I have been on a movie kick these past few days. Anna and I have watched 5 movies over a few days, and a couple of them have stuck with me quite firmly. It is to these films I dedicate my words today.

I have nothing to say about Night at the Museum or Amazing Grace, other than they were decent, but ultimately mediocre. The Kingdom was pretty good, but nothing to rave about.

No, my attention today focuses on two rather unlikely movies.
I say unlikely because one seemed to me, on the surface, to be standard fare in a genre already overcrowded, and in no need of further extrapolation.
I was wrong.
This particular film is one fantasy not-so-epic called Stardust.
This is a classic case of a trailer that does not do the film justice. I have not read the book by Niel Gaiman, nor have I ever had an inclination to, but the movie held a slight degree of interest to me, mostly due to the CG work I saw in the trailer. Turns out the effects were not at all the proudest point the movie had going for it.
It was dang funny.
I haven't laughed as much (in honest amusement) at a fantasy film since I saw The Princess Bride for the first time. There are a great number of amusing lines and moments throughout the film that totally caught me off guard and charmed me to no end. Humorous lines come in the most unexpected places from the most unexpected people.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Tristan (played with wide-eyed vigor by Charlie Cox) is a young man, just entering adulthood, living in the British village of Wall--named so for the wall that separates it from the magical world next door. In a spur-of-the-moment romantic quest, Tristan finds himself thrown deep into the magical land (from whence he was born, it is established at the beginning of the movie) and right in the arms of a star (Claire Danes) who has just fallen from the sky. His goal is to return with her as a gift of betrothal to his "true love". Needless to say, the star, Yvaine, is reluctant, but needs a particular form of magical transportation Tristan has on his person to return to the heavens. An agreement is struck; that Yvaine will return to Wall with Tristan, provided he return her to the sky immediately thereafter. They set off on the journey back to England.
Two other parties are interested in the star, however, for their own reasons. The witch, Lamia, (a gleefully wicked Michelle Pfeiffer) desires her heart, to attain prolonged life and power. The prince Septimus also wants the star--for the immortality--and the gem she carries--for the inheritance of the throne. These two pursue Tristan and Yvaine tirelessly across the land, water and sky (I'm serious, they really do trot around the sky for a while).
Along the way, they meet a cleverly assembled cast of side-characters, including Ricky Gervais, and Robert DeNiro, as the secretly-wimpy pirate Cap'n Shakespeare. The movie is well-worth watching, if only for the ingenious fight sequence between Septimus' ilk and the pirate crew. DeNiro's performance is priceless, and perfectly indicative of his versatility as an actor.
Matters come to a head, with all parties converging inevitably upon one another as they all draw nearer to Wall.
The film is delightfully witty, and carries itself with a sort of tongue-in-cheek grace. It skims lightly along some sweet and profound elements, but keeps its sense of irreverent, ever-so-slightly-dark humor and never takes itself too seriously.
Add some shiny special effects and a fantastic score by newcomer Ilan Eshkeri, and you've got a recipe for an instant classic.
Anna and I both loved it, and I've no doubt it will make its way into our permanent collection very soon.

The second film I've come to talk about is at the complete opposite end of the spectrum.
Let's go from light humor to heavy drama and suspense.
Let's talk about Cloverfield.

Cloverfield is the pet project of established producer J.J. Abrams, perhaps best known for his production of the TV series Alias and Lost. He produced the movie, with relative unknown Matt Reeves directing.
It is, simply put, the coolest movie I've seen in a while. Yeah, I'm taking Transformers into account. Transformers did not leave me shaking in suspense and anticipation, as Cloverfield did.
Cloverfield is the story of six young twentysomethings, living in Manhattan, on a night when the city is attacked by...something.
It's a monster movie, plain and simple, and there's no dancing around that fact. The truth of the matter is, monster movies have gotten a bad rap, mostly thanks to the Godzilla franchise; most infamously represented by the 2000 remake starring Matthew Broderick. When people think of monster movies, they think of cheesy effects, lousy acting, complete lack of plot, basically no script, and completely unbelievable situations.
This movie is all of those, and none, at the same time. The difference is all in the presentation--how they pull it off.
And believe me, these people pull it off.
The story centers on a young man named Rob, the night before he heads off to Japan (perhaps a subtle jab at the Godzilla mythos) to take his "dream job." A large group of friends throw him a surprise going-away party. The party is busted up when tremors rock the building, resultant of the first attack by the creature. The gang heads up to the roof for a front row seat at the initial destruction; they retreat to the street to be greeted by the decapitated head of the Statue of Liberty hurling towards them, and the chaos ensues. And it does not relent until the end credits roll.
Shortly after the destruction begins, Rob receives a call from his estranged love, Beth, who says she is trapped in her apartment, and apparently cannot extricate herself. Rob, in a profoundly courageous move, sets off in the direction of the destruction to find her and get her out of the city. His brother, Jason, friends Hud and Lily, and slight acquaintance Marlena follow along, reluctant to leave their friend alone. While everyone on Manhattan island flees, Rob and company charge into the fray, milling about with the military as it coughs out a response to the attack over the course of the single night. The monster stomps around, crushing buildings and generally laying waste to the landscape and everyone in it.
It's the stuff movie executive's nightmares are made of. So why does this movie succeed?
It's the idea that anticipation is as scary as anything in a movie could be. People's imagination is the most effective tool in creating terror or dread.
The entire film is shot with handycam, as if filmed by a personal camcorder, carried by the character of Hud, who seems to find filming the events a sort of emotional ground that helps him cope with the carnage all around. While the motion is a little disorienting at first, and takes a little while to get used to, it is the backbone of the technique that pulls the movie off. The jerky, half-framed shots capture snippets of the action and horror; giving hints, but no full answers. The gritty, up-close-and-personal nature of the shooting puts the viewer right in the action, at ground level, and serves to convey the enormity of everything going on around.
The creature is barely seen for much of the movie, but that only serves to heighten the anticipation and fear. You want to see it, and yet you dread it. And when you finally do, it's shocking and terrifying in a way that no big-budget build-up and epic CG could accomplish. That being said, the monster is freaking amazing, and the CG work is nothing short of jaw-dropping--seamlessly integrated into the video footage; adding to the suspense without drawing attention to itself.
The characters don't behave like actors playing a role; they behave like people would if these things really happened. This aesthetic is drastically helped along by the style of filming. When paired with the complete lack of a musical score, and positively amazing sound editing, the film plays out like some surreal documentary or classified footage that we, the fortunate few, have the opportunity to view.
J.J. Abrams has locked on to what it takes to emotionally hold the Facebook generation captive. Reality. The movie takes the utterly absurd and makes it real, by focusing on the familiar things we all relate to: fear, anticipation, friendship and love.
I was highly annoyed by the gang of utterly oblivious middle schoolers in the theater who, at the end, yelled out their displeasure with the lack of face time with the monster, among other things which I will not state for fear of spoiling major plot points. I wanted to call back to them: "it's not about the monster! It's about these people. It's about what people would do if the absurd became reality." There is more than one touching moment between characters, in the brief interludes between moments of chaos, and that is the focus of the movie. That is Abram's and Reeves' genius. They've made a monster movie that isn't.
Go see it. Don't wait for it to come to DVD. Go to the theater. Sit in the dark. Surrender to the sounds of gunfire, screams, roars, running feet and crumbling skyscrapers.
At the end, even with any small flaws you noticed, you will have to admit it grabbed you and didn't let go until the screen went dark.