Science-fiction features often involve time travel or strange worlds. In Christopher Nolan's heist thriller Inception, the concepts converge through the realm of dreams. With his trusty associate, Arthur (Joseph Gordon-Levitt, a fine foil), Dom Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio, in a role that recalls Shutter Island) steals ideas for clients from the minds of competitors. Fallen on hard times, he's become estranged from his family and hopes one last extraction will set things right. Along comes Saito (Ken Watanabe, Batman Begins), who hires Cobb to plant an idea in the mind of energy magnate Fischer (Cillian Murphy, another Batman vet). Less experienced with the art of inception, Cobb ropes in an architecture student (Ellen Page), a chemist (Dileep Rao), and a forger (Tom Hardy) for assistance. During their preparations, Page's Ariadne stumbles upon a secret that may jeopardize the entire operation: Cobb is losing the ability to control his subconscious (Marion Cotillard plays a figure from his past). Until this point, the scenario can be confusing, since the action begins inside a dream before returning to reality. Then, after the team gets to Fischer, three dream states play out at once, resulting in four narratives, including events in the real world. It all makes sense within the rules Nolan establishes, but the impatient may find themselves much like Guy Pearce in Memento: completely confused. If Inception doesn't hit the same heights as The Dark Knight, Nolan's finest film to date, it's a gravity-defying spectacular to rival Dark City and The Matrix. —Kathleen C. Fennessy

Ever since this convoluted thriller dazzled audiences and critics in 1995 and won an Oscar for Christopher McQuarrie's twisting screenplay, The Usual Suspects has continued to divide movie lovers into opposite camps. While a lot of people take great pleasure from the movie's now-famous central mystery (namely, "Who is Keyser Söze?"), others aren't so easily impressed by a movie that's too enamoured of its own cleverness to make much sense. After all, what are we to make of a final scene that renders the entire movie obsolete? Half the fun of The Usual Suspects is the debate it provokes and the sheer pleasure of watching its dynamic cast in action, led (or should we say, mislead) by Oscar-winner Kevin Spacey as the club-footed con man who recounts the saga of enigmatic Hungarian mobster Keyser Söze. Spacey's in a band of thieves that includes Gabriel Byrne, Stephen Baldwin, Kevin Pollak, and Benicio Del Toro, all gathered in a plot to steal a large shipment of cocaine. The story is told in flashback as a twisted plot being described by Spacey's character to an investigating detective (Chazz Palmintieri), and The Usual Suspects is enjoyable for the way it keeps the viewer guessing right up to its surprise ending. Whether that ending will enhance or extinguish the pleasure is up to each viewer to decide. Even if it ultimately makes little or no sense at all, this is a funny and fiendish thriller, guaranteed to entertain even its vocal detractors. —Jeff Shannon

When this popular prison drama was released in 1994, some critics complained that the movie was too long (142 minutes) to sustain its story. Those complaints miss the point, because the passage of time is crucial to this story about patience, the squeaky wheels of justice, and the growth of a life-long friendship. Only when the film reaches its final, emotionally satisfying scene do you fully understand why writer-director Frank Darabont (adapting a novella by Stephen King) allows the story to unfold at its necessary pace, and the effect is dramatically rewarding. Tim Robbins plays a banker named Andy who's sent to Shawshank Prison on a murder charge, but as he gets to know a life-term prisoner named Red (Morgan Freeman), we realize there's reason to believe the banker's crime was justifiable. We also realize that Andy's calm, quiet exterior hides a great reserve of patience and fortitude, and Red comes to admire this mild-mannered man who first struck him as weak and unfit for prison life. So it is that The Shawshank Redemption builds considerable impact as a prison drama that defies the conventions of the genre (violence, brutality, riots) to illustrate its theme of faith, friendship, and survival. Nominated for seven Academy Awards including Best Picture, Actor, and Screenplay, it's a remarkable film that signaled the arrival of a promising new filmmaker—a film that many movie lovers count among their all-time favorites. —Jeff Shannon

My Name is Nobody is a spoof of spaghetti Westerns, but it's also a legitimate, highly regarded entry in the genre. Its pedigree is purebred, as it was executive produced by the maestro of spaghetti Westerns, Sergio Leone, as a personal farewell to the genre that he helped to create. It's a transitional film, cheekily acknowledging the impact of The Wild Bunch and Sam Peckinpah (whose name is seen on a gravestone in one scene) and the popularity of Terence Hill, whose comedic "Trinity" films represented the last gasp of the once-glorious spaghetti Western. All of these elements are beautifully combined in the amusing tale of Nobody (Hill), an ambitious young gunman in 1899 who idolizes a legendary gunslinger Jack Beauregard, played by Henry Fonda in his final Western (and his second for Leone, after the classic Once Upon a Time in the West). Before Beauregard can retire in peace, Nobody sets up a final showdown of epic proportions, and the great Ennio Morricone enhances the abundance of memorable scenes with one of his most playfully inventive scores (including a comical use of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries"). Tonino Valerii fully deserved his director's credit, but Leone also made significant contributions (including the opening scene), and the result is a delightful and surprisingly resonant film that Steven Spielberg later called his favorite Leone production. It's easy to see why: Like many of Spielberg's films, My Name is Nobody qualifies as both art and entertainment. —Jeff Shannon

