Now we’ve arrived at the Top Five! My five favorite films ever to win Best Animated Feature — not necessarily the “best” from an objective stance, but the ones that stand highest in my heart.

5. Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Were-Rabbit (2005)

Of all the Western companies that produce animated features, Aardman Films have perhaps the most likable output of all. Even their weakest films are almost impossible to dislike. 2005’s Best Animated Feature winner isn’t my favorite Aardman work — that would be Chicken Run, which was made and released before the category was created — but it’s still an inspiring combination of humor, horror, and heart, as our heroes, cheese-loving human Wallace and his genius dog Gromit (who expresses himself only with his eyes), try to track down and neutralize a massive monster rabbit that’s terrorizing their village right before a big vegetable festival. I may have been careless about spoilers in my previous posts, but in this case I’m not going to spoil the identity of the Were-Rabbit, because this delightful film isn’t as widely-known and widely-viewed as it deserves to be, despite its Oscar win. Plus, two of Wallace & Gromit’s previous short films also won deserved Oscars. Track this one down and watch it if you haven’t already. If you’re a fan of British humor, as I definitely am, you’ll find it irresistible.

4. Zootopia (2016)

2016 was another of those years with multiple over-the-top strong contenders for the Oscar; I would have been very happy to see a three-way tie between this film, Moana, and Laika’s tragically underrated Kubo and the Two Strings, all splendid films deserving of victory. But this movie ranks this highly on my Favorite Winners list for several reasons. First, the heroine, rabbit police officer Judy Hopps (an in-joke to “21 Jump Street”), is a smart, resourceful, idealistic, yet flawed character, one of the most complex female leads we’ve seen from Disney. Second, the emphasis is not on Judy finding love but on her learning to do her job well, making this movie one of only two Best “Picture” winners (the other being 1991’s Silence of the Lambs) to center on a female lead’s work rather than her relationships. Third, the cross-gender (and cross-species) friendship between Judy and fox Nick Wilde is a treat, as both characters learn and grow as they come to value one another. Fourth, the movie is a gorgeous masterpiece of world-building, the titular metropolis being both elaborately designed and delightfully “lived in.” A joy all around. And oh, yeah: when Mister Big threatens to “ice” somebody, take him seriously!

3. WALL-E (2008)

As with all the best Pixar films, 2008’s winner is stunning to look at, from the opening sequence in the wasteland Earth has become due to humanity’s maxing out its resources, to the scenes that take place on the vast, sterile Axiom spaceship, yet at the heart of the creative and thought-provoking world lies a story of a relationship, in this case the romance between outmoded but adorable trash compactor WALL-E and sleek, state-of-the-art vegetation evaluator EVE. WALL-E is our winsome protagonist, the commoner falling in love with the princess and pursuing her to her palace in space. Wherever he goes, change follows. He brings EVE into the shelter where he keeps all the artifacts he’s saved from the trash cubes, and from this she learns about joy. He bumps into two of the humans aboard the Axiom, John and Mary, thus knocking them out of their motorized existence and enabling them actually to see the world around them, and each other. He bumps into the captain of the Axiom and gets soil on the man’s hands; the captain has never seen or touched soil and has no idea what it is, so he feeds it into a machine to be identified, and thus begins his education about the Earth that he and all his passengers have forgotten. Yet WALL-E himself never changes, never even realizing the changes he inspires in those around him. EVE, by contrast, has a growth arc, making her much more than a simple love interest; she learns to see beyond her “directive” and live, and at the climax she’s as much a hero as WALL-E himself. A beautiful film.

2. The Incredibles (2004)

2004’s winner is the first good (strong emphasis on good) movie to feature a female superhero — two of them, actually — so of course it finds a home near the top of my favorites list. But groundbreaking representation aside, this movie showcases all the strengths of Pixar’s Golden Age. We have a multi-generational ensemble protagonist, directly flying in the face of the lie that animated films are strictly “children’s entertainment.” We have complex characters who evolve through their experience, from insurance adjuster Bob Parr, a.k.a. Mr. Incredible, a reluctantly retired superhero dealing with midlife malaise, to Helen Parr, a.k.a. Elastigirl, a housewife forced back into “hero work” who discovers she misses it a lot more than she thought she did, to Violet, a shy, awkward teenage girl with force-field/invisibility powers, caught between the “normalcy” she thinks she craves and the superhero side that both frightens and excites her. (Preteen speedster Dash doesn’t really change much, but then, he’s a kid, and he’s still a lot of fun.) We have abundant humor, much of it provided by Edna Mode, a fashion designer who creates fabulous and functional costumes for superheroes. (“No capes!”) We have an action-packed plot, as the superpowered Parr family must confront a power-hungry villain who’s been killing superheroes in order to steal their powers. And we have an outstanding voice cast, featuring Craig T. Nelson as Bob, Holly Hunter as Helen, director Brad Bird as Edna, Jason Lee as the villainous Syndrome, Samuel L. Jackson as Bob’s best buddy Lucius, a.k.a. Frozone, and Wallace Shawn making the most of his small role as Bob’s shouty Napoleon of a boss. The movie is like an enormous clock. All the cogs mesh, and it works beautifully.

1. Spirited Away (2002)

This Studio Ghibli film, the jewel in the justly acclaimed Japanese studio’s crown (among many), is visually like nothing you’ve seen. Its setting is a spa for gods, spirits, and monsters that only appears when the sun goes down, and oh, are those gods, spirits, and monsters a fantastically varied lot, some hideous, some beautiful, all weird. Humans who stumble onto this place in the daytime may think they’ve found a deserted amusement park. They’ll be all right as long as they follow a simple rule: Don’t eat the food! Alas, the human couple we meet at the beginning of the film aren’t able to resist the sumptuous smells when the food is laid out in preparation for the evening, and they sit down to gorge themselves. In no time, they’re transformed into pigs. It’s up to their awkward, frightened daughter, Chihiro, to save them. At first, this girl hardly seems up to the task, being the type to jump at her own shadow; her cowardice actually saves her from her parents’ fate, as she backs away from the tasty spread with a shiver and a shake of her head while they urge her to eat. However, as the wizard Gandalf once said of Bilbo Baggins, there is more about her than you guess. She finds in herself reserves of courage, resourcefulness, wisdom, and compassion as she navigates this strange and terrifying world. When she makes mistakes, she risks all to put them right, and by the movie’s conclusion she has saved more than just her parents. Studio Ghibli had made wonderful films about girls’ coming of age before, most notably My Neighbor Totoro and my sentimental favorite Kiki’s Delivery Service, but this is their most complex and perhaps the most rewarding treatment of the subject. It’s certainly far out in front of anything we’ve seen from a Western studio, save perhaps 2020’s Wolfwalkers.

And there it is, the finale of my Best Animated Feature winner rankings. Coming soon: the Best of the Rest (the nominees that didn’t take home the prize).

We’ve reached the Top Eleven in my ranking. From this point, every film on the list is one I love and have watched, or will watch, repeatedly.

