n a Coles Notes, free association world, my Best of Cinema '06 list would look like this: a dysfunctional family travels cross-country in a VW bus; New Yorkers appreciate each other mutually at Shortbus; floundering youth appreciate each other mutually in black and white; fast-talking teenagers don't appreciate each other in noir; fast-talking lobbyists charm the dying; the dying die; a long-running show dies; Will Ferrell tries not to die, as two stories diverge; and several stories fall apart and double back, though no one dies.

Since that was nonsensical and absurd, here's the full version:

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE
A dysfunctional family road trip film where plasticized little girls are far more disturbing than dead-body theft, porno-loving police officers, a Proust scholar's heart-break-related suicide attempt, or trans-state cadaver transportation: that's an impressive feat. And it's funny, too. Steve Carrell's dry, subtle supporting performance as a multi-failure is a notable about-face from his earnest turn in 40 Year Old Virgin, while Alan Arkin gives the finest portrayal of a crack-addicted, curmudgeon choreographer in the history of cinema. As beauty contestant, Olive, Abigail Breslin is earnest, though not precocious, shying away from cuteness in favour of an excited innocence, begging the question: who the hell is Dakota Fanning?



SHORTBUS

John Cameron Mitchell's follow-up to Hedwig and the Angry Inch nearly cost star and Toronto lady-about-culture-town, Sook-Yin Lee, her CBC day-job. Organically created through naked, workshop character development (just like your job), Shortbus unabashedly follows the lives, loves, and love lives of a group of New Yorkers who gather to find catharsis and frustration in the namesake salon (who took the short bus to school? There you go). Lee plays a sex therapist that's never had an orgasm (wait for the climax (sorry)) who, counseled by troubled couple Jamie and Jamie, seeks out help at the popular night-spot. Look for un-simulated sex (isn't all sex a little simulated?), shampoo-bottles-as-microphones-one-upping (you'll get that later), joyful and ebullient set design, auto-fellatio and a killer soundtrack consisting of some of gay-Can-rock's finest (Hidden Camera's, Gentleman Reg) amongst others. Also, one of the Jamies can do something that you attempted unsuccessfully before burying in your subconscious, pervert.



MUTUAL APPRECIATION

The problem with typical zeitgeist films is their inherent exclusivity. The beauty of typical zeitgeist films is their inherent exclusivity. Writer-director and co-star, Andrew Bujalski's second film, Mutual Appreciation deals with similar themes as his debut, the critically fellated (though never screened in Canada), Funny Ha Ha; namely: ennui, feigned-independence, friendship, love and entitlement. Appreciation stars the if-only-there-was-an-Oscar-for-charisma Justin Rice as Alan, an effortlessly struggling musician in New York. Alan, his friend Lawrence (Bujalski) and Lawrence's girlfriend (Rachel Clift) form the titular bond. Bujalski's fresh take on an unrealized love triangle is handled with candor and frankness. The players, both minor and major, give natural performances that never feel contrived, while the 16mm black and white aesthetic befits the bemused air and moral ambiguity. It's about time that someone made a film about post-graduate, mid-20s, white-kid, urban malaise (well, a good film at least).



BRICK

So, the long-haired, annoying kid from Third Rock from the Sun has grown into the finest actor of his generation (see: Mysterious Skin), who saw that coming (Lithgow, did you?)? In another layered performance, effusing a subtle, posture-free magnetism, Joseph Gordon-Levitt navigates a universe populated with neo-noir characters in high-school guise. When Brendan's (Gordon-Levitt) ex-girlfriend disappears, via the popular clique, into a world of adolescent suburban thuggery and intrigue, he (I wish "Bogart" wasn't already a verb) investigates, entangling himself with ominous characters like Tugger and the Pin. Shot pensively, with a dark, melancholy feel and look by cinematographer Steve Yedlin, first-time director, Rian Johnson's film relies on noir-inspired dialogue with a high school bent ("where are you eating lunch these days" is a social standing indicator); his words are so enthralling that they would be infectious if you had the verbage for them. Listen quick.



THANK YOU FOR SMOKING

From Christopher Buckley's novel of the same name, Jason Reitman has crafted a toothache sharp debut: a totem to rhetoric, assured, astute, and cancerous. Aaron Eckhart plays suaver-than-Rico tobacco lobbyist, Nick Taylor. His job involves the placation of a coughing, dying public, the demonizing of a tobacco-hating, nice guy senator (William H. Macy), and the defense of words and argument. The trick, and a testament to Eckhart's charm, is his ability to keep Taylor likeable. He's confident and consistent, never making concessions or ironic nods, even when tried and battered. On an esoteric side note, the smell of Export 'A' nostalgically reminds me of childhood.