Cinephile.

One of the first things we see in The Dead Girl is Brittany Murphy's corpse. The shots are elliptical, but we know it's her: the bleached blond hair, the emaciated flame, the pale skin as vacant and clammy as a double feature of Uptown Girls and Little Black Book. By the end of the film, however, Murphy has come to life--courtesy of the film's time-shifting narrative and her own firecracker performance--and one can only hope The Dead Girl will spark a similar resurrection of her career.

In this finely tuned quintet of stories from writer-director Karen Moncrieff (Blue Car), Murphy plays Krista, a prostitute whose murder spurs four unrelated women to make drastic changes in their lives. Arden (Toni Collette) is a timid woman who's jolted by discovering the body, Leah (Rose Byrne) thinks Krista might be the kidnapped sister her family's been searching for since childhood, Ruth's (Mary Beth Hurt) husband played a role in the killing, and Melora (Marcia Gay Harden) attempts to untangle Krista's death with the help of Krista's female lover (Kerry Washington).

The fifth story is Krista's alone, told in flashback, and it's here that Murphy finally comes into her own. Krista needs to make an indelible impression in only 20 minutes of screen time, and Murphy ably deploys her star power to that end. In fact, it's her most full-fledged character since playing the deliciously quotable Tai in 1995's Clueless. The Dead Girl boasts a cast of powerhouse supporting actresses, and Murphy--so wan in her recent studio films--finally seems comfortable enough to join their ranks.

In the meantime, can we promote Elizabeth Reaser to take her place? I'd thus far known the actress only for her entirely superfluous performance in The Family Stone (she was the pregnant sister whose sole purpose was to fill out the dinner table), but in the new romantic comedy Puccini for Beginners she's a delight--though, on paper, she really shouldn't be. Reaser's character, Allegra, is an insufferable opera snob who can't commit, whether it's to her ex-girlfriend (Julianne Nicholson), her current girlfriend (Gretchen Mol), or--much to her surprise--her current boyfriend (Justin Kirk). Things only get worse when Allegra discovers that the latter two used to date and have unwittingly moved on to the same woman: her.

A practical woman would dump them both to avoid disaster, but Allegra's enjoying herself, so why bother? It's not that she's a cad well, all right, she is a cad, but in Reaser's hands she's dynamic, sexy, and enticing, even when doing all the wrong things. Writer-director Maria Maggenti hasn't learned much about where to put the camera since 1995's The Incredibly True Adventures of 2 Girls in Love, but as long as it's on Reaser, all is forgiven. Let's give her a big studio comedy posthaste--as long as it's not Uptown Girls 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Generally speaking, 2006 hasn't been regarded as an especially strong year for movies, but part of that may be because the two best ones are just now making their way to theaters. My runner-up for film of the year is the grim fairy tale Pan's Labyrinth, which pops eyes and breaks hearts in equal measure. If that description carries an undercurrent of bodily harm, it's only appropriate: Director Guillermo del Toro, late of Hellboy and Blade II, brings all his horror prowess to bear on this most adult of children's stories. As little Ofelia (Ivana Baquero) struggles to escape the harsh realities of 1944 Spain (as well as her cruel new stepfather, played by Sergi Lopez), del Toro conjures a magical fantasy world for her where, despite the dazzling creatures and subterranean kingdoms, the stakes are brutally high. I certainly don't begrudge del Toro his franchise films, but if he could turn out more movies like this one, I'd contentedly remain in dreamland forever.

One wonders what Ofelia would make of the dystopian future on display in Children of Men. An outbreak of infertility has thinned humanity's ranks to a drastic degree, and the result is a nightmare straight out of the Patriot Act: refugee camps, government oppression, and a shell-shocked populace no longer willing to put up a fight. For Clive Owen's bureaucrat hero, there seems to be nothing left to believe in--that is, until his ex-flame (Julianne Moore) introduces him to the pregnant refugee carrying what will be the first baby to be born in almost 20 years. It becomes his mission and purpose to protect her from those who would use her for nefarious purposes.

Yes, director Alfonso Cuaron (Y Tu Mama Tambien) uses this science-fiction springboard to explore some very current political issues, but even more than that, there is filmmaking here that is so visceral it will take your breath away. Shooting in long takes with a learned mastery of location, sight, and sound, Cuaron juxtaposes soothing moments (a crooning Radiohead "oldie" on the radio, a scene in a manger so fecund it's positively biblical) with furious, prolonged assaults meant to shatter. If you can withstand that, you'll have witnessed my pick for the best film of the year.