Reviews

This cross between Lion King and The Three Amigos is pretty standard Disney fare. The ant colony suffers from exploitation by grasshoppers. The inventor-ant, the usual misfit/outsider, is sent to find macho bugs to fight the grasshoppers. Of course, it is expected that he will never return. What he finds instead is a group of circus bugs. Per the usual Disney formula, all the outsiders bring their unusual talents to win the day.

The animation was done by Pixar (of Toy Story fame). But this film doesn't make your eyes pop the way Toy Story Did. Partially the repetitiveness of the landscapes (lots of blades of grass) and the sameness of many of the characters (most of the ants and grasshoppers look the same) limit the potential for wild effects. Even the visit to the bug "city" does not have the intended effect. Instead of a lost country ant in a Manhattan-like urban landscape, we have an ant standing in front of a billboard.

Despite these shortcomings (in my mind) this will certainly please the kids. All the elements are there (but it's not a musical, thank God) and the story moves along at a good pace. The dangers are not overly scary, the circus bits are very funny, and there is some very creative use of the bug's eye perspective. For example, Flik (our hero) invents a telescope by putting a drop of water into a rolled up grass blade. Still, adults may want to get this on video and move to another room.

This is a romantic comedy like they used to make. The plot is simple enough. Hugh Grant plays William Thacker, owner of a travel book shop in the Notting Hill district of London. Julia Roberts plays Anna Scott, international movie star, pulling down $15 million a picture. She stumbles into his book shop and he is dazzled. Minutes later he is out buying orange juice when he runs into her (literally) dousing her with his juice. From this accidental encounter their romance begins.

This a nice, clever boy meets girl, boy loses girl..... What makes this film better than most of its kind is that every time you think it's going to dump a sentimental cliche on you, it pulls back at the last second.

Another strong point to the movie is that it stays focused on the romance, not the issue of Anna's fame. Her stardom is used as a way to generate some very funny scenes, but never takes over the story.

The movie moves along at a waltz-like pace, with the couple's meetings coming only as she flies through London, shooting films, or on press tour. It is a bright and colorful film, with a decidedly light-hearted and even whimsical tone. The acting is strong all around (even from Julia Roberts) and the supporting cast of William's friends, family, and crazy Welsh roommate stand out. They all feel like real people that we just don't see much of. They have an easy comradery, a sort of group chemistry, that strikes just the right note.

How many bad movies will Sandra Bullock make before people realize she can't act? And poor Ben Affleck. He needs a better agent. He got a nice part in the amazing Shakespeare in Love, but then saddled himself with this drivel.

If you've ever suspected that Hollywood just can't come up with many good ideas, this film will set your doubts at rest. If you've seen the TV ad, you've seen the only good line.

What a waste of celluloid!

Syd has just been promoted to assistant editor at the photography magazine Frame. But the promotion from intern has not changed her life. She got a small raise and an office, but she still has to run critical errands for the editor, such as getting him tea and scones.

At home one night, she lies in the bathtub reading, when a leak through the ceiling leads to a meeting with her upstairs neighbor, photographer Lucy Berliner (played by a very butch Ally Sheedy).

At the center of the film is the gradual drawing together of these two women, Syd being sucked into Lucy's world, like a piece of driftwood into a maelstrom. Lucy's passion is deeply passionate, arising from deep subconscious psychic wounds.

High Art is a grim look at the pretentious art world, and at the emotional barrenness of its critics and supporters. Written and directed by Lisa Cholodenko, this is a powerful and sophisticated debut. The obvious double meaning of the title--high art as elitism and high art as drug-induced--is echoed by the continual doubling.

Judith Godreche plays Beth, a seventeen year old girl coming of age in Paris. Beth's life is a bleak one. Her mother, a prostitute, is ill and cannot support Beth or her younger brother. Beth's boyfriend, identified only as "whats-his-name" is cold and abusive.

After a fight, whats-his-name challenges Beth to prove her love by seducing the ugliest man she can find. Beth takes up the challenge to spite him, and begins the sexual odyssey that lies at the center of the film.

This is a decidedly feminist film. The men surrounding Beth all treat her as a particular object. None knows, nor cares to know, who Beth really is. To the doctor she is a young woman to be made into a prostitute. To whats-his-name she is a possession. To Alphonse, she is a mirror for his own self-absorbed nihilism. Even her bedridden mother sees her as merely a potential source of money, if only she will surrender to the doctor.

Even the viewer is culpable. We see only sertain facets of Beth, and we can only imagine who she is in her entirety. Because the distance between Beth and the viewer never closes, we are forced into supposition. It is an uneasy position, a position that makes suspect any conclusions or judgements we make about Beth or her actions. The film does not provide us with an answer.

