Heathers might be the film I adore, and the only piece of cinema that I can quote from beginning to end, but it's not the film that makes me thankful. That spot is reserved for The Thin Man.

In a world where hate is rampant and equality is still a hope to fight for, The Thin Man represents the possibility of something better. Made in 1934, it's the perfect example of rationale and heart coming from a time you'd least expect it. When I stare at my shelves of DVDs and try to look for something with smarts, heart, and writing that doesn't rely on overblown reactions and flimsy emotion, The Thin Man sticks out. When I want to watch a woman on the screen who is intelligent but also humorous, and who can balance frivolity with depth, there's no better example than Nora Charles.

This is one of those films that proves that it's not the theme that creates the worth of a movie (romcom, action, drama), but how it is handled and presented to us. In a world full of mundane repeats, copy-cat projects, and stereotypical notions, I'm thankful that there are a few glimpses of greatness, like The Thin Man.

How do I love The Curse of the Cat People (1944)? Let me count the ways. I love it because of the deceptive, dime-store title; the movie is really a clever and resounding study of child psychology. In the original film, Oliver (Kent Smith) marries the strange and alluring Irena (Simone Simon) before realizing that she's actually, sort of, a creature who turns into a cat and tears people to ribbons. In this sequel, Oliver is re-married, to Alice (Jane Randolph), and they have a little girl, Amy (Ann Carter). Amy has a very active imagination, and despite the best efforts of parents and teachers to get her to come back to reality, she likes the company of her imaginary friend, Irena! Yes, the ghost of Amy's father's first wife comes back to visit, and protect, the child.

Despite the title, there's no horror here, and just a bit of fantasy, but it's enough to chase unwanted relatives out of the room during crowded holiday weekends. It's also a Christmas movie, complete with decorations and a Christmas carol. I love it because it was one of Val Lewton's masterful B-movie productions of the 1940s (all of them are amazing), and I love it because it's only 70 minutes long, but unbelievably rich. And I love it because I once had the pleasure of interviewing the director Robert Wise -- who took over for the slow-moving Gunther von Fritsch -- and he was such a delightful old guy, that it makes me happy to remember him.

Happy Thanksgiving, all!

There are only a few movies that I can watch over and over again, and Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy is one of them. I've always had an affinity for Will Ferrell, to the point of being baffled when I encounter someone who doesn't find him funny at all, and Anchorman is his greatest cinematic achievement.

It's my go-to DVD when I'm in need of comfort food. If I'm feeling a little under the weather, or if old man trouble has been knockin' at my door, I just pop in Anchorman to help chase the blues away. The antics of Ron Burgundy, Brick Tamland, Champ Kind, Brian Fantana -- not to mention Veronica Corningstone, Ed Harken, Tits McGee, James Westfall, Dr. Kenneth Noisewater, and faithful ol' Baxter -- always cheer me up. Sixty percent of the time, it works every time.

There was even one day this summer when I felt like Ron Burgundy! It was in the middle of a record-breaking heatwave in Portland, and I was showing a visiting friend all the sights of downtown when we stopped at the legendary Voodoo Doughnut for a treat. Needing a beverage to wash it down, I got a small carton of milk -- milk goes great with doughnuts, right? -- and instantly thought of Ron Burgundy. There I was, walking down the street in 102-degree weather, slurping milk, some of it dribbling into my beard. "It's so damn hot! Milk was a bad choice!"

Happy Thanksgiving, Channel 4 News Team. And you stay classy, Ron Burgundy.

There's movies that have more memory and love attached to them for me -- Lord of the Rings and Braveheart spring immediately to mind. But how many more grateful tears can I shed over LOTR? What can I say about Braveheart that my mom didn't?

Here's an edited version of a conversation I just had with Erik Davis: He was like 'Dude, news is gonna be skimpy this week' and I was all 'Yeah I know. Sucks, right?' to which he replied 'Yup, we need something extra this week' so since I wanted to finish playing Zuma I said 'Well let's have everyone talk about what movies they're thankful for, what with this being Thanksgiving week.' He called me brilliant and headed off to take a shower.

So yeah: Movies We're Thankful For. Pretty creative, I know. But there are movies we enjoy, ones we appreciate, and ones we're really passionate about. Those are the ones we're grateful for. Or should be if we're not big weenies. Take me, for example. You may have noticed that I'm a big-time mega-freak for horror films. But how'd that happen? I certainly wasn't born craving brains, blood, and boobs (ok, maybe boobs; I was a baby), but the horror bug bit me at a very early age -- right around the time my father forbade me from seeing A L I E N and The Thing.

But those films pretty much opened Pandora's Box, and while I watched tons of horror flicks with my friends, my sister, and by myself -- it was my maternal grandmother who somehow managed to make scary movies so damn special. My grandfather was old-school proper, which meant he didn't like nudity, swearing, or cinematic violence that didn't involve horses or foxholes -- and my sister was kind of a wimp -- which meant that it was me and "mom mom" who spent 4 or 5 hours together watching the slashiest, splattiest early-'80s horror movies. No lie, we went through The Pit, The Boogens, The Children, Creepshow, My Bloody Valentine, and maybe a dozen more. She made popcorn, we ignored the phone, and she even let me record the ones we missed ... damn was my grandmother cool. My mom's mom is long gone, unfortunately, but I think of her a lot -- and a lot more when I happen to spin the first horror movie we ever saw together. Strange but true: I'll always be oddly thankful for Halloween 2.