The first thing I want to say about Star Wars: The Force Awakens is that it is a very good movie. More than that, it is a very good Star Wars movie. These two things may not necessarily always go together. J.J. Abrams is clearly a talented filmmaker, but what makes this film a particularly triumphant return for the venerable sci-fi franchise is that the talent he has assembled both in front of and behind the camera have a true love and passion for the Star Wars universe. That’s not something you can fake.

The balancing act the film pulls between calling back to the series’ past and setting up its future is nothing short of remarkable. Films like this are supposed to be messy: new characters and conflicts have to be introduced while old ones have to be given their due beyond glorified cameos. But Abrams and company make it seem effortless.

Part of the reason for that is the very wise decision to recruit original franchise screenwriter Lawrence Kasdan. The screenplay he has crafted along with Abrams and co-writer Michael Arndt is surprisingly witty and fast-paced, eschewing the more methodical pacing of the original trilogy and the almost suffocating self-seriousness of the prequels.

The story, set about 30 years after Return of the Jedi, starts by telling us that Luke Skywalker has gone missing. In the shadow of the Empire a new sinister organization called The First Order has risen up to take its place. Their goal is to eliminate Luke, who is said to be the last remaining Jedi. Under the watchful eye of Supreme Leader Snoke (Andy Serkis), hotheaded Sith-in-training Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) scours the galaxy for a map that is said to lead to Luke’s whereabouts.

The Resistance is also looking for Luke, in hopes of saving him. Their best fighter pilot Poe Dameron (Oscar Isaac) is sent along with his trusty droid BB-8 to find the map and bring it to the Resistance before the First Order gets its hands on it. Along the way, he runs into a fleeing Stormtrooper with a conscience (John Boyega’s Finn) and Rey, a scavenger searching for a better life. The ragtag group soon runs into the legendary Han Solo (Harrison Ford) and his wookie pal Chewbacca. Together they determine to complete the map and rescue Luke in hopes of training a new generation of Jedi to take down the First Order.

The production design of The Force Awakens can’t be praised enough. Star Wars has always had a certain feel to it, and this movie gets it all right. From costumes to the subtle use of CGI and highly touted use of practical effects, there were times I felt like I was stepping back into the original trilogy. A scene set inside a cantina illustrates this perfectly. It’s filled with all manner of alien lowlifes, and a band that recalls the cantina band from A New Hope. I felt like I had gone back through time, in the best way possible. But the film is not content to remain in the past. While it calls back frequently to its predecessors, nothing is ever quite the same. Thirty years have passed, after all, and everything from light sabers to spaceships to blasters and droids has changed in subtle yet obvious ways. The slick chrome of the First Order is contrasted with the harsh desert landscape of the planet Jakku, highlighting the tremendous variety on display. Everything about the visuals is a home-run.

The Force Awakens is a thrilling labor of love, one with a deep respect for both the past and the future of the Star Wars saga.

A movie can feel like Star Wars and still strike out if it doesn’t contain characters we care about. Thankfully, all of the new additions are good ones. The journey of Finn from terrified soldier to (slightly more) confident warrior is an engaging one, as is Rey’s discovery of some truths about her destiny and place in the grand conflict. Poe is given less development, but he fits in well as a confident and assured leader of the Resistance. BB-8 is a marvelous creation, more visually interesting and even emotionally engaging than R2-D2, which is something I never thought I would say. But the most intriguing new character is Kylo Ren. Although he worships the legendary Sith Lord Darth Vader, Kylo is a much more hotheaded and inexperienced Sith. This makes him initially less calculating but also much more unpredictable (his main general, played by a great Domhnall Gleeson, even pushes him around a bit). He reminds me more of Anakin in Revenge of the Sith, but his character is much more conflicted, and his path to the dark side is less abrupt and ultimately more believable.

Of course, a major joy of the film is seeing the old characters we know and love. Han Solo gets the most screen time and development, which is a wise choice. He and Chewbacca add a great deal of fun to the proceedings, and it’s awesome to see them bickering in the same way they always have. We get appearances from all the other major players, but it’s best not to dive in too deep for fear of spoilers. Safe to say, these original characters are given a great tribute here; nothing betrays them, and they’re actually given more depth than I would have expected.

The story could still use a bit of polish, however. Sometimes, it’s difficult to tell whether looming questions are plot holes or are simply being saved for answering in the next episode. I’m hoping it’s the latter, but the fact that it’s hard to tell the difference comes off as a little bit lazy. But the movie easily passed the franchise “mid-quel” test of being both a satisfying self-contained story and making the audience unbearably excited for the next installment.

And that’s what ultimately makes The Force Awakens such a satisfying experience. For a movie that has so much on its shoulders, it never forgets to tell an entertaining and emotional story of its own. It never feels like it simply exists to set up future movies. This, along with its expert pacing, its willingness to celebrate the past without becoming mired in it and its brilliant use of characters both new and old make it a must-see experience for both casual and die-hard fans of the franchise. Consider my expectations shattered.

Sam Mendes is no stranger to risks. The veteran filmmaker took a huge gamble directing Skyfall, a bold revisionist take on Ian Flemings’ ever-popular spy character James Bond. That film, the third in the long-running franchise to feature star Daniel Craig, proved that risks can pay off. It was easily one of the most critically acclaimed and financially successful films in the history of the Bond franchise.

Skyfall is an integral part of the discussion surrounding the new 007 film Spectre, which reunites Mendes with star Craig and screenwriters John Logan and Neil Purvis. With a few exceptions, the 26th outing of the british spy takes an almost completely opposite approach. This is a very traditional Bond film, one that features numerous callbacks to the franchise’s past while doing practically nothing to ensure its future or carve out an identity of its own. The result is severely underwhelming.

In a stunning extended-shot opening sequence, we find Bond in Mexico City during a large Day of the Dead celebration. It initially appears he’s there for revelry, but, as usual, there’s a large plan afoot. He ditches his typically beautiful arm candy to hunt down a Mexican drug lord he believes is part of a shadowy organization called Spectre, which appears to be responsible for a series of terrorist attacks across the globe. After promptly disposing of the baddie, he infiltrates the organization in an attempt to gain access to its leader, the mysterious Franz Oberhauser (Christoph Waltz).

Meanwhile, Bond’s MI6 cohorts back in Britain are facing bureaucratic struggles. The newly appointed M (Ralph Finnes) butts heads with his new superior, the hard-headed C (Andrew Scott), who seeks to demolish the antiquated 007 program and replace it with a more computerized, futuristic version of spy technology. Returning MI6 members Moneypenny (Naomie Harris) and Q (Ben Whishaw) are forced to support Bond’s globetrotting antics in secret, under the nose of their boss.

The returning characters are all a delight; it certainly helps that they’re played by wonderful actors, and actually given something to do. Harris in particular is my favorite version of Moneypenny; she’s strong, independent, and written to be so much more than eye candy. The new characters are intriguing but ultimately less satisfying. They include two new Bond girls, one old (Monica Bellucci’s Lucia), one young (Léa Seydoux’s Madeline Swan) and henchman Hinx (Dave Bautista), who recalls many classic burly Bond baddies, most readily the iconic Jaws.

Spectre is a dreary experience that does little to enliven the Bond franchise formula.

In the film’s antiquated gender politics, women like Lucia are tossed aside as sex objects. I’m not really the one to complain about such things in a James Bond film, but when a character is set up as being important to the plot in some form, it’s disappointing when she ends up simply existing for Bond’s momentary pleasure. Swan is thankfully given much more development; she and Bond fall in love, a love they say is true and real. But we’re given so much less to work with than the relationship between Bond and Vesper Lynd in Casino Royale that it’s hard to take seriously. It is refreshing to see Bond truly taking an interest in protecting someone, even at the risk of his own life, rather than using her simply for sex.

Spectre is even more deliberately paced than Skyfall. This movie is slow; I’d go so far as to call it a drag. I certainly don’t need my Bond film to be action-packed; Casino Royale’s extended poker sequence comes to mind. But when everything feels as low-stakes as it does here, the emotional impact of the quieter scenes is weakened. There’s nothing here that gets the heart racing; the action sequences, minus one memorable fight on a train, feel as sleepy and devoid of genuine drama as the rest of the film. Part of the problem may be the film’s cinematography, which features tons of drab beiges and blacks. Roger Deakins’ magnetic presence, which made every scene of Skyfall sing, is sorely missed here. The other issue is the film’s almost slavish devotion to formula: aerial fight sequence, sex scene, car chase, quiet scene of dialogue to give the audience a breather, train fight, other sex scene, torture scene, etc. When we can almost predict every scene, the pacing loses much of its impact.

With a cast and crew this talented, there are bound to be some pros to a film like Spectre. The story is quite good; it brings the Craig era of the franchise full-circle and sets up Spectre as the proper evil organization Bond fans love to hate. The way it manages to tie everything together is satisfying on a plot level.

Thank God for Christoph Waltz. The actor, who has already won two Oscars, can seem to do no wrong. He absolutely steals every scene he’s in; the rapport between him and Bond is absolutely electric. He strikes the perfect balance between charming and menacing that many felt had been missing from recent Bond films. Unfortunately, there’s not nearly enough of him, but he manages to almost single-handedly enliven the final third of the film.

Unfortunately you have to slog through the rest of the film to get to the good stuff. And what a slog it is. Spectre is a dull and dreary experience of interminable length. Nothing is outright bad here, but nothing grips you either. Longtime  franchise fans will likely get a lot out of the film’s numerous throwbacks and intriguing story, but everyone else may be scratching their heads wondering where it all went wrong.

The story of Philippe Petit is pretty incredible, so much so that Hollywood has come calling more than once. The story of the French daredevil (some would say crazy) high wire walker was first told in the Oscar-winning documentary Man on Wire. That film brilliantly documented Petit’s dangerous (and extremely illegal) wire walk across the World Trade Center towers in the 1970s. Now, Robert Zemeckis (Forrest Gump, Cast Away) has crafted an immensely entertaining dramatic telling of the same story. He also continues to show his mastery of technology and the 3-D format in particular.

Joseph Gordon-Levitt plays Petit, the French acrobat that fell in love with wire walking at a young age. He comes under the tutelage of circus master Papa Rudy (Ben Kingsley), who reluctantly teaches him how to rig lines so he won’t break his neck. Petit is an inexplicably happy, almost unflappable optimist, but it isn’t until he sees an article about the construction of the tallest towers in the world that he finds his purpose in life. We the encouragement of his girlfriend Annie (Charlotte Le Bon), he begins to brush up on his English and steel himself for his greatest challenge.

Of course, breaking into the World Trade Center before it even opens in order to perform a death-defying stunt is more than a little illegal. But that’s not the kind of things that gets in the way of a dreamer like Philippe. He must assemble a crew for the job by bringing together a ragtag group of dreamers including a couple of American stoners, an official photographer and, hilariously, a fellow Frenchman with an extreme case of vertigo.

The first part of the film, which delves into Petit’s upbringing and initial motivation for his walk, is a bit sleepy. It’s charming enough, but it suffers from pacing issues, and the constant narration from Philippe doesn’t help. We hear an awful lot of Gordon-Levitt’s dubious French accent throughout the film, and rarely a scene goes by without his colorful commentary on the situation. The narration is interesting at first but begins to grate as the film goes on.

The Walk is old- fashioned in its storytelling, but its cutting-edge use of 3-D technology is second to none.

This issue is confounded in the film’s second half, which is nonetheless much more interesting. Zemeckis plays it like a straight heist film, even more so that Man on Wire, with lots of smooth talking, disguises and close calls with guards. Alan Silvestri’s score recalls some of the classic in the genre in all the best ways. And yet, we’re frequently taken out of the moment when we cut to Philippe as he dramatically stands atop the Statue of Liberty telling us how he feels in each scene. I don’t mind such narration as a cinematic convention on principle, but less would have definitely been more here.

Zemeckis wisely understands we’re here for the climax, the walk itself, and it does not disappoint. It is one of the most exhilarating set piece moments in movie history. As great as Man on Wire is, we never really got to feel like we were on the wire with Petit. Through breathtaking cinematography and a masterful use of 3-D technology, the film manages to make us feel like we’re experiencing every moment. I can’t applaud the use of 3-D enough here; seeing it in IMAX is not optional. The result is relentlessly intense and visceral. I found myself clutching my head in tension. Of course, we know Petit makes it off the wire, or he wouldn’t be telling us his story, but the realism and intensity of the way the walk is portrayed here makes this a non-issue. Such a ridiculous, bold, completely foolish endeavor has never before been attempted, and never will be again.

This point is brought home by the fact that the Twin Towers no longer exist. The memory of what those towers meant, and what they now mean, to New Yorkers and to America, gives the film and extra layer of bittersweet poignancy. There’s even a scene where a character explains that, before Petit, locals were not fans of the towers and thought them an eyesore. After the Walk, however, New Yorkers felt a newfound sense of pride in their city, one where so many dreams are made.

The Walk is decidedly old-fashioned cinema. Like Petit itself, its bold and brilliant, self-obsessed and a bit cheesy, but ultimately inspiring. If you can forgive some slack pacing and off-putting narration, it may inspire you to dream a little bigger. That healthy dose of optimism is something the movies could use more of.

Sicario is the kind of film that begins with a knife thrust and spends the rest of its running time slowly twisting the handle. There has been a small handful of films made about the border drug wars, but in its own haunting way, Canadian filmmaker Denis Villeneuve’s highly anticipated follow-up to Prisoners and Enemy may be the best.

Emily Blunt continues to show off her brilliance as Kate Macer, a young, naïve FBI agent who is recruited to be part of an inter-agency cartel busting taskforce after she comes across a grisly house of corpses in an Arizona stronghold run by drug kingpin Manuel Diaz. The leader of the taskforce, Matt Graver (Josh Brolin) plays to Kate’s sense of justice, convincing her that the only way to stem the flow of violence on the border between the U.S. and Mexico is to gun for the guy at the top.

Also on the taskforce is the mysterious Alejandro (Benicio Del Toro), a supposed expert on the cartels. Kate is understandably reluctant to trust such a rogue element, but she nonetheless travels with the team between Arizona and Mexico as they attempt to gather information on the cartel and its dangerous leader.

The film is a slow burn, taking plenty of time to set up the conflict and show us why messing with the drug cartels is such dangerous business. This is wisely shown mostly through gorgeous visuals thanks to the typically excellent work of cinematographer Roger Deakins. Deakins shoots most scenes from a variety of creative angles, allowing the audience to feel more like bystanders in the film rather than passive viewers of it. Both the beauty and violence of the harsh desert landscape where most of the film occurs are contrasted beautifully.

Sicario is a gritty portrayal of the border wars that is unafraid to tackle weighty themes.

The masterful camerawork is bolstered by incredibly fine acting all around. Blunt gives perhaps her best performance as a woman torn between her sense of duty and her desire for survival, her dedication and her increasing desperation. Kate is completely unprepared for this work, and Blunt carries it all on her shoulders as her character begins to question why she was chosen for the taskforce to begin with. Del Toro’s work is equally reserved, which makes his character all the more formidable. It’s the kind of role he could have taken way over the top (The Usual Suspects comes to mind), but he instead settles for subtle, sinister and absolutely brilliant. Every scene he shares with Blunt is electric.

But where the film leaves its most lasting mark is its pacing. Villeneuve has proven a modern master at allowing tension to slowly build without granting release. I think of the old adage about the toad in the boiling water. You don’t even know you’re burned until it’s too late. Screenwriter Taylor Sheridan smartly holds back the on-screen violence. It’s blunt and brutal in its realism, but only because there aren’t bullets flying every five minutes. There are only a handful of action scenes, but each one is memorable.

Some might find Sicario’s pacing too slow, anti-climactic or not cathartic. But its refusal to adhere to what we expect from this type of film is what makes it so good. The goal of the filmmakers was to convey one of life’s most challenging concepts: futility. The drug trade is portrayed like the Hydra; for every head you cut off, two grow back in its place. What happens when our sense of ultimate justice doesn’t jibe with the corrupt systems this world has put in place? The film’s bitter frustration over this question hits home during a quietly effective ending that is one of the best I’ve seen in a long while.

