Reviews

This quota quickie actually made me laugh a few times, thanks particularly to the charm of Anne Crawford -- in her first billed role, as a neglected wife trying to get her businessman husband to notice her -- and William Hartnell, the future Dr. Who, demonstrating his expertise at physical comedy. During a Latin American vacation, Crawford tries to make her husband think she's meeting a lover at a local jewelry store. When he follows her there, they get mixed up with a gentleman jewel thief and his assistant.

If you've only seen Hartnell in Dr. Who, which he made toward the end of his career, you'll be surprised by his physical grace. As the thief's assistant, he steals most of his scenes and does some great work in a chase sequence trying to keep some stolen diamonds from a police detective.

Crawford was only in her twenties and looks quite lovely. She has a good way with a comic reaction, but also keeps it all serious enough to make the rather thin material look better than it is.

This was one of Warner Bros.' low-budget British productions shot at Teddington Studio. It was made to satisfy government demands that a percentage of films shown in the country be made in Great Britain with British talent. The film looks much better than that might lead you to expect, re-creating a Latin town entirely on sound stages. It's a pleasant way to pass 90 minutes.

Despite Gwyneth Paltrow and Daniel Craig's solid performances, this film

suffers from a sketchy script that rushes past the important elements of the

relationship between Sylvia Plath and Ted Hughes to reinforce a set of cliches. According to the film, Plath becomes a good writer when she and her husband

split, even though the pain of their shattered relationship ultimately causes her suicidal tendencies to resurface. There is little emphasis given to the positive side of their relationship early on -- the way it helped both grow as writers and start to find an audience for their work. As a result, as hard as Paltrow tries to bring this fascinating woman to life, she's stuck performing big scenes out of context.

There's a lot of good stuff in this movie:

The dialogue is really strong and surprisingly literate. Grace Zabriskie, acting god. Glenn Quinn, the best of the strong young cast. Some great camera work and good use of music.

Then there's the bad:

It drags in places. Oddly, I wonder if the deleted subplot would

have made it work better. The suspense doesn't really hold up well. It's pretty easy to guess

who's going to be left standing at the end, so the rest of the killings

are fairly predictable. If you compare it to the original "Rope," it says a lot about changes

in filmmaking, not all of them good. (Hitchcock and Arthur

Laurents only needed one murder to generate lots more suspense). Grace Zabriskie isn't in the film nearly long enough. Glenn Quinn died young. A terrible loss. After awhile, the other characters become so obnoxious you may

be rooting for them to bite the dust.

And the interesting: Among the cast, I noticed a "Get me a Katie Holmes" type and a

"Get me a Matthew McCaunneghey" type. When do we start

seeing younger versions of these two? In the former case, not for

a while, I hope.

Overall: A good rental for a slow night.

I'd never seen this film, and now I'm sorry it's taken me so long to catch up with it. It's a wonderfully rich look at life in a burlesque house, with Barbara Stanwyck as the star stripper and a great supporting cast of chorus girl types (including the incomparable Iris Adrian as her best friend). Stanwyck sings, I think for the only time on film, and dances with an impressive athleticism. And the scenes backstage and during the police interrogation, with the performers in a variety of outlandish costumes, have a wonderfully surreal quality reinforced by the films hermetic qualities (even the exteriors were shot on the sound stage).

But what's really wonderful about the film is the depiction of the burlesque people as an extended family who overcome their differences and pull together when the future of their theatre is threatened. With the preponderance of women in the dressing room, the film is also surprisingly ahead of its time in its depiction of female bonding. It really deserves the same cult status as Dorothy Arzner's "Dance, Girl, Dance."

There's a great story to be told about Jeffrey Dahmer, and when I saw that this film featured Bruce Davisson as his father, I had high hopes. After all, here's a kid from a simple, middle-class background, albeit a broken home, who turned into one of the late 20th century's greatest monsters. Well, those hopes were dashed quickly.

The problem seems to be that, despite their protestations that they weren't trying offer some pat explanation for Dahmer's murderous career, the film ends up doing just that: he killed young men because he was gay and felt rejected by his father. To make the case, they falsify or leave out facts about his life. The result is a dishonest insult to the viewer.