I rented Wild Things because it made a "Top 10 Hottest Movies" list in Cosmopolitan magazine. It's a reasonably sexy, entirely disposable film, but it's certainly entertaining. It got a lot of notice primarily because Neve Campbell (teen heartthrob from TV's Party of Five) gets into a menage-a-trois with Matt Dillon and Denise Richards.

It is pretty silly, but it is a fun ride while it lasts, and there is plenty to look at, if you're looking for a sexy thrill (hey, it worked for me). There are lots of great looking people wandering around with little on, plot twists aplenty, and a rapid fire pace to the whole thing. So, while I'm glad I didn't pay to see it in the theatre, it was definitely worth the money at the video store.

A friend of mine suggested this as the Sandler movie to see. And as I am in the midst of planning a wedding myself, I thought I'd roll the dice and gamble my $2.99 at Blockbuster.

I can only guess as to Sandler's appeal. Perhaps he would be funny if I were 13 again. But this movie was insipid and insulting. Drew Barrymore is always lovely to look at, but the rest of the movie is as flat as a two-day-old beer, and even less funny.

It was fun, I admit, to see the references to the 80's and mark the passing of Flock of Seagulls, junk bonds, and 80's hedonism. But otherwise this movie was just plain dull.

Blockbuster is three bucks richer, and I didn't even get a chuckle out of the deal!

Every once in a while a movie captivates me, even though I have some fundamental issues with it. Elizabeth is one such movie. It tells the story of Elizabeth I's coming to power, and her ensuing attempts to secure and consolidate her position.

One of the first things you notice about this film is that medieval England was a very dark place. As the characters wander from room to room, the few candles (candles were very expensive and Elizabeth was broke) seem to create more shadows than light. If you ever visit a medieval castle or palace, you'll appreciate electricity and central heating like never before. Some of the scenes are reminiscent of old vampire movies, full of arches of blackness, and deep wells of shadow. The interior dark makes the few outside scenes, full of sunlight and green meadows, stand out in extreme contrast.

Fortunately the cast bring their light with them. The performances are all very solid, and Blanchett is especially good. Dressed in dazzling costumes, the actors come across as real people rather than mannequins. The film's conflicts between Catholic and Protestant, and between various political factions, feel very real, very intense. The film has rightly been noted for borrowing liberally from The Godfather. The intrigues of the Pope are cast as the cutthroat maneuverings of a Mafia Don, complete with spies, assassinations, and paid informers. In this case, imitation is the highest form of flattery.

The film also achieves a gritty realism in depicting medieval England. Heretics (non-Catholics) are burned at the stake; the castles seem dark and cold; and one gets the sense, as my friend put it, that it was a smelly place. This is not the sugar coated England of The Seahawk, that Errol Flynn classic, but the grubby, dirty world of Braveheart or Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

The film's organizing theme is the relationship between Elizabeth and Robert Dudley. Dudley is Elizabeth's lover, and their romance, prior to her coming to power, is full of charm, affection, and love. Their relationship serves as the primary bellweather of Elizabeth's changing nature, as she assumes the role of Queen.

The growth of Elizabeth's sense of power and independence comes gradually, and believably. By using many subtle clues, such as her hairstyle, and manner of treating her advisors, we see this young woman become a powerful and dominating person in her own right. Her hair, for example, starts out as long, loose red hair. Later it is piled on top of her head in the manner of the court. As Elizabeth harden, it is cropped short and tightly curled. The Elizabeth of the closing scenes, white-faced, girdled, and grim is a shocking vision compared to the charming young princess of the film's opening.

My primary dissatisfaction with the film is that we never get much sense of Elizabeth the politician. By all accounts she was a strong and shrewd monarch, but Blanchett's Elizabeth seems more lucky than good. The Machiavellan maneuvers that secure her throne seem entirely the work of her advisor Walsingham. The one decision Elizabeth seems to make is to approve the purge of many of her opponents. While it is true that her supporters were loyal to her family and religion, rather than her person, she seems more of a tool, a passive head of a powerful political machine.

I rented Wild Things because it made a "Top 10 Hottest Movies" list in Cosmopolitan magazine. It's a reasonably sexy, entirely disposable film, but it's certainly entertaining. It got a lot of notice primarily because Neve Campbell (teen heartthrob from TV's Party of Five) gets into a menage-a-trois with Matt Dillon and Theresa Russell.

It is pretty silly, but it is a fun ride while it lasts, and there is plenty to look at, if you're looking for a sexy thrill (hey, it worked for me). There are lots of great looking people wandering around with little on, plot twists aplenty, and a rapid fire pace to the whole thing. So, while I'm glad I didn't pay to see it in the theatre, it was definitely worth three bucks at the video store.

Recently released from prison Corky (Gina Gershon) obtains a job painting and refurbishing an apartment. Living in the building is Violet (Jennifer Tilly), the mistress of medium sized hood Caesar (Joe Pantoliano). And Caesar has two million dollars is a suitcase on his kitchen table. Violet wants to seduce Corky and run off with the cash.

Stylish 90's noir at its best, this movie begins by letting you know the plans eventually fall apart. The trick is learning who all these people are and what role they all have to play. Of course Violet and Corky make an attempt, falling in love/lust in the process. These two women are smart, tough,and cunning, and are well matched against very violent, equally cunning villains. The plot twists and turns in the ways real life does and the tension, set up from the opening sequence, never lets you go.

The other remarkable feature of the film is that almost every scene takes place in the two apartments in Violet's building. Yet the direction is such that the space is claustrophobic and expansive, often at the same time. While the film has garnered many comparisons to the dark humor of the Coen brothers, it reminds me more of the harsh but excellent Reservoir Dogs. The violence erupts from circumstance and is brutal, casual, yet not trivial. When Corky takes up a large pipe wrench in defense of Violet, the effect is overpowering.

This film has been called a black comedy, but that's an understatement.

Suppose you suddenly found yourself trapped in the old television show "Father Knows Best." The world is black and white and life is perfect. The basketball team never loses, Mommy dearest cooks four course breakfasts, and it never rains. Perfect right? Unless, of course, you refuse to follow the script. Once you deviate from the script, everything starts to fall apart.

This is the clever and very effective premise of Pleasantville. David and Jennifer are brother and sister in a very imperfect 90's family. In a fight over the television remote control, they are transported into the television show Pleasantville. David is the reigning Pleasantville trivia champ and a devout fan. He can quote scripts word for word. (Danger, danger Will Robinson! I can quote Monty Python scripts until my fiance kicks me under the table. In the shins. Hard.) Jennifer, however, thinks it is stupid and corny. Once it is clear what has happened (even if the Why? is as yet unresolved) David is thrilled and Jennifer is outraged. David finally has the nuclear family he has always wanted. Jennifer is aghast at her pasty complexion. While David slowly recognizes which episode they have been trapped in, Jennifer charges off on her own, refusing to follow the script.

The nice, bland, white-bread world can't handle the variety. When Jennifer seduces the high school hunk, the "scripts" fall apart. Couples who previously were contemplating holding hands are suddenly discovering the Kama Sutra in the back seat on Lover's Lane. Suddenly the basketball players can't make a shot. They actually lose a game and the entire town is quietly nonplussed. The men in the barber shop suddenly understand the phrase "You can't win them all." More importantly, the world starts to turn into a color world. At first it is just a patch of color here and there. A rose, an umbrella, a young girl's tongue. As the people in Pleasantville start to explore possibilities their world leaves the old black and white behind.

The change from black and white to color is handled very deftly and it serves a number of functions. First, it provides a visible symbol of the sense of freedom and possibility that gradually seep into Pleasantville. Second, it serves to give rise to an exploration of prejudice (it gives rise to a very clever visual pun on "colored"). The gradual transformation to color is quite effective. Although we have seen the same technique in isolated scenes or ads, the effects here really serve the story well.

If this movie were just one clever idea, it would be like a Saturday Night Live skit-a one liner dragged out for twelve (or in this case ninety) minutes. But writer/director Gary Ross has more up his sleeve than just a clever idea. He has created a charming and warmly felt movie. We are given two wonderful stories that draw the plot out in fine detail.

First, David and Jennifer's parents start to have a few problems. Betty (played by Joan Allen) turns "colored" as she explores an art book with soda shop owner Mr. Johnson (Jeff Daniels). Johnson has always loved painting his windows for the holidays. With the coming of color, he is given an art history book that brings his artistic soul from a banked ember to a full blaze. Betty is drawn in, and she poses for an expressionist nude in the soda shop window. Trapped in Pleasantville's first thunderstorm, she spends the night with Mr. Johnson. Meanwhile, her husband George arrives home, puts up his hat, and cries out "Honey, I'm home!" Betty is nowhere to be found, dinner is not on the table or in the oven. When she does turn up she is in full color. George tries to reassure her that the color will go away. "But I don't want it to go away!" she replies. The breach is irresolvable, and she leaves him for Mr. Johnson. (Later, when George visits David in jail, he brings a bottle of martini olives, the only food in the house he can find.) It's a touching scene, well rendered.

