2007 / Jim Wynorski > “What’s that?” The magical phrase is, according to the director Wynorski’s count, uttered at least 18 times in the film. What could that be? It’s sheer brilliance, I tell you. From the opening deaths of idyllic teenagers lost in the arid caves of Utah, I knew I was in for a special treat. It didn’t mean much that the film echoed scenes from the famed Jurassic Park contemporary Carnosaur—these were obviously of much higher budget, especially when the screen turns green to identify with the raptors’ point of view. (Yes, that was plural. There are multiple raptors in the film! Have you invited your friends over yet?!)

Wynorski, also known as Jay Andrews and H. R. Blueberry, is the man behind a substantial amount of late night Cinemax classics such as Alabama Jones and the Busty Crusade and The Bare Wench Project. In Raptor, he hones his technical mastery with the help of master filmmaker Roger Corman. The final product is a seamless composite of what feels like three, four or even five films! But in reality, it is only one. Anyone who has told you otherwise has been deceived into belittling the good names of Wynorski and Corman. Why else would Golden Globe-nominated Corbin Bernsen take a key role as the evil Mr. Hyde?

I do have a minor complaint: Blonde bombshell Melissa Brasselle (who is currently starring in Danny Bonaduce’s VH1 cult-hit I Know My Kid’s a Star) is a bit of a distraction from the glorious beauty of the raptors. For some reason, Wynorski strategically decided to utilize her in rather tight-fitting outfits and in scandalous positions, often opposite the splendid Eric Roberts. Roberts, by the way, hasn’t been this spot on since the original Best of the Best. The manner in which he battles the alpha raptor in the end makes Sigourney Weaver look like an absolute chump in Aliens. “Take that, Barney!” might be one of the most important lines of our lifetime, as many of us grew up thinking and wanting to do similar violent acts to our purple-furred friend.

What Spielberg started, Wynorski and Corman have finished. There can be no other film about raptors after this. It is conclusive evidence that we should not meddle with our genes or stem cell research because all it will do is kill the neighborhood kids, your daughter’s boyfriend, your co-worker, that guy who drives the truck full of chickens across state borders so that illegally implanted raptor babies can be kept in a cage away from society, Corbin Bernsen and lots of really mean looking military guys. Raptor is a cinematic achievement that parallels Fellini’s 8&#189 in innovation, and supercedes the science-fiction philosophy of 2001. (It’s also better than many films that don’t contain numbers in their titles.) Thanks for the recommendation Lucid Screening.

2007 / Joe Swanberg > The backlash against “mumblecore” generally tends to be driven by the fact that these films always focus on middle-class, post-graduate white kids who do nothing but complain about their lives. But this is arguably the best social class through which to canvass this topic. If Whit Stilmann’s Metropolitan was a satirical look at the upper-class who excel at discussion and inaction, and the Hughes Brothers’ Menace II Society commands attention because it tries to portray the lack of options in the urban ghetto, films like Hannah Takes the Stairs competently approach the social classes in between who have myriad possibilities of both success and failure. And whether this optionality is displayed through lack of interest in one’s occupation or discontent in relationships is often the deciding factor between the film, the viewer and whether the experience will be enjoyable.

Having miserably failed at watching Andrew Bujalski’s Funny Ha Ha, I stayed away from most films in the sub-genre until this Swanberg vehicle. Co-writer and star Greta Gerwig’s endearing yet infuriating title character is composed of some of the best and worst bits of ourselves and our loved ones—past and present. By the time the final two scenes come around, everything kind of, sort of, actually makes sense. The cerebral aspect of the film suddenly subsides to let the emotive aspect sneak through and, in the process, lets the viewer do the same. If mood was ever a critical ingredient of a film’s success, this may just be it.

2007 / Justin Theroux > It’s easy to say that quirky indie-romances are all the rage these days, and it’s even easier for Dedication to be slapped with that same label. But what I found amazing is that underneath it all, this is a re-modeled formulaic romantic dramedy with better music (by Au Revoir Simone and the surprisingly soothing Deerhoof), better acting and a better story. It isn’t perfect, and it isn’t going to end up on any all-time lists, but what the film does is put a refreshing coat on an otherwise conventional plot and charms us from end to end. It’s an admirable directorial debut by Theroux, backed by a superb performance by Billy Crudup as the misanthropic lead who’s trying to figure out how to get along with substitute illustrator Mandy Moore after his long-time collaborator, played aptly as always by Tom Wilkinson, passes away. The star, though, may be the script by David Bromberg, with its tight, sharp dialogue and memorable banter.

2008 / Doug Liman > It didn’t bother me when Liman said in an interview that Jumper was the final part of his “sell-out trilogy.” After all, both The Bourne Identity and Mr. & Mrs. Smith were relatively smart, enjoyable fares. But apparently he was setting up the pre-emptive strike on a piece of shit: How Liman took a brilliant premise and muddled it into an episode of The O.C. (Rachel Bilson included) with intriguing yet ignored sci-fi elements is beyond me. What really, absolutely kills it: The sequel is in the works. This act of hypocrisy almost single-handedly negates the goodwill from Swingers and the rather underrated Go and turns Liman into a poseur until proven otherwise.

2007 / Gus Van Sant > In the final part of his death trilogy, Van Sant loses the ironic edge that he had with Elephant. Paranoid Park is subtle, provocative and thoughtful, but it still feels all too fleeting. The mood carries the film to its end but somehow, the sadness and despair never really penetrates the audience. Whether this is a function of an age-biased disconnect, I’m not sure, but many of us have found ourselves in positions where we feel guilty of an act we had little control over. This was an attempt at extrapolating that to a higher degree, but in many ways, it feels too forgiving and too simple to be poignant.

2007 / Kevin Lima > Enchanted works because of Amy Adams, as she turns the role of a princess into something identifiable by most stretches of the imagination. Disney’s welcome back party, though, isn’t without hitches: The story is still ultimately stale even with the sort of modern-day luster that’s splashed atop it. And Patrick Dempsey is, unfortunately, forever going to smell of Grey’s Anatomy thereby discounting the value of any character he portrays onscreen. (This is a pity, but alas, it’s the price he’ll have to pay for resurrecting his career.) The film almost works as a foil to Pan’s Labyrinth with its cheerfulness and optimism—It’s lighthearted fare and undeniably enjoyable, though there’s just not enough to hold onto to make it a classic.

2007 / Craig Gillespie > This is the opposite of what every independent film-viewer has come to accept: That there is a world out there without cynicism, that people are generally good, even if troubled, that love is not impossible due to external social forces. Nancy Oliver’s thoughtful script is devoid of the type of silly comedy one would expect from a film about a guy and his “real doll.” Instead, the laughter is a gut response in relation to everyday life, about seeing things and understanding life’s simple ironies and accepting them in their due course. Lars and the Real Girl provides the foundation for another superb performance by Ryan Gosling that ought to have given him an Oscar nod. This is, without a doubt, one of the most surprising finds of 2007.

2007 / Michael Davis > Ridiculous gun battles (including a particularly challenging one when Clive Owen and ever-wonderful Monica Bellucci are consummating their relationship), an off-the-wall performance by Paul Giamatti and a short-running time: These are the three essential elements of Shoot ‘Em Up, a film that holds no notion of seriousness, even poking fun at its own ridiculous plot involving babies for stem cell research. It’s a good ride, though I imagine it’ll lack the replay value of better offerings this year (such as Smokin’ Aces).

2007 / Eli Roth > The original Hostel had a cold, unwavering tension in its lack of information that made it so exciting to watch. We had no idea what was going to happen or what the backstory was, so as it unfolded, we were shocked, disgusted and entertained. This sequel, however, decides to educate us on the process by which nice Americans get stuck on meathangers in Slovakia. Gone immediately is the suspense, but increased, in compensation, is the brutality. Unfortunately, these are not equal exchanges, and as the Saw series went downhill after its initial imaginative introduction, it looks like Hostel will follow a similar path.