Dead Man's Shoes (2004, UK)

For a film that’s awfully derivative (it recalls Taxi Driver, Straw Dogs, and I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead, to name just a few), Shane Meadows and Paddy Considine have crafted a taught little horror drama with Dead Man’s Shoes. Considine (who co-wrote with Meadows) stars as Richie, an ex-Special Forces soldier who returns to his small hometown to exact revenge on the local drug thugs who once terrorized his little brother. Simple enough, and Considine’s presence, his character little more than a ruthless force of will, drives the first two-thirds of the movie, leaving no need for extraneous devices or subplots. The final third loses its way a bit, and the “twist” is fairly obvious early on, but neither does much to harm the impact of the movie as a whole.

Adding to the sense of atmosphere created by the spare plot and setting are Meadows’ and D.P. Danny Cohen’s surprisingly simple and lovely compositions – one doesn’t normally expect to see such graceful framing in a bloody revenge film, but it ends up heightening the movie’s stripped-down feel. And in some of the best set pieces, the filmmakers have set up an almost playful reversal of Straw Dogs’ final confrontation – this time, the villains wait nervously inside a country house, waiting for the hero to appear and wreak havoc. Dead Man’s Shoes may be derivative, but it’s learned its lessons well, and has the benefit of having Considine at the center of everything.

The Science of Sleep (2006, French)

Michel Gondry’s The Science of Sleep is like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind redux, only featuring crazier visuals and poorer writing. Gondry seems to be an example of the type of director who should never be allowed to write films on his own – with Charlie Kaufman, he has been able to make a couple of weird but cohesive films, but once on his own, everything begins to fall apart.

Gael García Bernal plays Stéphane, in love with his next-door neighbor Stéphanie (Charlotte Gainsbourg), who alternately welcomes and spurns his advances. Stéphane is the prototypical creative man-child, reeling from the recent death of his father and almost psychotically unable to divorce dreams from reality. And the dreams are lovely – Gondry is quite naturally at his best in such a narrative-free, visually delightful setting. But when it’s time to wake up, the movie rapidly begins to make no sense at all, featuring awkward time jumps and an ending so cobbled together and unresolved that it’s quite obvious the director had no idea quite how to wrap everything up.

García Bernal tries his best, and it’s to his credit that Stéphane is not a totally unlikable character. Unfortunately, it’s easy to see the strain on the actor as he tries to make a character come to life with very little to work with. This is not to say that The Science of Sleep is a total loss – again, the visuals alone are worth a viewing, and Gondry does very well with the texture of certain scenes. The second encounter between Stéphane and Stéphanie is particularly delightful, as the excitement of two creative people coming together hits all the right notes. Unfortunately, without anything greater to hang his film upon, Gondry leaves his audience without any feeling of emotional resonance, which is particularly unfortunate for a film about love.

The New World (2005, USA)

I can’t think of another American director like Terrence Malick – his focus on lyrical narrative and space is outside the scope of both mainstream and independent American cinema. World is a particularly strong example of this, and to look at, it's one of the most beautiful films I've seen in a long time. Unfortunately, it seems that Malick spent so much time on the visual atmosphere of his latest project that he lost any narrative thrust that may have originally existed.

Also unfortunate is his depiction of both Native American and English cultures in the story of the clash that resulted when the latter fist landed in Virginia. It’s obvious that a great deal of energy was spent on a genuine attempt to appreciate Native culture, but the ultimately bucolic and toothless depiction lends itself more to fantasy than reality. And a romantic fantasy is probably the best way to describe The New World. It’s nominally more successful as a romance than a drama, and Q'Orianka Kilcher, who couldn’t have been older than 13 or 14 when filming began, is an incredibly magnetic and lovely presence. However, making the strongest and most likable character in the film a beautiful young girl who is all the more attractive to her suitors for her innocence and ignorance reveals a streak of misogyny that turns the romance sour. In the end, World can be appreciated for little more than its visual beauty.

Little Miss Sunshine (2006, USA)

Little Miss Sunshine has generated a great deal of praise, both critically and by word-of-mouth, since arriving at Sundance last year. Unfortunately, being the most buzzed-about movie at Sundance is no longer a sure thing, and Sunshine is a perfect example. While entertaining, and awfully sweet, with some good jokes and strong acting, as a whole it lacks any real impact.

Sunshine’s central problem is the characters – though played better than could be expected by an ensemble of very good actors, the writing is terribly flat. Not a single member of this family is a character so much as a compendium of tics and unusual traits. They’re not caricatures – they’re too oddball to be caricatures – but the effect amounts to the same thing, making any emotional connection difficult, if not impossible. For a film that attempts to suture a family in crisis, this lack of feeling is an impossible hurdle to jump. Combine this with generally muddled writing and an ending that feels premature, and it’s difficult to get anything of note out of Sunshine. However, it’s certainly not hard to enjoy on a surface level – when the actors are allowed some room, such as in the hilarious exchange on sarcasm between Steve Carell and Greg Kinnear, the movie comes to life. The same is true of some of the setpieces, particularly the running gags about the family’s broken-down Volkswagon bus. Unfortunately, these moments aren't enough to fill the emptiness at the center of the film.

I’ve heard comparisons of Sunshine to Wes Anderson’s movies, and while the talented ensemble cast and general affection for oddity may connect to The Royal Tenenbaums, the stylization of the downwardly mobile lower-middle-class family feels much more like the films of Todd Solondz, particularly Welcome to the Dollhouse (placing a homely little girl at the center of the action doesn't hurt, either). Thankfully, Sunshine’s directors don’t dislike their characters as actively as Solondz does his, and as their nasty streak doesn’t reach as deeply, Sunshine comes off feeling rather light, if inconsequential.