Suspiria / **** (1977)

The first thing to assault us is the music. A haunting, odd melodic blend of low menacing synths underneath joyful chimes harkens the memory to the days of sinister fairy tales, when beautiful maidens wandered aimlessly through a world quietly plotting to end them. Almost on cue, the chime is followed by the arrival of attractive Suzy Bannion (Jessica Harper), who wanders an airport terminal after a long flight overseas brings her to Italy. Notice the space between her and the glass doors of the exit briefly seems exaggerated, as if they are moving away with each step. When the doors close, the musical chords drop to total silence. She moves in, now faster and with more determination, until they open, allowing the chime to begin again as she finally crosses the threshold into the stormy night. The music overwhelms her, as if it were not music at all, but a sonic enchantment transporting her out of the safety of one world for the uncertainty of the next. For Dario Argento, the enamored filmmaker, this is merely an overture in a decadent urban retelling of Snow White. But for the many admirers (and curious onlookers) of the great “Suspiria,” it is the first of many important moments in the most visually striking horror film they may ever see.

Beauty and the Beast / ** (2017)

Once upon a time, in a faraway board room of a money-hungry movie studio, someone voiced an idea that signaled the beginning of the end of original concepts: “let’s take all of our animated pictures and remake them into live action ones!” Although the undertaking might have inspired intriguing subtexts, the standard remained depressingly derivative, inevitably leading to a cluster of endeavors that rarely expanded the imaginations of their viewers. And thus Disney gave voice to executives whose primary motivation was dollar signs, an impulse that paved the way for routine retellings of “Alice in Wonderland,” “Cinderella” and “Pete’s Dragon.” In rare instances, granted, were endeavors that added interesting spins to their premise (“Maleficent”) or even surpassed rather flawed sources (“The Jungle Book”). But when the decision to retool “Beauty and the Beast,” one of the finest of all animated achievements, came down the pike, the core of this capitalist motivation seemed no longer able to masquerade behind plausible convictions. What could today’s artists, really, do to a story that had seemingly been perfected in hand drawings? Was something undiscovered waiting among all those talking pieces of furniture? If anything at all can be said of the live-action rendition beyond a few isolated touches of skill, it’s that the director, Bill Condon, has effectively produced the first movie musical for the “Glee” generation. And that is not something to be proud of.

Moana / *** (2016)

Once upon a time in a faraway Hollywood boardroom, producers and executives fashioned the premise for what would become the most impenetrable force of mainstream movie genres: the family film formula. Few avenues have been as loyal to the perseverance of that standard as the animated feature, though their images are often devised to blur one’s awareness of the process; the belief is that the more distinctive or colorful the style, the less likely it is for someone to pick up on the conventional nuances or predictable indicators. But those well-versed in film cartoons eventually find themselves deciphering the output with two minds: as a child-at-heart in search of harmless adventure, and as a seasoned adult with the nerve to understand the mechanics functioning behind the curtain. A good movie will allow the former perspective of circumvent the skepticism of the other, but others may simply sell their illusions too candidly for us to forget their underlying clichés. As I watched Disney’s new “Moana,” both sides of that brain engaged in a tug-of-war that tempered my enthusiasm for what would otherwise have been a harmless experience.

Kubo and the Two Strings / ***1/2 (2016)

One of the lost pleasures of the movies is going into a theater and gaining the sense that you have been absorbed in the far reaches of a new imagination. Just 16 years into a century of technical breakthroughs and creative dexterity, so few endeavors ever deal with concepts as novel as they are thorough. But “Kubo and the Two Strings,” a new stop-motion animated film from Laika Entertainment, is the antithesis of that belief, a film of nourishing visual insights and visionary storytelling that inspires as thoroughly as it dazzles. And that’s a surprise worth noting when one becomes aware of how taxing the endeavor must have been on its visual artists, who logged countless hours on building elaborate sets and crafting intricate details for a story set in medieval Japan. What inspired them to take the route they did, especially when the premise they were working with felt tailor-made for the styles of Hayo Miyazaki? Helmed by Travis Knight (who was among the skilled animators of “The Box Trolls” and “Coralline”), what pulsates on screen is nothing short of a remarkable artistic achievement, willfully empowered by clever facets in the edges and characters that have the adventurous spirit of some of the classic Disney heroes.

Into the Woods / **1/2 (2014)

Personality goes a long way in driving the engine of movie musicals, and in Rob Marshall’s new adaptation of “Into the Woods” the screen is inhabited by no less than four unforgettable ones. Any endeavor of this flamboyant nature is already destined to contain magnetism when a talent like Meryl Streep shows up to the party; once you throw in Johnny Depp, Tracey Ullman and Emily Blunt into the mix as well, you have established an ensemble that is saturated in all sorts of devious possibilities. That each of them are competent as emotive singers of the material certainly strengthens the assuredness of their casting, and when they engage in the endless array of quirks mandated by the whacky narrative scope, their charisma acts as a convincing lure in earning our undying interest. At the heart of their mischievous scene-chewing is a story that is probably much less interesting in the absence of dominating figures, but of course it is; those old youthful fables are a little blasé in the context of adult-driven cynicism, which almost necessitates the need for some kind of flashy demeanor standing in between the material and pessimistic viewers to mediate their connection.

Frozen / ***1/2 (2013)

At the heart of every good fairy tale is a plethora of wondrous images and thoughtful subtexts. Disney’s “Frozen,” the latest of a long line of motion picture endeavors from the studio to first discover this reality, arrives at the epicenter of that tradition with enthralling results: funny, whimsical and delightful to a fault, it is one of those movies that engages minds of all ages, much in the same way that “Beauty and the Beast” and “Sleeping Beauty” did for their respective generations. And this notion comes, ironically enough, as a bit of a surprise – unexpected in the sense that its confidence is usually a lost virtue in the age of cynicism, and the movie’s values are a clear departure from the more recent standards of computer-generated animation, which usually involve bright colors and mindless adventure. Somehow, these filmmakers resist bowing to those conventions. Based on an enduring little story by Hans Christen Anderson, here is a movie that champions the cause of more wistful and enchanting standards and brings them back to a golden benchmark. And like the recent “Tangled,” it also rediscovers the liveliness of classic fables while supplying it with a modern brashness.

Maleficent / *** (2014)

A movie like “Maleficent” is probably too safe and traditional an endeavor to deserve a performance as striking as that of Angelina Jolie’s, but lo and behold there it is, absorbing all in its path in a frame filled with images seeped in misleading allure. A talented actress with consistent versatility in roles, she doesn’t so much step into a well-known persona as she reinvents it, putting a pointed emphasis into the hidden dimensions of her character through a behavioral distinction that utilized focused gazes amidst flashes of shrewd dialogue and wry humor. To see her is to be thoroughly enraptured by her presence – so enchanted, in fact, that there comes a moment where one wonders if she even knew how uneven the script in front of her was, or if she simply got too caught up in the embodiment to care. The result does few favors to the story but adds resonance to the long-standing reality of our most gifted movie thespians: if there is one glimmer of hope lost in a sea of clichés, a true professional can indeed turn it into a powerful guiding light.