11. Finding Nemo (2003)

This product of Pixar’s Golden Age features waterscapes stunning to behold and features such scene-stealing characters as Bruce, the Great White shark undergoing group therapy to change his fearsome carnivore image (“Fish are friends, not food!”) and Crush, the surfer-dude sea turtle whose laid back attitude provides an amusing contrast with protagonist Marlin’s nonstop anxiety. The movie begins on a note of horror, as Marlin the clownfish sees his wife and all their eggs but one wiped out, whereupon he dedicates his life to protecting his surviving offspring, the titular Nemo. When a SCUBA-diving dentist nabs Nemo and place him in an aquarium, Marlin must swim to his rescue, and both father and son must navigate uncharted territory. In terms of representation, male characters outnumber female, but we do get a step away from “male as default” with a major character who could have been male but instead just happens to be female: Dory, a blue tang who proves quite resourceful despite suffering from short-term memory loss. Instead of a bromance, we get a charming cross-gender friendship as the ever-optimistic Dory latches onto worrywart Marlin. The voices are perfectly cast, with Albert Brooks being his anxious A-game to the character of Marlin and Ellen DeGeneres endowing Dory with humor and warmth, but my favorite performance is Willem Dafoe’s as the scarred, hard-bitten Gil, whom Nemo meets in the aquarium and who helps him hatch an escape plan.

10. Shrek (2001)

The inaugural winner of the Best Animated Feature Oscar also served as Dreamworks Animation’s warning shot across the bow of the great ship Disney. On its initial release, fans of irony ate it up, relishing such parodies as the “Welcome to Duloc” song (take that, “It’s a Small World”!) and Princess Fiona’s duet with a songbird that ends with the poor bird’s blowing up (take that, Snow White!). But what gives this movie its staying power, for me, are the relationships — misanthropic ogre Shrek’s prickly bromance with the loquacious Donkey and his romance with a princess who isn’t quite what she seems. Fiona’s beauty doesn’t affect Shrek in the slightest; rather, he takes an interest in her when he sees that, as Donkey exclaims, “She’s as nasty as you are!” The romance evolves slowly, something we see all too rarely even in live-action films ostensibly aimed at adults. Also, the traditional Beauty-and-the-Beast formula is upended when Fiona gets her happy ending at the moment she no longer meets the accepted beauty standard. “I’m supposed to be beautiful,” the ogre-fied Fiona says with dismay. “You are beautiful,” the starry-eyed Shrek tells her. That’s all she needs to hear. Perfect. In the voice-acting area, Mike Myers (Shrek), Eddie Murphy (Donkey), Cameron Diaz (Fiona), and John Lithgow (the villainous Lord Farquaad, whose line “Some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I am willing to make” has justly become a meme) all acquit themselves well.

9. Encanto (2021)

In many ways, this is one of those movies seemingly designed to please me. Funny, awkward heroine who likes to make things? Check. Lots and lots of female characters of various ages and body types? Check. One of those characters being a big-hearted Gentle Giant, a trope we rarely see in female guise? Check. A score full of bangers penned by Lin-Manuel Miranda, the giantess’s song being my favorite? Check. With all this, the story would have had to work hard to lose me. Thankfully, it didn’t. Mirabel, our resourceful, imaginative heroine, is the only non-magical member of a magical family, yet when the magic starts to fail, she takes it upon herself to save it, even though it means confronting her own sense of not-belonging and mending her dysfunctional relationships with her “perfect” older sister and authoritarian grandmother. On her quest to restore the magic, Mirabel becomes an agent of Truth, uncovering secrets that have the potential to upset the family order even more, at least as the stern Abuela Alma would have it. Luisa, our sweet giantess, feels she is worthless if she can’t be of service. Isabela, the perfect beauty with the power to grow vegetation, has a greater affinity for cacti than for the pretty pink flowers associated with her. Mirabel’s uncle Bruno, whom we don’t talk about, is not a ghoulish doomsayer but a loving brother and son with the burdensome “gift” of seeing the future, who has been hiding in the magical casita in order to be close to his family while sparing them his disruptive presence. Yet in the end, as the old saying goes, the Truth sets the family free, and Mirabel emerges with a healthier sense of her own value. Stephanie Beatriz (Mirabel), Maria Cecilia Botero (Abuela), and John Leguizamo (Bruno) are the standouts in a strong voice cast.

8. Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio (2022)

In some years, the field of Best Animated Feature nominees is so strong that any one of them would be a deserving winner. This past year, I loved all but one of the nominees without reservation, the exception being Netflix’s The Sea Beast, which I liked a lot but didn’t quite love due to its overly familiar story beats. Pixar’s Turning Red is a rollicking look at puberty, friendships, and parent-child tensions, featuring an adorable girl protagonist who, in moments of high stress, transforms into an even more adorable giant red panda. Dreamworks’ Puss in Boots: The Last Wish is a stunning sequel to an okay original, with a flawed but charismatic hero in Puss, a not-just-a-love-interest female lead in Kitty Softpaws, and two intriguing villains in the loathsome Big Jack Horner, so repulsive that even his would-be conscience dismisses him as beyond hope, and the mysterious whistling Wolf. A24’s Marcel the Shell With Shoes On is perhaps the most unique of all of them, a mockumentary about a sentient shell’s search for his missing family. You might be forgiven for thinking it’s a short-film gimmick stretched out to feature length, but actually watching the movie would prove how wrong you are as you come to love and root for the tiny Marcel; I should know, because this was exactly my experience.

In any other year, one of these films would have proudly walked away with the Oscar. But this was the year Netflix released Oscar-winning director and producer Guillermo del Toro’s stop-motion labor of love, which manages to take a story we know and make it like nothing we’ve seen. His Pinocchio manages to tackle grief, love, death, and fascism with a deft hand. Gepetto and Sebastian J. Cricket are interesting, complex characters far more flawed than their Disney versions, with Gepetto more fearful than welcoming of the new presence in his life and Sebastian serving as Pinocchio’s conscience because there’s something in it for him, but this incarnation of Pinocchio, with his clumsy, confused, and curious joy in the life he’s been endowed with and his devotion to his gruff, troubled “father,” is the most sympathetic I’ve seen. Plus, the animation itself is nothing short of miraculous, a welcome break from the standard CGI we’ve grown so used to. And the nose-growing scenes actually service the plot!

7. Toy Story 3 (2010)

In 1995, Pixar Animation Studios burst on the scene with Toy Story, a hilarious and heartwarming examination of the psychology of toyhood. By treating its inanimate subjects with depth and empathy, Pixar showed itself to be something extraordinary, and it would exploit its strengths in character development throughout its Golden Age — which, many people assert, came to an end with the release of Toy Story 3. The gang of toys in Andy’s room, led by cowboy Woody and Space Ranger Buzz Lightyear (brought vocally to life by Tom Hanks and Tim Allen), proved endearing and interesting enough to warrant sequels focusing on the progress of their “lives,” from Woody’s fear of being replaced and Buzz’s acceptance of his identity (Toy Story), to Woody’s growing awareness that as “his” kid grows up, all the toys will be abandoned (Toy Story 2), to the confrontation with that abandonment as Andy reaches college age (this particular film). Toy Story 3, much like Peter Jackson’s The Return of a King, is the climax of a remarkable story, a journey we in the audience have taken along with Woody and Buzz. True, Toy Story 4 came along nine years later to disturb the conclusion — the main reason a lot of people dislike the later film — but Toy Story 3‘s final scene, as Andy gifts his toys to little Bonnie and resists the temptation to hang onto Woody, remains note perfect. The movie also boasts a first-rate villain in Lotso Huggin’ Bear (Ned Beatty, kind of channeling Gene Hackman), a toy who ought to be adorable but is instead diabolical.