However, this is the first time I've watched the supporting material on a DVD when I've hated the film. The featurette seems like something written by Christopher Guest as the people who just brought you 90 minutes of ineptitude tell you what brilliant work they've done on the film. My favorite quotes:

Jeremy Renner on playing Dahmer: I was free to add anything I wanted, as long as I stuck to the facts.

The editor on one particularly silly cut: When we go from Dahmer carrying the victim into his bedroom to a shot of a machine at the chocolate factory, I think it leaves you with something. (yeah, indigestion)

But that hardly justifies the time wasted watching the film. Wait for a better filmmaker to tackle the story.

This cable adaptation is a huge improvement over Neil Simon's original play for two reasons. The original was one of Simon's laugh a minute (and you can set your watch by it) plays with a big problem: it was written as an ensemble piece but one character-television comic Max Prince, who's based on stories about Sid Caesar-was so overpowering it threw the ensemble off. For this version, Simon, who got his start writing for Caesar's "Your Show of Shows" and "The Caesar Show," wisely puts more focus on Prince, adding scenes to flesh out the character and incorporate even more of the legends. With Nathan Lane in the role, he can't miss.

This is a very different performance for Lane, one of the industry's most capable farceurs. His Max Prince is as over-the-top as Lane often is, but he also invests the character with a strong serious side (like most great comics, Prince takes himself with an almost desperate seriousness) that gives the role heart. In between temper tantrums and one-liners belted out for all the world to hear, Simon and Lane have crafted some wonderfully subtle moments. He's strongly supported by the actors playing his writing staff-particularly Dan Castellenata and Saul Rubinek. And Richard Benjamin, who directed another Sid Caesar pastiche in "My Favorite Year," keeps the whole thing moving efficiently. I'm going to look for a rerun on Showtime so I can catch this again and can't wait for it to come out on video.

I know it's not fashionable nowadays to complain that a film

didn't do its source material justice, but I think it's a

justified complaint in this case as a) one of the sources is

another film and b) the people who mouth this blather probably

can't read anyway so who cares what they think. That much said,

"The Haunting" is a terrible disappointment simply because it

draws on a masterful novel and very frightening earlier film and

turns the material into so much pap. Why do they have to

explain the haunting in human terms? Why do they have to link

the main character, Eleanor, to the house to explain its

apparent preying on her?

The sad part is that this film was perfectly cast. Lili Taylor,

Liam Neeson, Catherine Zeta Jones and Owen Wilson could have

delivered knockout performances as the characters Ms. Jackson

created. And I think the story could still work in its

original, subtly psychological form (witness the success of "The

Blair Witch Project"). But instead the material was reduced to

a six-year-old mentality and the whole thing overloaded with

special effects that often arouse laughs (Taylor fighting off a

giant stone griffin with a candlestick is a real howler). It's

sad when you prostitute yourself to the lowest common denominator and can't even deliver at that level.

The only excuse for renting this film is as the centerpiece of

an MST3K party. Other comic highlights include the housekeeper

who says she's too busy cooking dinner to answer the front door,

then immediately leaves her cooking to show Taylor to her room;

Wilson getting dragged around helplessly on a killer rug when

clearly all he has to do is roll off the damned thing; and

Taylor almost getting raped--by her bed. After this and "Speed

2," Jan de Bont might

Sure, this sequel was dumbed down from the not-so-smart

original, but it's still a lot of fun. For once, the stuff I

hate in Woo's films (starting with those damned pigeons) was

kept to a minimum, while what he does best (action) was at the

forefront. He even showed some development in the area of human

psychology. Be warned, there are some big lifts from Hitchcock

("Notorious" and a second villain right out of "North by

Northwest"), but the thing moves so fast you won't have time to

resent it.

