Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, the creative minds behind The Lego Movie and 21 Jump Street, bring their unique talents to a fresh vision of a different Spider-Man Universe, with a groundbreaking visual style that’s the first of its kind. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse introduces Brooklyn teen Miles Morales, and the limitless possibilities of the Spider-Verse, where more than one can wear the mask.
it has dynamite buddy-duo dynamics in the bickering Buzz (Tim Allen) and Woody (Tom Hanks; it explores the emotions of anthropormorphised objects or animals; it creates an entire imaginative world from the seemingly everyday; and its screenplay is richly layered with characterisation and gags that work just as well for adults as they do for kids. The sequels might go bigger, but the original Toy Story is a pure blast of creative joy – and nothing since has been the same.
What if mankind had to leave Earth and somebody forgot to turn the last robot off? After hundreds of years doing what he was built for, WALL•E discovers a new purpose in life when he meets a sleek search robot named EVE. EVE comes to realize that WALL•E has inadvertently stumbled upon the key to the planet's future, and races back to space to report to the humans. Meanwhile, WALL•E chases EVE across the galaxy and sets into motion one of the most imaginative adventures ever brought to the big screen.
Few films can claim to have the sheer emotional intelligence of Inside Out – a film about intelligent emotions that's both a rollocking adventure, and a nuanced exploration of feelings, dreams, memory, and imagination. If the protagonist is technically Riley (Kaitlyn Dias), really it's the voices in her head – Joy (Amy Poehler), Sadness (Phyllis Smith), Fear (Bill Hader), Disgust (Mindy Kaling) and Anger (Lewis Black) – that take centre stage. With all the upheaval of moving to San Francisco with her family, Riley's inner world is thrown into turmoil – teeing up an existential odyssey as Joy and Sadness careen through the corridors of her mind, via abstract thought, the dream factory, and halls filled with precious memories. It's beautifully conceptualised and gorgeously realised, culminating in perceptive notions about the need for sadness, and the way happy memories become tinged with melancholy over time.
The film that brought Studio Ghibli to the Western mainstream is, curiously, not its most accessible work – but Hayao Miyazaki's coming-of-age fairytale is so steeped in gorgeous, culturally-specific Japanese imagery it's no wonder it captured the world's imagination. Darker than your typical Disney fare, it centres on Chihiro (Remi Hiiragi) who becomes trapped in a grand, mythical bathhouse frequented by spirits after her parents are transformed into pigs. There, she's forced to work by the witch Yubaba (Mari Natsuki), and forms a friendship with dragon-boy Haku (Miyu Irino). If the narrative is often loose, especially as the film continues into its second hour, Spirited Away is beguiling and enchanting, conjuring up an entire world of curious creatures while contemplating notions of identity, spirituality, personal growth, environmentalism, and moral ambiguities that extend beyond simple good and evil.
As lion cub Simba (Matthew Broderick) grows up in the expanse of Pride Rock, experiences a life-shattering parental death, and eventually takes his father's place as the ruler of the animal kingdom. Timon and Pumbaa (Nathan Lane and Ernie Sabella) emerge as gold-standard sidekicks once Simba runs away from home, the Elton John-penned songs are off the chain ('The Circle Of Life'! 'Hakuna Matata'! 'I Just Can't Wait To Be King'!), and none other than James Earl Jones lends his booming voice to patriarch Mufasa. All these years later, it's even clearer – The Lion King ain't no passin' craze.
Everyone talks about the opening 10 minutes of Up. And rightly so – it's its own mini-masterpiece, beautiful and heartbreaking as adorable couple Carl and Ellie experience the ups (marriage, picnics, dancing) and downs (miscarriage, bereavement) of life in a single montage that guarantees floods of tears. But what comes next is equally miraculous – a wild, weird adventure movie in which the elderly Carl (Ed Asner) and energetic boy scout Russell (Jordan Nagai) unwittingly float away to South America on a flurry of vibrant balloons, encountering a giant bird called Kevin, a pack of talking dogs ("Squirrel!"), and an evil explorer. It's a heady mix, but director Pete Docter coheres it all spectacularly – the grounded grief and the exotic escapism somehow exist in perfect harmony. Now that's a Pixar miracle.
Director Brad Bird's most impressive feat is turning smells into sights – ingredients become wafts of abstract colour that complement each other as sub-par dishes become works of culinary art, a symphony of swirling scents completed by Michael Giacchino's gorgeous score. Patton Oswalt lends his voice to Remy – a rat with a gift for cookery who teams up with hopeless human Linguini (Lou Romano) in an effort to get his dishes out into the world. But given Remy's rodent status, the discovery of the real little chef would spell disaster for his future. Even by Pixar standards, this sometimes overlooked effort overflows with charm and beauty – just see the scene in which snooty critic Anton Ego (Peter O'Toole) takes a bite of the film's titular dish and is transported back to the warmth and love of his own mother's cooking. Not bad for a film with a pretty basic pun title.
for more such exciting movies: