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.

Yet one of the most enduring images from the first few decades of cinema is undoubtedly the shot of Lloyd hanging from a large clock-face as he dangles several stories above street-level. Taken from his 1923 comedy Safety Last!, this scene is familiar to almost everyone, no matter their familiarity with Lloyd or the film itself.

The bulk of the film is entertaining though hardly noteworthy: the story of the boy trying to impress his girl by pretending to be higher up in the business world food-chain isn’t exactly revolutionary, even for 1923. But it’s all just a set-up for the climax, where Lloyd scales a building with no visible safety precautions.

This final sequence is gripping, to say the least. Yes, a few shots used a stunt double, and yes, Lloyd was above a mattress waiting to cushion a possible fall. Do these facts diminish the spectacle? Certainly not, especially given that it all looks believable enough. He really was that far off the ground, even if a ledge (or, more precisely, the roof of the real building) was only a couple of stories below—a fall was still not at all desirable.

And therein lies the thrill of Safety Last!: no chroma keying or CGI facilitates the spectacle. Instead we have one man determined to wow an audience at any cost. Star and hero were one and the same.

But in terms of being a pure crowd-pleaser, Gilliam’s biggest triumph is undoubtedly Time Bandits (1981). While not as visually dense or bizarre as Brazil, nor as (relatively) sober as 12 Monkeys, Time Bandits possesses an innocent charm that his more cynical works lack. If nothing else, it was the first film to help establish Gilliam as a true auteur and cinematic visionary.

All of the director’s trademarks are here, such aa the use of giants and dwarves (allowing for many low-angle shots), the recurring motif of placing characters in cages (inspired by Walt Disney’s Pinocchio (1940)) and the blurring of the line between fantasy and reality. The production design veers between the stark and the lavish (this dichotomy being another trademark of Gilliam’s) and the humour is, as usual, dark-edged but playful.

The story involves the adventures of Kevin (Craig Warnock), an intellectually curious young boy whose parents seem more interested in gadgets and gameshows than in any of the interests of their son. After being surprised when a knight on horseback bursts into his bedroom one night, Kevin is soon the companion to a group of time-travelling dwarves determined to gather up as much booty as possible while darting from one time period to the next. Ultimately, however, the dwarves want “The Most Fabulous Object in the World”.

All of this takes place against a battle of Good (i.e. the Supreme Being, played by Ralph Richardson) versus Evil (David Warner), allowing for some very witty commentary on Creationism and the problem of evil, both of which are gently satirised without dominating the narrative.

The real theme is the unnecessary excesses of consumerism and the dismissive attitude by some towards anything that doesn’t feature the latest bells and whistles. Will 3D TV really enrich our lives? Do you really need to buy an iPad the day it hits stores? In this way, Time Bandits has much in common with Brazil, but the Orwellian overtones are largely absent in the former’s more family-friendly approach. (It could be argued that the Supreme Being serves the function of Big Brother here, however.)

Putting all that aside, Time Bandits is just good fun, being full of imagination, whimsy and wonder in the tradition of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. This is a family film that respects its audience, neither talking down to children nor desperately trying to grab cheap laughs from adults using irrelevant pop-culture references. If only the Shrek franchise would be this fresh and inventive.

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.

Katherine Heigl plays Jane, a woman obsessed with the idea of marriage despite living out the cliché of “always a bridesmaid, never a bride” — she’s got all 27 bridesmaid dresses to prove it. She is, of course, secretly in love with her boss, the cool-but-bland George (Edward Burns), but when her superficial younger sister Tess (Malin Akerman) arrives and cluelessly snaps him up in a whirlwind romance, Jane is inevitably called upon to plan their wedding.

Meanwhile, James Marsden is Kevin, a cynical journalist stuck writing for the sappy “Commitments” column in the New York Journal, and he sees writing a biting piece on Jane (the archetypal “lonely bridesmaid”) as being his ticket to gaining legitimacy. Ostensibly following Tess and George’s wedding, Kevin gradually gains Jane’s trust despite them both being philosophically at odds when it comes to the ethics of the so-called “wedding industry”.

Many critics have complained that 27 Dresses doesn’t go far enough in savaging the fleeting yet excessive conspicuous consumption of modern weddings, but at what point, then, would the film still function as a romantic comedy? The purpose here is not to create a pointed critique of flashy but ultimately empty wedding ceremonies — that task is for a different movie — but instead to give its audience a charming and witty (but still conventional) example of the genre while still making several very valid observations through the mouthpiece of Kevin. That Heigl’s character balances this with a degree of romantic idealism is not a bug — it’s a feature. (The fact that the film has been marketed as being “From the screenwriter of The Devil Wears Prada” does create certain expectations, however.)

While Burns isn’t particularly charismatic despite being set up as an object of unrequited desire, Heigl and Marsden carry the film along with real chemistry; Heigl’s knack for comedy in particular keeps things fun and light but not frivolous. A scene involving Elton John’s “Bennie and the Jets”, while, again, seeming to come straight from the rom-com playbook, still feels fresh and energetic because the leads are just so fun to watch.

Ultimately, 27 Dresses is a standard (but well-made) romantic comedy elevated by engaging leads and smart dialogue. If you’re looking for a romantic comedy to see, you could do much worse than this — after all, you could be watching P.S. I Love You instead.

Colin Firth plays Colin, a British artist who arrives in the small town of Hope, Vermont after being unceremoniously dumped (or so it seems) by his fiancée, Vera (Minnie Driver). There he meets “free spirit” and part-time alcoholic Mandy (Heather Graham). Mandy’s unstable, erratic personality leads, of course, to Colin quickly falling in love with her.

But wait! Here comes Vera to confuse and tempt Colin away from the borderline-psychotic Mandy. What’s a guy to do?! Luckily, Vera is so shallow and one-dimensional that Colin’s decision is essentially made for him by the brain-dead screenplay.

And that’s a key problem here: characters behave in certain ways when the story demands it, yet in other ways totally contrary to reason if that is what’s required at the time. Colin’s romance with Mandy is sudden and quite random, for example, and all we’re given in the way of insight is a “quirky” initial meet-up and a montage with a dreadful cover of 10cc’s “I’m Not in Love” — this, mind you, should be a pivotal sequence, not some throwaway with a soundtrack that conveniently fades out during the lyric about the “nasty stain” on the wall.

There is not one character that isn’t incredibly aggravating in some way, and what little comedy there is feels forced and obvious, though I did maybe get one or two slight chuckles out of it despite myself. Oliver Platt somehow manages to salvage his scenes and give the audience some respite from the relentless mediocrity on display, but he’s hardly in the film, so it’s really a moot point.

The pacing, meanwhile, is glacial just by virtue of the fact that nothing of interest occurs onscreen. Not only is there nothing surprising or unique about Hope Springs, it’s not even competent as a purely cynical, by-the-numbers romantic comedy. Writer/director Mark Herman (Brassed Off, Purely Belter) really has no one to blame but himself for just how inept the film is, though the utter lack of chemistry between Firth and Graham doesn’t help matters, either.

The best I can say about Hope Springs is that I didn’t find it particularly offensive — just bland, badly made and totally uninvolving. I’d expect this quality from a cheap telemovie at most. How any of the actors were roped into this project is anyone’s guess.