Best things in the film besides the action: Cruise's smile--in

this film his character is very much a danger junkie; his scene

with Anthony Hopkins early on setting up the plot; Ving Rhames'

return; and, best of the best, Thandie Newton. Not only is she

beautiful, but she has a wonderfully expressive body and face

with the biggest eyes since Bambi. She manages to give the film

some depth without slowing anything down. I hope this picture

makes her a

U-571 is the kind of film that seems original to people who've never seen a submarine movie before. The picture has cliches that were hairy during World War II, an over-active camera that gets in the way of the few good performances and makes some scenes almost totally incoherent and a script so leaden they could have put it in the ballast tanks to make the sub sink.

Worst things about the picture: 1) the script giving the U.S. credit for cracking the Enigma Code when it was principally a British endeavor, particularly the decoding, but then, they don't make summer action flicks about gay British mathematicians; 2) the attack on the U.S. sub, so poorly shot and edited it's hard to tell who's killed and who survived (not helped by a cast of young actors who all look alike in their World War II haircuts).

Best things about the picture: 1) Harvey Keitel, an acting god given the kind of dialogue Hollywood used to stick William Bendix with and, like the much underrated Bendix, he still makes it work (let's just hope nobody decides to star him in a big-screen version of "The Life of Riley"; 2) Jack Noseworthy, who's developing the kind of eyes and cheekbones that stars are made of. Noseworthy is dead-on in every scene as the German-American farm boy who's ashamed of his heritage. Unfortunately, most fans are mistaking him for Jon Bon Jovi (who has a few scenes as an officer then vanishes without a trace during the big sub attack). Hopefully Hollywood's casting directors won't make the same mistake.

I had barely heard of this film when I caught the trailer in front of another video. Since I love swing music, enjoyed Hugo Speer in "The Full Monty" and like Lisa Stansfield's singing, I gave it a try and was not dissappointed.

The story of an ex-con organizing a swing band is like "The Commitments" only not as crunchy. But while it's unravelling, particularly during the musical numbers, there's little time to complain. The whole thing is really a fairy tale, with a demented lottery winner as fairy godmother and Stansfield's possessive husband--the cop who had arrested Speers three years earlier--as wicked witch.

Stansfield's singing of some classic jazz and soul numbers is simply terrific. And Speers turns in a kinetic performance that could make him a star if anybody else sees this film.

Billy Wilder's career as a hitmaker ended with this for-its-time smutty sex comedy, yet it shows all of the flaws and strengths that once made him one of Hollywood's top directors and, for all its sexual innuendo, is really a very sweet film. Although Ray Walston is terribly miscast as small-town songwriter Orville J. Spooner, who hires a local prostitute (Kim Novak) to impersonate his wife (Felicia Farr) so he can use her to sell singing star Dino (Dean Martin) his songs, the other three stars are dynamite. Farr displays a crack sense of comic timing. Martin, one of Hollywood's most underrated actors, is dead on in a parody of his own image. And Novak gives the performance of her career as the romantic small-town slut trying to earn enough money to get her trailer out of the desert.

As with most of Wilder's films, all the cynicism and sex play mask a romantic heart: Polly and Orville begin to believe in her masquerade as his wife, until he kicks Dino out to protect her honor. The two develop a genuine affection for each other that transcends their brief sexual encounter.

At the time of its release, it was a major scandal, condemned by the Legion of Decency and disowned by United Artists. Now, it seems less shocking and ranks among the second tier of Billy Wilder's work. It's hardly as good as "Some Like It Hot" or "Sunset Boulevard," but never descends to the shoddiness of "The Front Page."

This is truly one of the great horror films, not just because it's scary but because of the way the film comments on what makes its characters open to fear and destruction. It's one of the most cogent comments on its generation that I've ever seen, and the greatest compliment I can pay the film makers is that after getting us to laugh at the characters, particularly their self-absorption and lack of grounding in the real world, it still made me feel sorry for them. But be warned: now that the film has gone wide, I'd recommend not going to your typical mall theatre. The screening I attended was filled with people who had no idea what to expect. Aside from the usual annoyances-late arrivals, cell phones and almost constant talking-the audience was audibly antagonistic to the film. I think they wanted severed heads and loving closeups of mutilated bodies, which is definitely not what this movie is about. In a way, the audience at that screening WAS the characters on screen, even if they were incapable

