In the middle of a particularly rushed sequence of Tomorrowland, the new live-action Disney film by Brad Bird, George Clooney’s character asks “do I have to explain everything? Can’t you just be amazed and move on?” A line like this undoubtedly hints at a self-awareness on the part of the screenwriters, as it accurately sums of the spirit of this movie’s pace and passion. Though it does have some jumbled storytelling and a stout run time, Tomorrowland overcomes its flaws with a sophisticated and original narrative backed with top-rate visuals and an infectious sense of imagination and wonder.

The movie follows peppy teenager Casey Newton (Britt Robertson), the daughter of a NASA engineer who is arrested for disabling explosives at a shuttle demolition site. When she collects her personal items after being bailed out of jail, she finds a pin with a “T” insignia that transports her to a futuristic world upon contact. This leads her on an adventure to uncover the mystery of this new found universe with the help of inventor and previous resident of Tomorrowland Frank Walker (George Clooney), who is also looking for a way back to the high-tech, seemingly utopian city.

The first glimpses of the cutting edge metropolis that is Tomorrowland are the most rewarding, with a crisp retro-future style and a dazzling attention to detail. Jetpacks are a common point of reference for the effects sequences, which is a clever way of bringing together old ideas of what the future might look like with modern ideas of the practicality of such a device. But this movie also offers up its own fun concepts of possible future development, including a multi-level take on the current “infinity pool” and free floating automations that erect skyscapers in minutes.

These fresh ideas coincide with the central message of the film, which encourages the dreamers and thinkers of the world to shun the world’s pervading notions of pessimism and continue on the path of progress instead. Especially for a Disney film, this is a genuinely uplifting and surprisingly old-fashioned conceit that deserves praise for being about as wholesome as a summer blockbuster will allow for these days. Even though the movie’s points do get heavy-handed down the stretch, especially in a third act monologue by Hugh Laurie’s character, I appreciated the fact that it didn’t dumb down its content just to appeal to the typical “family adventure” crowd.

Even on a more surface level, there’s also plenty to enjoy beyond the story as well. Both Clooney and Robertson give heartfelt and inspired performances, while also showcasing a playful chemistry that thankfully steers clear of creepiness. Bird favorite Michael Giacchino conjures up another winning musical score that gives the jetpack flying scenes an extra zing. All within the package of a modern family entertainment, Tomorrowland takes the futuristic ideas of the past and the hopes for the future and puts them all on display with an original sense of reverence and wonder.

Screenwriter Alex Garland (28 Days Later, Never Let Me Go) takes over for the first time as director in the science fiction thriller Ex Machina, an atmospheric and engaging take on the future of artificial intelligence and man’s place in the ongoing advancement of technology. It tells an intimate story, mainly involving three characters, that appropriately finds a chilling balance between humanity and inhumanity. The film also breaches heavy concepts like mortality and collective consciousness without getting too heavy-handed or over-explaining, instead trusting the audience to think for themselves and dwell on the themes at hand.

We begin at fictional search engine company Bluebook, a dual homage to both Google and Facebook, where a young programmer named Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson) is selected to meet with the company’s reclusive CEO Nathan Bateman (Oscar Isaac) for a week-long research project. When Caleb arrives, he is shocked to find that Nathan has developed a near-fully functioning form of artificial intelligence that is being carried out through a humanoid robot named Ava (Alicia Vikander). For the next seven days, Caleb puts Ava through an intense psychological Turing test in order to push the technology further and create the most sophisticated AI in history.

Thematically, the film’s most innovative material comes from its view of gender and the misogynistic undertones that permeate Caleb and Nathan’s relationship with Ava. Though they are both clearly brilliant men, they seem to both possess a weakening ability to deal with women or more specifically, their own manifestation of a woman. From Nathan’s seemingly casual abuse of the female-like robots to Caleb’s initial patronizing treatment of Ava during their interactions, it’s ironic that Ava seems to display a higher degree of emotional intelligence than either of the men with whom she interacts.

