We all set goals for ourselves, but how often do we keep them? In 2006, one woman set out to see every movie that showed at the Music Hall that year—77, to be exact.And that’s what she did. The following is a special ABC retrospective of films that showed in 2006.

A is for Antifreeze: Tommy Lee Jones is a man of his word. In “The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada,” he promises his illegal immigrant friend he’ll get him back to his family in Mexico if anything should happen to him. Sure enough, Melquiades is shot by a border guard not long after. Jones takes it upon himself to get the body back, carrying it through the desert on his horse, while (literally) dragging along Barry Pepper, the man who shot him. With the high temperatures and days of travel, the body begins to wilt, despite Tommy’s best efforts. What are friends for, if not to fill your bloated, dead corpse with antifreeze so the ants will stop snacking on it? While it might sound like a horror film, this movie was actually beautiful and sad, like staring at a second-hand moon under a sky of used stars.
 
B is for Beach: “The World’s Fastest Indian” is the true story of New Zealander Burt Munro, who spent years building a 1920 Indian motorcycle, a bike that helped him set the land-speed world record at Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats in 1967. Early on in the movie, he’s challenged by some local toughs. He takes his Mad Max-looking bike and races them down the beach. It’s a tense moment; the sand looks slippery and wet and they’re flying at top speed. So, of course, BAM! He loses control of his bike and flips more than IHOP.
 
C is for Cleavage: Towards the beginning of “Volver,” we’re watching Penelope Cruz cooking, but it is shot at such an angle that we are looking down upon her lovely decolletage. Her stirring is vigorous, her bosom is ample, and the end result is mesmerizing. I’m watching, I’m watching, I’m...what? The film’s over? When did that happen? I’m told it was her best acting, too.
 
D is for Death: It’s all around us, there’s no getting away from it, and this year death played an important part in the plot of 39 of the movies. What, just half? Death must be slipping in popularity.  You especially know it’s going to happen in “The Death of Mr. Lazarescu,” it’s blatantly apparent. After a while, I found myself wishing it would happen to me, rather than be subjected to any more of the film. The movie is an excruciating two hours and thirty minutes long, and it takes all of it to close the deal. Suggestion for movie theaters: Self-euthanasia kits under the seats, just in case.
 
E is for Shareeka Epps: My vote for best performance in this year’s films. In “Half Nelson,” Epps plays an inner-city junior high student who befriends her crack-addicted history teacher (Ryan Gosling, also amazing) after she discovers his secret. Her performance is strikingly sad, beautiful and seemingly effortless. She will be winning an Oscar, if not for this role, then for one in the future.
 
F is for Felicity (and Failure): (WARNING: SPOILER) Keri Russell, having slipped under the radar the last couple of years, returns in “Mission Impossible III” as a special missions operative. She’s trained by Tom Cruise, top of her class and ready to kick butt. Unfortunately, she can’t win, as she’s been set up for failure. Keri does, however, die a spectacular death, when, after being rescued from the bad guys and on her way in a helicopter to safety, a small bomb implanted in her frontal lobe detonates.
 

G is for Guillotine: (WARNING: SPOILER!) The quietest I heard the theater get this year was at the end of “Sophie Scholl.” Based on real-life events, it tells of Sophie Scholl, who along with her brother and a friend, was arrested and executed for distributing anti-Nazi pamphlets in WWII Germany. The trial is a farce, it barely lasts a day, and they are sentenced to die the next morning. It’s all so quick, you barely have time to breathe before she is taken from her cell and brought behind a little black curtain where the guillotine awaits. In a matter of seconds, she is pushed down on a block, and you just have time to see the hint of a blade just before the screen goes dark and you hear a thud. A very visceral moment that lingered the rest of the night.

H is for Holy Smokes!: Jane Fonda’s figure in “On Golden Pond.” Jeff Daniels’ double chin in “Infamous.” Polar bears in “An Inconvenient Truth.” The end of “Paradise Now.” Fingernails in “Syriana.” Felicity Huffman’s prosthetics in “Transamerica.” Iraq in “The War Tapes.”  One missing word in “Wordplay.” Meat pie in “Severance.” The raunchy singing cowboys in “Prairie Home Companion.” The baby covered in ants in “Tsotsi.”
 
I is for Iron: I would have to say that Patrick Swayze was the scariest monster in the movies. What happened to him? My nose wrinkled up in distaste every time he appeared on screen. Physically, he’s probably never been in better shape. But his face seems like someone’s idea of what Patrick Swayze should look like. It’s shiny and round and botox-y, and it makes him seem destined to play the role of a lech, like he does in “Keeping Mum.” When Maggie Smith finally got around to bludgeoning his character with an iron, I felt relieved I no longer had to look at him, and I was left to contend with Rowan Atkinson’s nostrils.
 
J is for Jarvis Cocker: Better known to most as the former front man of Pulp, he covers “I Can’t Forget,” in the concert film “Leonard Cohen: I’m Your Man.” Alternating between chanteuse and stern reverend at the pulpit, he shows he’s not a common person as he sways and swaggers all around his mike stand in a way we were only expecting from Rufus Wainwright.
 
K is for Kermit: What better way to kick off summer film than with “The Muppet Movie?” I know I saw it when it came out, but I was only three, I don’t remember. Sitting under the beautifully restored proscenium, in plush red velvet seats, was a great way to watch it again. And instead of being surrounded by children, the place was actually populated by nostalgic adults, much like myself. We laughed at all the same things and sang all the songs word for word. Yet, one question still eludes us: Why are there so many songs about rainbows? 
 
L is for Lamborghini: I walk everywhere. Not having a car, no big deal to me. But someday when I get one, I’d like a Lamborghini Gallardo. Maggie Q. drives one in “Mission Impossible III,” and I honestly don’t know who is prettier. It’s so sleek and low to the ground, and it’s orange. Flame orange. Blood orange-orange. And it has a trap door. That could come in handy. Never know what will go down in Market Square.

M is for Mud: It’s not just for pies anymore! If you had asked me, a wound to the chest is enough to ruin any one’s day. But I was shown differently in “The Proposition.” Guy Pearce, having been speared by an aborigine, is left with a hole big enough to pass a kitten through. No worries, mate. One of his party members just lays him out, packs the cavity with mud, and the next day he’s back on his feet like nothing happened. Except that he’s now full of dirt.
 
N is for New York Times Crossword Puzzles: Never has being a nerd looked so cool. Will Shortz, crossword editor for the NY Times, takes us behind the scenes of a crossword competition and into the world of puzzle making. These people may seem strange, geeky and socially inept, but they also appear to be genuinely having fun, something that doesn’t come easy to a lot of us. And the actual process of making a crossword is fascinating. They start with the frame, add words, and then the clues last. Like “Jeopardy,” on graph paper.
 
O is for Oscar shorts: Not everything goes according to plan. One night, the scheduled film had failed to arrive, so instead, we were treated to the 2006 Oscar-nominated short documentaries. Mostly dark in subject but fascinating with just the right amount of image and information, they were the most interesting pieces of film of the year.  

P is for Peter O’Toole: I had previously seen one O’Toole film before this year. It was “High Spirits,” which embarrasses me enough without even mentioning that Steve Gutenburg was involved. O’Toole appeared in two this year, “Lassie” and “Venus.” It was his performance in “Venus” this summer that made me resolve to watch more of his films. In it he plays an elderly Shakespearean actor, trying to live his life without the restrictions that age brings. He befriends a crass, uninhibited teenage girl, the niece of a friend, and it is here you see why O’Toole is so good for the role. He shows us that while trying to help her find her way in the world he also would like nothing more than help her into his bed. So convincing is he as a dirty old man, that when “Lassie” showed at Christmas, I fully expected him to come on to Timmy.
 
Q is for Quiet: Ever poked a rabid animal with a stick? Swung a broom at a hornet’s nest? Mild inflammations compared to what happens if you talk during a movie. Music Hall moviegoers are serious about their cinema. They have no problem telling you to shush, repeatedly if necessary, and with such force all their breath leaves their body. I saw two elderly couples I thought were going to throw down. They shushed each other back and forth until one finally changed seats. Good thing, because I was getting ready to poke them with a stick.
 
