There were a lot of movies in 2014 that I liked more than Guardians of the Galaxy, but five years from now, I believe we’re going to look back as a generation, point to this flick, and say, “Ah, ‘twas where it all truly began.”

The rapid bloating of Marvel’s cinematic universe is no longer news. We know about every movie they are going to release between now and 2020. We have blasted through Phase One, and are now standing on the brink of Phase Two’s conclusion. Guardians, amid all of the Iron Mans and Captain Americas and Thors, was easily the riskiest film Marvel has conceived up to this point. No actors who would be considered A-listers, no recognizable branding, just potential. The die was cast.

Of course, the film made more money in the United States than any other movie this year. The gamble paid off in a huge way, and Marvel emerged with another powerful tentacle added to its gargantuan, money-munching monster. The flick was entertaining as hell, easily the funniest Marvel movie yet, and it launched Chris Pratt into bona fide stardom. However, like cheering for the Cubs, Al Pacino’s acting career or trying crack for the first time, one instance of triumph could lead to years of negative fallout.

More than anything else, Guardians of the Galaxy defined 2014 as a year where film grew increasingly franchised. While Marvel and its rival DC Comics might be the most prominent offenders, we see that also in the three-part mud-march that is the Hobbit trilogy, the indefensible divisions of Mockingjay and the soon-to-come Allegiant films, and the rising presence of the “is this really necessary?” brand of sequels like Finding Dory, Avatar 2 (and 3… and 4), and the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them trilogy. I mean, where will it stop? If Guardians is any indication, we are going to consume just about anything. Since the last risk of these companies turned out to be such a huge non-risk, there is nothing to stop the avalanche of franchises and brands to come.

Ultimately, that was the scariest thing about film this year. Now, we have no choice but to go and watch, lest we miss something. Movies are like television now – to miss an episode is to miss out on context you need for the next fifteen films. We’re trapped.

Guardians of the Galaxy was Marvel reaching out and asking us to take its hand, and like the young Peter Quill, I’m not sure I’m ready. Past the gorgeous vistas and ragtag characters, something else was at work. Somehow, in retrospect, space has never felt more confining.

On her show Fashion Police, Joan Rivers always joked about how she was going to die. Rivers had a distinct voice, low and raspy, a sound you would never expect to come from her little 5-foot-2-inches self. However, it was the words that she spoke that truly caught the audience’s attention. At 81 years old, Joan Rivers was at what many called the height of her career, when a routine vocal chord surgery led to her untimely death.

Rivers’ searing wit and humor paved the way for many female comedians and was specifically known for her up close and personal red carpet interviews. The content of Rivers’ material was almost always as jaw-dropping as it was hilarious, to the point where you couldn’t even believe the words that had just come out of her mouth. Every Sunday, my family would gather around the TV in our living room to catch up on the episode of Fashion Police, hosted by Rivers’ on E! every Friday evening. Although my family held little interest in fashion, it was truly Rivers’ humor and vivacious personality that drew us in and made the show addicting. I was devastated when I heard the news of Rivers’ death on September 4, 2014, shortly after news of her hospitalization and complications from a minor procedure earlier on August 28, 2014.

Rivers’ will always be regarded as a comedic pioneer and her work will continued to be recognized for its influence on the entertainment industry. To me, Rivers was a brave and inspirational role model, a woman who couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her work and comedic material. Rivers was always one to speak her mind and share her opinion, whether it was asked of her or not. She was a dedicated mother and best-selling author, and as she continued to work her way to the top, despite her age and prior hardships in her life. It was evident to her audiences that her work and time in this world were cut short.

“Comedy is acting out optimism.” – Robin Williams

While playing the Genie in Disney’s 1992 Aladdin, Robin Williams could only offer three wishes, but real-life Robin Williams provided endless laughs. Known for his iconic humor, Williams had the talent to the make the blunt truth funny. His acting will always be well-remembered through his timeless impact on the entertainment industry.

Sadly, Williams died this year on Aug. 11 in his home at Tiburon, Calif., after he committed suicide. He suffered from depression, and his death shined a light on the seriousness of mental illness. He left behind a wife, Susan Schneider, and three children, Zachary (from a prior marriage), Zelda and Cody.

Featured in countless movies over the years, Williams made his entrance onto the big screen with his role as Popeye in the 1980 Popeye movie. From there, he would go on to receive numerous award nominations from which he won six Golden Globe Awards, four Grammys, two Emmys, one Academy Award and a star on Hollywood’s Walk of Fame in 1990.

Born on July 21, 1951 in Chicago, Williams’ career first began on television. After acting on various shows, Williams got his own television series, Mork and Mindy (1978-1982), where he played Mork, an alien visiting Earth. His notable comedy roles included the famous Mrs. Doubtfire (1993), Bob Munro in RV (2006) and Tom Dobbs in Man of the Year (2006), Alan Parrish in Jumanji (1995), and Peter Pan in Hook (1991). In 2009, he also took to the road to perform his comedy show, Weapons of Self Destruction.

However, Williams’ career was not always marked by comedy. Williams played the passionate therapist Sean Maguire in Good Will Hunting (1997) and received the Best Actor in a Supporting Role Academy Award. He also took to a serious side in his roles as the obsessive employee, Seymour Parrish, in the thriller One Hour Photo (2002) and the inspiring teacher, John Keating, in Dead Poet’s Society (1989). Late in his career, Williams assumed the supporting role of the President Dwight D. Eisenhower in The Butler (2013). His last production to hit the big screen was Teddy Roosevelt in Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb (2014).

“Why is your penis on a dead girl’s phone?” If that doesn’t get your attention, this show is not for you.

Thursday nights are for ShondaLand dramas: Grey’s Anatomy, Scandal and ABC’s newest addition, How to Get Away with Murder (HTGAWM). Viola Davis stars as Annalise Keating, a defense attorney and law professor at a prestigious fictional Philadelphia university known for its repetitive bonfires. While Annalise kicks ass in the courtroom and deals with her boring (and slightly terrible) husband, her group of students selected to work at her firm compete for a class trophy and, as the series name suggests, figure out how to get away with murder.

HTGAWM continues the Shonda tradition of a diverse cast and multidimensional characters. Holding a mirror up to us viewers, these people all carry baggage, ranging from overbearing future mothers-in-law to big-time judge fathers to murder suspects living across the hall, into the courtroom; sometimes this means they are pretty awful human beings, but hey, such is life and this show. It has also openly depicted gay sex and relationships, courtesy of the crafty and promiscuous Connor Walsh, portrayed by Jack Falahee (Remember this name. And this face. He’s not going anywhere).

The show isn’t perfect and the characters all make bad life choices at one point or another (ahem murder), but it’s fast-paced, addictive and worth watching for Davis’ performance alone. Besides its progressive depiction of sexuality, HTGAWM also portrays Annalise as a female antihero (compared to all the Walter Whites and Don Drapers of the world). She oscillates between intense courtroom drama and emotional talks with her cheating husband. She is smart, manipulative, caring, ruthless, vulnerable. She is flawed, but real.

In one scene, Davis removes her wig and makeup while getting ready for bed, both a subtle and revolutionary moment in which a woman of color is shown with her natural hair on TV. In her speech at The Hollywood Reporter “Women in Hollywood” Breakfast, Shonda Rhimes sums up what makes HTGAWM and her other Thursday night dramas so powerful:

“This moment right here, me standing up here all brown with my boobs and my Thursday night of network television full of women of color, competitive women, strong women, women who own their bodies and whose lives revolve around their work instead of their men, women who are big dogs, that could only be happening right now.”

On October 20, just six weeks after his last ready-to-wear runway show in New York, Oscar de la Renta passed away of cancer complications at age 82. Marked by sophistication and elegance, his fashion career spanned over half a century at labels including Balenciaga, Lanvin, Elizabeth Arden, Jane Derby and his eponymous fashion house Oscar de la Renta. De la Renta dressed both fashion royalty and the regular kind, with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, Oprah Winfrey, Taylor Swift, Michelle Obama and Queen Noor of Jordan among his loyal clientele. Peter Cropping, former artistic director of Nina Ricci, succeeded de la Renta as creative director of the Oscar de la Renta label.

On the surface, it’s just a story of how a man deals with his wife’s sudden disappearance, but Gone Girl has something for everybody. Didn’t read it first with the rest of your mom’s book club two years ago? That’s okay, because Northwestern alum Gillian Flynn adapted the script from her book herself, which means that the movie doesn’t stray far from the novel. David Fincher directed it, so maybe you and your RTVF buddy went to see it together (spoiler alert: She will still tell you Gone Girl has nothing on The Social Network). Ben Affleck bares all in it, so your thirstiest friend may have considered it one Friday evening. And Rosamund Pike plays the female lead, a woman named Amy, who has the possibility to fuel your most ardently feminist speeches on the representation of women in the media – or the exact opposite.

Along that same vein, Gone Girl also has something for everybody to avoid while watching it. Those who have read the book may just opt for a reread, as the movie really is that faithful to the original text. It’s too gory for those who don’t like the slightest whiff of blood (or, understandably, violence against women) in their book-adapted thrillers. Affleck’s nude scene is far too short to mean much.

Still, who hasn’t been in a room this year where you or someone you knew covered their ears, humming, yelling out that old familiar cry: No spoilers! If you haven’t seen it yet, then I hope you can – if only to understand the title’s double meaning. Or if only to understand what celebrities mean when they reference the movie in their tweets.

As Boyhood opens, we see a six-year-old Mason Evans (Ellar Coltrane) gazing deep into a blue sky, not unlike the way I remember once doing, wondering how it’s so big, what’s in it, why it’s blue. Then I blinked, July 2014 came around and I saw Boyhood for the first time, right in the twilight of my teendom, not much older than that same Mason Evans by the film’s end.

The film’s summer release marked the culmination of more than a decade of vision – once a year, between May 2002 and October 2013, director Richard Linklater gathered his cast and crew to film part of a two-and-a-half hour movie to represent almost 12 years of time.

Over those hours, Evans matures from an imaginative boy into a sensitive, artistic young man. Alongside him, his mother Olivia (Patricia Arquette), his father Mason Sr. (Ethan Hawke) and his sister Samantha (Lorelei Linklater) grow too, together weaving not so much one central story, but a quilt of vignettes anchored from the vantage point of one growing boy. Mason’s are the quintessential moments of so many boyhoods – a baseball game with Dad, the talk, a semi-serious girlfriend, high school graduation. And they feel genuine because, in a sense, they belong not only to Mason and his fictional family, but the actors themselves, too.

In an interview with Jimmy Fallon, Coltrane said Linklater never wrote down exactly how the 12-year story would play out, and when he called to ask about piercing his ear, Linklater said, “Do your thing.”

“That was always Rick’s idea, was to just have it kind of go where I went,” Coltrane said. “When I had acne, he kind of made a point not to cover it up because most teenagers have acne at some point.”

Many film critics would say “escaping” into a film is bad juju, especially when you’re expected to write about it – your judgments aren’t objective, your criticism becomes personal. But I would challenge anyone, no matter your age, to walk out of Boyhood without having flashed back to one’s own simpler days.

But ultimately, Boyhood isn’t a movie about the past. It’s a movie about the moment. “It’s constant…. It’s like it’s always right now,” Mason says, caught up again beneath the one thing that never changed.

BoJack Horseman came at the moment that suited it best – when Netflix original content started to pick up steam, big-name celebrities working on smaller passion projects became a normal occurrence, and cartoons with adult humor were immensely popular.

The 13-episode animated series, which premiered on Netflix in August 2014, follows washed-up sitcom star and anthropomorphic horse BoJack Horseman (voiced by Will Arnett) as he attempts to rebuild his career. On the advice of his agent Princess Carolyn (Amy Sedaris), he commissions a ghostwriter to produce a memoir on his behalf.

Rounding out this high-profile cast are Aaron Paul, who voices BoJack’s perpetually unemployed roommate Todd, and Paul F. Tompkins, who voices the canine and significantly more successful television star Mr. Peanut Butter. Also making minor appearances are characters voiced by Patton Oswalt, Stephen Colbert, Olivia Wilde and John Krasinski.

BoJack Horseman’s humor is, at times, both incisive and silly, smart and dumb. The show explores themes of America’s obsession with celebrity and past regrets, poking fun at everyone from Ira Glass to Andrew Garfield along the way. However, there are also the obligatory fart jokes and other slapstick gags scattered between, including one scene which has BoJack vomiting an entire mountain of cotton candy. Something for everyone.

Critics were far from unanimous in reviewing BoJack Horseman’s initial offering; Neil Genzlinger of the New York Times called the show “a combination of droll and naughty that seems improbable but works deliciously,” while the Chicago Sun-Times’ Lori Rackl gave it one star, saying it “seems to have stemmed from a trippy night on ‘shrooms.” Despite these mixed reactions, Netflix renewed the show for a second season of 12 episodes only days after it premiered.

September 9th, 2014. I still remember the day.

It was the day of Apple’s “Special Event” in Cupertino, California. You know, their yearly event where they announce new products and share revisions of old ones.

But that day was destined to be different. U2 would, somehow, be involved.

You’ve heard of U2, right? The Irish band, with lead singer Bono, that had that commercial with an iPod?

The rumor was that U2 would be making an appearance at the event to announce their new album, in order to share news about their latest work in a familiar spotlight.

But that day was destined to be different. U2 would somehow not only announce their album Songs of Innocence, but also upload it for free to over half a billion people’s iTunes libraries.

And the world and internet loudly reacted – with surprise, with confusion, with joy and with disdain.

Admittedly, I am biased. Very much so. U2 has been one of my favorite bands since I saw them live in 2009 at Soldier Field in Chicago. I follow updates about Bono, The Edge, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen Jr. just about as often as some of you follow One Direction and Taylor Swift.

Because I’m biased, I reacted to the surprise release with great joy. I’ve come to love some of the songs on the album, especially the ballad “Every Breaking Wave.” But not everyone felt that way.

Patrick Carney of The Black Keys claimed the move by U2 “devalued their music completely.” Taylor Hawkins of the Foo Fighters felt the album’s forced release on iTunes accounts drew a parallel to George Orwell’s 1984. And Tyler the Creator wasn’t too happy either.

Reviews of the album have been generally positive, with The Telegraph calling the album “a celebration of the transformative power of music,” Consequence of Sound noting it “lingers comfortably in your ears the same way just about any other U2 record does” and even Rolling Stone hailing the album as the greatest of 2014.

But as my good friend Tom August wrote earlier this year, “music is extremely subjective.” My favorite parts of Songs of Innocence include the outburst of optimism in “The Miracle (Of Joey Ramone,)” the sunshine-inspired melody of “California (There Is No End To Love,”)” the journey of first love of the main character in “Song For Someone” and the desperate melancholy of “Every Breaking Wave.” But that’s just what I currently like about this album. If you haven’t heard the album yet, I invite you to check it out, regardless of how you feel about U2. I also recommend you read Bono’s essay about the album.

Hey, if Tyler the Creator can go from ”FUCK BONO” to “BONO IS FUCKING AWESOME GOT DAMN” in about ten minutes, maybe there’s something special about this band.

Let’s go back, back to the beginning. Back to when the Earth, the sun, the stars all aligned. The year 2003.

I received Hilary Duff’s album “Metamorphosis” for my birthday that year and I swear to you, the karaoke contest at my sleepover was a watershed moment for music history. For so long, Hilary Duff has reigned as queen of my heart.

