There are certain fictional characters that hold very significant personal meanings to their fans, regardless of what media they come from. This can be because we relate to, admire, idolize, or just simply adore these individuals. Spider-Man has always been one of those characters for me, as well as countless others. He’s been my favorite superhero for as long as I can remember. Growing up I had Spider-Man video games, movies, comics, toys, and any other memorabilia you can imagine. Over the years, I only fell more in love with the character of both Spider-Man and Peter Parker in all of his live-action, video game, and animated portrayals. While each live-action film franchise certainly has its own flaws, all three film portrayals of Peter Parker, from Tobey Maguire to Andrew Garfield, and most recently Tom Holland, all have enjoyable qualities. So when rumors began circulating that the first two could potentially make an appearance in Tom’s newest film Spider-Man: No Way Home, It made perfect sense as to why it became one of the most anticipated blockbusters of 2021.

Musical composition has reigned as one of the most defining qualities in films since sound made its debut, but its absence may be just as impactful. Everyone is familiar with films like Jaws, The Pink Panther, or the Star Wars franchise, unquestionably due to their original musical scores, as well as their plots. Céline Sciamma’s 2019 film, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, not only coexists with these movies with a devoid musical framework (at least until the end), but arguably ranks amongst or even above them.
(Spoilers Ahead)

Content warning: this article contains brief mentions of suicidal ideation and attempts, historical homophobia and racism.

The year was 1972, and it was a hot summer day when John Wojtowicz and his two partners in crime would attempt to rob the Chase Manhattan Bank in Brooklyn, NY. It was a botched-robbery-turned-hostage-situation that would go down in infamy as one of the first instances of what we have come to refer to as a “media circus.” A few years later, it would be adapted into Sydney Lumet’s 1975 film, Dog Day Afternoon, starring Al Pacino as Sonny, the film counterpart of Wojtowicz.

“Cinema is an art form that brings you the unexpected” (Martin Scorsese, “I Said Marvel Movies Aren’t Cinema: Let Me Explain”).

Ambitions
Wes Anderson gets more and more ambitious with every project he tackles. In the past decade, he wrote, directed, and produced four movies: Moonrise Kingdom, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Isle of Dogs, and The French Dispatch. Each new addition to his filmography features impressive technical achievements in addition to strong narrative and directing choices. Despite his films averaging a budget of twenty-five million dollars, Anderson never ceases to wow critics and audiences alike, and his most recent contribution is no exception. The French Dispatch is about a newspaper’s final issue consisting of three articles spanning over fifty years. The movie’s two-hour runtime is jam-packed with familiar Wes Anderson collaborators, intricate set-pieces, animated sequences, and detailed choreography, and that’s just scratching the surface. Throughout the runtime, the film switches between French dialogue and English dialogue, black and white footage and color footage, and widescreen aspect ratio and 4:3 aspect ratio. Every word, every frame, every choice feels intentional from the creator.

Returning to the films we grew up with can be a painful reality check. Movies like Attack of the Clones, which once resonated with me as a thrilling sci-fi spectacle, now make for an awkward viewing experience due to the stilted acting and grating dialogue. The humor in the live action Alvin and the Chipmunks is far less charming to me today than it was when I was in elementary school. And as soul-crushing as it is to admit, Bionicle: The Mask of Light may not hold up as the fantasy masterpiece I thought it was when I was eight. Even if there’s still some enjoyment to be taken from the sea of bizarre movies that flooded my childhood, rarely does the experience of revisiting them hold a candle to what it was like watching them as a kid.

In June 2020, it was announced that the final season of the beloved cop sitcom, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, would premiere as part of NBC's fall schedule. However, NBC later delayed the premiere until mid-season 2020–21 due to the pandemic. After many further delays, rewrites, and rumored cancellations, fans wondered if they were ever going to see their favorite detectives in action again. Thankfully, the eighth and final season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine premiered on August 12, 2021, with a total of ten episodes. Despite numerous alterations due to the social/political climate at the time of its production, creators Dan Goor and Michael Schur delivered a fitting, hilarious, and heartwarming conclusion to one of my personal favorite sitcoms of all time. Brooklyn Nine-Nine is criminally underrated, with many impressive qualities that set it apart from its peers and easily make it one of the best sitcoms of the 2010s.

After countless pushbacks and delays, fans all around the globe were finally able to experience Denis Villanue’s long-awaited sci-fi blockbuster, Dune. Originally scheduled for release on November 20, 2020, to say that the film was highly anticipated is an understatement. About a month before the film premiere, I challenged myself with finishing Frank Herbert’s original 1965 novel Dune, managing to do so just a few days before seeing Villanue’s adaptation in IMAX. As a massive sci-fi and fantasy fan, I was well aware of the novel’s critical acclaim and influence on massive sci-fi franchises such as George Lucas’s Star Wars even before reading it. The novel is truly a masterpiece, and with all the details so fresh in my mind, I was cautious not to set unrealistic expectations for the film. With that being said, Dune is not only a fantastic adaptation, it is a beautifully immersive visual experience the scope of which I have rarely seen before in any film. Spoiler warning for anyone who has not seen the film yet.

From Full House to Sex and the City, it seems almost every popular show and movie get remakes/reboots that to appeal to the audience’s nostalgia as they age. In this series, I will look at the best and worst remakes of all time and breaking down scenes from each to see how they stack up.

Among the many things memorable about Fargo, I find that I most connect to its locations. There is one shot specifically, when Steve Buscemi’s character, Carl Showalter, is driving into the airport parking lot, that I point to every time I watch the film. The camera briefly flashes to an exit sign, one that I would see every time I drove home from school. While Showalter takes the exit, my dad would take my brother and I, and eventually my brother would take me, and eventually I would take myself further up the highway, across the Mississippi river, into Highland, Saint Paul.

Anyone raised in the early 2000s will recognize 2004’s The Polar Express as a defining part of the holiday experience when we were kids. The animated classic captured our imaginations by bringing the iconic story and illustrations of the book to life before our eyes. But beyond its place in our childhoods, The Polar Express represents a fascinating period in the history of animation in Hollywood. Despite using the predominant medium of computer animation, its visuals stood out from the other popular animated films released at the time. Unlike the works of Pixar and DreamWorks The Polar Express’ character animation strove for a near-photorealistic quality, prioritizing detailed faces and believable expressions over the exaggerated, cartoony style preferred by the other studios.