I feel no small amount of shame at admitting this, but I only saw “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” a couple years ago for the first time, so I don’t have the fond reverence for it that many other Chicagoans of my age possess.  Although I enjoyed his movies when they were released, I was never the biggest John Hughes fan.  While Hughes’ films are entertaining and usually smart, his characters never struck me as being true-to-life.  The adults are mostly well-meaning doofuses, and the teenagers sound like adults trapped in the body of high-schoolers.  That’s pretty much the case with “Bueller,” but it doesn’t really matter.  There isn’t a serious moment that lasts more than three minutes in the whole movie, and the actors provide the breezy pace and fun, snarky sense of humor.  Matthew Broderick is at his charming best, and the rest of the cast—Jennifer Grey, Mia Sara, Alan Ruck, among many—is excellent as well (with Jeffrey Jones at his twitchy, uptight best).  “Bueller,” however, is a movie that makes you proud to be a Chicagoan, as it shows the city (especially the lakefront and downtown) at its best.  But why the hell did they have to go to a Cubs’ game?

Another great Tex Avery cartoon, this one is about a recently deceased hipster that tells his life story, replete with idioms, to Saint Peter.  The animation isn’t anything special, but it’s the kooky visuals that make the cartoon work, as Saint Peter imagines everything in the most literal way.  My favorite scene is the hipster saying that he was beside himself in anger as he sits next to a slavering gorilla that’s dressed in his clothes.  And guess what you see when he asks Saint Peter if the cat’s got his tongue?

I almost wept when Martin Scorsese won an Oscar for this egg-sucker of a movie.  “The Departed” over something like “Taxi Driver” or “Raging Bull?”  Really?  An IMDB summary of this movie describes how bloodshed and violence “boil,” and that’s an accurate description of this mess: an over boiled collection of crime/noir tropes that aren’t used in the least interesting way.  Undercover cop having doubts about how far he’s willing to go to get the bad guy?  Check.  Doe-eyed/two-dimensional  woman unsure of what’s come over her boyfriend?  Yep.  Jack Nicholson acting like…well, Jack Nicholson?  You got it.  Scorsese brings almost none of his usual light touches to heavy material like this as he has in the past, and it’s telling that my favorite scene (when Damon calls DiCaprio’s cell phone) takes place with almost no dialogue.  A ton of good talent gets wasted, and Nicholson, after a promising start as gangster Frank Costello, descends into mugging and showboating for the camera.  And the last shot, with the rat running across the balcony railing, has to be the biggest unintentional laugh I’ve ever had watching a movie.

Director Ari Folman was a nineteen-year old Israeli soldier when his country invaded Lebanon, and this film charts his attempt to recall his experiences from that period, especially concerning the massacre that occurred in the Sabra and Shatila refugee camps.  Folman talks to former I.D.F. comrades, and each helps him recreate specific instances from the war, as well as provide clues into the nature of the nightmares he’s experiencing.   As the plot progresses, Folman’s memory begins to fill in and disturbing images start to make terrible sense.   This is an amazingly powerful work, and I can’t imagine it being made in any conventional manner.  The animation gives the entire film a surreal tone; many times, I was hard pressed to realize what was a dream-sequence and what was real, and I think this was one of Folman’s goals:  That the experiences of a combat soldier cannot be processed in any ordinary fashion.  If they were, the mind would surely collapse.  The mind’s fragmentation of horrific memories is an attempt to retain sanity.  As serious as the movie is, there are also moments of absurdity and humor (the sequence where the film’s title originates stands out) that rival “Slaughterhouse Five,” and Folman is damning in his condemnation of the brutal stupidity of war.  And the final sequence, where all the formerly disparate pieces finally make terrifying sense, is as powerful an ending as I’ve ever seen in a film.

One of director Chuck Jones’ best shorts, this one concerns gruff dog Mark Anthony as he falls for a cute kitten and tries desperately to hide her from his owner.  Like of all Jones’ work, the humor isn’t only situational but exists in the way the characters move through space.  Mark Anthony’s massive chest and tiny forelegs cause him to fall forward when he moves quickly; the kitten registers surprise with a stiffened tail and accompanying “boing!”  The expressiveness that Jones and his animators draw from their creations is amazing.  Watch the expressions on Mark Anthony’s face as he watches in silent horror as his owner bakes up what he thinks are kitten-infused cookies.  It’s a scene worthy of Chaplin and got a nod from the Pixar gang in “Monsters, Inc.”

