Happy New Year, everyone! We're one year further into the new millennium, and one year closer to that dystopian future that everyone keeps predicting!

As we discussed in the last article, "dystopia" as a concept is hot right now; just take a look at most young adult franchises that achieve popularity. It's not fair to say that this is a new trend however, because grimly fantasizing about a future in which our country's citizens are enslaved by technology, the government or other threats to our freedom is an old pastime by this point. Shortly after science fiction authors emerged and speculated about the big wide world out there and how our society would cope with it, they turned their thoughts towards the dark side of the question "what if...?" and jotted down their morbid responses.

Sci-fi writers can be anxious people. Just ask Philip K. Dick.

Anyhow, as a citizen of the new millennium, I am well versed in all the tropes that indicate our society's demise. The writers catering to my generation are brutal in their certainty that we are all doomed. So it was somewhat refreshing to turn back the clock to 1985 and watch a film made by someone inspired by Orwell's "1984"...who never read a word of "1984".

​Terry Gilliam makes dystopia seem fun. And isn't that a terrifying notion? 

"The Hunger Games" films as a set are fascinating to me because they are one of the few film adaptations I felt were UNDER-hyped.

Like, "Catching Fire" is one of the most brilliant adaptations of YA literature I've ever seen. The direction is tight, the script is ruthless, the casting is pitch-perfect, the cinematography is luscious and pretty much everything else about the film and its brethren serves only to elevate the source material. And the original books by Suzanne Collins weren't garbage by any means. "The Hunger Games" gets some flack for being a rip-off of "Battle Royale" or similar cult classics, but the execution of an admittedly old story is superb; three books and four movies use the standard YA framework to examine our cultural views of dystopia, entertainment and revolution.

And yet, the fourth and final film was just released and I have heard NO buzz about it.

What happened? Just a few years ago it was impossible to escape news about "The Hunger Games". "Mockingjay Part 2" still cleaned up at the box office, but its opening weekend grossed lower than any of the previous films, a rarity for a long-running series like this. Did it simply suffer from sequel fatigue? Or are we as audience members tuning out to this type of film altogether?

Hope you had a spooky Halloween, friends! Instead of reviewing a film that'll make you wet yourself with fright, we're going to take a look at one of my old favorites, one of the few movies that can make me smile whenever I watch it. "Spirited Away", much like "FLCL", reminds me of what it was like to be on the cusp of young adulthood, comfortable still being called a child but faced with responsibilities and pressures that you never dreamed would fall upon your shoulders.

How scary can you get?

A brief overview: this movie was a really big deal when I was young. The adults in my life knew about it before I did and were just as excited to watch it, because even in 2003 you would have to be living under a rock to never have heard of Hayao Miyazaki. Often compared to Walt Disney and Steven Spielberg, Miyazaki is known for his stellar storytelling prowess, his artistic and creative vision, his penchant towards female protagonists, and his ability to appeal to children without shunning adults. "Spirited Away" was the first anime film to win an Oscar, and argueably kick-started an anime rennaissance in the west that lasted a good decade.

It's not even a question: "Spirited Away" deserves all the praise it got. And I made a drinking game for it and it's PERFECT, possibly one of the best ones I've made. So get ready for a nice, hot soak; you're about to bathe in beauty and charm.

So. Anime. This is my first time covering a Japanese cartoon on the site, so let's get a couple things out of the way.

A lot of people who are resistant to watching anime cite its strangeness as a reason for its inaccessibility. They're afraid they won't "get it", or they think animation is for children and are turned off by the more adult themes, or they saw a bunch of out-of-context clips one time and think they can write off all of it.

To which I say, anime is not a genre. It's a medium, and like all artistic mediums it includes several subsets and genres. Some of it is aimed toward children, but a lot of it is for adults and while some anime can seem culturally strange, most of the stuff that makes its way over to America is mainstream enough that even a casual viewer should be able to understand and enjoy it.

This being said, there is some truly whack-a-doo stuff coming out of Japan, and a lot of it is inaccessible unless you know some things about Japanese culture, and even then it can seem pretty wild. I've refrained from talking about anime on this site for that specific reason; even in 2015 it's still regarded as a subculture in America (and in a lot of Japan), and I didn't want to alienate anyone.

Then I thought, screw that, there's some really great anime out there and I want to be able to freely talk about my favorite stuff without feeling like my average reader won't "get it". I spent most of my time when I was between the ages of thirteen and twenty inhaling anime and manga, and it's had a profound influence on my personal style. So today, we're going to be looking at a series that is undeniably strange, artistically fascinating, emotionally resonant, and a superb example of what anime can be.

Here's something I love. Here's Studio Gainax's "FLCL".

A little over a year ago, the entertainment industry lost one of its most prolific stars. A fair amount of industry giants passed away in 2014, but no loss was so publicly felt as Robin Williams'. The man was an icon, and he affected the lives of many people, whether personally or through his large and varied body of work. So it seems fitting, in remembrance, to take a look at the performance that netted him his only Oscar.

It's strange, if you think about it, that "Good Will Hunting" in its current form was ever produced. Strong efforts were made to populate the cast and creative team with established, commercially acceptable stars (how different would this film be with Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt as the leads?), but the film ended up being host to slightly more...eccentric picks: Gus Van Sant (probably the most straightforward film he's ever directed), Danny Elfman (likewise for composition), and of course the breakout stars of the project, Matt Damon and Ben Affleck. And oh my God, it's so funny and weird watching them when they were young working on their passion project. It's damn inspiring, is what it is.

