2007 / Wes Anderson > Anderson knows how to seduce me. Emotionally, visually, with music and wonderment, the man has a certain style that gets me at the core. Even now, several months after having seen The Darjeeling Limited for the first time, I can’t forget the The Kinks’ “This Time Tomorrow” and the opening sequence it accompanies. It has, in this short time, become one of the most memorable film moments of my life. But unlike The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou, the thematics presented here are considerably more universal.

We’re all in search of something, always. After we find one thing, we realize we’re missing something else. The brothers in the film search for ways to deal with loss, love and redemption using their own paths. But one thing leads to another, and things are never as simple as they seem. Ironically, this leads to my primary qualm about the film: Several times the movie seems to end only to continue on. Pacing becomes an issue until we realize we’re like that too. Sometimes the journey is the solution in itself, and sometimes it doesn’t end when you think it ought to. The Darjeeling Limited is an experience that sticks, moreso than any Anderson film, in those small spaces in your mind that keep hope alive.

2005 / Stephen Gaghan > It’s hard not to appreciate the way in which Syriana unfolds, slowly, meticulously and filled with a sense of legitimacy. It’s neither partisan nor apologist, two qualities that are very hard to find in films that tackle geopolitical issues like oil, terrorism and espionage. In contrast to the recent Body of Lies, Gaghan doesn’t try to wrinkle out emotions out of every nook and cranny, but rather works with the audience to connect dots that are far from obvious. The plot’s complexity mirrors the real world in ways that never feels forced. Even when dealing with the topic of American imperialism, there’s a silver lining of sorts as oilman Tim Nelson Blake tells prosecutor Jeffrey Wright: “Corruption is our protection. Corruption keeps us safe and warm. Corruption is why you and I are prancing around in here instead of fighting over scraps of meat out in the streets. Corruption is why we win.” Yes, it’s blatantly ironic, but that’s fine. The tone is a undoubtedly pessimistic because unfortunately that’s the kind of world this has become. And because we live in it, a film like this is easy to digest and even easier to appreciate.

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.

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 / Ben Affleck > Whatever you may say about the elder Affleck, know that his directorial debut is as sharp and promising as any this year. In supplement, also know that the younger Affleck is burgeoning into a full-fledged actor of a certain range and emotion that ought to impress for some time. Putting these two together with Dennis Lehane’s novel and a superb performance from The Wire’s Amy Ryan, we eventually come to find a final product that utilizes a child kidnapping as a device via which to question and analyze morality. Undoubtedly, one of the toughest distinctions over right and wrong is faced by those who are paid to uphold the law, and Gone Baby Gone explores this to a satisfying and almost fatalistic degree.