This 2004 film isn’t only a great spoof of zombie movies; it’s a great zombie movie, period.  Director Edgar Wright wisely sticks to the ground rules laid by Big Daddy Romero; there are no hyper fast zombies or sickness-inducing quick cuts to be found.  “Shaun’s” zombies are slow, dumb and relentless.  Wright and Simon Pegg’s clever, funny script not only lampoons and celebrates the tropes of classic zombie films (over-the-top gore included!), but also creates well-rounded characters as well as addressing more serious issues.  Heavy themes aside, “Shaun” is a howlingly funny movie, with some of the best sight gags I’ve ever seen (Ed slowly forwarding the film on his camera as he and Shaun stand agog at an impaled zombie is one standout), and the performances are great throughout the film.  Kate Ashfield brings intelligence and spark to the role of Liz, and Dylan Moran’s David is, as the Brits say, the perfect “twat.”  But it’s the relationship between Shaun (Pegg) and Ed (Nick Frost) that anchor the film.  Frost plays Ed as an unapologetic lout with a sweet nature, and Pegg shows us that while Shaun loves Ed dearly, he knows that their relationship is, in many ways, preventing him from growing up.  A great, fun film.  Romero fans: see how many “Dead” references you can catch!

A film that works wonderfully well in many ways, this is a coming-of-age story that’s effective on both a personal and societal level.  Jenny, a precociously intelligent teen living in early 1960’s suburban London, becomes involved with David, a handsome and charming man almost twice her age.  As the two spend more time together, we not only see how Jenny is exposed to people and places she’s never experienced before, we also see a society poised on the brink of major cultural changes.  Jenny’s character perfectly exemplifies this turning point in British society.  On the one hand, she has no qualms about David’s Jewishness (a feeling not shared by the headmistress of her school), but is adamant that she remain a virgin until her seventeenth birthday.  The movie also features a great screenplay by Nick Hornby and wonderful performances all around.  Alfred Molina and Cara Seymour shine as Jenny’s parents; we see the love they have for their daughter and their disappointment in what they see as their failure to protect her.  But it’s Carrie Mulligans’s Jenny and Peter Sarsgaard’s David that are the standouts.  Mulligan manages to show Jenny’s maturation into a young woman while at the same time letting the young girl’s innocence peep through, and Peter Sarsgaard, confirming the impression that he’s  one of the best actors around, creates a character who’s simultaneously charming, sophisticated, immature and incredibly needy.  While the ending feels a little rushed and pat, this is still one of the best movies I’ve seen in quite some time.

The Python gang’s best movie, and, according to a Medieval Literature professor of mine, the most accurate portrayal of the Middle Ages ever put to film.  This one brilliantly showcases both ends of the Python comedy spectrum: the outrageous and crude alongside the witty and intelligent.  On the one hand, you have Arthur’s battle against the Black Knight, where hacked limbs and spurting blood are met with a “’Tis but a flesh wound!” and on the other, you have a peasant’s explanation on how a farcical aquatic ceremony is no basis for a system of government.  The Pythons are all in top form, though my favorite is Michael Palin’s Swamp King, who’s determined not to let his son’s singing stand in the way of the marriage ceremony.  The film’s gritty look fits perfectly with the Python’s usual self-referential weirdness, and, as God as my witness, no other film ranks above “Holy Grail” for more quoteable lines.  (To this day, I can’t witness some type of flight and/or surrender without resisting an urge to yell, “Run away!  Run away!”)

My wife commented on the fact that I’ve yet to write about any “chick-flick movies,” so here’s one of my favorites: “Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion.”  In the past, too many genre movies of this type sacrificed character development and wit in favor of ridiculous plots and cheap laughs, but “Romy and Michele” neatly avoids that trap.  What could have devolved into a sitcom plot (two friends, anxious about attending their high school reunion, devise ways to make themselves look successful) instead becomes a funny, clever look at the power of friendship and how our experiences as teenagers inform and influence the adults we eventually become.  While Robin Schiff’s smart script can claim a lot of credit for this, it’s the acting that’s the real standout of the movie, with Lisa Kudrow (Michele) and Mira Sorvino (Romy) both infusing their roles with a terrific mix of daffy earnestness and sweet concern.  Romy and Michele may not be intellectual giants, but Kudrow and Sorvino show us that they’re no dummies either; what they may lack in book smarts, they more than make up for in shrewd observations and empathy.  With Alan Cumming and Janeane Garafalo (at her sarcastic, snarky best) in great supporting roles, “Romy and Michele” could teach the ladies of “Sex and the City” something about girl power that doesn’t involve the acquisition of a $500 pair of shoes.

Back in the 80’s, some cable channel (or PBS?) would show animated short films from The National Film Board of Canada, and Richard Conde’s work was always a staple.  Featuring a squiggly-line animated style, off-the-wall plots and great sound effects and music, Conde’s films are a blast, and “The Big Snit” is a great example.  If you like your nuclear holocaust stories to include rattling eyeballs, sawing for fun, and bellowing cats, then this one is for you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=90SIuISIVB8