6. Inside Out (2015)

Not Pixar’s first movie with a female lead, but rather Pixar’s first great movie with a female lead, this movie takes us inside the mind of Riley, an athletic eleven-year-old girl whose happy life in Minnesota is uprooted when her dad gets a new job in San Francisco. Riley isn’t the real protagonist, though. That would be Joy, the embodiment of young Riley’s, well, joy, and the driving emotional force in her life so far, whose control over Riley’s mental and emotional console is threatened by the move and who considers it her job to keep Sadness (also female-coded) at bay. Joy’s impulsive reaction when Sadness touches one of Riley’s “core memories,” turning it from bring, happy green to gloomy blue, sends her and Sadness on a wild trip through Riley’s subconscious; meanwhile, the remaining emotions of Anger, Fear, and Disgust must seize control of the console for the first time and, of course, make a mess of their mission to keep things normal. Riley’s mental landscape is richly detailed, getting us invested in her even though we see very little of her from “outside.” The developing friendship between Joy and Sadness is satisfying, and Joy is a complex, flawed, and sometimes even infuriating protagonist — much like Woody, Bob “Mr. Incredible” Parr, Lightning McQueen, and Carl Frederickson. (Funny how these male leads are commonly loved and admired despite their mistakes, while Joy has haters unwilling to forgive hers.) Amy Poehler (Joy), Phyllis Smith (Sadness), Lewis Black (Anger), Bill Hader (Fear), Mindy Kaling (Disgust), and Richard Kind (Riley’s one-time imaginary friend Bing Bong) all turn in solid performances that add to the film’s zing.

As with all Pixar’s best films, Inside Out has its heartbreaking moments, most notably Bing Bong’s noble sacrifice to help restore Joy and Sadness to the console where they belong (“Take her to the moon for me, will you?”). But the most depressing aspect, for me, is the glimpse we get of the mental and emotional consoles of Riley’s parents. Joy is Riley’s driving force, but we see that Sadness controls the mother’s console while Anger drives the father’s. Joy’s initial refusal to surrender control of Riley’s console or acknowledge the importance of Sadness might be seen as “toxic positivity” in action, but the alternative is no more desirable — that as we reach adulthood, we become less and less satisfied with our lives. This, perhaps, is the film’s warning to the adults in the audience. We need Joy as much as Riley needs Sadness.

My husband and I went to our local movie theater to see Ruby Gillman: Teenage Kraken the other night. Normally a rating in the 60% range on Rotten Tomatoes would put us off, but the trailer looked like fun, and hey, a kraken heroine, which we’ve certainly never seen before, sounded like my jam. So we took a chance — and we ended up leaving the theater a little bitter at having, as my husband put it, “spent our money on mediocrity.” The movie only served to reinforce an unpleasant conclusion I’d come to when the reviews for Ruby Gillman first started to accumulate: that Dreamworks Animation, which seemed to be having a moment with last year’s one-two punch of The Bad Guys and Puss in Boots: The Last Wish, doesn’t even bother to try when their project has a female lead.

Among Dreamworks’ filmography, the following movies center on a female protagonist: Chicken Run (97% RT rating), Monsters vs. Aliens (74%), Home (52%), Trolls (nominally, 75%), The Croods (nominally, 72%), Abominable (82%), Spirit Untamed (48%), and the aforementioned Ruby Gillman (68%). Of this meager number, only Chicken Run and Abominable boast a critical consensus that suggests a substantial degree of effort was put into them, and only one, the delightful Chicken Run, might manage to earn a place among fans’ rankings of the studio’s top-notch output. Yet despite its charms, Chicken Run — perhaps because it’s regarded as more Aardman Animation than Dreamworks Animation — is rarely mentioned in discussions of Dreamworks’ best films, with The Prince of Egypt, the first two Shrek films, the Kung Fu Panda and How to Train Your Dragon trilogies, and now Puss in Boots: The Last Wish coming up a lot. To be fair, the studio has made their share of “mid” films with male leads as well, most notably The Boss Baby (although that film, despite having one of the most cringe-inducing trailers I’ve ever had the misfortune to see, still managed to make money), but with the possible exception of Chicken Run (if we credit it as Dreamworks rather than Aardman), all of the studio’s best movies center on male protagonists.

Why does Dreamworks seemingly refuse to bring their A game when making a movie with a girl as the lead? I wish I knew, but I have a theory that saddens me. It goes back to that old and disheartening notion that while stories centering on boys/men have universal appeal, stories about girls/women appeal only to girls. A story with a male lead, therefore, must please everyone; money is riding on it, and so more time and creative energy must be put into it. But a story with a female lead only has to be “good enough” to please girls, so the studio may adopt the cynical view that girls, having so little material out there for them, will take whatever they’re given. The low box office numbers for Ruby Gillman suggest this approach isn’t working for them.

Something else I’ve noticed as I’ve been pondering my rankings of Best Animated Feature Oscar winners (which I’ll resume in my next post, I promise) is a difference in the roles given to male characters in female-driven projects and the roles given to female characters in male-driven ones. Consider Zootopia and Moana, both nominated for 2016’s Best Animated Feature. Judy Hopps is the former film’s protagonist, but Nick Wilde is almost as important and just as interesting. Likewise, while Moana is a heroine well worth rooting for, male demigod Maui steals the show by being funny and brash in a way she isn’t allowed to be. (He also gets the movie’s best song, “You’re Welcome.”)

Characters like Nick and Maui will “bring the boys in,” giving them someone they’ll enjoy identifying with so they won’t feel the need to step into the shoes of the female lead. Almost every well-known animated movie with a female protagonist features one or more scene-stealing males: Sebastian in The Little Mermaid, Lumiere and Cogsworth in Beauty and the Beast, Mushu in Mulan, Rocky in Chicken Run, Ray and Louis in The Princess and the Frog, Flynn Rider in Tangled, Olaf in Frozen… the list goes on. If characters like these don’t feature heavily, the “wisdom” suggests, then boys won’t show up for the movie, so these roles must be built up, with plenty of visibility in the marketing and plenty of merchandise devoted to them — with the consequence that many an animated heroine isn’t even the most memorable character in her own movie. (Also, in some non-English speaking countries, Tangled was actually titled Rapunzel. In the United States, the movie became Tangled because boys wouldn’t touch The Princess and The Frog.)

Traditionally, no such concerns about big-tent box office have arisen with animated features with male leads; if the protagonist was male, the tent was assumed to be plenty big, and so we saw films like The Sword in the Stone and The Jungle Book, and then, some years later, Brother Bear, in which female characters only exist if a five-minute villain or a three-minute love interest is needed. More recent male-led films have been a bit more inclusive, with one or occasionally two female characters included to fill the role that the Reel Girl blog calls the “Minority Feisty,” the outspoken, hot-tempered, sometimes capable girl who, even when she is at her most badass, never manages to outshine the male hero or steal any scenes. Rarely is the “Minority Feisty” an animated film’s most memorable character. Almost as rarely is she the character with whom the girls in the audience will identify. How many girls want to see themselves in junior harridan Penny (Mr. Peabody and Sherman)? Or imbecile older sister Courtney (ParaNorman)? Or the underdeveloped “Smurfettes” Gloria (the Madagascar franchise), Tooth Fairy (Rise of the Guardians), or Kevin the bird (Up)? It’s assumed that the girls will instead imprint on the more developed male characters, because girls can do that. We’ve been socialized to connect with characters who don’t share our gender — which is, on the whole, a very good thing. It’s just a shame the same isn’t expected of, or conditioned in, boys.

Boys’ presumed inability to relate to female protagonists, along with the view that boys’ stories are universal while girls’ stories are niche, may be a contributing factor in a number of social ills, among them some (though far from all) male authors’ inability to create interesting and complex female characters who feel like real people rather than a mysterious, incomprehensible Other. Yet I hold out hope that things might yet change, that boys rushing to the theaters to see Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse might recognize parts of themselves in Gwen as well as in Miles, Peter, or Hobie. They who die by the story might, in time, live by the story.

Warning: Some of the following rankings may prove controversial.

17. Frozen (2013)

Disney’s box-office juggernaut is far from a terrible film. It has an interesting central female figure in Elsa, a likable comic sidekick in Olaf the snowman, and a good score with some powerful songs (although I wish “Fixer-Upper” had been eliminated). But much like Brave, this film lost some of its magic for me on re-watch. While I found Elsa’s struggle with her powers compelling, her sister Anna struck me as a throwback to those old-school Disney princesses who had no observable hobbies or interests beyond falling in love. While she does prove resourceful on her journey to save her sister and bring summer back to Arendelle, she remains, even at the end, too defined by her relationship to others (first Elsa, then Hans, then Kristoff) to really inspire me as a viewer.

16. Ratatouille (2007)

This film has one big point in its favor: an enormously sympathetic protagonist in gifted aspiring chef Remy the rat. It’s impossible not to root for him as he seeks to master the culinary arts and, in doing so, broaden the perceptions of what it means to be a rat beyond the limits set by humankind on the one hand and his narrow-minded father on the other. Anyone who has ever felt as if the world were trying to squeeze them down to fit into a small box can identify with him. Yet even though this movie has not suffered on re-watch, it ranks as low as #16 thanks to two words: Smurfette Principle. Aside from the tough-but-tender cook Colette, the love interest of human protagonist Linguini, every single character, both human and rat, is male. The lack of other human women makes some sense, as it’s established that Colette has to battle the sexism of the restaurant industry. But why not one single female rat? Remy’s father, his brother, or heck, even Remy himself could have been female without any impact on the plot. What’s at work here is the concept of “Male as Default,” in which characters are only female when the narrative requires them to fill some female-coded role (i.e. Love Interest). If a character could be either male or female with little or no difference to the plot, that character defaults to Male, the “normal,” unmarked gender. This concept has kept the number of female characters in all forms of fiction and media small for centuries, and only very slowly are we managing to move beyond it.

(Those animation fans looking for a counterbalance to Ratatouille‘s male-heavy narrative should check out fellow nominee Persepolis, a film just as good if not better, with a very unique look and a strong story of a girl’s coming of age in Islamic Revolution-era Iran, based on Marjane Satrapi’s graphic-novel autobiography.)

15. Up (2009)

This film and Ratatouille are actually neck-and-neck in my ranking, as what I like about them and what I find disappointing are very much the same. Like Ratatouille, Up features a very strong protagonist, although while Remy’s chief asset is his likability, Up‘s Carl Frederickson (masterfully voiced by Ed Asner) is memorable largely for his flaws; a grieving widower, he must learn to open his heart again as well as face down his childhood “hero” on his visit to Paradise Falls. Our rooting interest in Carl is solidified early on by a justly celebrated montage sequence in which we witness his marriage to his childhood friend Ellie, through years of hopes, disappointments, and supportive camaraderie. Ellie is shown to us in such a way that when she dies, we feel Carl’s loss along with him. Unfortunately, once Ellie disappears from the film after the first twenty minutes, no significant female character steps up to fill her vacant place. In Paradise Falls we meet Kevin the bird, but this silent creature has little to do beyond serving as a MacGuffin, a feathered damsel in distress. Also, as a mother bird with chicks, Kevin is female because she has to be. All the characters whose gender is incidental or irrelevant are male. “Male as Default” strikes again.

(The movie did give us the phrase “cone of shame.” That counts for quite a bit.)

14. Big Hero 6 (2014)

I don’t have much to complain about with this one. This superhero comedy-drama is fun. The world of San Fransokyo is endlessly creative, and while lead character Hiro’s personality isn’t as strong as Remy’s or Carl’s, he’s still easy to connect with. He’s surrounded by engaging supporting characters, including a pair of awesome heroines. And of course there’s Baymax. The bromance between Hiro and the lovable inflatable health-monitoring AI is the movie’s core. Yet for all its charms, it ranks at #14 because, for me anyway, it never quite rises to the heights of two extraordinary films it defeated in that year’s Animated Feature race: The Tale of Princess Kaguya and Song of the Sea. Big Hero 6‘s win feels too much like a triumph of corporation over quality, a victory that happened because of those Academy voters who didn’t bother to watch all the nominees and just marked their ballots for the best-known film. (The “expected Stan Lee cameo,” however, actually means something in the movie. Alas, it will forever be a “one-shot.”)

13. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)

This was a deserving win. The animation itself is gorgeous and innovative. Miles Morales is a solid protagonist with a more distinct personality than Hiro of Big Hero 6, and his story is compelling. The movie also gives us Spider-Gwen, the most active and interesting heroine to appear in Spider-cinema up to that point. It’s just not quite one of my personal favorites. (Its sequel, however, is.)

12. Toy Story 4 (2019)

I quite like this film in and of itself. The return of Bo Peep is a blast; finally the Toy Story franchise utilizes Annie Potts as she deserves. Several fun new characters are introduced, my favorite being Duke Kaboom (“Yes, we Canada!”). Plus, this is the first Pixar movie to give its villain a redemption arc, which I found refreshing. Yet while I enjoy the movie, did it need to exist? Sequels are tricky when the previous film ends with its characters in an almost perfect place; inevitably, the sequel will disturb that near-perfection, stirring up conflict where none needs to be. This is just what happens here, and it’s the main reason this movie has so many detractors. Toy Story 3 gave Woody, Buzz Lightyear, Jessie, and the gang the peaceful finale they deserved. Sadly, the sequel seems like a cash grab that turned out almost by accident to be a good movie.

“Animation is cinema.” — Academy Award-winning director Guillermo del Toro

Over the past three decades of cinema, few films have captured my imagination as much, or as consistently, as each year’s most notable animated features. Those who make no distinction between animated movies and “kids’ movies” might call it a symptom of my unwillingness to leave my childhood behind, and I can’t say they’re altogether wrong. (Except when it comes to their belief that animation is “just for kids.” In that regard they are 100% wrong.) But I claim it has more to do with the quality of the films themselves. These works combine innovation, intelligence, and empathy, three characteristics I appreciate in any form of cinema but which aren’t frequently found together in live-action films, especially the so-called “Oscar bait” released each last quarter of the year.

It’s no accident that the same people who dismiss all animation as entertainment for children — a way of thinking tragically on display at the 2022 Academy Awards ceremony, when the presenters of the Best Animated Feature Oscar joked about kids forcing their parents to watch animated movies “over and over and over” when the parents would rather be watching something else — also tend to sneer at film genres like science fiction, fantasy, and musicals; afflicted with what C. S. Lewis referred to as a “childish” desire to appear very grown up, they feel that the colder and edgier a film is, the more insightful, and therefore valuable, it must be. I would respectfully refer them to the recent release Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, which has been doing some strong box office. (I love when movies are popular because they deserve to be.) This movie, a visually striking masterpiece, tells a story more complex and thought-provoking than many live-action action-adventure films, placing its likable protagonists in situations where it’s next to impossible to do the right thing or even to figure out what that “right thing” is. And in this movie, the “right thing” could be so many things. In fact, it ends on a cliffhanger, so we don’t really know what that “right thing” is! But I digress.

Although mature tweens and teens would find much to enjoy — the characters are easy to relate to, and the action sequences are spectacular — Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse is not a “movie for children.” It’s also the likely front-runner in next year’s race for Best Animated Feature, unless Ruby Gilman: Teenage Kraken and Wish manage to surprise us. But will it garner the adapted screenplay nomination it deserves?

With this movie fresh in my mind, I’ve chosen to start a series ranking twenty-one of the twenty-two Best Animated Feature winners, from Least Favorite to Most. (I will not be ranking 2017’s Coco, as I have yet to see it.)

21. Happy Feet (2006)

This was a weak year for animated features, with three rather weak, mid-tier nominees, none of which might have managed to snag a nomination in a stronger year like 2009 or 2022. I do find certain aspects of Pixar’s Cars to be charming, particularly Paul Newman’s wise, warm turn as retired race car Doc Hudson, but I agree with the general consensus that it’s not among the studio’s top-notch efforts. Still, even Cars would have been a more deserving winner than the overlong and convoluted mess that is Happy Feet. I barely recall a thing about it, except the trouble I had staying interested in it past the halfway point and its adherence to the “Smurfette Principle” by having only one female character of any significance, whom it keeps on the sidelines for most of the run time. None of the characters made the slightest mark.

20. Rango (2011)

Like Happy Feet, this movie suffers from a meandering plot, and again, I found myself getting restless around the middle of its run time. I will acknowledge some of the character work is impressive, and some of its characters, namely Rango himself and his antagonist Rattlesnake Jake, made sort of an impact, certainly more than anyone in Happy Feet. But how a movie this flawed somehow managed to triumph over Dreamworks’ gorgeous, funny, fast-paced, moving, and always engaging Kung Fu Panda 2 is beyond my power to understand.

19. Soul (2020)

Maybe I haven’t been completely fair to this one, since I saw it after I had already fallen head over heels in love with the exquisite feminist animated fantasy Wolfwalkers, and nothing was going to change my mind that Cartoon Saloon’s film deserved Best Animated Feature. I nonetheless did my best to judge Pixar’s Soul on its own merits, and I found it wanting. While I do appreciate its creative depiction of the Afterlife, and I empathize with the movie’s flawed protagonist, a musician who dies in a pointless accident but who refuses to really, you know, die until he has played one magical gig, I took a hearty dislike to the secondary lead, an unborn soul dubbed “22” who refuses to be born because “Earth is boring.” Even after she underwent some character growth, I could not shake my dislike. This may have as much to do with me as with the character, since in real life I have next to no patience with blase’, unimaginative types whose favorite word is “meh” and who flatly refuse to be inspired by anything. Teachers’ Occupational Hazard, I suppose. Soul has its virtues, but it was not for me. (Also, would somebody please inform Disney/Pixar that calico cats are female? More on this when the time comes to talk about Big Hero 6.)

18. Brave (2012)

Pixar, who had previously invited us into the lives of toys, bugs, monsters, fish, and superheroes, finally gives us a movie with a female protagonist, and what do we get? A human princess. (Yawn!) One could, if one wished, read this as a commentary on how limited screenwriters’ imaginations still tend to be where female characters are concerned; while males can be absolutely anything, be it animal or inanimate, if a female is to lead the narrative she must be either human or, like Joy, Sadness, and Disgust in 2015’s Inside Out, humanoid. Still, this wouldn’t matter if the movie were stronger. When I first saw Brave, I found it charming, pleased with the grandeur of its medieval Scotland setting and its focus on a mother/daughter relationship, something we simply hadn’t seen in animated cinema before this movie happened. But it failed to hold up on re-watch. It disappoints me to see the heroine Merida being groomed for marriage rather than for rule, a mistake that 2016’s superior Moana would correct; I would find it much easier to see mother Elinor’s side of things if she were urging Merida toward the responsibility of government than toward a loveless political union. Plus, it chooses to inflict on us Merida’s monstrous triplet brothers, the three most annoying characters I’ve ever seen in a Pixar film (and remember, Pixar also gave us Tow Mater in the Cars franchise). While the characters in Happy Feet just bored me, these three I actively dislike. The bit where they, transformed into bear cubs, try to retrieve a key that a waiting woman has dropped down her bodice? Wrong on every level.

To Be Continued

Book Review: The Ruthless Lady’s Guide to Wizardry

After reading this as well as her previous work, Unnatural Magic, I’m ready to put author C.M. Waggoner among those whose new works I most look forward to. I know I’m going to get an intriguing mix of wit and drama, flavored with flawed, complex, but ultimately awesome female leads.

The Ruthless Lady’s Guide to Wizardry concerns Dellaria Wells, a grifter from the wrong side of the tracks gifted with the power of fire magic. Fire magic suits her, as she’s a hot mess, having lasted less than a month at the prestigious university for wizards before being kicked out and now seeking various ways to line her pockets, not only to make herself comfortable but to move her drug-addicted mother out of the crime-infested city. She seizes an opportunity to join a team of bodyguards (all women — all this book’s important humanoid characters are women) assigned to protect a high-ranking bride-to-be who’s been receiving death threats. She thinks it will be a fairly easy task, though her interest is less in protecting the young woman than in charming a wealthy fellow bodyguard, Winn Cynallum, and making her her meal ticket. But she soon finds herself in very deep, as the threats to the bride-to-be’s life are linked to the city’s dangerous drug trade and as she begins to fall hard for her “mark.” Suddenly the stakes are personal indeed, and Dellaria must find a way to become the hero Winn thinks she is.

The bad news is that I didn’t enjoy this book quite as much as I did Unnatural Magic. While that book had three different point-of-view characters, this one sticks with Dellaria only, and while I did find Delly an engaging and richly drawn character, I missed the multiple perspectives. When the romance unfolds in Unnatural Magic, we see it through the eyes of both characters, and as we get to know them both, we see how well they work together and become more and more invested in seeing their relationship succeed. In The Ruthless Lady’s Guide to Wizardry, we only see Winn through Delly’s perspective, from the outside looking in, so while their relationship is charming and I rooted for them, some of the depth and intensity was lost, at least for me. I would have liked to know Winn better. Big (she’s part troll), beautiful, smart yet soft-hearted, she’s just the kind of heroine whose head I would have loved to travel in.

Still, I found much to enjoy here, from the dry humor which never completely fades out even as danger mounts to the eclectic supporting cast (among them a bitter, grieving mother, an overly proud scientifically inclined mage, and a skeletal zombie mouse, the only male character of any real significance). Delly’s narrative voice is cynical — and the thing she’s most cynical about is herself — but we still find touches of sweetness, most of them courtesy of Winn. I’d recommend this to anyone who likes their fantasy with a bit of Jane Austen flair. Four out of five stars.

Movie Review: Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret

True confession: I’ve never read the Judy Blume book on which this film is based (though my husband has), since when I was growing up I never gravitated towards stories with realistic settings and characters. I still don’t, at least where books are concerned. Movies, however, are a different matter, and I ended up loving this film for the very realism and groundedness that disinclined me toward the book. Had I read the book, I might well have been impatient with Margaret’s lack of observable hobbies or interests, but through the movie I could see her very ordinariness works in the story’s favor, as she’s just a kid finding her way, trying to figure out what she wants and what she believes in as she navigates the land mines of puberty.

Margaret (Abby Ryder Fortson) is the daughter of a Jewish dad, Herb (Benny Safdie), and a Christian mom, Barbara (Rachel McAdams). Her parents have decided to raise her without any religion, so that when she grows up she can decide for herself which faith she wants to follow. But after her family leaves New York City and relocates to suburban New Jersey, Margaret, now having to make herself at home in a new place, starts to become curious about the nature of God; on a visit to her grandmother (Kathy Bates), she insists on going to Temple for the first time, and she goes to church with a friend, Janie (Amari Alexis Price), all the while engaging in dialogues with God about the changes in her life and in her body. A flawed heroine, she makes many a mistake along her way, but we see her learn from them, and she ends her story not in a perfect place but in a good one.

Movies that take an honest, thoughtful look at a girl’s journey through puberty are sadly few and far between, but even if they were more plentiful, Margaret would still stand out. There is so much to enjoy in this movie. Abby Ryder Fortson makes Margaret an immensely likable protagonist, someone we can identify with and root for. For once, we see a somewhat functional relationship between a tween heroine and her parents; even when they’re at odds, the bonds of love among them are never in doubt. The movie also departs from its source novel in a way I can appreciate: while Margaret is the book’s first-person narrator, the movie opens up the narrative to develop her mother, Barbara, as a co-protagonist, a woman with an artistic bent who does her best to play the role of suburban housewife and stay-at-home mother but comes increasingly to realize she’s not cut out for it. In one moving scene, she spies a colorful bird through her window, and she feels she must sketch it and rushes to the art supplies she’s packed away in storage, and then sits down with her drawing pencil — only for a PTA mom’s knock at her door to scare the bird away before she can draw more than a line. Just like her daughter, Barbara must find a way to be true to herself, and McAdams, like Fortson, is enormously likable in her role.

Among girl-centered movies from the 21st century, the ones I feel work best as companion pieces with Margaret are Pixar’s Inside Out and Turning Red. Inside Out shows 11-year-old Riley having to adjust to a new home, while Turning Red tackles the physical, mental, and emotional transformations of puberty by showing 13-year-old Mei changing into a giant red panda whenever emotion overwhelms her. The three films would make a marvelous binge-watch, but as much as I love the Pixar films, I feel Margaret takes the issues and ties them together in a more satisfying package. Sadly, it hasn’t managed to find its audience in theaters, but I hold out hope that it will become a huge success when it hits its streaming platform. Five stars.

2016: Moonlight [Haven’t Seen]

I need to get around to seeing this film; it features a number of actors I like, and it’s almost certainly better than the movie mistakenly announced as the year’s Best Picture, the dreary La La Land, a misguided attempt to breathe new life into the musical genre that makes the same mistake that put the genre on life support in the first place, e.g. casting non-singing, non-dancing actors. A dash of musical-talent charisma might have made the movie’s bland, narcissistic main characters halfway interesting, but alas, ’tis not so. (That this film got so much attention while the vastly superior In the Heights and West Side Story were ignored still has me a little salty.)

2017: The Shape of Water [Personal Favorite]

Dismissed by many as “that fish sex movie,” Guillermo del Toro’s historical fantasy about a mute janitor (Sally Hawkins) who learns to communicate with an aquatic humanoid (Doug Jones) imprisoned in the lab where she works is one of the few romantic dramas to win Best Picture, and it’s my favorite of those few. I admit I’m a sucker for stories of two underdogs taking on the world, particularly with del Toro’s deft creative hand behind them.

2018: Green Book [Haven’t Seen]

As much as I admire Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali, this one doesn’t feel like it’s for me. It gives me some distinct been-there-done-that vibes (Driving Miss Daisy, anyone?).

2019: Parasite [Good, but Not for Me]

This pitch-black comedy-drama about an impoverished Korean family tricking their way into a household of wealthy narcissists is brilliantly crafted and deeply disturbing. It accomplishes its goal and then some, shedding light on socioeconomic inequities and posing an uncomfortable question of its audience: to what lengths would you go in order to be safe? But it’s one of those movies I can admire yet not love. I have no issue with its win, since my favorite films of that year, The Farewell and Portrait of a Lady on Fire, were snubbed. But now that I’ve seen it, I never need to see it again.

2020: Nomadland [Good]

This slow-burning docudrama features Frances McDormand, one of the finest actresses working today, as a woman with no fixed abode, who moves from one place and low-level job to another, interacting with others who have chosen a similarly nomadic lifestyle. McDormand’s character is no victim driven to this way of life by harsh necessity. In fact, the best part of the movie is its refusal to judge her or her lifestyle; instead, we’re invited to make up our own minds. The movie’s biggest problem, the most likely reason this winner doesn’t have more vocal fans, is its episodic structure and lack of central conflict. But those looking for a fascinating slice of life should find much to enjoy here.

2021: CODA [Good]

This story of a “Child of Deaf Adults” (CODA), winningly played by Emilia Jones, torn between her longing to pursue her musical ambitions and her responsibility (as she sees it) to protect and care for her family was not my pick to win. I was rooting hard for Steven Spielberg’s West Side Story; had that film won, it would have earned God-Tier, or at least Personal Favorite. Still, CODA is solidly good, with a touching storyline, interesting and often likable characters, and strong performances all around. I understand complaints that nothing much about it stands out — my husband, though he enjoyed it, had issues with its predictability — but I do not agree with those who claim it had no business winning Best Picture because it’s a “feel-good movie,” as if that’s some sort of weakness, some sign of irrelevance or unintelligence. Should we really reserve the Best Picture Oscar for those movies that make us feel terrible? Surely not.

2022: Everything Everywhere All at Once [God-Tier]

Author Jorge Luis Borges would love Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert’s wild ride through a multiverse; it’s a veritable garden of forking paths, as its protagonist Evelyn (Best Actress winner Michelle Yeoh), a laundromat/dry-cleaner owner dissatisfied with her life and at odds with her daughter (the also excellent Stephanie Hsu). must confront a multitude of roads not taken and the various forms taken not only by her daughter but also her husband (Best Supporting Actor winner Ke Huy Quan), whose love is the one thing constant in every ‘verse she visits. This movie could so easily have misfired and left us talking about it as yet another example of shine over substance, of trickery replacing solid storytelling. Yet the screenplay, also the work of “the Daniels,” takes the time to develop the story’s characters and their relationships, grounding the bizarre affair in humanity and warmth. Weary, confused, but strong-willed Evelyn, in some worlds an action heroine and in others simply a loving, frightened mom out of her depth, provides the vital emotional core. If she isn’t my favorite live-action female protagonist of the past twenty years, she is certainly in the top five. And oh, yeah, Jamie Lee Curtis delivers the performance of a lifetime, earning her a well-deserved Best Supporting Actress Oscar.

What will 2023 have in store? I’ve already seen one excellent film — Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret — and I’m eager to see what’s next.