The only thing missing from "Instinct" was a large Native American inmate in the prison's psych ward. A lot of talent and energy has been expended on a film that's just loaded with cheese. Each time I thought they were on to something, the writer went for the easy out. Anthony Hopkins does some wonderful body work as a zoologist who lives among the gorillas for two years. Cuba Gooding, Jr. does a beautiful job with dreadfully written monologue at the end. Maura Tierney is terrific. But one scene was such an obvious lift from "Cuckoo's Nest" I'm surprised Ken Kesey didn't ask for "inspired by" billing. And towards the end, I was evaluating each new plot development in terms of how much it would add to the film's box office. Overall prediction: it will break even at the very least thanks to ancillary markets, and Hopkins could snare a Golden Globe nomination, but it will hardly go down in film history.

All right, this thing is borderline incoherent, almost revoltingly gory and mostly available in horrible prints, but it's still one of the most frightening, nightmarish films I've ever seen. Like the original "Night of the Living Dead," this is a film that probably wouldn't be as good if it were better made. Unlike "Night," this is one film in which the horror is unrelenting. The ghouls here, the product of a nuclear accident, can do everything but talk, and many of them look perfectly normal--at least until they start cutting throats, gouging eyes and sawing off women's breasts. But it's this very randomness of the violence, the fact that the monsters seem to be everywhere, that makes it like a true nightmare. Many people will find the experience utterly unpleasant, but I've rarely been so viscerally effected by a horror film.

Films like this make me wish we could declare a moratorium on Hitchcock imitations! This a wretchedly boring, poorly made and insultingly stupid film in which Dee Snider stars as a "serial sadist" who picks up teens on the internet (though one of the teens looked to be in his 40s) and tortures them with forced piercings. For all the modern topics, it's really just a sixties psycho rip-off, so boringly shot it seems to be made by the "squares" Snider's Captain Howdy derides. Add to this some amazingly sloppy plotting-or has due process been suspended in Colorado, do they have a more lenient insanity plea than any other state, and is it customary for a police detective to investigate his own daughter's kidnapping there?

This is one of the most influential series-and one of the best-ever made. It's the film that inspired the creation of PBS's "Masterpiece Theatre" and the birth of the U.S. mini-series and for it's almost 24 hours it's utterly spellbinding.

The series is adapted from six novels and three short stories by John Galsworthy about the Forsyte family of upwardly mobile Britishers in the late 19th-early 20th century, focussing in particular on the "Man of Property," Soames Forsyte (Eric Porter), who mistakes possession for love until he finally has a child, the spoiled yet totally captivating Fleur (Susan Hampshire). The adaptation is mostly faithful, though it opens with three episodes not in the original novels but dramatizing their backstory. In addition, Soames's first wife, Irene (the utterly amazing Nyree Dawn Porter), is more of a presence in the final chapters than she was in the later books.

If you ever get a chance to see this series (I don't think it's availabe on video at present), jump at it. The story is epic in scope yet quite moving on the personal level as Galsworthy traces the tortuous relationships of this large Victorian family in a manner that would make most soap opera writers green with envy.

I've never been an Andrew Lloyd Webber fan, principally because I hate "Phantom" so much, but this tape (which I only viewed to scout out clips for a theatre class I'm teaching) has converted me to at least a semi-fan. I thought the show enchanting, with awe-inspiring performances. Even the stunt casting of John Mills as Gus, the theatrical cat works. If they hadn't added some video effects that spoil the live-performance feel (and if the first act finale weren't so damned long), I'd consider it perfect. But it's still damned good, and I'm sure I'll be renting it several times.

I usually enjoy Loretta Young's early movies: her acting back then was light and breezy, and she sure knew how to wear clothes. But this one is just a loser from the word go except for a funny supporting turn by Glenda Farrell. Young is a hatcheck girl who talks her writer-husband (Paul Lukas) into becoming a championship bridge player. It's not the most cinematic of games, and the long, talky middle part in which their marriage falls apart just about kills the film.

There's one interesting bit though. As Lukas and Ferdinand Gottschalk start their climactic game, a series of quick shots show airplanes, trains, football games, even a diver in mid-air, freezing in anticipation of the event. It's the earliest use of a freeze frame I've seen in an American film. Wish the rest of it were that inventive-and funny.

This is a great film if you're not squeamish or can hold off getting upset about moral implications until the picture is over. Overall, it's a surprisingly moral picture about amoral characters who choose murder as a matter of course when it's the only way to get what they want. The acting is appropriately over the top, with special honors to Jeremy Piven as the man who accidentally kills the stripper at his friend's bachelor party and Cameron Diaz as the psycho bride. And of course, Peter Berg deserves special credit for a fast-moving, outrageously dark, yet funny look at upwardly mobile young adults whose incomes and opportunities outstrip their morality at every step.

This Hollywoodization of the German "Wings of Desire" improves on the original in a few ways (at least the leading lady isn't boringly existence in this one), but misses the mark in others. Both films are about an angel who falls in love with a mortal woman and gives up his divine status for her. Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan are quite good (his face is becoming one of the wonders of the screen), but several things take on a Hollywood overstatement. I missed the luscious black and white photography of the original and the subtle way Ganz fell to earth. And if you're over the emotional age of 14, you might want to turn the thing off about ten minutes before the big dramatic ending.

You'll like "Deep Rising" a lot more than most critics did. Admittedly, I probably wouldn't have liked it had I paid full price and seen it on the big screen, but as a quickie rental when I wasn't supposed to be in for the night, and it was my 13th rental at the store so I got it for free--it wasn't bad.

The opening drags a bit. They keep cutting between Treat Williams and the predictable terrorist passengers on his boat-for-hire and a luxury liner on the South China Seas. But when the ship is sabotaged and the two groups of characters come together, this thing starts moving like crazy.

Sure, the mutant octopus behind it all isn't much of monster, but neither was the beastie in Warner's "Sh! The Octopus," and the whole thing moves so fast that you really don't care. Most of the cast turns in B-movie style performances--two dimensions played well. And it's kind of sad to see Kevin J. O'Connor, who was so good as Hemingway in "The Moderns," in a stock sidekick role that seems to have been conceived for Bobcat Goldthwaite. But Famke Janssen is quite good as a jewel thief caught in the middle of it all. She really clicks with Williams. If this were an old Warner Bros. B movie, she'd be Jane Wyman, ripe for a promotion to major league roles. In fact, Janssen is long overdue for some serious acting challenges (look at her in "Rounders" and you'll see what I mean).

So I say, rent it, and leave your brain in another room.

This is a film for people who think Rio de Janeiro is still the capital of Brazil, and that's the least of the idiocies this sorry script foists on the unsuspecting audience. Still, the direction is good enough to generate some suspense and the young cast is attractive if not particularly adept at playing their stock roles.

I'll grant that James Woods has a few good one-liners (but nothing like the wittily crazed persona he shows in public appearances), there are some good fight scenes, and the underrated Sheryl Lee is good, as usual, but this film is so heavy handed that it almost becomes a satire of itself. It would be laughable if the misogyny in it weren't so disturbing. On the whole, it was about as pleasant as watching baby seals clubbed to death.

I thought there was a lot to enjoy in "Pleasantville," despite a slow start. I particularly liked the cast-you can't get much better than Joan Allen, William Macy and Jeff Daniels-but when the film turns serious towards the end it turns kind of chowder-headed. I'm a card-carrying liberal myself, but I thought the whole-hearted assault on white male privilege was a tad overdone and downright insulting. It's a pity as some of the treatment of this sitcom world accidentally invaded by real life is really quite well done, particularly the music choices.

I thought this was an utterly charming film. The story seems to be a thinly veiled autobiography of John Waters: Pecker's greatest gift is his ability to find beauty in unexpected places. Edward Furlong does well in the lead, but the best performances are by his grandmother, Mink Stole (a hilarious cameo) and, of all people, Patty Hearst. I think the reviewers are way off base on this one. They seem to be taking Pecker's worst valuation of his work as gospel, when I think the film pretty clearly states that he is indeed a promising artist.