First she conquered the tween years with awkward grace and her best friends, Gordo and Miranda on “The Lizzie McGuire Show.” Then, Hil took on an Italian vacation in “The Lizzie McGuire Movie,” upstaging a Vespa-riding lipsyncer with terribly swooped hair. She defeated a villainous Botoxed stepmother, served burgers on roller skates and found love with heartthrob Chad Michael Murray in “A Cinderella Story.”

IRL, Hilary Duff grew up, got married to hockey player Mike Comrie and had a baby. And things started to quiet down for her work life, so it seemed. But we true fans knew all along we hadn’t seen the last of her.

I waited quietly, crimping my hair while watching the iconic “Hey Now (What Dreams Are Made Of)” Colosseum performance on repeat. And then, one day, after months of Instagram self-promotion, it came. She had a new album on the way, and her first single was out. “Chasing the Sun” took YouTube and my heart by storm in July, becoming Duff’s fastest-viewed music video ever.

It’s poppy, fresh and has everything you need: karate chop massages by a muscular shirtless guy, martinis in the break room, Eos lip balm and a weird dude who rubs sunscreen on her in what makes for a very uncomfortable scene. The music video for Hil’s second single, “All About You,” came out in September. It’s one big party of Amazon phones and high-waisted shorts, with Duff line-dancing her way through a pursuit of leather-clad, vinyl-toting lover.

Hilary Duff’s music has this magical power to make me look deep into my soul and question myself. Why not do a crazy dance? Have I ever wondered what life is about? Come tomorrow, will it seem so yesterday?

If that wasn’t enough, she’s also coming back to the small screen, starring in “Younger,” a TVLand show out next year from creator of Sex and the City Darren Star. The planned October release of her album was delayed, but the certain masterpiece is expected out sometime soon.

Duff’s comeback this year has reminded us that before her, our lives were duller. Now everything’s Technicolor.

How I Met Your Mother. 208 episodes. 13 Interventions. One yellow umbrella. And a countless amount of Canadian jokes.  

For those who have never watched the show: It begins in the year 2030. Ted, the main character, is telling his future kids, Penny and Luke, about how he met their mother, hence the title. The entire series is made up of flashbacks of Ted telling stories about his friends to his kids. His friends consist of Marshall and Lily, the perfect couple; Barney, the playboy who is constantly finding new creative ways to hit on girls; and Robin, the Canadian news reporter who had an on-again, off-again relationship with Ted throughout the series, but who we learn in the first episode, is not the mother. 

The concept of the show was perfect. It was the Friends that replaced Friends. The How I Met Your Mother gang’s adventures and running jokes in New York City kept us watching every week. 

Who didn’t dread the finale? No one wanted this show to end, but when the night came, I couldn’t wait to see what creative ending the writers had come up with. 

And I was not pleased. 

The finale was a sham. After nine seasons, some better than others, the How I Met Your Mother finale was disappointing to say the least. 

Not only was the finale disappointing, but the whole last season, which all took place during the weekend of Barney and Robin’s wedding, failed to reach expectations. This might be due to the fact that their marriage dissolves approximately 14 minutes and 28 seconds into the finale. What a waste! In that short time, a whole season of buildup was knocked down and destroyed. 

In my opinion, the writers could have spent the season showing how Ted and Tracy (the mother)’s ended up. But no, they left all of that for the last episode, giving Tracy and Ted mere minutes to show their life together before Tracy dies.

The writers could have ended it there. No, they should’ve ended it there. 

Instead they brought Robin and Ted back together. They rekindled a relationship that should have stayed dead. Robin and Ted are not supposed to end up together, that was made clear. If they were, they would’ve gotten together eight seasons ago. 

So, after nine seasons, eight slaps, and a whole lot of memorable moments, we end right where we began. And it makes me ask myself a question that I really don’t want to ask. Was it worth it?