The later exploration of prejudice/racism arises very believably. Had it been handled poorly, it would have felt gratuitous or merely tacked on. But here we see its source. As life slips from its comfortable, reassuring ruts, some are not happy with the change. They don't like all the color, changing roles, new music and upheaval. They are not evil, just weak, frightened, and unequipped to cope with the new world. At first, they seek some sort of compromise. They decree a new "code of conduct" legislating music, allowable colors, etc. Of course, it is perfectly acceptable if you want to remain in the rut. For many of the liberated coloreds it is just another form of surrender. As the "coloreds" are persecuted by the "black-and-whites" a huge wall of graffiti becomes a form of protest, leading to a courtroom showdown.

This is quite a tribute to the power of the individual and the importance of freedom. We have seen the police state held up as the opposite of freedom, and we are correctly frightened of it. But this movie shows us an altogether more insidious version of such repression. Repression does not automatically mean nasty, evil, or cruel. It can be pleasant, palatable, and prosperous. This is the kind of prejudice that everyone faces in every day life. And the sources of prejudice and control are not just radicals. They are our own family, our friends, our coworkers. Their expectations and need to pigeon hole us have a subtle, cumulative force that takes strength and courage to oppose. And it shows how, in many ways, it takes very little to oppose those forces.

Mike Leigh, directing without a script, has created a true masterpiece. An emotionally powerful character study, this movie will make you think about your own secrets and lies.

The plot is very simple. Hortense Cumberbatch (Marianne Jean-Baptiste), a black optometrist, has recently buried her adopted mother. She decides to try and track down her biological mother. She obtains her adoption records and locates her mother, Cynthia Purley (Brenda Blethyn), who lives on the other side of London. Cynthia, it turns out, is white. Through Cynthia we are introduced into the extended Purley family.

The movie revolves around Cynthia. We meet her daughter Roxanne (Claire Richbrook), a surly, hard drinking young woman who works as a street sweeper. We meet Maurice (Timothy Spall), Cynthia's brother, who has become a successful portrait and wedding photographer. There is also Maurice's wife, Monica (Phyllis Logan), moody and bitter, and wholly devoted to decorating their home.

From the start we see that this family is fragmented, divided, lost. Each member is divorced from the others because each has spun a web of lies to protect their secrets. They are all in pain, but they are all utterly unable to express their pain directly, because they refuse to open themselves to one another. It is Hortense that acts as the catalyst for an explosion. Having found and met Cynthia, Hortense becomes curious about the rest of the family. She and Cynthia continue to get to know each other, and to become friends. As a result, Cynthia invites Hortense to Roxanne's birthday party, which Maurice and Monica are hosting.

This movie is a very careful and thorough examination of the ways in which these people have withered, as a result of having cut themselves off from each other. Their secrets have become cancers, destroying them from the inside. They are all desperate for meaningful contact, for love. But they have destroyed the openness that love requires.

This movie has tackled some very raw issues, and it is not a movie that shrinks away from the pain these issues cause. The film is brilliant in portraying the deep wounds caused by ordinary people trying to manage as best they can. The film develops slowly, a character study rather than a story. As such we are given deep explorations of each character. Maurice, for example, is a very large man, but very quiet, very unassuming. In a brilliant sequence that takes place in his studio, we see him taking portraits, managing very awkward situations with care and tact. One portrait is of a horribly scarred young woman. A beauty consultant, the photos are to be evidence in a lawsuit. She is clearly scarred inside as well, and when the flash goes off, she nearly jumps out of her chair. But Maurice puts her at ease, and offers his sympathy, without being condescending. Yet we also see him brush off a sponger with kindness and strength. The Buddy Guy song Don't Mistake Kindness for Weakness could have been dedicated to Maurice.

As in real life, the tension of the film arises from the interactions of these characters. Petty jealousies flare up, and old wounds are reopened time and again. Cynthia, for example, resents her daughter Roxanne. Roxanne was conceived when Cynthia was very young. Cynthia had always been saddled with taking care of Maurice when they were children, and became a mother far too young. She sees Roxanne as having made it impossible for her to explore life. Roxanne, meanwhile, has been beaten into the ground by Cynthia's blaming her for how her life has turned out. When Cynthia meets Hortense, she is called up short. Hortense is beautiful, successful, and very kind. Cynthia sees for the first time that a child can actually be a joy, a source of pride and a feeling of accompishment. This feeling slowly leads her to try to heal the breach between herself and Roxanne.

Don't look for swelling violins or cliché happy endings. Leigh refuses to let us believe that years of hostility can be overcome in a day. Hollywood deplores an unresolved story, and we have been conditioned to expect neatly packaged resolutions to deep and complex territory. It is rare for a film to strike an emotional chord without resorting to base manipulation. But if you want to see a film that can truly move you, and make you really think about your own life, don't miss this one. See it twice.

