My Favorite Movies

The adorable story of a little car that could, The Love Bug just plain works.

Jim Douglas (Dean Jones) is a has-been race driver, and his life is going nowhere until Herbie shows up: a strange Volkswagen Beetle with a mind of its own, who becomes instantly loyal to Jim the moment he stands up for the little car. He starts winning races again. After that, and Jim's complete disbelief that Herbie is anything other than a car, The Love Bug is mostly just lots of races, with the relationship between driver and car getting steadily stronger. But there's so much good dialogue, given to some surprisingly well-drawn characters, that the story seems a lot fuller. Carol (Michele Lee) is a particularly 3D heroine, working for the villainous Thorndyke (David Tomlinson, wonderful as the increasingly obsessed and devilish bad guy) but never really helping him. Buddy Hackett is also a hoot as Tenessee Steinmetz, the loopy mechanic who is the first to notice just how special Herbie is. And Jim is no clean-cut hero. A faded talent and too much pride make him easier to hate than love, but he comes around, and probably so will you.

Of course, the car is the star. Few cars are as alive-looking as the Volkswagen Beetle; emotions are easily got across just by a few simple noises or movements. It's a far cry from the wretched CGI hysterics of Herbie: Fully Loaded. Not a lot of films can get away with a car trying to commit suicide - no, seriously - and The Love Bug just about does it, thanks to the surprisingly poingnant characterisation.

Often hilarious and triumphant, The Love Bug is a film that fills me with pure, giddy joy. For that, I can't give it anything less than 5. A sublime and wonderful film.

With Ed Wood, Tim Burton has a clear challenge: do you romanticise the Worst Director Of All Time, so that his films donâ??t look that bad after all, or do what a lot of other biopics do and just tell us how goddamn miserable he was? Burton takes a trickier third option, and tells an inspiring, hopeful story about a guy trying to make movies and gain acceptance, while never shying away from the fact that Ed's movies were really, no-fooling terrible. It's not a spoof, as there is no need to spoof something as car-crash dreadful as Glen Or Glenda. Nor is it entirely wistful. It's pitched perfectly, and its message - that outsiders are never alone, and wanting to do something great can be enough, even if the end result sucks - encapsulates most of the things Tim Burton has ever tried to say as a filmmaker. There's no doubt in my mind that this is Burton's best film, and there's a tremendously sweet irony in the fact that it's all about a guy who made terrible movies.

At the centre of it all is Johnny Depp, almost unstoppably optimistic as Ed. He smiles, ignores such petty filmmaking gripes as continuity and clumsy actors, and fawns unashamedly over his idol, Bela Lugosi, whose faded career he gives a last-minute jump start. (Of sorts. His reputation sinks even lower because of Wood, but Bela would argue there's no such thing as bad press, so we'll go with that.) Their relationship is of course based partly on Tim Burton's and Vincent Price's, but it's also a handy metaphor for how Burton views Ed Wood. He's dimly aware of the man's many failings, but more concerned with what good he's capable of. Martin Landau is magnificent as Lugosi, but for me the less-celebrated Depp is the star of the show. It's a slightly exaggerated, almost cartoony portrayal, making Ed more of an icon than a down-to-Earth normal human being. But then, whoever said Ed was normal?

The entire cast are on top form. Bill Murray is particularly wonderful as Bunny, one of Ed's cohorts: it's a performance that's ingrained into every little movement, making Bunny one of the most real things in the movie. Sarah Jessica Parker has the perhaps problematic role of Ed's girlfriend, who eventually leaves him. She does a great job of being the voice of reason when necessary - "You make shit! These movies are terrible!" - but also providing Ed with a sympathetic ear. She's a tough, complex little character.

We get to see Ed's most talked about movies get made, and his final "masterpiece", Plan 9, is treated almost with awe - but again, without ignoring the fact that it was stupid, stupid, stupid. And that's okay. Ed wanted to be remembered, and in a display of typical optimism, Tim Burton tells us that he got his wish. Ed would probably look at his infamous reputation with cockeyed misunderstanding, and see the good in it: all these people wouldn't profess to hate him with such enthusiasm if they didn't love him just a little, right? And it's that ability to see the good in things, even when they are definitely, categorizably bad, that Burton has captured so well.

Ed Wood is simply a beautiful film. Funny and entertaining, certainly, because movies about movies (especially bad ones) are usually a hoot. But it's the hopeful spirit that makes it a moving story as well: Ed's grinning determination, the kindred weirdos he meets, the faith he inspires in them. There isn't another movie quite like it, which is fitting for a filmmaker like Ed Wood, who is arguably unsurpassed in his own way. Seriously: Glen Or Glenda absolutely stinks. In that particular case, Burton tells the tale of longing transvestite Ed much better than Ed himself managed, but that's somehow no disservice to a man who was lucky to figure out which end of the camera pointed where. The film about his life tells us that we must try, no matter the odds, no matter what everybody thinks, and no matter if they're right. Thatâ??s a hell of a thing to get from watching Plan 9 From Outer Space, and that, one hopes, ought to be Ed's real legacy.

All is not well in Oz. When Dorothy returns in this sequel (made nearly fifty years later than the revered 1939 original), the Emerald City is in ruins, her friends are missing and everyone else has been turned to stone. There are no songs and dances, and no Munchkins. It's an audacious approach which did not immediately pay off, marooning Return To Oz at the box office and inviting scorn from critics, who believed it was too dark for children. Were they right?

Well, it's certainly dark. We begin with Dorothy (Faizura Balk) getting whisked off to a mental hospital, where Aunt Em hopes that some electro-shock therapy will cure her of what appear to be crazed hallucinations - in reality, memories of Oz. It's a bleak opening, tinged with an even greater worry, as Dorothy receives a key from Oz, suggesting trouble back in the Emerald City. A storm rescues Dorothy from losing her memories of Oz, and transports her magically back there. But something awful has happened, and there's no sign of life - apart from the frightening Wheelers.

So far, upsetting stuff. But fairytales - which L. Frank Baum had always intended The Wizard Of Oz to be - are dark, in places at least. Return To Oz presents us with scary villains, in the Wheelers, the witch Mombi (Jean Marsh), and the Nome King (Nicol Williamson). It shows us mortal peril, in the Deadly Desert (one touch transforms you to sand) and the Nome King's palace, where one can be transformed into an ornament or tossed into his Fiery Furnace. But these things come with the territory. Without a frightening baddie and a dire situation, what thrill can there be in restoring the order of things? The more terrifying the villain, the more wonderful the escape.

And the escapes are wonderful. Take the moment when our heroes finally get away from Mombi, flying to freedom on a creature made of furniture, brought to life with the magic words, Weaugh, Teaugh, Peaugh. It's a brilliant high, all the more glorious because we're scared stiff of the bellowing, sometimes headless monster pursuing them. There is darkness, but it only makes the light brighter.

Critics often overlook all the marvellous uplifting moments in Return To Oz, and the cheerful, friendly characters. There's Jack Pumpkinhead, Mombi's wobbly prisoner who adopts Dorothy as his surrogate mum; Tik-Tok, a heroic but bulky clockwork soldier charged with protecting Dorothy, who would be invincible if he didn't need constant winding up; the Gump, a flying sofa, who's only been alive as long as we've seen him, and would really rather just be a head; and Billina, Dorothy's pet chicken, who suddenly finds herself able to talk, and ends up being instrumental in the defeat of the Nome King. We even see the Scarecrow again, and - in a short scene at the end - the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion as well. They're all here. They just needed rescuing first. Is that really so dark?

Remember that in The Wizard Of Oz, the witch got melted to death, and had an army of terrifying flying monkeys at her disposal, who did things like rip the Scarecrow to pieces. Scary stuff, but not disproportionately so, because good won out.

Anyway, Return To Oz is an amazing film to look at. Jim Henson's workshop makes utterly lifelike creatures out of Jack and the others, and brilliant stop-motion animation is used to bring the Nomes and their King to life. The performances fuel the illusion: Nicol Willamson is top-billed, and he is terrifying, just as Faizura Balk is perfectly frightened (but determined) as Dorothy. David Shire's music terrifies as often as it soars, and the story - which melds elements from two Oz books into a single plot - makes for a clever sequel, but also a great standalone film for those few who haven't seen the original. We learn enough about Oz not to need any previous education, which is how sequels are supposed to work, and so often don't.

It's hard for me to be objective about Return To Oz, because it was a big part of my childhood. I must have seen it fifty times growing up. I still believe in every special effect, jump when I see the Wheelers, and feel giddy during every heroic escape or happy reunion. I unashamedly love these characters. Is their adventure too dark for children? I can only speak from personal experience, but no. Of course not. It's a joyous experience, made all the better by the threat of what might happen if good doesn't win out in the end. And hey, it does.

