Head over to PopMatters and read our list of the Best Movies of 2011. There is NO arguing with the Top 3 but if you want to go right ahead and read my entries, check out numbers 23 and 7. Actually no, read them all!

Midnight in Paris ****

Director: Woody Allen

Cast: Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Adrien Brody

Alison PillCarla Bruni-Sarkozy, Corey Stoll, Kathy Bates

Kurt Fuller, Léa Seydoux, Marion Cotillard

Mimi Kennedy, Tom Hiddleston

From its opening scene, Midnight in Paris establishes itself as a love song: we see how a series of shots of the city comprise a verse that thrills us because of its familiarity (ooh it's Notre Dame! ooh it's Place Vendome!) and despite its otherworldly beauty.

Paris is one of those cities that becomes universal because of the feelings they inspire even if you have never visited them. Tons of films have been set in Paris, tons of romances have been set there as well and to those less inclined by emotions, the French capital has also been the stage for some of the most revolutionary cultural movements in the world.

It makes absolute sense then, that Woody Allen would fall head over heels for it. Not since Manhattan had he shown such passion for a place as he does in this film. Structured like his iconic ode to New York City, Midnight in Paris is formed by a bookend in which we first develop the crush, a large plot development in which we suffer through the ups and downs of love and a final thought that reminds us, not only of our insignificance but about the immortality of beauty.

Throughout the film, Allen, aided by cinematographer Darius Khondji's breathtaking framing, reminds us that Paris will remain even after we're gone.

Take for example the scene in which we meet Gil Pender (Wilson), our protagonist. We hear him talking to his fiancee Inez (McAdams) about the beauty and romanticism of Paris but we can not see either of them. What we see instead is a huge pond filled with fragile water lilies. For a moment, we're not even sure if we're watching a painting or an actual real life image, Then Gil mentions something about Monet and our mind clicks, but so does the camera and we move to find ourselves in front of the people we're about to meet.

In several other scenes throughout the movie, first we see places and things and only then do the characters enter the scene. The camera is sometimes placed before them, as if suggesting the characters need to catch up with time - and wondering if they ever will be able to do it - and sometimes it seems to wander about trying to take in the riches of a city that's too overwhelming for a films's running time.

The subject of catching up with time might be the plot's biggest preoccupation, as Gil finds himself yearning to live in a different place as his writer's block increases. After working as a Hollywood hired hand- and being quite successful at it- he's trying out a novel for the first time. His trip to Paris is meant to inspire him but all he gets are insults from Inez and her parents (the pitch perfect Kennedy and Fuller).

Things get worse when they run into Paul (Sheen) and Carol (Arianda), two friends of Inez who tag along everywhere they go. He's a pseudo-intellectual who knows it all on the surface, she's the loving companion who nods at his every word.

Allen never has any problem revealing to us that the world that surrounds Gil (who in this film is the "Woody Allen character") is truly atrocious. As he usually does, he has no problem affirming that this is a misunderstood man, perhaps a bit too sensitive to be surrounded by the shrewd beings he knows. Allen has never been good at hiding his disdain for bourgeois apathy and while his characters are never exactly saints of any kind, he has always excelled at making us like them.

Gil for example seems to breathe by inertia, we're meant to dislike Inez (the things she says often make you gasp) but we're not supposed to be rooting for Gil just yet. He needs to earn our liking, he needs to achieve a breakthrough.

Woody provides him this opportunity by relying on a fantastical twist that resembles what he did in his brilliant The Purple Rose of Cairo, as in that occasion, everything happens so fast that we're unable to try and reason. Anyone who cared to deconstruct either movie by ways of physics and probability could probably accuse of them of being truly preposterous. During one scene Inez's mother describes a movie she saw as "infantile" and lacking in any believable qualities, but she doesn't deny it had charm (is she talking about the movie she's in?).

However Allen becomes the ultimate alchemist, turning the dullness of the quotidian into magic that defies the most complicated visual effects. Midnight in Paris gives him an opportunity to bask in his love for the Lost Generation and all things 20s, giving us glimpses of a city where you could run into characters the likes of Hemingway (a phenomenal, scene stealing Stoll), F. Scott Fitzgerald (Hiddleston) and Gertrude Stein (Bates) among others.

Leading us in this tour of a golden era is Marion Cotillard, playing the woman who captures Gil's heart. To reveal the many twists and turns in the movie would be to rob the audience of what can only be called utter pleasure. In the past Allen has expressed his love for classic things, however this might be the first time when he seems to find his voice through others.

While sometimes it might seem like a film meant for culture snobs (and what Allen movie isn't?) Midnight in Paris is also remarkable for its unaware passion for the arts. When Gil says to a character "you take art groupie to a whole new level" he might as well be talking about Allen and the movie.

It's no coincidence that the film seems to be based on the theory that places of great antiquity and history are forever plagued with the ghosts of those who once lived there. At many times during the film there are mentions of the main character in Gil's novel; a young man who owns a nostalgia shop, the places where you can buy old records and Shirley Temple memorabilia.

For some this is an enchanting concept (Cotillard's character is "hooked" by it) while others find it creepy and childish. "Nostalgia is denial" says Paul condescendingly, while Gil looks away finding himself in a place far away from judgment.

The movie toys with the possibility of transporting yourself to a time where everything can be perfect and Allen approaches his everlasting obsession with mortality in a way that makes the heart ache and puts a smile on your face.

We realize eventually that Allen is the shop vendor mentioned so much, he's the one always selling us nostalgia, whether it be his use of music, artistic references or the affected way in which his characters talk (the use of words like "pseudo-intellectual", "lovely" and "erotic" usually give his screenplays away).

Midnight in Paris can be read through countless layers, the magic of its ensemble alone is enough to warrant an essay but like the greatest art what's easiest to discuss, perhaps because it inspires excited, clumsy eloquence, is the feeling that it leaves you with: something that resembles the warmth of a good meal and the exhilarating joy of being in love.

After his last movie which failed to invite us into its dark world, in this one a character reminds Gil that a writer can not succumb to despair, his duty is to find an antidote to the emptiness of existence. Woody Allen seems to have taken this advice and Midnight in Paris is the kind of movie that reminds us that heaven might be a plane ride away.

Hall Pass **

Director: Bobby Farrelly, Peter Farrelly

Cast: Owen Wilson, Jason Sudeikis

Jenna Fischer, Christina Applegate, Joy Behar

J.B. Smoove, Stephen Merchant, Richard Jenkins

Everyone in Hall Pass looks terrible. Leading men Owen Wilson and Jason Sudeikis sport crow's feet and physiques that lack fitness to say the least. Jenna Fischer shows strange sunburns and Richard Jenkins has the worst tan of all time.

Perhaps the Farrelly brothers thought that exposing actors as they "are" would give their film a shot at achieving some sort of emotional authenticity but not really...

What we end up with instead is an attempt of the crass filmmakers at creating the kind of comedies that Judd Apatow has excelled at during the last decade. Apatow's films display men-children forced to mature, usually by strong women, who shake up their hum drum lives with their knowledge, genitalia and love for them.

This is the only thing Hall Pass has in common with something like say The 40-Year Old Virgin, and it's that the film assumes that women were created to teach men lessons, even when this means they have to reduce their personalities to often overbearing examples of "she's being a bitch because she loves me".

In this case, Wilson and Sudeikis, play the horny husbands of Fischer and Applegate respectively. The two friends spend their days checking out women and fantasizing about how much they would get laid if they were single again (obviously Fischer and Applegate's characters always have headaches and come up with excuses to avoid intercourse with them).

When their hormonal behavior leads to social embarrassment, the women decide it's time to give them a "hall pass": they get an entire week off of marriage to satiate their sexual appetite.

The film then follows the guys as they spend their week attempting to have sex and usually failing. This obviously will lead them to realize that, like Dorothy, they have no other place like home, but before that they take part in Farrelly stunts that involve farting, African American penises, psychotic DJs and Jenkins playing an expert ladies' man.

At the center of the film there are some signs of something deeper than we'd expected and this is mostly seen through Applegate's character, who takes on a pseudo-affair of her own with a younger man.

Watching the talented comedienne you can't help but wish she was in a better movie, because she provides her character with melancholy traits that seem out of place in the rest of this frat-boy fest. Even if her character receives a ridiculous punishment for exploring her own sexual liberty (something that says more about the latent misogyny in the movie than its attempt at cherishing married love) she's perhaps the only time the movie ever comes close to achieving humanity.

The rest is a mildly funny excuse for defending immature male behavior filtered through humor that could've been ruder and less cringe worthy because of its forced warmth.

Sheet-y Saturday.

Where we take a look at posters for upcoming features.

In theory I love the idea behind this poster, yet looking at it I'm not sure I like how it was executed. I think what bugs me is Owen Wilson. When you have Marion, Carla and Rachel in a movie and you still make Owen the center of your poster, you really must like him.

Love that he's in full Woody outfit though.

She is the only reason why I plan on even coming near a theater where they're playing this.

What do you think of these two?

Why Family Reunions Often Mean Trouble.

Head over to The Costa Rica News and read my review of Little Fockers.

Fantastic Mr. Fox ***1/2

Director: Wes Anderson

Few working directors have such a recognizable visual style as Wes Anderson (if that is good or bad is another matter). In "Fantastic Mr. Fox" his first foray into animation (if you don't count the strange sea creatures from "The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou") he transports his unique aesthetics to a world populated by furry, anthropomorphic puppets.
Particularly Mr. Fox (George Clooney playing Danny Ocean) a former chicken thief who chose the right path and became a newspaperman after his wife Mrs. Felicity Fox (a sly Meryl Streep) became pregnant.
When his son Ash (a brilliant Jason Schwartzman) is twelve fox years old, Mr. Fox decides he's had enough of his quiet domestic life and sets to pull off one last heist.
He recruits Kylie (Wallace Wolodarsky) the superintendent opossum, and Felicity's athletic nephew Kristofferson (Eric Anderon) to rob the farms of Boggis (Robin Hurlstone), Bunce (Hugo Guinness) and Bean (Michael Gambon).
The job goes as planned but the angry farmers retaliate and plan to get rid of Mr. Fox, his family and all the neighboring animals.
This forces the charming hero to make things right and solve the sort of existential -crises-hiding-behind-entertaining-facades that Anderson has become known for.
But "Fantastic Mr. Fox" is more than "The Royal Tenenbaums" in stop motion, based on Roald Dahl's novel, the movie actually digs deeper than Anderson ever reaches with live action.
It's as if this micro world was invented just for him as he populates it with an assortment of characters, quirks and details that are a pleasure to behold.
The puppets' little coats and accessories have textures that we could stare at for hours and the stilted way of some of their movements is a shocking contrast to the relentless need of CGI to imitate real life.
Watching this movie we're supposed to know we're watching something unreal, perhaps Anderson's actual intention was to have us wonder throughout the film "how did they do that?". This is an interesting proposition because it immediately forces us to experience the wonders of childhood where even thunder was a mystery (it might be no coincidence again that Mrs. Fox is obsessed with painting thunderstorms).
The film's surrealistic nature serves Anderson because he is finally able to explore the absurdities of his characters without the selfconsciousness of actors.
He's at such balance with the animation technique that we recognize several visual keys (like Kylie's insanely funny blank eyes) from his live action films, but if he went and gave the real Bill Murray (who voices a real estate Badger here) a furry coat, the result might be just weird.
Anderson's detachment from keeping an equilibrium between what we see and how we respond gives him the chance to create one of his greatest characters in the shape of Ash; a son trying to live up to what he thinks his father expects from him.
The droll characterization of Ash-who wears a weird cape and underwear that makes his father think he's "different"-offers enough fantasy and truthfulness to make us laugh while blushing because at some level we might recognize ourselves in him.
Forget about the zany dialogues (although Anderson and Noah Baumbach made a witty adaptation), the Jarvis Cocker cameo or the intricate production design, the real wonder in "Fantastic Mr. Fox" is that when we see a puppet shed a tear we too might be getting misty eyed.

The Darjeeling Limited ***1/2

Director: Wes Anderson
Cast: Adrien Brody, Jason Schwartzman, Owen Wilson
Amara Karan, Wallace Wolodarsky, Waris Ahluwalia, Anjelica Huston

The Whitman brothers haven't spoken to each other in over a year. Their father passed away and their mother (Huston) has vanished. They get together in the title train in India, where Francis (Wilson), the eldest brother, has summoned them to go in a spiritual journey and find their bonds again.
Francis is a control freak who has made an itinerary and carefully had his assistant Brendan (Wolodarsky) plastify it.
Peter (Brody) is torn about the fact that he wants to leave his pregnant wife and Jack (Schwartzman) spends most of his time thinking about his ex-girlfriend (Natalie Portman featured in the beautiful prologue "Hotel Chevalier").
Like in any Anderson film you may come to expect stunning art direction and detailed character creation, Oedipical issues, a great soundtrack (here mostly composed of pieces from Satyajit Ray's films) and a haunting, bittersweet feeling that lingers inside you even after you wonder what the hell the film was all about.
Anyone might argue that the trip is only an element for Anderson to have his characters together, since it's their little misadventures in India that actually make the film so rich.
Peter hits on a stewardess (the lovely Karan), while Francis constantly checks his itinerary for ritual time and just when the film is feeling aimless there's a very un-Anderson twist that makes us reevaluate the whole experience.
While going to India for enlightment has become almost laughable, you know for a fact that Anderson could've set his story anywhere else and it would still be as touching.
The brothers never truly find themselves in a sappy way, but Anderson has found them even before they know it.
Wilson is amazing, his face, covered in bandages from a probable sucide attempt, is as eloquent as ever and Schwartzman's melancholic manner is simply lovable.
At first Brody seems like he doesn't fit the Anderson universe, sometimes you can see he's having so much fun that he can't hide it. But this differences only reassure us of how the Whitman brothers have stopped knowing each other.
Their characteristic distant gaze, the suits they wear, the constant smoking and the specific sibling dynamics always make us know that these men truly love each other and because of their shared traumas don't even know it.
"I wonder if the three of us would've been friends in real life. Not as brothers, but as people. " asks Francis during a key scene. They all look at each other and regret all the secrets they have been keeping, but which obviously speak not so much about distrust, but about trying to keep each other from suffering.
In a filmography that has gotten us used to a certain amount of minimalism, it is only now that Anderson's depth begins to impress. Almost as if it can't be contained anymore by the visual quirks and pitch perfect dialogues of its creator.
There are little events in the film (mostly powered by brilliant cameos) which speak of a bigger universe that Anderson, as his characters here, only now begin to acknowledge.
They say that life is mostly about the journey and never about the destination.
When boarding "The Darjeeling Limited" this couldn't be more true.