Many films dwell on characters confronted with life-altering decisions or circumstances. To face illness or death, to decide whether to marry or not. But few films make their mark by examining the impact that miniscule decisions and events can have on our lives.

Sliding Doors presents two lives, side by side. Fired from her job, Helen (Gwyneth Paltrow) heads home. The film divides as she tries to catch a subway. In the first she makes the train and heads home. Once there, she catches her boyfriend Gerry (John Lynch) in bed with his mistress, Lydia (Jeanne Tripplehorn). In the second, she misses the train, and is mugged and taken to hospital. She arrives home, shortly after Lydia has left.

From this point, the two stories are run side by side. (It can be a bit confusing at first. Follow the bandages and the hair styles to keep track). In the one, she has met James on the train, and their love story develops, as Gerry hovers in the background. In the other, the affair continues, with Gerry too weak to break with either woman.

Each of the two plots has similar plot twists, and there are some very clever sequences in which the two lives are presented in quickly cut scenes. In addition, the locations tend to overlap, so that we switch stories without switching sets. All in all, this is an ingenious film.

But more than a clever technique, this film can be a little unsettling. Love, death, success, are all presented as contingent on the chance occurrence of tiny events. It is an idea that has always been dear to me: the importance of tiny events whose importance is only seen with hindsight. But this points out the importance of events whose importance we cannot evaluate. We can think of a hundred small events in our lives where, had they been ever so slightly different, things would have been shockingly different. But since we can only live life once, we can't see both and compare (a theme brought out over and over in The Unbearable Lightness of Being).

This is a fabulous film because it is able to work with some weighty material, and give your brain and heart a workout. But it is able to do so in an engaging and emotional manner. It requires you to feel your way with your heart as well as your head. It wrestles with this heavily existential theme, without feeling heavy. On the contrary, the film is warm, human, and very funny. All of the performances are very strong.

What happens to washed up rock-n-roll stars in the late 1990's? They launch a comeback / reunion tour. At least, that's what the members of Strange Fruit, a (fictional) 70's stadium rock group do.

Tony (Stephen Rea) has the concession on condom vending machines when he runs into the son of the promoter of a famous music festival. It was at that festival in the 70's that Strange Fruit broke up. The 70's are "retro" and the time is right to wide that wave. He sets off in search of the other members of the band.

Part of what broke up the band was the death and replacement of Keith, the lead singer and brilliant song writer. The band was known for its excessive lifestyle and now they are all back amongst the working class from which they came. Beano, the drummer, played by Timothy Spall (who was brilliant in Secrets and Lies) is a layabout, the bass player is a roofer, and their lead singer is still a rocker. While he owns a huge mansion he has been forced to sell it, as his fortune has not lasted. Brian, the lead guitarist, is dead, so a young guitarist is hired to replace him.

Somewhat reluctantly the band agree to give the reunion a try. Abandoning their day jobs, they begin to rehearse, and their manager approaches their label about reissuing their albums. But he wants them to start touring again first. And so they hit the club circuit around Europe. The club scene is not kind to these overweight, dated, old rockers.

It is on tour that the film really starts to develop. All of the old conflicts rearise, with the figures of Keith and Brian hovering throughout. They all hang together because they are all in search of a second chance for the greatness that eluded them earlier. And they rediscover some of the interpersonal chemistry that made playing together so enjoyable.

Still Crazy starts as Spinal Tap II but gradually becomes a more dramatically focused film, following the relationships of the band members. While it is still a very funny movie, it is the evolving characters, struggling to deal with the deaths of Brian and Keith and with their own personal demons, that make the film work.

Frankie (Ione Skye) is an aspiring actress working in the Blue Eyes Cafe (when it is convenient for her). An insomniac, she hasn't had a solid night's sleep since she was six. Her best friend Allsion (Jennifer Aniston) is also an actress and Frankie's best friend. They are moving in five days to Los Angeles. Into the cafe for a job walks David (Mckenzie Astin) with eyes like Frank Sinatra and literary aspirations.

Frankie is (supposed to be) a dark, tortured soul, but she comes off as more of a hopeless romantic (think Winona Ryder's Ophelia from Beetlejuice). When she meets David it's love at first sight. But David has a girlfriend, Molly, a law student. Frankie has three days to get David to fall in love with her, and agree to move to L.A. with her.

Frankly, Tiffanie DeBartolo's film (which she both wrote and directed) almost made it onto my list of films to skip. It certainly does not offer much in the way of insight. But there were just enough clever moments in the otherwise entirely predictable script to save the movie. Skye and Astin are pretty good, but Jennifer Aniston, sporting a wide variety of accents, all bad, proves once again that it is better to be lucky than good.

I decided not to pan the film partially because it is a little amusing, but also because DeBartolo shows promise as a director. If she matures and brings that growth to her writing, she might make some very good films.

This film is based on the Elmore Leonard book of the same name. This is a hilarious satire of Hollywood. Chili Palmer (John Travolta) is a loan shark from Miami tracking down a deadbeat who has run off. Palmer's travels take him to Hollywood, where he meets Harry Zimm (Gene Hackman). Zimm is a producer of major motion pictures (read B horror flicks). His lover is Karen (Rene Russo). His meetings give Palmer the "movie bug."

Already a huge movie fan, Palmer decides to produce "Mr. Lovejoy" a script that Zimm proclaims will be hs "Driving Miss Daisy." The plot centers around efforts to raise the necessary money and land Martin Weir (Danny DeVito) in the lead role. Fortunately Weir is Karen's es-husband. And Palmer has access to $300,000 generated from Las Vegas winnings of the missing deadbeat, Leo. As a further complication there is a drug dealer (Delroy Lindo) who has invested in one of Zimm's pictures. But he has gotten in trouble with his supplier for $500,000 and a missing nephew.

DeVito does a wonderful job playing the self-involved, pretentious Weir. There are wonderful comments about screen writers. Spelling is optional, not necessary. The role of a screenwriter is just to put the commas in where they belong. Travolta is delightful as a "nice guy" wiseguy. In fact, the entire cast is just great.

The plot lines never overwhelm the film, and they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. (Note: Thanks to Pulp Fiction, studios are willing now to use non-linear plot lines on occasion.). The ending is terrific (watch for the cameo by Harvey Keitel). I saw this in the theatre and have seen it several times on video. This one is definitely a keeper.

My fiancee hated this movie. Now every time we are out together and talking about movies, she tells people about an incredibly boring movie we saw together. Needless to say, I have a much different opinion about this Jim Jarmusch film.

Set in the second half of the nineteenth century, this film stars Johnnie Depp as William Blake, an accountant from Cleveland. Travelling out west to start a new job he arrives to find the job has already been given to another man. Nearly broke he meets an ex-prostitute. A shoot out ensues with her (former?) fiance Charlie, played by Gabriel Byrne, in which she and Charlie are killed, while Blake is wounded.

Making his escape, he is pursued by three killers hired by Charlie's father (Robert Mitchum in a great cameo). On the run and wounded, Blake meets up with a wandering indian, Nobody. Nobody was schooled in England and is a great admirer of the poetry of William Blake. Mistaking the two Blakes, Nobody travels with Blake, wondering why he knows so little of his own poetry.

The movie is, thus, a chase film. But this is not a simple film, and moves more like Portrait of a Lady than The Fugitive. Oddly poetic, filled with allusions and illusions, it is a haunting story of a soul chased out of this world and into the next. Leaving a trail of dead behind, Blake and Nobody head for the sea. There, Nobody plans to send Blake to the next world in a sea canoe.

In one sense, this is a film about how a single event can destroy a man without his knowing it. And about the terrifying consequences that can result. Having killed Charlie, Blake has been destroyed. He is dead, but his body keeps moving. Having no soul, he wanders across the west with Nobody, killing marshalls and settlers as he goes. As Nobody tells him early on, "now your poetry will be written in blood."

This a sweet, if disposable, film. Kevin Kline plays Dave, owner of a temp agency with a very close resemblance to the President (also played by Kline). It's the good twin / evil twin version of The American President.

Dave is hired to double for the President at a fund raiser, so the President can sneak out of the building. While bedding his mistress (possibly an intern--the movie was ahead of its time) the President suffers a stroke and is incapacitated. Rather than turn things over to the Vice, the Chief of Staff and Press Secretary connive to put Dave in office, in hopes of running the show themselves. The First Lady (Sigourney Weaver) has been essentially separated from the President for years so she proves no problem (she can't stand the sight of her husband).

But Dave gets tired of being a puppet and starts to act like the President. He invites a CPA friend of his (Charles Grodin) to help trim the budget, chats with his bodyguard, and charms everyone in Washington.

This is an American version of The Prince and the Pauper. It certainly raises the usual questions: why are our politicians such manipulative, conniving bastards? The answer, of course, is that our political system rewards such. In America politicians cannot afford too much integrity of honesty. But we can dream can't we?

This, along with The Big Night and Babette's Feast, is one of the best movies for true food lovers.