What made the original Toy Story so great, besides its significant achievement as the first-ever feature-length computer animated film, was its ability to instantly transport viewers into a magical world where it seemed completely plausible that toys were living, thinking beings who sprang to life the minute they were alone and wanted nothing more than to be loved and played with by their children. Toy Story 3 absolutely succeeds in the very same thing—adults and children alike, whether they've seen the original film or not, find themselves immediately immersed in a world in which Woody (Tom Hanks), Buzz Lightyear (Tim Allen), Jessie (Joan Cusack), Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head (Don Rickles and Estelle Harris), Ham (John Ratzenberger), Rex (Wallace Shawn), the aliens, and the rest of Andy's toys remain completely devoted to Andy (John Morris) even as he's getting ready to pack up and leave for college. Woody scoffs at the other toys' worries that they'll end up in the garbage, assuring them that they've earned a spot of honor in the attic, but when the toys are mistakenly donated to Sunnyside Daycare, Woody is the only toy whose devotion to Andy outweighs the promise of getting played with each and every day. Woody sets off toward home alone while the other toys settle in for some daycare fun, but things don't turn out quite as expected at the daycare thanks to the scheming, strawberry-scented old-timer bear Lots-o'-Huggin' (Ned Beatty). Eventually, Woody rejoins his friends and they all attempt a daring escape from the daycare, which could destroy them all. The pacing of the film is impeccable at this point, although the sense of peril may prove almost too intense for a few young viewers. Pixar's 3-D computer animation is top-notch as always and the voice talent in this film is tremendous, but in the end, it's Pixar's uncanny ability to combine drama, action, and humor in a way that irresistibly draws viewers into the world of the film that makes Toy Story 3 such great family entertainment. (Ages 7 and older) —Tami Horiuchi

As the 2005 theatrical release of Serenity made clear, Firely was a science fiction concept that deserved a second chance. Devoted fans (or "Browncoats") knew it all along, and with this well-packaged DVD set, those who missed the show's original broadcasts can see what they missed. Creator Joss Whedon's ambitious science-fiction Western (Whedon's third series after Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel) was canceled after only 11 of these 14 episodes had aired on the Fox network, but history has proven that its demise was woefully premature. Whedon's generic hybrid got off to a shaky start when network executives demanded an action-packed one-hour premiere ("The Train Job"); in hindsight the intended two-hour pilot (also titled "Serenity," and oddly enough, the final episode aired) provides a better introduction to the show's concept and splendid ensemble cast. Obsessive fans can debate the quirky logic of combining spaceships with direct parallels to frontier America (it's 500 years in the future, and embattled humankind has expanded into the galaxy, where undeveloped "outer rim" planets struggle with the equivalent of Old West accommodations), but Whedon and his gifted co-writers and directors make it work, at least well enough to fashion a credible context from the incongruous culture-clashing of past, present, and future technologies, along with a polyglot language (the result of two dominant superpowers) that combines English with an abundance of Chinese slang.

What makes it work is Whedon's delightfully well-chosen cast and their nine well-developed characters—a typically Whedon-esque extended family—each providing a unique perspective on their adventures aboard Serenity, the junky but beloved "Firefly-class" starship they call home. As a veteran of the disadvantaged Independent faction's war against the all-powerful planetary Alliance (think of it as Underdogs vs. Overlords), Serenity captain Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) leads his compact crew on a quest for survival. They're renegades with an amoral agenda, taking any job that pays well, but Firefly's complex tapestry of right and wrong (and peace vs. violence) is richer and deeper than it first appears. Tantalizing clues about Blue Sun (an insidious mega-corporation with a mysteriously evil agenda), its ties to the Alliance, and the traumatizing use of Serenity's resident stowaway (Summer Glau) as a guinea pig in the development of advanced warfare were clear indications Firefly was heading for exciting revelations that were precluded by the series' cancellation. Fortunately, the big-screen Serenity (which can be enjoyed independently of the series) ensured that Whedon's wild extraterrestrial west had not seen its final sunset. Its very existence confirms that these 14 episodes (and enjoyable bonus features) will endure as irrefutable proof Fox made a glaring mistake in canceling the series. —Jeff Shannon