Like the brilliant Prisoners, Sicario (hitman in Spanish) has some important questions boiling underneath its gritty realism. How do we destroy the monsters we face in this world? And can we do so without becoming monsters ourselves? The fact that Sicario doesn’t provide an answer is one of the many things that make it one of the best films of the year.

One of the best things about the cinema is its ability to transport us to places we would never imagine visiting in real life. For me, Mount Everest would be near the top of that list. What would it be like to attempt to conquer nature’s most formidable peak? The film Everest, based upon John Krakauer’s book Into Thin Air, does this better than almost any film I’ve ever seen. The film, which was partially shot on the mountain itself, does an incredible job of making us feel like we’re on the mountain, from the frigid temperatures to the icy winds and formidable heights.

The film recounts Krakauer’s true-life account of a 1996 expedition to summit the mountain by a group of explorers that goes terribly wrong. Krakauer (played in the film by Michael Kelly) joins up on an expedition with Adventure Consultants, led by adventuresome Kiwi Rob Hall (Jason Clarke). Hall has spent years guiding intrepid mountaineers up the slopes. This year’s group is especially well-qualified. There’s brash Texan Beck Weathers (Josh Brolin), Yasuko, a Japanese climber who has scaled 6 out of the world’s tallest peaks and aims to make Everest her seventh, and Doug Hansen (John Hawkes), a self-proclaimed everyman who was forced to turn back in a previous scaling attempt, among others. All the climbers have their own reasons for climbing, but they all have an equal determination to make it to the top. But Everest cares little for the hubris of man.

Director Baltasar Kormákur and screenwriters William Nicholson and Simon Beaufoy do a great job of easing into the climb; the film’s first half fills us in on the myriad perils of climbing a 29,000 foot peak. The climbers, who have paid an astronomical sum (about $60,000, the film tells us) for this chance, must first go through 40 days of rigorous training. This includes acclimating their bodies to the thin air, which can result in climbers hacking up blood or even going mad (some poor souls have been known to throw off their clothes, exclaiming that they’re boiling hot even as their bodies succumb to hypothermia). We’re also introduced to the rivalries that exist between competing expedition companies, including Hall’s friendly competition with Scott Fischer (Jake Gyllenhaal). This focus on acclimating both the climbers and the audience to the grandiosity of the climb pays off. We feel everything the climbers have gone through to reach the actual day of the climb, and we feel the dread of knowing that, despite all that preparation, the mountain could still win.

Everest is an engaging and beautifully shot adventure that never quite reaches the thrilling heights of its namesake.

In its almost slavish dedication to telling the true-life story of the expedition and how it went wrong, the film suffers in its abundance of characters. There are literally dozens of characters I’ve failed to mention (all played by very fine actors), all of them based upon real-life people. In the context of a movie, I start to lose focus. It’s hard to care about everyone equally when some are given deep backstories and motivation and others almost none. Throw large snow jackets and headgear on them and the situation becomes even more complicated. I wish the screenwriters had focused on less characters; eliminating a few characters or combining them with others would have worked wonders.

In Everest, the real star is clearly the mountain itself, and it doesn’t disappoint. Salvatore Totino’s cinematography is marvelous, never failing to remind us of both the beauty and the terror of it all. This is a film that is meant to be seen on the largest screen possible. If you’ve ever wanted to know what it actually feels like to be on Everest, this is one to check out.

In attempting to mimic Krakauer’s exhaustive attention to detail, Everest often feels like a documentary. That has its pluses and minuses. The film is so dedicated to realism that it seems to forget that mountain climbing can sometimes be, well, boring, no matter how imposing the mountain may be. Despite the impressive visuals, I was never really on the edge of my seat. Perhaps the right term is workmanlike. This may be how it really feels to climb the mountain, but the cinematic payoff is decidedly underwhelming. The talent both behind of and in front of the camera is off the charts, but Everest never crackles like it should.

Sometimes it’s hard to pinpoint what a film doesn’t have, only that it doesn’t have it. Here, it feels like we’ve traveled but we never really arrive. I didn’t walk out of the theater saying “wow,” but I also felt a lot closer to Mt. Everest than I ever thought I would. I admire the craftsmanship of Everest more than the final product. But, as far as craftsmanship goes, it remains an occasionally gripping and mighty impressive spectacle.