Set in Mexico at the turn of the century, Tia is doomed never to marry. Her family's tradition requires the first born daughter to spend her life taking care of her mother until death. But Tia is in love with Pedro, and he with her. Since he cannot marry Tia, he asks for the hand of her sister, in order to be near Tia. Tia's third sister runs off with a group of guerillas fighting in the civil war. The movie follows Tia and Pedro through 1932.

Throughout, the tone of the movie is one of magical realism. It is a tribute to an old vision of romantic love, a love that transcends time, and overcomes distance, madness, and even the direct interference of Tia's family. Many viewers may find this style and tone slow, even boring. But for those who enjoy a contemplative movie or novel, this will be a very enjoyable treat.

Along the way, the movie manages to develop some interesting themes about the roles of women in Mexico. Tia is little more than a slave, while her sister Rosaura is a spoiled and spiteful brat. Groomed for marriage, she is little more than a doll. Gertrudis, the third sister, becomes a rebel general. Interestingly, Tia and Gertrudis wind up happy, Rosaura dies of an intestinal complaint.

While not a deeply profound film, it is insightful and well written. The acting is strong and the cinematography lush and sensual. And Lumi Cavazos, as Tia, is positively stunning.

A magical film about the power and importance of story telling and imagination. The creation of the ever fecund mind of Terry Gilliam, this may very well be my favorite movie (ah, but it is so very hard to choose). Filled with a spirit of adventure, and a deftness far too rare these days, it is the delightful tale of the adventurous life of Baron Munchausen. He is a hero of the grand old sort, a kind of 17th century James Bond.

Baron Munchausen has a knowledge of fine wines, is popular with the ladies, and is the finest soldier in the kingdom. He has a band of sidekicks (the fastest man, the strongest, one with amazing sight, another with amazing lungs and hearing) who assist him in fighting the Turks; traveling to meet the King of the Moon; falling into the center of the earth to meet Vulcan and Aphrodite; and playing cards with the Grim reaper, after being swallowed by an enormous monster-fish the size of an island.

Along the way Gilliam's wit skewers rationalism, science, realism, practicality and pragmatics. As much an explication of faith as a depiction of what makes life truly worth living, and what is worth dying for, I rent this again and again. It is only my own foolishness that has prevented me from purchasing a copy. Literally wonderful.

Watch for fabulous cameos from a whole host of unexpected people, including Robin Williams and Sting.

It seems that American conservatives in the 80's and 90's have fallen in love with the "golden era" of the America they want to save: those innocent and charming 40's and 50's. While they tend to overlook the underside of those eras, their nostalgia seems well intentioned. This delightful film from humorist Jean Shepherd's stories will probably please them without offending.

The main plot line is young Ralph's scheming to get a Red Rider BB rifle for Christmas. He must overcome the resistance of adults, all of whom feel it is too dangerous a toy: "You'll shoot your eye out kid." Ralph is growing up in 1940's Indiana and the movie consists of a series of episodes from that one magical Christmas season. I particularly like this movie because it indulges in the nostalgia for that era without ignoring its limitations and absurdities.

The nuclear family is alive and well, although the parents do fight on occasion. Christmas is just as commercial as it is now. The Higbee's department store Santa induces screams of terror in some children (I have seen this played out in malls myself). The Little Orphan Annie Secret Circle is exposed as little more than a marketing ploy, one that does not even fool Ralph. In short, Shepherd walks the fine line between reliving a magical time from his childhood, and being able to view it from a wiser, more critical stance. Shepherd clearly laughs at and loves that time in his life.

More importantly, the film really captures what being a kid is like. The episodes just have such a ring of truth that they are still compelling today. One example: Ralph is helping his father change a tire but he drops the lug nuts on the side of the dark road and says "Oh, fuck!" He is then interrogated by his mother, squeezing Ralph to tell where he learned such a word. Ralph learned it, of course, from his father, a master of profanity. "He worked in profanity the way some artists worked in oils or clay. A true master." But Ralph knows he cannot blame his father and so he names the first classmate that comes to mind. Was I the only child who learned to swear by hearing his father hit his thumb with a hammer?

There is another scene that seems pulled directly from my own childhood. Christmas morning arrives, and Ralph opens a present from his aunt. It is a bunny suit, with ears and rabbit faces on the feet. The gift is awful and humiliating, but Ralph is ordered by his mother to model it. This scene alone is worth the rental fee. Ralph laments that his aunt thinks "that I was perpetually four years old, and a girl." I never received a bunny suit but I did receive some gifts just as bad.

The sets and cosutumes are perfect, and the voice-over (by Jean Shepherd himself) lets us into Ralph's world without being suffocating. The acting is wonderful all around, and the writing is delicious (Shepherd co-wrote the screenplay). Entirely suitable for families (even the "F" word is never actually spoken) and young children.