Lost's sixth and final season drew both raves and criticism from its passionate fans who wanted answers to the series' many loose ends. Executive producers Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse found a way to wrap up some lingering story lines while introducing entirely new ones when they decided to employ a "flash-sideways" plot device, showing us an alternate reality in which Oceanic 815 never crashes (a consequence of the hydrogen-bomb detonation that occurred in season 5's finale). This method allowed some long-gone characters to return (Boone, Charlie, Libby) and even showed sunnier outcomes for some of the survivors' more unhappy pasts (Locke, Hurley). But in the non-Sideways world, the bomb's detonation doesn't change their course, and the survivors find themselves delving deeper into the island's mythology—notably, the yin/yang of the demigod Jacob (Mark Pellegrino) and the smoke monster, a.k.a. the Man in Black (Titus Welliver), as well as some curious denizens of a temple (a subplot that doesn't add much to driving the story forward). As the smoke monster's scheme to escape the island leaves a trail of carnage, culminating in a face-off with that other villain Charles Widmore (Alan Dale), some primary characters meet their end in season 6 while others find the redemption they'd been seeking since the series began. Moreover, some survivors finally find out their connection to the island (and each other) when the two realities start to intermingle, leading to a tearful finale that satisfies and frustrates at the same time (though when it comes to Lost, what else is new?).

While each cast member is on their "A" game, the final episodes really belong to Matthew Fox, who received his first Emmy® nomination for this season. Nestor Carbonell is also a standout in "Ab Aeterno," an episode that finally explains the ageless Richard Alpert. In addition, a few small details are wrapped up in a bonus short, "The New Man in Charge," which serves as an epilogue. Other special features include "The End: Crafting a Final Season," which interviews legendary TV producers such as James Burrows (Cheers, Friends) on the pressures of wrapping up a series. It also shows the finale script being printed out on red paper (so it can't be copied) and delivered to a specially built locked mailbox outside Jorge Garcia's home. Garcia, who plays Hurley, is then seen reading the script for the first time and weeping. "See You in Another Life, Brotha" goes deeper into the flash-sideways storytelling; "Lost on Location" highlights behind-the-scenes action behind specific episodes; the always-hilarious "Lost in 8:15" wraps up the entire series (only through season 5) in eight minutes and 15 seconds; and "A Hero's Journey" is a ho-hum set of interviews examining the heroic arcs of several major characters. Bloopers and deleted scenes round out the bonus features. But with all the lingering questions in the series, it's a shame Lindelof and Cuse didn't add commentary to more than a handful of episodes, because this is one DVD set that sure could've used it (not having any commentary on the finale is near unforgivable). You do, however, learn that the black-and-white stones game played by Jacob and the Man in Black is actually called Senate (hey, you gotta take what you can get). So long, Lost; it's been one hell of a journey. —Ellen A. Kim

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is a finger-blistering time capsule of right now, yet in a hundred years it will still be so crammed with charm, wit, brio, and exuberance it will still be irresistible. Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera, Superbad) is an accidental heartbreaker, a Canadian slacker who obsesses over the girls who've dumped him but hardly realizes how he's dumped other girls. But everything else in his life (including playing bass in a band) fades to insignificance when he lays eyes on Ramona (Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Live Free or Die Hard), his deadpan pixie dream girl. Unfortunately, Ramona has some serious baggage: seven deadly exes, and Scott must battle them all if he wants to date Ramona. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is saturated in pop culture, particularly video games. Many events make almost no sense, but it doesn't matter—sheer narrative ferocity and glee of invention sweep the viewer along. Cera pushes his geek/dork dreamboat persona to new heights of sweet twee-ness; if this movie doesn't shoot him into the stratosphere, we live in a cold, unfeeling universe, bereft of justice. The whole supporting cast (including Kieran Culkin, Jason Schwartzman, Anna Kendrick, Chris Evans, Brandon Routh, and a host of less familiar but excellent young actors) plays every moment for all it's worth. This movie is supremely uncool and passionate, which makes it essential viewing. —Bret Fetzer

Tim Burton was born to bring Alice in Wonderland to the big screen. Ironically, his version of the Victorian text plays more like The Wizard of Oz than a Lewis Carroll adaptation. On the day of her engagement party, the 19-year-old Alice (a nicely understated Mia Wasikowska) is lead by a white-gloved rabbit to an alternate reality that looks strangely familiar—she's been dreaming about it since she was 6 years old. Stranded in a hall of doors, she sips from a potion that makes her shrink and nibbles on a cake that makes her grow. Once she gets the balance right, she walks through the door that leads her to Tweedledum and Tweedledee (Matt Lucas), the Dormouse (Barbara Windsor), the Blue Caterpillar (Alan Rickman), and the Cheshire Cat (a delightful Stephen Fry), who inform her that only she can free them from the wrath of the Red Queen (Helena Bonham Carter channeling Bette Davis) by slaying the Jabberwocky. To pull off the feat, she teams up with the Mad Hatter (Johnny Depp in glam-rock garb), rebel bloodhound Bayard (Timothy Spall), and Red's sweet sister, the White Queen (Anne Hathaway in goth-rock makeup). While Red welcomes Alice with open arms, she plans an execution for the hat-maker when he displeases her ("Off with his head!"). Drawing from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, Burton creates a candy-colored action-adventure tale with a feminist twist. If it drags towards the end, his 3-D extravaganza still offers a trippy good time with a poignant aftertaste. —Kathleen C. Fennessy