Reviews

This is the kind of movie that people either love or gag at. Willing suspension of belief on the viewer's part is absolutely essential for one to enjoy this film, and thanks goodness I was in the right frame of mind. I was thoroughly charmed, despite cliches that fell thick as snow, hammy secondary characters (especially Carroll O'Connor who way over-does the The Irish Granddad) and impossible situations. Minnie Driver and David Duchovny are instantly likeable, and they have that indefinable something called chemistry together that makes everyone fervently wish things will turn out well for them at the end. And things do turn out all right; it's a romantic comedy after all.

Although the script is funny and the setting of old Chicago neighborhood nicely quaint, the main element that makes this work is the appeal of the two leads. Driver's expressive face lends credibility to the vulnerability and longing in Grace, and Duchovny's effortless charm is sure to set many a female heart amongst the audience aflutter. Of the supporting characters, I really enjoyed the director Bonnie Hunt in her patented best friend role, as well as James Belushi, who plays her lovable slob of a husband to a tee.

So my advice is this; Don't look for shattering realism, leave the jaded world view outside and put on your rose-tinted glasses when you enter the theater. If you let it, "Return to Me" might just charm the socks off you.

Of many good things about this multi-layered movie, what grabbed me immediately and most viscerally was the look of the film. I was spellbound from the first shot, when the hint of flickering light in the blue mist is oh-so-gradually revealed as the lamp swinging in a boat lost on the sea. The movie is like a long elegiac sigh, with images of water permeating through the fabric of the story from beginning to the end. We see the raindrops falling on the dark blue sea, snow covering the courthouse roof where the trial occurs, and we see our young lovers embrace in untutored passion, with their rain-soaked bodies in shadow, and their breath mingling within the cedar tree. All this is photographed so exquisitely that just gazing at the screen could make you weep with the sheer beauty of the landscape.

On this background, Hicks tells a story of betrayal and forgiveness. At the heart of the movie is a death that might have been caused by a man, an outsider enraged by the betrayal of a promise. Surrounding it is the larger betrayal of the Japanese Americans by their friends and neighbors during WWII, when they were herded into a camp for having the wrong-colored skin. Perhaps deliberately, the haunting image of the Japanese-Americans in their flight uncannily resembles the often-filmed image of the Jews in Nazi-Europe in the earlier part of the war. Above all, there is a story of a personal betrayal, a betrayal of love by a Japanese girl who caved in to the pressure of her family who couldn't abide her feelings for a white boy. All this is inextricably bound together, and the beauty of the story lies in the way an act of personal forgiveness leads to the partial redemption of a larger wrong.

In a lovely, understated performance, Ethan Hawk quietly embodies the inner torments of Ishmael, the boy who grew up to be a man so full of bitterness and regret, that he contemplates punishing his old love with an act morally reprehensible yet emotionally understandable. Youki Kudoh is equally strong as Hatsue whose fragile beauty belies the inner core of strength. The best acting chops, however, come from Max von Sydow, whose turn as the defense lawyer is rich with wit, quiet passion and integrity. His closing statement is one of the most moving courtroom scenes I've ever seen.

Hicks takes a difficult stand here in telling a potentially sensational story measure by slow measure, using images and sound more than dialogue. It demands patience and deeper emotional involvement from the viewer, but the reward at the end is ample indeed.

Having read and loathed the book (relatively speaking of course; I usually love Austen), I went into the theater with no small trepidation. The book "Mansfield Park" has a singularly unappealing protagonist in Fanny Price, a simpering and timid milksop, which was a big shock after "Pride and Prejudice" whose Elizabeth Bennett is surely one of the most enchanting fictional heroines ever. The book is also dense and long without the trademark Austen lively wit. And then, there is the confusing "play within play" plot which further muddles the story.

OK, I got that off my chest. Phew. Now about the movie. I enjoyed it very much in its own fashion. It is rather unfaithful to the book, other than the general plot line. That's not necessarily a bad thing. In this free adaptation of Austen via Rozema, Fanny is portrayed as a determined woman, of intelligence, strength of character and mischief. She is more Austen and Elizabeth Bennett than the Fanny from the book, and her appeal is magnified by the performance of the wonderfully expressive new Australian actress, Frances O'Connor. They also canned the whole thing about the play (just barely skimmed over), thank God. The story moves along briskly, starting with the poor relation Fanny coming to live with the rich Bertrams, then making friends with the second son Edmund whom she comes to love as she matures into young womanhood. As with all Austen novels, it is about an independent-minded woman who finds her way into a wedded bliss, through many trials and tribulations. Between Fanny and her heart's desires lay obstacles, mainly in the form of a very attractive but amoral pair of brother and sister, Henry and Mary Crawford. Mary sets her sight on Edmund, and Henry, although initially interested in the empty-brained Bertram sisters, starts pursuing Fanny. The chase begins as a challenge, but gradually turns into something resembling a genuine feeling. In Rozema's hand, Henry is a scoundrel but is made rather appealing and sympathetic, someone who gives the annoyingly decent Edmund a fair competition. Fanny almost gives into him (not so in the novel) and her resolution to hold onto her true love is made more courageous because of Henry's appeal.

The movie is lovely to look at, and the music is appropriately frothy. The performances are variable, with the clear distinction in the outstanding Ms. O'Connor. Embeth Davitz's turn as mercenary Mary is chilling, and Harold Pinter is excellent as the mercurial Sir Bertram, who is simultaneously affable and brutal. I had the most problems with Johnny Lee Miller's Edmund, whose wooden delivery made me wonder why he had Fanny's devotion.

