumb little pretend life he has at these wine-tasting functions. And even if you refuse to empathize with him in anyway, the movie is made in a way you can just simply laugh at him. And that's okay too. Cause movies can also be great machines of mockery. Sometimes they are both.
Prestige - I don't like this movie. I know a few people whose opinions I trust rank this pretty high in the Nolan-sphere, but I have so far kept to my guns about not liking this. Admittedly, a lot of this has to do with recognizing the poorly disguised 'twist' almost immediately in the movie, and spending the rest of the film noticing all of the little tricks Nolan uses to keep us in the dark. It turned the whole film into a vehicle for a sleight of hand trick. But even if this was the movies intent, shouldn't the trick have been performed well. It can't be magic if I see all the strings while the idiot magician is waving his hands around like some kind of deranged mystic. No thanks.
Casino Royale - Was this on my list? Probably. It should be. Very likely the greatest movie in the franchise, even if it is far from the greatest Bond movie. It doesn't scratch any of those retro itches all the Connery movies provide, but as a marvel of action cinema, it is great. And it actually dares tackle real emotions, while still rejoicing in all the usual goofy spy mechanizations you can expect from such a movie. Also, the fact that it has the nerve to make one of its central scenes of suspense an extended poker match is a fantastic curveball for a franchise which generally doesn't spend a lot of time with long sequences with all the major players seated in silence around a table. Love this.