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Let’s face it. . . so much of a film is its characters – the way they are written, their likeability (or lack thereof), and, just as vitally, who is cast in those roles. If we can’t root for the heroes, hiss at the villains, be wary of those in the grey milieu, or find ourselves somewhere in that flawed antihero, then we cannot truly be emotionally invested in the narrative – no matter how majestic the whizzes and bangs are. So, like a large portion of my generation, I fell under the spell of the richly woven personas found in the Harry Potter novels. . . and later, the films. Soon, literature meshed with the visual world, and when people referenced someone like Severus Snape or Sirius Black, it was nearly impossible not to think of the late great Alan Rickman and the stellar Gary Oldman, respectively – the entire franchise a masterclass in casting.

Only the second feature film to be made by Disney (the first was Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs), Pinocchio, released in 1940, was, shockingly, a failure at the box office (partially due to distribution problems relating to World War II). . . though, after many re-releases, including the highly successful 1945 venture, it flourished. A complex and influential undertaking, it took five sequence directors (Norman Ferguson, T. Lee, Wilfred Jackson, Jack Kinney, and Bill Roberts), two supervising directors (Hamilton Luske and Ben Sharpsteen), and a mind-boggling seven writers (Ted Sears, Otto Englander, Webb Smith, William Cottrell, Joseph Sabo, Erdman Penner, and Aurelius Battaglia), as well as uncredited scribe Bill Peet to bring Carlo Lorenzini’s (better known by nom de plume Carlo Collodi) fairy tale, “The Adventures of Pinocchio”, to life.

It’s funny how vivid our memories can be – clearly recalling moments from when we were kids. I can remember hearing of actor Brandon (son of Bruce) Lee’s death while shooting a movie, seeing photos of him plastered all over magazines and tv in his now iconic makeup. Making a connection soon after in my mind with Sting (not the singer of The Police, but rather, the wrestler – who soon after Lee’s death modelled his makeup on his character. . . as you can guess, I was into wresting at the time), his look and story stuck with me from the age of six until now, a heartbreaking tale of a fatal mistake made on set. Of course, the film I am referring to is The Crow, directed by Alex Proyas (Dark City) – a tale that is hard to separate from the depressing real life tragedy. Like some sort of eerie foreshadowing, its narrative follows Eric Draven (Lee), a man who has died after being stabbed, shot and thrown out of a window (Lee passed away after being shot by an improperly deactivated cartridge) – all of this after his fiancée has been raped and murdered.

There is a scene in 1954's Creature from the Black Lagoon where the female lead, played by Julie Adams, swims through the water. Shot from both above and below, there is a loving elegance to the camera work, and, in a few of the underwater moments, the lighting almost makes it seem as if she is swimming in the nude. Eventually, the Creature appears, and what develops can be looked at in two lights. . . one – that he is stalking her, murder in the monster’s every fibre; two – his movements, mirroring hers, are almost like a sensuous dance, a love-match for the long secluded and lonely Creature. This year’s Academy Award Best Picture contender, The Shape of Water, accepts the second perspective not followed in the Universal horror classic, developing a movie that very much could be its long lost alternate reality sequel. Written and directed by horror maestro Guillermo del Toro, he sews several threads together so that movie afficionados could almost believe that this is the case – perhaps most importantly that it is set only a few years after 1954 (a moment when xenophobic fears were running high with the Cold War at its most tense) and that the creature comes from the Amazon as well. . . while security expert Richard Strickland (Michael Shannon) makes it very clear that it was no easy feat transporting the powerful and mysterious amphibian back to America. Its look is also very much influenced by the horror classic.

Most of you will have likely picked up on the abbreviated version of the quotation utilized above as the title. . . a reference to the seminal Eagles song ‘Hotel California’, which, in many ways, could be the title track of Luis Buñuel’s 1962 fantastical dramedy The Exterminating Angel. To further my point, look for the italicized text throughout the review, as it will be part of the classic rock tune. From the mind of the master of surrealism comes this, just another one of his mind-benders, a tale that follows a group of extravagant people who come together for a lavish dinner party. And, though the mansion is such a lovely place, the servants who have worked there obediently for many years almost instinctively decide to depart (despite their duties), as the guests arrive. Only the major-domo, that is, the head servant of the household, stays to help.

Let’s be honest – we don’t go to see a movie like Spider-Man: Homecoming for its shocking twists and turns. Now on its second reboot since the Tobey Maguire starring, Sam Raimi directed 2002 film, it draws us to the theatre as it is a known commodity, a popcorn flick that we feel comfortable settling in to. . . and its biggest twist is probably that the creative team chose to go with The Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” instead of the band’s remake of the Spiderman theme song. Also, there is a little twist with the second post credit scene, a cheeky cameo that will have some happy they persevered, while others will complain that it didn’t pay off. Directed by Jon Watts, the narrative follows unusual high schooler Peter Parker (Tom Holland – the first time an actual teen has been cast in the part), the web-slinger must contend with those complicated teenage years, while also doubling as a quote/unquote intern with Stark Industries – motor-mouthed Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr.) flits in and out as the kid’s mentor.