Clueless (Amy Heckerling, 1995). I’m prepared to concede that Heckerling’s gum-snap reworking of Jane Austen’s Emma is better than I would have said after seeing it upon its original release. It’s also, despite its reputation, not some glistening pop gem. It’s an agreeable bit of fluff with some charming moments, and a suitably bright performance from Alicia Silverstone, who’s more a beneficiary of shrewd casting than anything. Writer-director Amy Heckerling–here fresh from a couple dippy crowdpleasers about the inner monologues of babies, let’s not forget–is a sloppy, unfocused filmmaker. Just because her attention span may sync up with those of her buzzy teenage subjects doesn’t automatically mean that she’s plumbed some fresh, transformational insights from these slang-slinging characters. Nowadays the woefully dated pop culture references are as funny as anything else in the film.

35 Shots of Rum (Claire Denis, 2008). This acclaimed film about a widower facing the sort of sad changes that become unavoidable as life wears on is achingly, unmistakably French. It favors mood over incident, stillness over energy, and generally proceeds as a cautious, languid murmur of the soul. It’s the sort of film that I admire for its clear artistry and brave subtlety, even as I must allow that an accurate reporting of my reaction to it in the moment should include the word “sleepy.” The film doesn’t capture detail as much as it lets detail exist for the viewer to discover or not. Denis presents it all with an unerring calmness, and part of the film’s strange, soft friction comes from waiting for the conflict, the breakdown, the revelation that never arrives.

Dead Ringers (David Cronenberg, 1988). Despite his trademark fondness for all the grisly ways that flesh can be malformed and brutalized, David Cronenberg’s true genius lies in exploring the corresponding frailty of the human psyche, a talent that may be at its apogee in this splendidly unpleasant thriller about doctor twin brothers who creep down a path marked by ever-darkening shadows. Maybe more so than in his earlier films, it’s the threat of violence more than its bloody execution that inspires the chills, allowing more narrative room to explore the mental mayhem his characters endure. In this effort, he has a marvelous partner in Jeremy Irons, playing the dual role of the physician protagonists. There’s nary a emotional calisthenic than he’s spared from, and he manages to distinguish between the two parts without relying upon any physical signifiers or overt mannerisms. He simply plays two different characters, and does so brilliantly.

9 (Shane Acker, 2009). As nice as it is to see a creator employing computer animated storytelling in the service of something a little more ambitious than another frantically ingratiating franchise wannabe, Acker’s grim sci fi adventure about rudimentary, anthropomorphic dolls facing off against the mechanized warlords that eradicated humanity makes for a flavorless film. Adapting and expanding his own Oscar-nominated short, Acker is stalwart and serious in his approach, leading to a finished product that is an understated grind. It’s no great sin when it’s hard to determine exactly who a film is made for (it’s easy to imagine parents pulling whimpering moppets out of theaters at the midway point, stopping off for a tense conversation with the manager before seeking out some conciliatory ice cream for their mildly traumatized offspring), but sometimes it’s representative of a muddled vision in the very conception of the piece.

The Magnificent Seven (John Sturges, 1960). It may have a grand reputation and universally acclaimed source material, but this western is more sturdy than sublime. That’s no small feat, however. It still reverberates with the grandness of a bygone studio era when pricey sweep was regularly applied to pulpy storytelling. The film follows a band of gunslingers who are hired by the residents of an impoverished border town to stand against the snarling banditos who regularly descend to raid their supplies. There are ample shootouts and standoffs, and the turning points are accompanied by clear pronouncements from the characters about where the story is heading next. It’s straightforwardly entertaining, the sort of movie that popcorn was invented for.