More than anything, Ex Machina does a stunning job of reminding us what is means to truly be a human being. We learn late in the film that Ava’s brain is actually a composite of the billions of search queries submitted through Bluebook, along with other illegally obtained personal data like text messages and cell phone videos. This creates surprisingly effective results and is a fresh approach to building an AI but even with all of this stimuli of human interaction and experience, there is still a component of humanity that Ava struggles to recreate.

All of this is carried out with a crisp production design and seamless computer generated effects that are integrated with careful detail and nuance. The chilly score by Geoff Barrow and Ben Salisbury also adds an extra layer of depth without drawing too much attention to itself. The performances, especially from Vikander, are well-realized and full of believability, although I still don’t fully find myself on the Domhnall Gleeson bandwagon as of yet. Ex Machina intelligently handles the typical themes found in science fiction films and has enough new ideas to make it a worthy addition.

From Marvel Studios, a production company who in seven years time has transformed from a middling presence to a unstoppable behemoth, comes the follow-up to their 2012 mega-hit The Avengers. In true sequel fashion, Marvel ups the ante this time with more superheroes, more action, more subplots…more of just about everything. Avengers: Age of Ultron does suffer in comparison to its predecessor, mainly due to the lack of surprise factor that comes along with seeing these characters together for the first time, but it also brings enough of the original film’s frenetic energy and self-aware humor to make it worth recommending.

The story hinges on Tony Stark’s (Robert Downey Jr.) discovery of a new form of artificial intelligence within one of the coveted Infinity Stones, which he secretly utilizes to advance his Ultron defense program. Because he has apparently never seen a science fiction movie, he is surprised when the newly born technology becomes sentient and threatens to eliminate the human race from the planet. The Avengers must once again overcome their personal differences to defeat Ultron’s massive robot army along with the new mutant villains Quicksilver (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen).

Inevitably, this conflict leads up to a gigantic setpiece that overtakes the final 45 minutes of the movie in similar fashion to the first film but in total, the action comes across as more frenzied and sometimes confused in Age of Ultron. Both clearly make ample use of computer generated effects but something about this outing feels a bit more artificial. Still, there’s no lack of crowd pleasing fight scenes here, the most memorable including an extended showdown between a mind-altered Hulk and a heavily armored Iron Man that should prove to be immensely satisfying for comic book fans and casual fans alike.

The Evil Plot is not terribly original here but as the primary villain, James Spader does bring a great deal of gleeful menace to Ultron. Most specifically, I was especially impressed with the facial detail that was implemented for his character. Hallmarks of Spader’s past performances, like the intimidating stare and even the pursing of the lips, are somehow translated on the face of this hulking automaton. While it might not make much logical sense that Ultron would have such a killer sense of humor, it does stay consistent with the witty atmosphere that director Joss Whedon has established in his Avengers universe.

The humor and personality that Whedon has brought to these movies remain their most worthy attributes. We can watch cars explode and civilians scream in just about any superhero movie but the interplay between these legendary characters is bracingly unique to this series. Whether its a running joke about Captain America’s distaste for profanity or Robert Downey Jr.’s hilarious line reading during the discovery of a secret passageway, Age of Ultron has no shortage of unexpected laughs. Here’s hoping that the Russo Brothers can stay on the right track when they take over the Avengers series in 2018.

It’s fair to say that Paul Thomas Anderson (Boogie Nights, There Will Be Blood, The Master) has one of the most stellar track records of any director working today but with the number of superb films under his belt, it feels slightly disheartening when he releases a film that is merely good instead of great. That’s the feeling that I was left with during the conclusion of Inherent Vice, his brazenly bizarre adaptation of the 2009 novel by Thomas Pynchon. While it seems to be the most studiously faithful adaptation that Anderson has done so far, it has a peculiar energy and enough spontaneous moments to allow it to stand on its own as a creative work.

The full story is intentionally indecipherable, so detailing it feels like a bit of a fool’s errand. We open in 1970 on the fictional Gordita Beach, when hippie private investigator Doc Sportello, played by Joaquin Phoenix, is visited by his ex-flame Shasta Fey, played by Katherine Waterston. She clues him in on a plot to kidnap her current lover, the wealthy real estate mogul Mickey Wolfman, played by Eric Roberts. Doc’s ensuing investigation spawns a host of idiosyncratic characters who guide us through a plot that almost feels like it’s being made up as it goes along.

There’s no doubt that this willful lack of narrative clarity will frustrate viewers and there were times when I felt out of step as well. More often than not, characters come and go with little introduction and talk about places or people that haven’t been established yet. After a certain amount of time, I generally stopped trying to follow the plot and just enjoyed each scene individually for what it was. Clearly, Anderson is going for more of a vibe than a precisely told story and as a hazy, rose-colored evocation of an era, it rarely misses a beat.

The tone that he creates throughout is a peculiar amalgam of broad slapstick comedy and post-noir mystery, with a touch of nostalgic romance thrown in for good measure. There’s also an unmistakable feeling of paranoia present in the film, most likely an attempt to bring the main character’s drugged-out perspective to the forefront. The stirring score by Jonny Greenwood and the washed out look of Robert Elswit’s cinematography both contribute heavily to Inherent Vice‘s unique sense of style of vision.

It also helps that Anderson has put together a terrific ensemble cast, which also includes Reese Witherspoon, Owen Wilson and a hilariously deadpan Josh Brolin. Amongst all the performances, Phoenix’s is still the standout to me: he brings all the intensity that he normally would for a dramatic role and instead translates it into an energy of endearing goofiness. There’s no doubt that Inherent Vice is a one-of-a-kind trip but I can’t help but feeling that Paul Thomas Anderson is much better suited to direct an original story as opposed to an adaptation, especially one as challenging and singular as this.

Led by a trio of meticulously crafted performances, Foxcatcher is an oppressively bleak and occasionally brilliant wrestling tale that’s based on the true story of Olympic gold medalists Dave and Mark Schultz. Without saying too much, its fair to say that the film’s ending is shocking and I would suggest that those unfamiliar with the real life events should avoid reading up on them before watching the movie. The strange and seemingly impenetrable story is director Bennett Miller’s third attempt at translating real accounts into cinema and while it may not have quite as much insight as it would like, it does tackle themes of wealth and ambition with a piercing and unrelenting focus.

We meet Mark, played by Channing Tatum, after he wins a gold medal in the 1984 Olympics with his brother Dave, played by Mark Ruffalo. He is eating alone in his apartment when he gets a call from multimillionaire John du Pont, played by Steve Carell, who wants to help train him to win the Wresting World Championships and win the gold medal again at the 1988 Olympics. Mark, and eventually Dave, accept duPont’s offer to train privately on Team Foxcatcher and the film examines the would-be familial relationship between the three men.

Tatum gives his finest performance here as the younger brother Mark, who looks up to his big brother Dave but also harbors feelings of inadequacy and resentment towards him. His withdrawn and moody nature is implied to be the result of living in Dave’s shadow but Tatum does a great job of finding notes of compassion and empathy under Mark’s hulking exterior. The bond between Dave and Mark is arguably the most perceptive aspect of Foxcatcher, in particular an early sparring scene between the brothers that showcases depths of their disparate personalities.

As du Pont, Carrell is almost entirely of a different element. Strapped with facial prosthetics and a distracting amount of makeup, he abandons his comedic chops and brings forth a creepy and compelling portrayal of a man who has almost entirely lost his way in life. As an only child, du Pont comes off as desperately lonely and continues to seek the attention of his disapproving mother. He finds temporary solace in becoming a father-like figure to Mark but it doesn’t take much time for their tenuous connection to fester, especially when Dave comes back into the picture.

Unfortunately, the downward spiral that Foxcatcher depicts in its third act is arguably the weakest portion of the movie. It would seem that Miller has a psychologically sound explanation for the tragic incident that occurs, given that it’s such a predominant factor in the story that he’s telling, but it seems that he is just as dumbfounded by it as we are. On that basis, it doesn’t work for me as a true crime story but as a study of three broken men attempting to find meaning within one another, I found it engrossing and eerily effective.

Based on the autobiography of former Navy SEAL Chris Kyle, American Sniper is a confident and convincing account of the most lethal sniper in American military history. Taken just as a war movie, it certainly has its issues but as biopics go, it has much more personality and perspective than other films in the genre that I’ve seen this season. The film is also aided greatly by a superb, understated performance by Bradley Cooper, who was just recently nominated for the Oscar for Best Actor.

We follow Kyle in flashbacks through his life, starting out with his first hunting trip and his father’s early implementation of a strict code of right and wrong. After seeing footage of a terrorist attack on television, he feels compelled to enlist as a Navy SEAL and protect the country that he loves more than anything. After meeting and eventually marrying his wife Taya, played by Sienna Miller, the two struggle to keep their family together during Kyle’s four voluntary tours of duty in Iraq. While these home-front scenes are crucial to the film’s story, the majority of the movie depicts Kyle’s time in Iraq as a successful rooftop sniper.

The most effective combat scene appears at the film’s opening, which retells Kyle’s first sniper kill in Iraq. It starts quietly on a rooftop, with Kyle following a US convoy through his scope when as woman and her child appear from a seemingly abandoned building. When the woman hands off an explosive to her son, it’s made clear that the decision for Kyle to intervene is one that’s left up almost entirely to him. It’s a gripping opening sequence and director Clint Eastwood is able to present this moral dilemma with a masterful amount of dramatic tension and visual finesse.

Unfortunately, the subsequent depictions of the war in Iraq are generic and one-dimensional, especially in comparison to this scene. The main storyline in Iraq, which pits Kyle against a rival Syrian sniper who is set up like the Lex Luthor to Kyle’s Superman, is very hokey and diminishes any sense of realism that the film attempts to establish. Fortunately, the scenes at home with Cooper and Miller are handled with much more tact and tenderness and the two are able to build up a very palpable chemistry throughout the movie.

Cooper has excelled most recently in extroverted roles that make use of his motormouth persona but here, he is able to focus that energy inward while still maintaining a steady balance of humble virtue and self-deprecating charm. American Sniper will no doubt be compared to other contemporary war films like the masterpiece The Hurt Locker, which took home the Oscar for Best Picture in 2009. While Sniper is admittedly not of that caliber, it’s a bold piece of filmmaking that adds a new perspective on the psychological effects of prolonged warfare.

It’s almost impossible for a film to live up to the amount of hype that The Interview had prior to its troubled release. Threats from the North Korean government and the “Guardians of Peace” Sony Pictures hack thrust the comedy into a political spotlight for weeks as the film’s release status hung in limbo amid national conversations about artistic censorship. Despite all this, the movie has been released in limited theaters and On Demand and while it certainly doesn’t live up to the lofty political ambitions that have been placed on it, The Interview has enough goofy exchanges and memorable one-liners to merit it a modest success.

Rogen plays Aaron Rappaport, long time collaborator and close friend of entertainment talk show host Dave Skylark, played with idiotic glee by James Franco. After their 1000th episode together, they get word that North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un, played by Randall Park, is a big fan of their show and he invites them to his headquarters in Pyongyang to get the world’s most exclusive interview. Upon hearing the news, Aaron and Dave are intercepted by the CIA with the hopes that the two can carry out an assassination attempt on one of the world’s most ruthless leaders.

This setup should give the sense that The Interview has its heart set on being more of a silly spy farce rather than some piece of sharp political satire. There are some shots taken at the propaganda that Kim Jong Un directs at his people but the majority of the comedy is more broad, focusing largely on bodily function punchlines and the type of ridiculous, over-the-top violence that also took hold of the climax of the Rogen-Franco led Pineapple Express. Also present from that film is the comedic chemistry between the two leads, which is more palpable here than ever before.

Of the two performances, Franco is the clear standout. His Dave Skylark is a character who steadily wears you down with his dopey affability until just about everything that comes out of his mouth is hilarious. The best scenes in the movie showcase Dave and Kim Jong Un’s blossoming bromance ,which includes shooting hoops with margaritas in hand and listening shamelessly to Katy Perry. There’s a manic charisma in Franco’s performance that reminded me of other comedic actors like Mike Myers or Jim Carrey, who also work hard to get the audience on their side. He has a comedic magnetism here that is so effective, it’s almost a let down when he isn’t present on screen.

Indeed, the scenes that feature Rogen without Franco often flounder without their chemistry, including a romantic subplot with Kim Jong Un’s assistant that simply goes nowhere. Rogen’s comedic talent as an actor is squandered here but he proves himself again as a competent director alongside Evan Goldberg, with whom he also co-directed last year’s This Is The End. The Interview may not have the satirical bite that curious audiences may come to expect but has enough lowbrow laughs to make it worth their while anyway.

After a couple near misses in the director’s chair, Chris Rock returns with his third feature Top Five, which isn’t without its drawbacks but ultimately comes across as Rock’s most honest film to date. The feel and premise recall the recently released Birdman, which both feature actors reflecting on their careers and striving to do more ambitious work in order for their fans and critics to take them more seriously. While the comedy here is decidedly more broad, both films know how to use comedy as a means of catharsis for their lead characters.

Rock plays Andre Allen, a washed-up comedian turned actor who threw away a successful stand-up career for a hit buddy cop franchise called “Hammy the Bear”, which has him running around in a bear suit and shouting catch phrases like “It’s Hammy Time!” As a backlash against the character, he chooses to star in an award-baiting, Haitian revolution movie called “Uprize” in hopes of winning back the critical admiration that he squandered with the “Hammy” series. While back home in New York to tirelessly promote the film, he is followed and questioned by New York Times reporter Chelsea Brown, played with winning charm by Rosario Dawson.

Brown starts with softball questions about Allen’s career and his upcoming celebrity wedding but the questions grow more personal as the day goes on. It turns out that they both have more in common than they think and soon, an easy and likable chemistry forms between the two. Their scenes together make up the best stretches in the movie, whose New York street walk-and-talk style feel like Rock’s version of a Woody Allen movie. The dialogue, also written by Rock, covers Rock’s usual favorite topics of race and relationships but it aims to penetrate deeper into how these characters think and feel.

While I don’t doubt Rock’s merits as an actor or a writer, he still has room to develop as a director. This film has a start-stop, jerky rhythm to it, which is caused by sporadic flashback sequences that are very hit-or-miss on the whole. Some of those scenes just go on for too long, like a flashback to Houston in 2003 when Allen is recounting a “rock bottom” affair that is neither as comedically appealing or dramatically revealing as Rock thinks it is. Others work quite well, including an unexpected rapper’s hilarious rendition of “Smile” while he and Allen are staying the night in jail.

In many ways, Top Five also reminded me of the movie Funny People with Adam Sandler, who is among one of the film’s numerous cameos. Both star comedians who started in stand-up comedy, strayed away to advance their careers but yearn to return to the stage once again. There’s an excitement to performing stand-up that Rock captures well here in the scene after Allen returns to the Comedy Cellar for the first time in years. Likewise, both films also give way to melodramatic turns and meandering subplots but Top Five has enough to recommend to fans of show biz comedies and especially to fans of Chris Rock.

Taken from the name of its main character’s inflammatory radio show, Dear White People is a campus comedy that finds both black and white students coming to terms not only with how others view them but how they view themselves. While the movie and its marketing do have a prickly, sardonic exterior, the core of the film is an intelligent, even-handed look at young people choosing to conform or not conform to others’ expectations of them. First time director Justin Simien explores these layers of identity through a myriad of well-thought-out characters that don’t just serve as mouthpieces for the film’s message.

The lead character Sam, played by Tessa Thompson, is the resident rabble-rouser of the prestigious Winchester University, whose radio show lobs loaded racial one-liners such as “Dear white people: the minimum requirement of black friends needed to not seem racist has just been raised to two.” The show proves offensive to both white and black characters, drawing the ire of the school president’s son Kurt, played by Kyle Gallner, and the dean of Winchester, played by Dennis Haysbert. With the backing of the campus’ Black Student Union, Sam is able to claim control over the all black Armstrong/Parker house from the dean’s son Troy, played by Brandon P. Bell.

As an act of rebellion against Sam’s reign, Kurt and his humor magazine group Patische choose to celebrate their annual Halloween party by throwing an intentionally offensive “black” themed party, complete with blackface makeup and “thugged-out” apparel (the invitation states that XXL is the smallest permissible t-shirt size.) While this may feel like an overreach on Simien’s part, the film’s end credits document real life headlines of fraternities caught hosting eerily similar events. The party serves as the film’s climax, which has noticeable parallels to Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing.

We’re obviously dealing with heavy material here but the level of honesty and humor that Dear White People brings to the conversation of race is refreshing. The acting, by a generally unknown cast, is generally stellar across the board. The screenplay is often witty and relevant, only faltering when going after easy targets like Kanye West and the Big Momma’s House series. Even without the race content, the film would work as a Robert Altman (who is name checked by one of the movie’s characters) influenced look at modern college life.

Certainly this is an ambitious film, especially for a debut, and Simien does spread himself too thin over multiple story lines that come together through one contrivance or another. I would have enjoyed the scope being narrower overall, focusing more intensely on 3-4 characters as opposed to broadly on 7-8 characters. Although tonally consistent, the film’s visual style tries to cover too much ground without ever truly establishing itself in the first place. However, the contemplative musical score does help to fill in those gaps and bring Dear White People together as a worthwhile piece of sharp social satire.

Michael Keaton soars above a star-studded cast in Birdman (or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), the newest film from Mexican director Alejandro González Iñárritu. In one of the film’s touches of art imitating life, Keaton plays Riggan Thomson, a washed up actor of a popular superhero movie franchise attempting to revive his career through the treacherous world of New York theatre. His turbulent production of the Raymond Carver story “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love” makes up the majority of the movie’s narrative focus, although there are plenty of pit stops and tangents along the way.

Joining Riggan on stage are his girlfriend Laura, played by Andrea Riseborough, and Broadway newcomer Lesley, played by Naomi Watts. When one of the leads is involved in a tragic rigging accident, he is replaced by cocky method actor Mike Shiner, who is portrayed hilariously with haughty intensity by Edward Norton. Off the stage, Riggan is bolstered by his neglected daughter-turned-assistant, played by Emma Stone, and fearlessly supported by his lawyer and best friend Jake, performed with sputtering conviction by comedian Zach Galifianakis.

Iñárritu is no stranger to this type of stream of consciousness filmmaking but here he is graced by the presence of the visionary cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki, whose dazzling camerawork gives the film an unmatched level of liquidity and vibrancy. There’s an ethereal quality to this filmmaking, as if the camera is an omniscient being floating around the theater in a search for a greater truth. Many films have been credited as being “dreamlike” but thanks to Lubezki’s sublime technique, Birdman actually has the emotional urgency and attentive detail of a waking fantasy.

The lingering feel of the film is captured most prominently by the film’s extended takes, which are woven together to give the impression that it has all been filmed in (almost) one unbroken shot. While this gimmick has been attempted most notably in Alfred Hitchcock’s Rope, the concept here is used not to show off but rather to give the characters’ interactions an additional level of propulsive resonance. It has the dramatic effect of a great bottle episode in a television series, in which characters are confined to one location and often “bounce off” one another as a result. In addition, the free jazz-based musical score also helps provide a demanding rhythm to the storytelling.

While Birdman is technically courageous and consistently well acted, the story arc here is not nearly ambitious as it should have and could have been. Keaton fully commits himself to this role but Riggan’s tale is one that ultimately left me feeling a combination of ambivalence and puzzlement. It also doesn’t help that the rest of the characters’ story lines don’t add up to much in the end either. Despite this, the screenplay does pack in enough existential musing and witty wordplay to make it work best as a dark comedy. Iñárritu’s inventive flight of fancy is generally a surface affair but when the surface looks this good, it sure is difficult to look away.