2010: The King’s Speech [Personal Favorite]

This British period piece is the most unpopular winner of the decade. Its detractors, most of them massive fans of David Fincher’s very contemporary, very American drama The Social Network, claim its victory serves as a sign that Academy voters are hopelessly old-fashioned and out of touch. They’re not far wrong — Academy voters can indeed be pretty darn out of touch — but I would argue that what it really reveals is the problematic nature of the Best Picture award itself, that two such different films — one a humanistic historical drama about a friendship that transcends the class divide, the other an edgy, cynical expose’ of humans’ appetite for exploitation and tendency toward betrayal — should be judged against each other when each film succeeds brilliantly in what it sets out to do. It all comes down to what flavor you’re hungry for, and I will always gravitate toward a smart, well-crafted heartwarming film, particularly one which features strong performances from Colin Firth (as King George VI), Geoffrey Rush (as speech therapist Lionel Logue), Helena Bonham Carter (as George’s loyal, loving Queen), Guy Pearce (as his feckless older brother Edward, who surrenders his throne to marry Nazi sympathizer Wallis Simpson), and Michael Gambon (as the exacting George V).

Perhaps the Academy voters took the criticisms to heart, as this marks the last victory (so far) for a British period drama. This Masterpiece Theatre fan blinks the mist from her eyes.

2011: The Artist [Good]

The first silent film since 1927’s Wings to win Best Picture, this one has met with some backlash as well, yet I find it an effective depiction of Hollywood’s transition from silent to sound movies and its displacement of one-time matinee idols like George Valentin (Jean Dujardin), the darker side of my beloved Singin’ in the Rain. Unlike John Gilbert, the silent star on whom he may have been based, George manages to struggle to an eventual happy ending, once he’s been humbled and learned to adapt. Yet, having seen in the film itself how effective silent drama can be, we feel a sense of loss just the same.

2012: Argo [Good]

The first big news story I can remember following, the Iranian Islamic Revolution and the taking of American hostages, forms the backdrop of this taut nail-biter, which tells the story of six Americans who escaped the U.S. embassy in Iran and took refuge in the Canadian ambassador’s home, and the successful rescue mission mounted by the CIA’s Tony Mendez (Ben Affleck, who also directed). Affleck is among those actors whose real-life behavior I find off-putting, but this film nonetheless shines an intriguing light on a piece of little-known history. Even though I knew the fate of the six escapees going in, I found myself worrying about them every step of the way. Affleck’s performance is serviceable, but the cast is full of performers who disappear into their featured or minor roles, adding to the film’s realistic you-are-there feel. Alan Arkin is here as well, awesome as usual. And John Goodman (at the time) made an excellent John Chambers, the make up whiz of Hollywood.

2013: Twelve Years a Slave [Good]

Chiwetel Ejeofor is an insufficiently acknowledged treasure, an intently charismatic actor equally at home in blockbusters (his performance was pretty much the only thing I liked about Doctor Strange) and serious dramas. Here he brings his energy and power to the role of Solomon Northrup, an African-American New Yorker kidnapped, taken south, and sold into slavery. Even the ultimately happy ending, in which Northrup regains his freedom, can’t soft-pedal the brutality and degradation he is forced to endure; this film is not an easy watch, nor should it be. Yet tough meat is often the most nourishing. The movie boasts strong performances not only from Ejeofor but from Michael Fassbender and Sarah Paulson (as an especially despicable pair of slaveholders) and Lupita Nyong’o (who won Best Supporting Actress for her turn as Northrup’s fellow slave Patsey, a sexually exploited girl fighting for every scrap of dignity).

2014: Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance [Good, but Not for Everyone]

Alejandro G. Inarritu’s backstage drama centering on a disaffected actor (Michael Keaton in an inspired bit of casting) who made his name playing a superhero but now hopes to stage a comeback on the “legitimate stage” made a strong impression on me when I first saw it, with solid performances from all involved. Yet while I still remember it as an interesting, incisive look into the world of theater and the acting profession, there were points at which I wasn’t sure where my sympathies were meant to lie, most of them involving female characters. Keaton’s performance provides a strong anchor for the film, but a specific scene involving one of his co-stars, played by Naomi Watts, leaves a sour aftertaste in my mouth. Trigger warning for sexual assault.

2015: Spotlight [Good]

This film’s victory represents a triumph of competence, the first word that comes to mind when I think of it. Its parts combine into a well-oiled machine, particularly its screenplay, which tells the story of a team of journalists’ exposure of sexual abuse and corruption in Boston’s Catholic Church, and its performances. (Michael Keaton is here again, in a less flashy but still solid turn.) It doesn’t quite have the oomph that might make it a favorite frequent watch of mine, but those looking for a serious workplace drama with a minimum of personal distractions could do far worse than this film.

Are the 1990s my favorite decade for movies? I’ve always considered myself partial to the 1930s, but in writing these posts, I’ve discovered that the 1990s are the only decade in which I’ve actually seen every single Best Picture winner. With the dawn on the new millennium, sadly, my enthusiasm for the Oscars started to wane, and as I look over the list of winners for this decade, I see that every single year except 2003 brought a movie I love substantially more.

So let’s get started:

2000: Gladiator [Good]

In a lot of ways, this Russell Crowe-starring sword-and-sandal epic about a military general reduced to a slave’s status and his thirst for revenge against the tyrannical Emperor Commodus is a tighter, grittier, less sprawling, less offensive Braveheart. It certainly holds up better as entertainment, with Crowe’s Maximus a powerfully sympathetic protagonist and good supporting performances by Richard Harris, Oliver Reed, and Connie Nielsen. Joaquin Phoenix’s turn as Commodus is a bit polarizing, but having seen 2005’s Walk the Line, I have to give Phoenix credit for his astonishing range. (Movie I Love Substantially More: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.]

2001: A Beautiful Mind [Good]

Russell Crowe is back, this time playing a mathematical genius battling (and often losing to) schizophrenia. He’s quite good as John Nash, but it’s actually Paul Bettany, as Nash’s college roommate, who captures my heart and my imagination here. (Bettany hasn’t had quite the career I would have wished for him, but he’s great in everything I’ve seen him in.) Yet even though I’m putting the film in the Good tier, I haven’t felt much need to revisit it in subsequent years — unlike the Movie I Love Substantially More, The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, which I’ve rewatched many times.

2002: Chicago [Good, but Not for Me]

As a fan of musicals, I should eat this up, right? It does have plenty going for it: catchy songs, great choreography, and first-rate acting/singing/dancing performances from Catherine Zeta-Jones and Queen Latifah. Yet the story, of an adulterous housewife (played by Renee Zellweger) with showbiz aspirations who is put on trial for murdering her lover, is so thoroughly cynical, with not even the slightest hint of any genuine sentiment as its characters use and abuse each other without conscience, that it alienates me. (Movie I Love Substantially More: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. I’m also partial to Minority Report, one of the few Tom Cruise vehicles I actually enjoy.)

2003: The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King [God-Tier]

Director Peter Jackson has made some regrettable missteps since he wowed the world with his Lord of the Rings trilogy, but these three films — and I consider this award honors all three films, since they tell a single story, just as J.R.R. Tolkien’s novels did — are still the gold standard for fantasy filmmaking. Those who dislike fantasy fiction, on both page and screen, probably wish that Lost in Translation, or Mystic River, or Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (which I did love) had taken the prize. But as a long-time fan of both fantasy in general and Tolkien in particular, I love, love, love these films, even though I acknowledge their flaws (most notably the rewrite they did on the character of Faramir, played by David Wenham). Not only are they wonderful films to swim in, but they also offer a break from the harsh, acerbic tone of so many acclaimed films of this period. Heroes do exist, and it’s pure pleasure to see them so powerfully realized on screen.