This film is almost 20 years old (yikes), so the question is, how well as this film aged? Does its reputation still feel deserved? 

I mean, yeah. Yeah, I think it does.

I'm about to drop a bomb on you guys, which shouldn't be much of a surprise if you've read much of my stuff: I don't like superhero movies that much.

I know! It's sacrilege. But I still consider myself a full-fledged geek. I've been into anime and manga since I was a young'un, so it's not that I find superhero stuff ridiculous or juvenile (most anime is WAY more out there than Spiderman), and I understand the narrative appeal completely. I don't like superhero stories, particularly this newest round of Marvel offerings, because the culture feels...exclusive. For so long, "comics" meant "superheroes", and both words carried the stigma of the reputation; comics were for lonely, out-of-shape shut-ins who can't get a date. This has never been true, and never encompassed the appeal of the comic book format, but the facts of the matter didn't stop that idea of the sad, put-upon boy as the image of the "geek".

Right now, comics are more inclusive than they've ever been. The official Spiderman in the comic universe is biracial, Ms Marvel is Muslim, and more women (and men) than ever are reading and enjoying comics (at least openly). So...how come so many people still don't feel like they're part of the club?

The answer is complicated, as are my feelings about this film. "Kick-Ass" encompasses the highs and the lows of superhero culture. It forces the viewer to confront their fascination with men and women in spandex, and gives them insight into the dangerous of obsessive fanaticism. And it does so while still being entertaining in all the ways a good superhero film is. All the same, critics didn't know the answer to a simple question: what is this film trying to say?

Strap in, sports fans. We're trawling for an answer, and getting SUPER drunk along the way.

I know what you're thinking: what is this movie, and why the hell are we talking about it?

Well, dear readers, "The Impostors" is an homage to 1930's style slapstick comedies, directed by Stanley Tucci and starring all of his very famous friends. It tells the story of two down-on-their-luck actors, Arthur and Maurice, who accidentally piss off a revered (read: "hack") Shakespearian actor. They are chased aboard a luxury ocean liner where they disguise themselves as stewards to avoid their pursuer, and untangle themselves from several subplots that threaten the lives of every person on board.

It's GOOFY and I LOVE it.

Now this film might not pique your interest - it got mixed reviews at Cannes when it premiered in 1998  - but there's a certain pocket of you who love stuff like this. Films that not only make you think about the human condition, that make you think about the nature of entertainment, but also set out to genuinely ENTERTAIN its audience. Above everything else, this film sets out to give its audience a good time. And I think it succeeds.

Still around? Pop a bottle of champagne and join us as we look at this refreshing passion project. Be forewarned - the drinking game accompanying this review is none too shabby either.

My memory of things might be exaggerated, but when I was growing up it felt like Jim Carrey was inescapable. Not that I minded; the man is a living Looney Tunes character, and I love me some Bugs Bunny. Those I queried about Carrey all seemed to agree on a unified description of him: talented, but not versatile, more of a performer than an actor (except in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" where he oh God I started crying again make it stop). He's the type of actor you write plots around, and during his hay-day, most of those plots were just as out there and maniacal as the man himself.

"Bruce Almighty" is a good showcase of Carrey in, if not his prime, than the most lucrative part of his career. The idea of revisiting it in my twenties is nerve-wracking. Is it possible for me to tear apart a film that I once considered to be the pinnacle of comedy?

This essay is less about tying "Bruce Almighty" into current cultural trends, because I'm really not sure you can. It's more about examining, on a personal level, something that I once thought was hilarious and asking it with bleary, gin-soaked eyes, "Can you still make me laugh?"

You've heard it before and you'll hear it again: we are in a Golden Age of television. Somehow TV show developers managed to figure it out, after decades of fumbling with formulas. The writing is snappier, the production values higher, and there's just MORE good stories being told on TV now.

"Mad Men" was arguably one of the first and best remembered shows of the current Renaissance. It premiered in 2007 on a network nobody associated with good television at the time (AMC? What's that?) and hit the country by STORM. People ate this show up, the ratings steadily climbing each season, only starting to flag during its final round of episodes. The end is in sight for this giant of entertainment and it's tough to imagine what could replace its stunning production values, its critical eye on the past and the present and its uber-talented cast.

Mega-hits come and go, though. In the end, will Mad Men have a lasting legacy beyond being a pretty-looking show with consistently on-point advertising team (both onscreen and off)? Only time will tell. For now, we raise a glass of scotch to Donald Draper and company and drink to their last hurrah.

This is another show I was introduced to fairly recently. I grew up with a dim perception that some friends of mine watched "Queer as Folk", but I was never too curious about it and, at bottom, it didn't seem like it was "for me". After slogging through "The L Word" a couple years back, it only made sense at some point to watch the show that "The L Word" and others can credit its existence to.

At the outset, "Queer as Folk" and "The L Word" are the same show; it follows a group of gay 20-30-somethings in Pittsburgh who spend their time...being gay, mostly. As one of the first mainstream pieces of queer television, it puts itself out there in a way that seems abrasive and downright campy now. But between the year 2000 and 2015, so much has changed in terms of how the gay community functions in the U.S; "Queer as Folk", in that sense, acts like a time capsule for what it was like to be gay in conservative America.

Being a soap opera, "Queer as Folks" answers for inquiring minds stretches the boundaries of logic several dozen times over the course of the show, but you're not watching this show because it's smart or insightful. You're watching this show because it promises you a damn good time. And, mostly, it damn well delivers one.