Unexpected. Suspenseful. Riveting. Exhausting. Fun.

It seems that, after an interesting career thus far (a couple of big hits and a few misses), Ben Affleck has “arrived.” I wouldn’t have used the above descriptors to classify many of his past films, but as good fiend Tom Hanks and I found out: folks can surprise you.

First — let me get this out of the way, as Tom will likely smack himself in the forehead when he reads it: Affleck is dreamy in this movie. Think Serpico, fellow 70s relics. This, from someone who really never thought he was good looking at all. OK, most important detail aside, let’s get to the story.

When I first heard about the film (the true story of how the CIA planned to free the hostages in Iran by sending in an operative posing as a sci-fi filmmaker to smuggle them out), I thought it referred to “those” hostages. You know, the 52 Americans held for 444 days after the deposing of the Shah and the rise to power of Ayatollah Khomeni. What was I thinking? Actually, six Americans escaped that day by bolting out a side entrance and fleeing to the residence of the Canadian ambassador to Iran. This is their story.

Affleck’s character, a CIA “exfiltrator” named Tony, is given the impossible task of rescuing the six frightened embassy workers before the Iranian Guard find out and parade their executions in the town square, igniting what could be all-out war between the US and Iran. When all “bad ideas” are exhausted by CIA brass (Bryan Cranston is completely convincing as Affleck’s supervisor), Tony offers this last-ditch scheme: pretend they’re filmmakers, in Iran scouting for a new movie location. They do a quick tour of the city, then fly out the next day. With the notion that it’s the “best bad idea” they have, the project gets the green light.

Tony gives them fake identities, passports, backstories and jobs. Their fear of being discovered by extremely crafty Iranian interrogators at checkpoints and the airport is infectious and well-acted by a sextet of people I’ve never heard of. This was part of what Affleck got really right: the authenticity. From the set designs to the costumes to the hair styles — it felt like 1980. No accidental anachronisms, no insincerity or back-handed attempts at caricature (although John Goodman and Alan Arkin were beyond funny as a washed-up makeup artist and has-been Hollywood producer, respectively). At one crucial point, when you think they might have just pulled this off, a member of the fake film crew starts speaking in Farsi to a belligerent policeman — thereby threatening to expose their very fragile cover story. I found myself saying, silently, “No! Stop! You’re blowing up the whole thing!”

Till the last scene, the suspense is uncomfortable, and Affleck builds it slow and painful-like. Superbly acted and photographed, this is a must-see.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give Argo:

Y’know…if you’re not smiling, bawling, or at least thinking there is a Santa Claus after this movie, then you likely don’t have a soul.

Shot entirely in black and white and as a true silent film, you need to pay attention from the get-go. Yes, this is one of those movies in which you have to participate in order to grab the story. However, there aren’t many dialogue slides — most of the tale is meant to draw in the viewer by reading faces and lips (the latter of which was surprisingly easy on many occasions).

Set in 1928, at the end of the silent film era, movie star George Valentin — played beautifully and with suave grace by French actor Jean Dujardin — finds himself without prospects as the “talkies” gain popularity, forcing him to “make way for the young.”

Enter Peppy Miller, the gorgeous and talented ingenue, who first meets George when she plays an extra in one of his films, then catapults to stardom in the talkies while George looks on in despair. The plot centers around the careers and personal issues of these two characters, with John Goodman perfectly type-cast as a gruff film exec, and the awesome James Cromwell playing George’s ever-faithful chauffeur, Clifton.

Then there’s Uggie — the sassy Jack Russell who plays “The Dog” to absolute cuteness perfection. If you’re prone to boo-hoo at animals in movies, this one will make you tear up for sure. Or at least think about it. In fact, my first thought upon seeing the dog in its opening scene was, Please don’t kill off the dog. Please don’t kill off the dog.

Oy.

With beautiful effects — even for black and white and almost no spoken dialogue — and over-the-top (as it must be) acting by all characters, it is no surprise that this film won over Academy voters (it won Best Picture last year). It’s not a “tribute to the silent era” movie. It’s a story about being down and out and clawing your way back. It’s a story that invites you to care…and that’s huge with me when I watch a movie.

Not sure why it got the PG-13 rating, other than maybe the scene where one of the characters uses a pistol to attempt suicide. Otherwise, it’s a complete treat for watching with your parents or in mixed company. No foul words, no jiggle parts. Just story and beauty.

Highly recommended.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give The Artist:

Happy Sumday, fiends. I’m off to rehearsal…yes, they’re that awful.

Just enough dysfunction to be interesting; just enough precociousness to be endearing; just enough fairy story to be completely enjoyable. Such was the recipe for Moonrise Kingdom, Wes Anderson’s (Rushmore, The Life Aquatic, The Royal Tenenbaums, The Darjeeling Limited) new film.