2004: Million Dollar Baby [Okay]

It’s been said often that Clint Eastwood’s boxing drama is actually two films. The first two-thirds is a triumph-of-the-underdog feel-good movie, with poor girl Maggie (Hilary Swank) punching her way towards greater self-esteem and a found family (Eastwood as her coach, Morgan Freeman as his right-hand man) far more loving and supportive than her loathsome biological clan. Then the movie does a hard pivot and transforms into a dreary, depressing meditation on quality of life and the relative rightness of euthanasia. Had it continued on its original path, it would have been solidly in my Good tier. But the last third had me banging my head (metaphorically, of course) and shouting that “this was not what I signed up for!” I felt betrayed, and I still do when I think about it. A far more tonally consistent portrait of despair is this year’s Movie I Loved Substantially More (and should have won Best Picture, darn it!), Martin Scorcese’s The Aviator.

(Note: despite my dislike of the twist, I have to acknowledge Million Dollar Baby as the last Best Picture winner of the decade to feature a female protagonist. We’re heading back into No Woman’s Land; the next female-led film to win the top prize will be 2017’s The Shape of Water.)

2005: Crash [Never Seen]

Favorite Oscar-bait movies of the year: Capote and Walk the Line.

2006: The Departed [Good, but Not for Me]

Martin Scorcese is hit or miss with me. Just two years earlier he won my allegiance with The Aviator, a biopic of tormented genius billionaire Howard Hughes, and I’ve enjoyed his costume dramas The Age of Innocence (nominated for Best Picture but doomed to lose in the year of Schindler’s List), Gangs of New York (in spite of the miscast Cameron Diaz), and Hugo. But I’m far less enthralled by his movies with contemporary or near-contemporary settings, in which there’s no fascinating window into the past to make the dark, uber-gritty violence and emphasis on the baser side of human nature more palatable. Still, this drama of organized crime and police corruption in Boston is well-made and well-acted, so I can’t argue it didn’t deserve the award, especially since the Movie I Loved Substantially More, Guillermo del Toro’s dark but ultimately humanistic fairy tale Pan’s Labyrinth, didn’t have a shot.

2007: No Country for Old Men [Never Seen]

I have no interest in this film. This was, in my opinion, a rather weak year for movies, at least judging from what I’ve seen; Juno, Away from Her, and Ratatouille are probably my favorites.

2008: Slumdog Millionaire [Good, but Not for Me]

This dark but ultimately triumphant story of a young Indian Muslim man who faces down both class and religious prejudice to win a fortune and the girl of his dreams is one of those satisfying blends of grit and sentiment that I love to see win Oscars. But this film didn’t quite land with me. I couldn’t help noticing that while protagonist Jamal (Dev Patel), his older brother Salim (Madhur Mittal), and even the game-show host (Anil Kapoor) were all interesting and compelling characters, Jamal’s love interest Latika (Freida Pinto), the only female character of any significance in the film, gets no substantial development beyond her function as love interest. Love stories in which one character has a personality while the other (usually the woman) remains a shadow are a pet peeve of mine. A more satisfying romance, and the Movie I Love Substantially More, is Pixar’s WALL-E.

2009: The Hurt Locker [Good, but Not for Me]

I remember this movie being a well-made film; I admired it when I saw it, but nothing about it has stuck. This year I have three Movies I Loved Substantially More: An Education, Inglorious Basterds, and Up. Inglorious Basterds would have been my choice for Best Picture.

How much do we know about Hera, wife of Zeus and queen of the gods in ancient Greek myth? If we know her at all, it’s probably best as the most cheated-on of all divinities. Unable to hold her powerful “Lord of the Thunderbolt” husband accountable, she takes out her anger on the various nymphs and mortal women he dallies with and, quite often, their offspring as well (e.g. Hercules, or Heracles as he’s known in Greek — ironically, the name means “glory of Hera”). She also helps bring about the downfall of the great city of Troy after Prince Paris snubs her in the famous beauty contest, the prize being an apple labeled “For the Fairest.” These myths paint her as a shrewish rage-a-holic, the ancient equivalent of the modern-day “Karen.”

Yet in her novel Ithaca, Claire North gives us a very different Hera, a Queen and a champion of Queens. Through her all-knowing eyes we watch Penelope, Queen of Ithaca and wife of Odysseus, cope with the encroachment of grasping, quarrelsome men eager to win her hand, along with an invasion of “pirates.” To deal with the pirates — in reality the henchmen of Andraemon, the most vicious of the suitors — she oversees the training of the women of her island into an effective fighting force. As if that were not enough to handle, she must also play host to the children of the recently murdered King Agamemnon, the slightly-out-of-his-depth Orestes and the cold, vengeful Elektra, who believe that Clytemnestra, their mother and Agamemnon’s murderer, is hiding on Ithaca (They’re right.) Hera herself plays little active role in the proceedings, but North’s decision to tell the story from her perspective proves a stroke of genius. With her sharp, wry, ultimately sympathetic voice, the queen of the gods becomes an embodiment for our rooting interest in Penelope, the women who serve her, and even Clytemnestra. Plus, I love her sense of humor. Hoot-bleeping-hoot.

If Ithaca has a fault, it might be a lack of sympathetic male representation; while this lack makes narrative sense, I can see how it might be off-putting for some readers, as the same situation would bother me if the genders were reversed. Men in this story range from despicable abusers (e.g. Andraemon) to neurotic would-be heroes (e.g. Odysseus’ son Telemachus), all of them having one trait in common: a deep and unbridled contempt for women, the natural result of the misogynistic culture in which they have been raised. Kenamon, the only male visitor to Ithaca to treat Penelope with any respect, hails from Egypt, a society far more enlightened where gender roles are concerned; he is painted sympathetically, but his role is too small to offset the impression of the male characters in general as arrogant, violent misogynists. The worst thing about them, for me, is how predictable they are. In any given situation, they will choose the cruelest, most hurtful course available to them. In many ways, Telemachus is the cruelest, since he’s the only one for whom Penelope actually cares and therefore in the position to hurt her the most deeply. Throughout the story, Penelope, a woman of wit, resourcefulness, and courage, shows herself to be up to every challenge until the end, which shows her broken by the actions of her unloving son. (For a kinder Telemachus, give Madeline Miller’s Circe a look. So many brilliant authors these days are turning their hands to fascinating feminist retellings of the old myths, and it makes me glad all over.)

Yet the menfolk create chaos, the driving force of this narrative are the bonds between women, some strong, some tenuous, some hostile. Hera observes the friendships forged by the martial training with delight; she’s far less patient with those women who withhold support from their sisters (e.g. Telemachus’ nanny Eurycleia, a poster child for internalized misogyny). Hera’s own complicated relationships with her own stepdaughters, goddesses Athena and Artemis, also come into play, a good portion of loathing with a welcome dash of understanding and even winking admiration. Best of all, each woman in this network of relationships, even with the smallest page time, is an interesting and complex figure who could easily be the heroine of her own story.

Five out of five stars.