R is for Robert Downey Jr.: Downey was a triple threat this year, appearing in three films. Like the actor himself, each role required him to be strange and offbeat. He played it for laughs, alongside a bloated Val Kilmer in “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang,” a fast-paced cop/buddy picture. He was a crazy, paranoid police informer in “A Scanner Darkly.” And as Diane Arbus’ freakish neighbor in “Fur,” he was the king of hirsute. “Fur” has to contain the first full-body shaving scene in major release. Two words: Ick-y.
 
S is for ‘Severance:’ While the most gruesome film I watched, this was also easily the funniest. A company outing in the remote woods of the Ukraine turns deadly when employees start getting bumped off. But they’re done in with such originality, the film is almost poking fun at their horror film predecessors, and there are a few genuine laugh out loud moments that make this superior to slasher films. And we discover that fridge on the bus is good for storing limbs, as well as beer. Bet you didn’t learn that in Boy Scouts.
 
T is for Truman Capote: The subject of two films, both of which focused on the exact same period in Truman’s life. One, “Capote,” is superb. Wonderfully acted, (Philip Seymour Hoffman won an Oscar) and sensitive to its subjects, it is superior in all ways to “Infamous,” which may as well be called “Mr. Truman Goes to Kansas.” Just because Toby Jones looks exactly like Capote, it doesn’t mean he can act. And Sandra Bullock shows us she’s a serious actress by not wearing any makeup. Capote would have loved the attention either way.
 
U is for Unnecessary: Most unwelcome sight of the year: Gratuitous ugly, nude male model shots in “Art School Confidential.” Think of them as the “Borat” wrestling scene for the indie film set. It would have been less upsetting if Judi Densch had stripped in “Mrs. Henderson Presents.” It was bad enough Bob Hoskins did.
 
V is for Vengeance: In the two grisliest films, aside from “Severance,” settling scores is the cause of much blood shed. “A History of Violence,” shows us how easily a vicious killing machine trying to hide from his past can revert back to his old ways when pressed. “Lady Vengeance” has a wrongly imprisoned woman taking revenge on the man who was responsible for her being behind bars, and she and his victim’s families torture him for a good twenty minutes of film. Movie I’d like to see: “A Brief History of Violence,” in which Stephen Hawking kicks everyone’s ass.
 
W is for the Worst: Things that would have been less painful than coming to see “Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World”: ripping out my fingernails, rubbing salt in my eyes and getting caught dancing around to “SexyBack.” The premise, if you can call it that: The US government sends a second-rate comedian to the Middle East to learn what makes the Muslim people laugh, hoping it will help them to better understand the people. All I know is, worse movies have been thought of, they’ve just never been made. 

X marks the spot: In “The Black Pirate,” Douglas Fairbanks, Jr. shows us exactly how it was done eighty years ago. Without the help of a stunt double or any camera trickery or fancy computer work, he swordfights, swims, swings, flips, flops and falls through the whole thing. The story is silly, as is the acting, but these details are inconsequential combined with the nonstop action against a backdrop of hundreds of extras. Arrrgh.
 
Y is for the Year: Some stats: 77 movies, plus 4 short films. That equals 8,722 minutes, which averages 113.27 minutes per film. 145.36 hours. 523,320 seconds. Or roughly 6.05 days spent sitting in the dark at The Music Hall. I can think of worse ways to spend a week. Incarcerated, for instance.
 
Z is for Zzzzz...: It happens to the best of us. One minute you’re alert and the next, your chin hits your chest and your head snaps up. I’m awake! You look around to see if anyone noticed. Nobody saw. When you return your attention back to the screen, you realize you have no idea what’s going on. This was my experience during “Tristram Shandy.” Last I saw, they were having dinner in a fancy manor. Next time I focused on it, a grown man was physically reliving his travels down the birth canal. What the hell? Segues might be for children, but they’re necessary for nappers.

It’s not too late to make your resloutions for 2007. What will YOU do?