So it’s refreshing to (finally) see a modern Seuss adaptation that at least tries to adhere to the spirit of his work. Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who! (2008) is the fourth feature from Blue Sky Studios, who also produced Robots (2005) and the three Ice Age movies (2002, 2006 and 2009). Blue Sky are like the Chuck Jones to Pixar’s Walt Disney, and so while they don’t produce serious, studied entertainment in the Pixar vein, they also don’t resort to the mindless hipster grab-bag approach of DreamWorks Animation; instead, Blue Sky offer a manic charm all their own.

It’s only fitting, then, that Blue Sky Studios adapt one of Seuss’ more memorable children’s books, following in the footsteps of Chuck Jones’ own successful adaptations. This is not a nightmare-fuelled acid trip a la Ron Howard’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (2000) (and the less said about Mike Myers as The Cat in the Hat (2003) the better); rather, Blue Sky’s Horton is colourful and whimsical, giving spectators an amazing 3D realisation of Seuss’ illustrations that is as faithful as can be. And while pop-culture elements are a little overdone at times, this is still miles ahead of the horrors that DreamWorks might have visited upon the source.

The story involves Horton (Jim Carrey), an elephant who one day discovers an entire world on a speck of dust. The world itself is Who-ville, led by its mayor (Steve Carell), and the film largely concerns a dialogue between Horton and the mayor, as well as the attempts by each to convince others of this larger truth. In particular, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in the philosophy of an especially close-minded Kangaroo (Carol Burnett).

Horton’s struggles seem surprisingly similar to the debate regarding how Darwinian natural selection and Creationism should be taught in schools. Horton is a teacher to the younger animals, and Kangaroo (who “pouch-schools” her children) refuses to accept anything other than her own dogmatic worldview. But the message is general enough that, in fact, both sides can see themselves as Horton and the opposition as Kangaroo.

Notably, Geisel once threatened legal action against a pro-life organisation who used the line that “A person’s a person, no matter how small” as a rallying cry against abortion—Horton‘s theme is broader than the ideologies of any political groups who might wish to stake a claim.

In truth, Horton Hears a Who! is about everyone’s need to be heard. Our enemies are those who prefer partisanship to reasoned debate, and perhaps one day we’ll all be able to engage in honest dialogue rather than petty sniping. Until then, at least there are people trying to make films that actually have something to say, yet can be fun for all ages, too.

Never before had cel animation been used to tell a story in feature-length. Could animated characters display real emotional depth in a performance—enough to sustain an 80+ minute running time? Would audiences buy into the drama?

Three key scenes display the success of Disney’s gamble. The first involves the huntsman preparing to slay Snow White in the woods: the suspense builds as the spectator anticipates the blow, and yet as Snow White cowers, the huntsman finally relents and confesses. The second is where the witch offers Snow White the poisoned apple: again, the suspense builds, this time with the witch playing on Snow White’s innocence and naivety in order to trick her into taking a bite. Finally, the scene where the dwarves gather around Snow White’s bed to mourn her loss is heartfelt and genuine: the dwarves are real characters beyond their cartoonish, comedic function.

In all three scenes, characters other than Snow White carry the drama. Despite being the title character, Snow White is a foil, with her innocence and purity giving the surrounding characters something to react to. The Queen reacts to Snow White with contempt, the dwarves react to her with warmth and the woodland creatures react to her with curiosity and good cheer, but all find her archetypal nature captivating and powerful.

In truth, Snow White is nondescript. But how else can such otherworldly, abstract, ethereal innocence be portrayed? She is a blank canvas upon which the spectator can project. But around her, within the frame and beyond, the scenes bubble with life. Set against wonderful European backdrops with delicate lighting and careful use of colour, the screen comes alive: birds enter and leave, fauns watch from afar and even the trees themselves seem to express intent.

Indeed, one of the most powerful sequences occurs when Snow White flees from the huntsman. Tree branches claw and scratch, logs floating in water snap and menace and unseen foes (possibly the trees themselves) peer in the dark—this is the stuff of nightmares, and Disney is often unfairly judged as making his films too light and palatable when, in fact, he was not afraid to push the limits. Similarly, the scene where the Queen transforms into the witch is suitably impressionistic, drawing on horror traditions more than on simple animated shorts.

Of course, the film is not without its flaws. In particular, the middle section drags as the threat of the Queen is largely forgotten, though Disney was aware of this and cut two scenes related to the dwarves rather late in production. But the memorable images—of the dwarves returning home from the mine, the witch in the rainstorm atop the cliff ledge, Snow White in her glass coffin awaiting her Prince—are so enduring, so memorable that the film transcends its faults and reaches a state of near-Platonic perfection.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs remains the highest grossing animated feature in the U.S. (adjusted for inflation) and will continue to be a perennial favourite for years to come. Disney and his collaborators honed their skills further over the years, but it all started here, where all the rules were written. Every animated film since is in its debt.

If, on the other hand, you prefer rapid-fire gags and references mixed with some very nice animation but without any concern for heart or intellect, then this may be your film.

Monsters vs Aliens, coming between Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa (2008) and How to Train Your Dragon (2010), is DreamWorks Animation’s 11th 3D computer-animated film, and it shows. The formula—support a barrage of one-liners and throwaway references with imaginative design and a paper-thin plot—has been fine-tuned by this point, and its calculating cynicism and constant winks to the audience are now more mechanical than ever.

The plot has the necessary moral included, of course, taking Shrek‘s “Accept who you are” fortune-cookie wisdom and giving it a feminist twist. Susan Murphy (Reese Witherspoon) is all set to marry self-absorbed local weatherman Derek Dietl (Paul Rudd) when she is suddenly hit by a meteorite, causing her to grow to a height of 49 feet 11.5 inches. Captured by the military, she is then sent to a kind of “monster prison” where she meets fellow inmates B.O.B. (Seth Rogen, a parody of the Blob), Dr. Cockroach (Hugh Laurie, a parody of the Fly), the Missing Link (Will Arnett, a parody of the Creature from the Black Lagoon) and Insectosaurus (a parody of Godzilla). In charge of the facility is General W.R. Monger (Kiefer Sutherland), a no-nonsense military man who is tough but fair.

Given the film’s title, it’s not hard to guess where all this is headed: soon aliens invade, and it’s up to the five monsters to save the day. Meanwhile, Susan will learn that she’s happy to be an almost-50 foot woman, and she’ll leave Derek and move onto a better, brighter future with her monster pals by her side. (None of these plot points are spoilers, as the entire story is telegraphed within the first ten minutes.)

Monsters vs Aliens was rendered in stereoscopic 3D, and this gimmick is apparent as soon as the film starts, with a character bouncing a ball-and-bat towards the camera in the film’s second sequence, a la House of Wax (1953). The 3D effects aren’t always so gratuitous, but watching it in 2D does highlight certain moments that were obviously designed as “wow” effects for cinema audiences.

Referencing a 1950′s Vincent Price horror is one thing—and there are plenty of similar nods to classic science fiction/horror along the way—but it’s something else to reference Beverly Hills Cop (1984) or An Inconvenient Truth (2006), let alone the videogame Dance Dance Revolution, none of which have anything to do with the genre being targeted and instead seem like desperate attempts to flatter adults who enjoy feeling clever. Even the name W.R. Monger (together with a Strangelove-esque war-room) lacks any real attempt at subtlety or wit.

And then there’s the shot where a character scans his butt in order to gain clearance…

While Pixar make films that respect their audience, DreamWorks Animation seem content to coast along using brain-dead humour and by-the-numbers storytelling. That they continue to succeed at the box office is both depressing and frustrating.

That said, the designs and animation are both very nice (though the humans—with the exception of Susan—look wholly unappealing). There’s a lovely overall look to the production that recalls ’50s Americana and B-movie science fiction aesthetics. It’s also nice to see homages to films like The Fly and The Blob (both 1958) amidst the more contemporary pop-culture references.

But as it stands, Monsters vs Aliens is a missed opportunity. If anything, its whole tone is mirrored in Paul Rudd’s weatherman character: smug, self-obsessed and convinced of its own superiority.

2008′s WALL-E was an artistic triumph, playing more as a return to silent-era comedy-drama than as a tentpole family film, and while its follow-up, 2009′s Up, doesn’t attempt anything so daring stylistically, it does test the limits of what sort of stories are commercially viable in the modern family film market.

The premise of the story concerns Carl Fredricksen (Ed Asner), an elderly widower determined to fulfil his late wife’s childhood dream of having a house on Paradise Falls, an exotic locale in South America. His solution? Fly the house there using helium-filled balloons.

There’s a melancholic undercurrent to all of this, much of it involving the themes of grief and unfulfilled dreams. But the larger theme is that of life being an adventure in itself, if our eyes are open to it. As a child, Carl lives in a world of endless possibilities, but as he gets older, life slowly chips away at his optimism until, finally, he finds himself as an embittered and scared senior citizen whose world has become unrecognisable. Losing his wife was the final straw.

Carl’s life story is told largely through a dialogue-free montage that is both tender and affecting, and is almost certainly the most powerful and impressive sequence that Pixar has produced, not due to its technical wizardry but due to its restraint. That it occurs in the first 10 minutes yet still manages to elicit tears from the spectator is testament to the abilities of the animators and writer-directors Pete Docter (director of Monsters Inc. (2001)) and Bob Peterson (who also voices the dogs Dug and Alpha).

But it’s not all dour reflections on the pain that comes with life. Along the way we meet Russell (Jordan Nagai), an over-eager and chatty “Wilderness Explorer”, and Kevin, a large, exotic bird with a taste for chocolate and walking sticks, as well as the aforementioned Dug, an excitable dog who talks using a computerised collar. If that weren’t enough, Christopher Plummer voices Charles Muntz, an explorer with an airship and a determination to clear his name after being accused of perpetuating a hoax.

Carl’s transformation into a surprisingly athletic hero during the climax may be a bit absurd, but for the most part Up plays by the rules: in a world where ordinary helium-filled balloons can move a house between continents and dogs can talk using electronic translators, an old man leaping and bounding in a time of need is forgivable.

This film is an instant classic. Its characters are engaging and its story is warm and heartfelt. And most importantly, its message is a reminder to us all that adventure really is out there, in the relationships we form and the moments we share together, just by living our lives.

In tandem with the recording of The Wall were plans to create an elaborate stage show and concert film, and while the stage show went ahead, the film began to take on a different role. No longer would it be a concert film supplemented with additional dramatic footage starring Waters; instead, Bob Geldof was cast as the lead and the film would feature no actual footage of the band. Gerald Scarfe (who had illustrated the album and provided animations for the stage show) would remain the animation director, however.

The film itself, directed by Alan Parker (Fame, Midnight Express), is a pretty sombre affair. Geldof plays Pink, a rock star burnt out by excess and facing a gradual psychological meltdown, obviously still traumatised by the death of his father in World War II as well as possessing various other gripes. Pink eventually turns completely inwards, building a metaphorical wall as a defence mechanism and developing an utter contempt for the adulation of his fans.

Of course, very little of this is told in a strictly literal fashion. For the most part, the visuals help illuminate the soundtrack (and vice versa), creating a symbiosis of artistic purpose that communicates through the surreal imagery of Scarfe’s animations and Parker’s live-action interpretations thereof.

Where Pink Floyd The Wall fails is that the live-action sequences often seem devoid of any irony. Whereas the album had a kind of self-mocking playfulness to it, the film takes itself far too seriously, particularly since many of the themes are the stuff of teenage angst.

Yet Scarfe’s animation is what ultimately saves the project. “Goodbye Blue Sky” and “What Shall We Do Now?” are particularly memorable, as is the iconic moment of the marching hammers in “Waiting for the Worms”. If the rest of the film were this good, there wouldn’t be a problem.

Notably, Waters and Scarfe had strong disagreements with Parker on his ultimate vision for the film, which perhaps helps to explain the disparity in tone.

I’ve seen the footage shot for the original concert film, and I can’t help but feel that, had things progressed along that course, a more artistically successful film would have resulted. As it stands, Pink Floyd The Wall is a flawed classic that contains enough greatness to make it worthwhile.

Ever since 1988′s Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Robert Zemeckis has increasingly relied on CGI technology in making films such as Death Becomes Her, Forrest Gump and Contact. But it was his animated adaptation of The Polar Express in 2004 where he pushed so-called “motion-capture” technology to its limits, and now, three years later, he revisits it with Beowulf.

The film is, of course, based on the epic poem of the same name, but screenwriters Neil Gaiman (MirrorMask) and Roger Avary (Pulp Fiction, The Rules of Attraction) have crafted a modernised, coherent narrative out of the ancient source text. Here they assume an unreliable narrator in the source, and so Beowulf, originally a singularly heroic character, becomes a flawed man instead. Whether this works for or against the film is open to debate, but it’s hard not to admire the attempt to craft a thematically-unified three-act screenplay out of a poem that was never designed for such.

What deserves greater discussion, however, is the motion-capture technology itself. In The Polar Express, we had a situation that seemed like the worst of both worlds: too artificial to be fully convincing yet too lifelike to think of it as pure animation — it was as if Tom Hanks’ zombie twin had started dancing in Toontown. In Beowulf, things are greatly improved, but it often looks like a videogame cutscene rather than a bona fide film. (This technique would be perfect for a Warcraft film, perhaps.)

Actors such as Ray Winstone, Anthony Hopkins and John Malkovich give wonderful performances, but their digital avatars seem to have lost some of the humanity that might otherwise have existed in a flesh-and-blood portrayal. Robin Wright Penn is the greatest victim to this — her character seems almost lifeless when it comes to facial expressions. On the other hand, Angelina Jolie as Grendel’s mother is photo-realistic and totally convincing.

Something I noticed as I watched Beowulf was how subtle movements were very natural, but broader gesticulation gave the game away — it’s mostly how the characters move that’s the problem, not necessarily how they look.

There are, however, amazing sights to behold, including a battle with a dragon that is truly spectacular, and a flashback involving creatures of the deep that leaves you breathless. Yet the technology hamstrings the efforts of both the actors and screenwriters, and so the spectacle has little weight to it since we really don’t care about the characters. It all feels a bit hollow, like something crucial is missing.

The saddest part is that the creative team have obviously tried their best to create a film with some depth and subtlety as well action and excitement, but the technology has yet to mature. As it is, Beowulf is an interesting and often fun experiment that strives for greatness but still misses the mark.