I hate Casablanca.

Well, okay, that's a lie: I think it's a perfectly enjoyable movie, with many wonderful performances and a great ending. What I really hate are reviews of Casablanca. The movie's perfect, apparently: so perfect there's no point analysing it. Nonsense, I say. Every film deserves the same objective treatment. Oh, your movie's very old, and has influenced every film that's been made since? Tough. It still gets a fine tooth-comb, and an honest gut reaction of like, or dislike. People who think Casablance negates critical analysis, or Citizen Kane, or Raging Bull, are simply making the process of reviewing movies pointless. If you don't bother, then that's not an argument for perfection: it's no argument at all.

This is all well and good until somebody mentions Back To The Future, and all of a sudden, I turn into a hypocrite. Back To The Future is perfect. It is everything I want from a movie experience. It is hilarious, thrilling, heartening and ingenious. It is, to me, the definition of a five-star rating. Reviewing it is pretty darn difficult, then, without simply collapsing into a fit of "Yes! Love it! Amazing!" But I'll still give it a go, because Back To The Future is worth it.

It's the story of Marty (Michael J. Fox). His best friend - because Marty is at the same time a cool kid, and a bit of a loser - is a mad scientist, Doc Brown (Christopher Lloyd). He's invented time travel, but before he can make his inaugural trip, he's killed by terrorists. (It sounds more insane than it really is.) Marty has to escape, and leaps into the time machine, inadvertently throwing himself back to 1955. There he manages to immediately change history, making it so his parents never met. He has two missions: get back to the future, and make sure he's got a future to get back to.

It's a brilliant script. Really, it's a fantastic storytelling engine: the entire first half hour of the movie constantly sets things up for later, but in a crafty, casual manner that doesn't feel like work. Take the opening shot, which sets up Doc Brown, his lifestyle, his history, the way time travel works and how he came by the power source, all with (more or less) one move of the camera. The direction, it must be said, is my idea of iconic: confident, framing every image in a memorable way, using the camera to often shrewd effect. 1955 is superbly realised, particularly in the differences that have already between established between that world and the world of 1985. It's all in the setup.

Where the movie really excels, which is a bit of a laugh considering there's no particular arena where it does not, is the cast. Most of them are called on to play their characters at various stages in life, and they rise effortlessly to the task. Crispin Glover is particularly memorable as Marty's Dad, George, but it's a tour de force for Thomas F. Wilson as villain Biff, one of the real highlights of the Back To The Future franchise. Michael J. Fox is a superbly likeable and flawed lead - more on that in the sequels - who performs the unenviable task of having to get his parents together, even though his young mother has the hots for him. It could have been an awkward story (Disney certainly thought so, hence why they wouldn't make it), but it's handled so well, it's simply hilarious.

It's all good. Back To The Future is a constantly wonderful experience, and even watching it now, for the umpteenth time in twenty-five years, it still makes me giddy. It all works as well now as it did when I used to watch it as a child. In that sense, it's a true family film, aimed at people of all ages. It's got comedy, romance, a decent plot, great music and whiz-bang special effects, but it resists the temptation to make an entirely science-fiction movie, and instead puts the focus on the characters, their emotions, the Why of it all, not the What.

I can almost see eye to eye with those biased fans of Casablanca. Nothing I really say about Back To The Future is going to do it justice. I still think it's worth it to try, because heck, it's possible that you, the reader, have not seen it yet. (What on Earth have you been doing instead?) I'm probably ruining it by describing it as perfect, because such high expectations can rarely hope to be met. I'll say, then, that is it perfect to me. You're welcome to feel about it how you like, although I can't imagine anyone really not liking it. Surely it's too joyous, spectacular and fun to really get on anyone's nerves.

Here is a film that is so high in my estimation, when I try to pick a favourite movie, I do so thinking "Besides Back To The Future". At the moment, Ed Wood is top of my list. But, obviously, Back To The Future is still the greatest movie of all time. But that's enough from me. If you have unthinkably never seen Back To The Future, consider it a top priority. If you're like the rest of us, then you know what you could be doing? Watching it again. Go, Johnny, go!

Buddy cop movies are not a dying breed: they're dead. The bubble arguably burst when '80s stunt casting started pairing people with Arnold Schwarzennegger, and the situation never improved. Various filmmakers became so enamoured with combining Jackie Chan and loudmouthed American partners, their movies started to resemble a five year old ramming toy trucks together. Shanghai Noon! Shanghai Noon And Night! Rush Hour 5!

Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang is not going to save the genre, but that's not its intention. This buddy cop murder mystery - from Shane Black, writer of Lethal Weapon, who knows all about buddy cops - ties the dusty old genre up with a ribbon. This is it, now. And it's a fine send off, equal parts dazzling satire and warm, tingly homage. The film is as infatuated with old cop movies as its characters are with their beloved Jonny Gossamer crime novels. It's a treat, not just for lovers of sharp dialogue and clever plots, but for real movie-lovers everywhere.

And, as is often the case with great movies, I'm having trouble dissecting it. Review means analysis, which is generally easier when it concerns something that doesn't work. Everything about Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang works, so - by crime-fiction logic - there's no need for an autopsy. It's tempting just to say no more, slap five stars on it and point you to your nearest DVD retailer. However, for a movie so propelled by dialogue and information, that wouldn't be quite in the spirit of things, so I'll try to get to the bottom of why it deserves such a high rating.

Firstly, it's clever. The main character, Harry Lockhart (Robert Downey Jnr.), is a thief who stumbles into a movie audition. He gets the part of a private eye, and is paired with real-life detective Perry "Gay Perry" Van Shrike (Val Kilmer). The two investigate a murder, which soon involves Harry's childhood sweetheart, Harmony (Michelle Monaghan). This might sound simple, but the revelations are labyrinthine. The whole thing is narrated by Harry, who is a fine example of the unreliable narrator. He screws up, forgets things and is totally biased. Narration is often used to patch up a dodgy narrative, but not so, here. It's an integral and smart way to help us invest in the story. The plot, with phoney actor Harry bungling his way through life, can be seen as a pointed satire of Hollywood. (It certainly seems so when we find out the real reason for his casting.) Throughout, the audience is required to remember a lot of information, but it's entertainingly dished out, so it won't be much effort.

Secondly, it's funny. The dialogue is sharp enough that all the characters seem intelligent - sharing a mutual discourse for grammatical correctness, regardless of their gender, occupation or whether they've got a gun pointed at them - yet individually defined. Gay Perry gets most of the really rich dialogue, although talkaholic Harry is similarly on form. The humour is generally grim, sometimes shocking, but never goes too far for cheap laughs. (And in instances where it appears to - such as an unfortunate bathroom accident involving a corpse - the real comedy comes from the characters' reactions and embarrassment.)

Thirdly, it is propelled by two outstanding performances. This is a full-blown career rescue for Robert Downey Jnr., and it's utterly deserved. The until-recently down and out actor is on fire here, imbuing unlucky punk Harry with a dishevelled, strangely moralistic charm. It's sad that Val Kilmer's career hasn't taken off as much, as Gay Perry is just as iconic and meaty a character, brought vivaciously to life by Kilmer. Michelle Monaghan makes a smart, unusual counterpart, pursuing an entirely offbeat romance with Harry that takes genuinely unexpected turns. And for a movie romance that does anything unexpected, I am eternally grateful. Her character has real shades of originality, and to find any of that in a buddy cop movie is just a further testament to the movie's brilliance.

For all its gallows humour and gunshots, Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang is a good-natured movie. It's all heart. You feel for Harry, you feel sorry for the distinctly screwed-up Harmony, you look twice at the luckless henchmen, yet you can still stand back and snigger thanks to Kilmer's inspired turn as Perry. It's a movie that seems to entangle you in the process, via Harry's clumsy but loveable narration, and invite you to solve the mystery just like the heroic schmuck himself. The whole thing's drenched in an almost sepia haze of nostalgia - evidenced by the mournful, sax-heavy noir score - but it's never lazy, and never relies on archetypes.

I've probably overanalysed it already, which is certainly the wrong thing to do with comedy. The best way to appreciate a joke is to hear it told, not have it explained. So by all means, watch this movie. Enjoy it on whatever level - fourth-wall poking homage, or straight comedy thriller - you choose. I hope you fall in love with it, too, the same way Shane Black loves movies, and Harry and Harmony love Jonny Gossamer. They know it's something finite, something they'll grow out of eventually, but it's always something that makes them smile.

Inexhaustibly watchable, Ghostbusters is a career-defining achievement for Murray, Ramis and Akroyd. Iconic, silly, ingenious, daft - it's a cinematic landmark. And it's *still* funny.