It’s 1964, and Suzy and Sam, two serious, intelligent, square-peg 12-year-olds, have gone missing on a New England island called New Penzance, having run away from their unhappy lives in order to get married. Suzy, the daughter of two estranged, dysphoric lawyers escapes into the jungle-like recesses of the island with foster child Sam, who gathers a bunch of camping supplies and deserts his fellow Khaki Scouts to make a life in the wild with his new lady.

Understandably, this causes the scoutmaster (Edward Norton) and the girl’s parents (Bill Murray and Frances McDormand) a great deal of panic, and the search is on. Led by the bumbling and gentle-spirited police chief Captain Sharp (Bruce Willis, in a refreshing departure from his standard tough-guy roles), they all set out to find the kids.

As is Anderson’s signature style, the characters are all slightly…how do you say…off. Quirky. Not quite in control of their situations, but likable enough for you to want them to be. The child actors are perfect: deadpan and serious and totally effective — yet entertaining, in a Macaulay Culkin/Home Alone kind of way. And as my awesome fiend and Finkite Tom Hanks pointed out, no words are wasted. (We agreed the same about Aaron Sorkin, by the way.) Every line means something; there are no fillers.

This wasn’t a silly story with a happy ending. This was a silly story with a happy ending where you walk out of the theater just a bit ennobled, and maybe a little nostalgic for your own private reasons. It was OK that Suzy’s parents were still struggling in their marriage, or that we really don’t know what happened with Captain Stark’s previous unrequited love relationship. In other words, nothing about the ending — while it was satisfying and basically hopeful — smacked of contrived, predictable Hollywood drivel. While the characters were not well-rounded (not by a longshot), they were well-portrayed. That alone earns it another half a cheese.

Of course, the best part of the afternoon was picking TH’s awesome cinematic brain about filmmaking and what he looks for in a movie. Not only is seeing films with him fun, it’s educational. I always learn something new after talking with him.

So. First off, if you’re a Wes Anderson fan, this will be an instant favorite. If you’re not, or if you have little patience for not-quite-balanced people trying to deal with life in outrageous situations, you may want to take a pass. I’m somewhere in the middle, and I loved it. And Bill Murray was great.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give Moonrise Kingdom:

Images: Focus Features

First: If you’re going to psychoanalyze this show, or point out its occasional (OK, habitual) stretches with regard to realism, or if you’re going to snark on about how it’s basically historically inaccurate with regard to the role of cable news and competition and ratings share, or Aaron Sorkin’s dreamland interpretation of Committed, Serious People Doing the News for the Greater Good, then maybe you shouldn’t watch it.

However, if you want some gosh dang great acting, and kick-arse, awesome rapid-fire dialogue in a series that makes you wonder where the heck the last hour went — you should definitely watch The Newsroom (Sundays, 10 p.m. on HBO). The opening scene was among the most enjoyable five minutes I’ve ever witnessed on TV.

The lead character, cynical news anchor Will McAvoy (Jeff Daniels, in a curmudgeonly, crusty role that will hopefully make everyone on earth forget Dumb and Dumber forever), sits on a panel discussion at Northwestern University, and the moderator — clearly becoming frustrated with McAvoy’s non-answers — goads him into answering an uncomfortable question, which launches him into an absolutely delicious rant (warning: profanity).

Who cares if the last 90 seconds were a bit pie-in-the-sky (um, going to war for “moral” reasons??)? It was great theater, and I loved it. I was entertained. See, that’s the problem sometimes: people inexplicably confuse entertainment with real-world thinking. Now I’m all for realistic renderings of current events, and truthfully, Sorkin doesn’t quite deliver the goods. For instance, the show focuses on the day of the Gulf Coast oil rig explosion. Supposedly, every other network was calling it a search-and-rescue mission, while only the dynamic, greenhorn twenty-somethings in McAvoy’s newsroom saw the real environmental consequences, and ran with it on-air to produce a truly compelling, dramatic newscast. But hey, I forgive them that. Why? Because it’s great television. That, and I’m not a pretentious schmuck who whines when I’m not intellectually edified by an hour of play-acting. Hello.

But it’s still art, and that’s what’s gratifying. If it makes people mad, great. If it makes people think, greater. If it amazes and fulfills and entertains — fantastic. That’s what art is supposed to do.

The only trouble I have with the suspension of disbelief is Sorkin’s choice for the young, irresistible romantic female for whose affections men are seemingly willing to throw down. Allison Pill is a fine actor, and does the confused-but-intelligent intern thing really well, but...gorgeous? Not so much. That’s a little thing, though. I know I’m not pretentious, but let’s not ruin it by instead being shallow.

Still, it was totally enjoyable, and I’m not kidding when I tell you I looked at the clock and could not believe it was 10:55 already. For some, the show will seem like a kind of amalgam; a case of House meets The Network. To me, that’s part of its charm. It’s a keeper in my book.

On the Rat-O-Meter scale of five cheeses, I give The Newsroom: