Wall-E (Andrew Stanton, 2008)

Pixar have long held a reputation for quality and originality, with every one of their features opening to huge critical praise and audience appreciation. But at the time of its release, Wall-E harboured something a little extra special. As the ninth feature film in the Pixar canon, the quiet tale of a lonely robot labourer and his love of a sleek, ultra-modern bot named EVE, Wall-E was released to rapturous applause from critics and was hailed as revolutionary filmmaking. Indeed, while Toy Story received a similar reception as the first CGI movie, Wall-E was hailed as a brilliant film in its own right, praised for its emotional depth - despite the lack of dialogue - and its appreciation of golden-age cinema.

For the most part, Stanton's film holds up against such praise. The central character of Wall-E is brilliantly executed; adorable, charming and expressive, he's like a cross between R2D2 and E.T. His love of artificial objects is hilarious and his obsession with the music of Hello Dolly is almost unbearably sweet. Similarly, it's great to see the development of EVE as she transforms from an aggressive corporate machine to an inquisitive character who slowly comes to notice the affections of the chirruping Wall-E. The quality of the animation is superb and the artwork - in particular the first sweeping shots of desolate planet Earth - is absolutely stunning.

Yet Wall-E isn't entirely flawless. While the likes of Toy Story was funny, exciting and engaging throughout its brief runtime, Wall-E suffers from huge lulls and an overtly preachy storyline. The film's narrative - of Earth in the not-too-distant-future becoming litter-strewn and uninhabitable is very topical, and the imagining of the human race as obese, technology-dependent slobs dwelling in outer-space is funny yet believable vision of our descendants, yet these elements often fail to engage. Certainly younger audiences will love the scenes of Wall-E studying items in the wasteland or causing havoc aboard the space station but will likely doze off in the sequences involving the station's captain studying organic life.

Such flaws, however, are incredibly minor in the grand scheme of Wall-E. It may not be Pixar's very best, but it remains among the most impressive animated films of all time. Its great humour and charm despite the lack of dialogue is truly exceptional and the artistic vision captured by Stanton is simply beautiful. 

The Godfather (Francis Ford Coppola, 1972)

So I finally got round to watching the ultimate American movie. Largely regarded as one of the greatest films ever made, it's odd that I've managed to avoid The Godfather for such a long time. Despite warnings of its extreme length, slow pace and grim violence, I really enjoyed the film and largely agree with its status as a landmark in filmmaking.

Certainly it has stood the test of time remarkably well. Coppola crafted his masterpiece back in 1972. 1972! This was a cinematic era in which Hitchcock was still active, and in which films were still regularly produced in black-and-white. It's amazing to view this lavish, boldly violent and expertly-crafted film in such a context. The saturated colour pallet, incredible acting talent and starkly vicious scenes remain deeply impressive three decades on.

As a newbie to The Godfather, I was surprised at how little screentime the Don himself is afforded. As the eponymous Sicilian crime lord, Brando has endured as a screen icon, and it is his face that adorns the posters and DVD covers. And yet the central character of the narrative is undoubtedly Al Pacino's Michael Corleone - the reluctant son who gradually ascends to replace Brando as the head of the family. Pacino actually boycotted the Academy Awards that year, having been nominated for best supporting actor while Brando was up for the lead actor award. Nevertheless, the presence of Brando's Godfather lurks throughout the film. It truly is an awesome performance - at first I found his mumbling approach over-the-top and laughable yet it quickly becomes apparent that he got it absolutely spot on, making the Don an awe-inspiring and surprisingly sympathetic character. Brando was, of course, rewarded with an Oscar statuette yet he failed to collect it, having boycotted the ceremony along with Pacino, albeit for different reasons.

The film's pace may be slow but only because it needs to be. The narrative encompasses a broad time frame and charters the gradually changing attitudes and statuses of the various members of the notorious Corleone family. The story is constantly gripping and the violence, while a dominant and obviously necessary element of the film, is sparsely utilised and often impressively staged - the shooting in the restaurant and the murder of Moe Greene are especially notable for their orchestration and ingenuity.

With so many strings to its bow, The Godfather's crowning glory is undoubtedly its cast. While Marlon Brando reigns supreme as Don Vito, the other members of the Corleone family are also brilliantly portrayed. Indeed, through Vito's children we can observe a fresh generation of Hollywood stars surfacing. The then-unknown Al Pacino is perfect as the tormented young Michael who is slowly drawn into the life of crime he initially desired to evade, and he is backed up by the likes of James Caan as his brother Sonny, Diane Keaton as his eventual wife Kay and Robert Duvall as Vito's right-hand man. The fact that this fresh-faced supporting cast are all now esteemed movie giants (Keaton and Duvall have since earned Oscars) and approaching their seventies and eighties, further emphasises the legacy and influence of Coppola's grandiose gangster flick.

The grandaddy of the crime genre and a film that firmly reinforces America as the world's leading movie-making nation, The Godfather achieves everything it sets out to do and, more than any other, is a film I wish I'd gotten round to watching a long time ago.