Standing up superbly to repeat viewings, Adaptation is an emotional, intriguing and subtle bit of madcap strangeness from Kaufman and Jonze. At once funny and mesmerisingly complex, it boasts a career-best from the often underrated Nicolas Cage (in two wonderfully nuanced roles as the Kaufman brothers). Meryl Streep is also wonderful as Susan Orlean, the weary and lonely New Yorker writer. The ending always leaves a slightly bitter taste, as it's supposed to, but it's masterfully done anyway. Absolutely marvellous.

Taking an already great book and cutting out the superfluous sub-plots, this is a great adaptation and a brilliant film. Much has been made of Marlon Brando, but the real gem is Al Pacino: watching his war hero slowly slip into his family's criminal ways is fascinating and tragic. It's an epic, well-told story, with marvellous music and lots of iconic moments. The cast are all excellent, and although very lengthy - and perhaps more rewarding the second time around - it's absolutely worth it. It's the best one in the series, particularly when Part II relies on editing tricks to enthral the audience. Part I is a strong enough tale not to need any.

A good-natured hoot from start to finish, this is the self-aware cheapie monster movie to end them all. Stuffed with fun characters and ace dialogue, it's too gosh darn enjoyable to ignore. It's got "someone's favourite movie" written all over it.

There isn't much that needs saying about Rear Window. It's an expertly well told story, and Hitchcock does an amazing job of drawing the viewer into James Stewart's lurid sense of curiosity. It really is compulsive viewing soon after it starts, and the voyeuristic element is a nice commentary on films themselves. Towards the end it's truly pulse-raising stuff, thrilling to the point of not being able to look at it for too long - but there's a sense of humour as well which makes the whole thing so much more 3D. Still, it's perhaps too short, and some of the exposition is trotted out a little quickly and easily. Quibbles; this is master cinema.

A lot of great movies have been made about bad ones, and Bowfinger is a fine example. Bobby Bowfinger (Steve Martin) has finally got a decent script, or one that'll sell anyway, and all he needs is a star. When he fails to get one, he does the next best thing: shoot the film around him, and just tell the film crew that he does all his stuff in one take. Unfortunately the movie star is Kit Ramsey (Eddie Murphy), whose grip on reality is tenuous at best, and Bobby's crew are a bunch of no-hope misfits. The results are funny, imaginative and, yes, even a little heartwarming. I slightly love Bowfinger.

Martin's script is a gentle, but occasionally sharp satire of the moviemaking business, which has fun with a few cliches, such as the small town girl (Heather Graham) coming to LA so she can be an actress. In Bowfinger, she's not as innocent as she looks, and will gleefully sleep with the props guy if it means more screentime. Eddie Murphy is delightfully insane as Ramsey, a bigshot action star who's much too familiar with a popular showbiz cult called MindHead. Steve Martin has argued he's not mocking anyone specific here, but you can draw your own conclusions about certain celebrities and their dealings with certain wacko religions. Martin's and director Frank Oz's film has the unmistakeable whiff of insider knowledge.

Mostly it's just a wacky, funny story. Bowfinger is making a bodysnatching aliens picture, which means corny lines and bad monster effects. It's all quite fondly done, bringing to mind movies like Ed Wood that celebrated low-budget naffness. This is the script Be Kind Rewind wishes it had.

The cast, much like the folks from Ed Wood, are charming losers. Perhaps best is Eddie Murphy, who also plays a guy Bowfinger hires to double for Ramsey. Jif, the bespectacled geek, is an adorably sympathetic creation, and proves that Murphy can do multiple roles in movies without it spilling over into Nutty Professor excess. Steve Martin marshals the madness as Bowfinger, and he's a charming hero, adept at faking and bullshitting to get what he wants, but also genuinely interested in making movies. There's that satire again, showing us how much lying and wheel-greasing must go on to get a movie made, but that every once in a while, the people doing it actually want to do it.

Sometimes, particularly at the end, it veers a little too close to Ed Wood, if its already soft edges were sanded down even further. That's not such a bad thing - Ed's my favourite film - but Bowfinger works better when it leans more towards satire than homage. Steve Martin doesn't want to pick a fight, and his movie never feels like an attack on anything. Nevertheless, it's wise enough to raise a few eyebrows, all the while celebrating low-budget no-talent filmmaking in a way that makes you want to watch more movies. And so what if they're a little rough around the edges? Like Ramsey says: "We're trying to make a movie here, not a film!"

Review pending. AAAARGH! Wish Flixster worked properly.