Perhaps the most famous set of false eyelashes in film history. Stanley Kubrick's blackest of comedies, he had the good sense to omit the last chapter of Anthony Burgess' book, leaving the edge on Burgess' savage attack on modern society.

Alex (Malcolm McDowell) is the leader of a small gang of hoodlums who repeatedly rob, rape, and steal their way across an unnamed and futuristic state. When a robbery culminates in murder, Alex's gang betray him to the police. He is found guilty, and sent to prison. There he volunteers for a mind-washing program in order to be released. Once released he is set upon by his former mates and victims. But the mind-washing has rendered him not just pliable, but helpless.

Filled with beautiful set-piece scenes, the violence of the film, while not terribly explicit by today's standards, is still shocking. The soundtrack by Walter (later Wendy) Carlos is especially effective at making the violence especially repugnant. Part what drives this reaction is that Alex, while a thoroughly corrupt person, becomes even more repugnant once deprived of his own will. His love of Beethoven is crushed and the one redeeming facet of this thoroughly unlikable person is removed.

But the film also succeeds in getting us to root for Alex. Better a willful evil than a slavish good. In the end we cheer his minor triumph. Free will exposes us to evil, but lack of it is not worth the price.

James Stewart at his dissembling, stammering best. Stewart plays a harmless and disarming man with an invisible friend, Harvey, a six-foot white rabbit. While he frightens the townsfolk, and worries his family, he leads a happy, if martini-soaked life. After humiliating his sister and niece at a party, they attempt to hospitalize him at last. The attempt is doomed, of course, but what a ride it is along the way!

A great story about (a favorite theme of mine) the importance and necessity of imagination and the limitations of the ordinary, "real" world. Harvey, it turns out, is a pooka, a faerie from Celtic mythology. Pookas are known to be benign but mischievous (watch for a trace of Harvey when a nurse looks up Pooka in the dictionary). In this case, Harvey ruptures the grip of "reality" so tenuously held by everyone in the film except Elwood P. Dowd (Stewart).

Harvey has many magical powers, but shows restraint with them. Dowd is kind and sweet. At one point he says (approximately) "My mother told me once that in this world you have to be either oh so smart or oh so kind. I tried smart for thirty three years. Personally, I recommend kind." This movie also features another line I hold dear. "I have wrestled with reality for thirty five years and I am happy to state, doctor, that I finally won out over it."

And so he ambles around town and around his sister, inviting ex-convicts to dinner, arranging romances between emotionally clueless psychologists and their nurses, and thoroughly rattling the psychiatric expert. To his credit, the psychiatrist, and head of the hospital, meets Harvey and embraces this new view on reality, even if he cannot understand it. The saddest thing about this movie is it can make us realize that Harvey is a better friend to Dowd than most of us can ever hope to have. I count myself lucky that I have two such friends.

Bogey and Bacall in a noir thriller not to be missed. Humphrey Bogart plays Philip Marlowe, Raymond Chandler's famous character. Lauren Bacall is Mrs. Rutledge. Between the two of them they comprise one of the hardest romantic couples I've ever seen. In the midst of the bizarre black mail and murder case, they fall in love. "I'm in love with you I guess" they say to each other. Harsh.

In my younger days I would have celebrated this as content over form, substance over style. But it serves to remind that they truly don't make them like this anymore. Written in part by William Faulkner this is a movie you actually have to listen to. This contrasts with so many movies today -- the scripts are so bad you can nap for 10 minutes and not miss anything important. I actually saw "That Thing You Do" on a plane and did not spring the $3 for the earphones. I didn't miss a thing. Someone who had seen the movie asked me to tell them the story and, except for not knowing people's names, I could relay the entire story.

But this is a movie carried by stars, not effects. I was almost surprised to see someone riddled by a machine gun and not even get a tear in their jacket. There are no exotic locations, no special effect. Yet the movie is gripping, drawing you in, daring you to figure things out as fast as Marlowe does. I could not keep up. Marlowe is also the smartest P.I. I've seen in a while. He throws a punch or two, but violence is not his tool. His tool is information. He gathers it, he keeps it, and he uses it (modern businessmen would say "leverages" it) to outmaneuver his opponents. Bacall is magical, as the steely and stunning Mrs. Rutledge. She does not scream or faint or cry once (except when asked to as part of a ruse). She holds her own and more. Watch for her as she half sits, half lays in Marlowe's car as they drive home from a casino. It's about time the love interest holds her won with the hero.

Bogart's quick impersonation of a snobbish book collector alone makes seeing this a must.