The film's not a masterpiece by any stretch (and is inferior to SENSE AND SENSIBILITY in wit and to PERSUASION in heart), but nonetheless very enjoyable. A lesser Austen is still an Austen, I guess. The film also has a modern sensibility that's sometimes jarring. There is a very 20th century outrage in slavery, quirky pauses in camera work, Fanny talking directly to the camera (tricky but it works) and even a hint of lesbianism that's rather uncalled forAt any rate, it's entertaining, different, and worth the price of admission just to see the luminous Frances O'Connor. I feel I owe her a small debt of gratitude for making Fanny finally palatable, and for that, I expect grand things from this actress.

In this most affecting adaptation of Henry James's dense and difficult novel, Ian Softley brings passion back to the oft-derided genre of "period" movie. There are many angles in the story; tales of deception, social hypocrisy, conflict between our hearts' desire and our conscience, of regrets, and some degree, of just deserts. However, in the heart of it lies an unforgettable love triangle, fuelled by the amazing performances of the three leads. Helena Bohnam-Carter, in the pinnacle of her career, embodies the fierce intelligence and ruthless determination of Kate Croy, a woman born in a wrong era, whose effort to hold on to both love and wealth tragically backfires. Linus Roache, playing Kate's secret love, brings tortured Merton Densher (where does James come up with these names?) vividly to life. He has the sort of intense good looks and physical presence required for this role in spades; and his dramatic ability shines though, especially in his last scene with Millie, where he acknowledges his duplicity before the all-accepting love of the dying girl with an incredible raw emotionality. I was most impressed with Allison Elliot's Millie, however. The angelic Millie could have been a big cliché of a character, but in Elliot's skillful hands, Millie takes on the luminance of spirits and love of life that grow even as her physical strength fails. The story and the actors are tremendously aided by gorgeous cinematography (especially the mournful beauty of rain-soaked Venice) , costumes-to-die-for by Sandy Powell (who wore that fabulous red dress to this year's Oscar, accepting the award for "Shakespeare in Love". She should have won it for this film), and beautiful music. A movie to be watched in a dark rainy afternoon, and savored like fine wine.

What a wonderful movie this is! I thought the old version with Robert Donat was excellent and couldn't be topped, but I am exceedingly happy to be proven wrong here by, in my opinion, Mamet's best cinematic achievement to date. In THE WINSLOW BOY, Mamet benefits from an impeccable cast, especially the great Nigel Hawthorne (one of the best actors working either on stage or screen presently) and Gemma Jones as Mr. and Mrs. Arthur & Grace Winslow, both of whom give tremendously layered and moving performances.

The story, nominally about honour and "right" prevailing over all adversity, is made into a complex story of moral ambiguity, a territory Mamet knows very well. Jeremy Northam proves himself to be a rising star as the mercurial barrister who Arthur hires to defend his son, whom he believes to have been falsely accused of theft. With a voice inflection or an elevation of an eyebrow, Northam transforms Sir Richard Morton from a cold theologian to an amused cynic to a sexy potential lover. The sly double-entendre between Northam and Rebecca Pidgeon's Catherine Winslow is so deliciously done that I was reminded of the famous "horse race" talk between Bogart and Bacall in BIG SLEEP. I initially had some problem with Rebecca Pidgeon as a dramatic actress, but even she fares well, probably because Catherine Winslow is such an engaging character (sort of reminded me of Elizabeth Bennett in PRIDE AND PREJUDICE).

Interestingly, Mamet eschews putting in dramatic court scenes and instead focuses on the effects of prolonged trial on the Winslow family. A wise move indeed, if the reaction of the audience at the screening is anything to judge by. I haven't seen a movie theater audience bursting spontaneously into applause in a long, long time.

What a lovely film this is! I usually do not go for the kind of heavy-handed aestheticism Bertolucci has been partial to in his last few movies ("Stealing Beauty", "Little Buddha", "The Last Emperor" et al.), so imagine my surprise when this movie turned out to be an exquisitely rendered intimate love story. There are basically only two main characters: Jason Kinsky, a reclusive expatriate British pianist in Rome with an uncertain past (played here with great delicacy and understated charm by David Thewlis, in a 180 degree turnabout from the profane misanthrope he played in "Naked"), and Thandie Newton's Shandurai, his African housekeeper, who fled her strife-torn native country to train as a medical doctor in Rome while supporting herself by performing domestic drudgery. The striking, almost wordless opening sequence serves as an introduction to Shandurai's past. Then the camera rapidly cuts to the present day Rome, where already besotted Kinsky orbits around his beautiful and distant housekeeper, not realizing that her nights are tormented by the memory of her husband, a political prisoner left back in Africa. When Kinky approaches Shandurai with a hasty declaration, he is met with a steely and passionate resistance. Chastened, he retreats into a polite distance from the object of his desire. But from then on, nothing goes as expected. For the rest of the movie is about the change in the balance of this relationship, and the singular way through which the capitulation of Shandurai is achieved. The central sacrifice in the story is a grand romantic gesture of Gastbian proportion, simultaneously selfless and selfish.

I was completely enthralled at the way this movie unraveled itself, layer by delicate layer, with little dialogue but with a kaleidoscope of imagery and most of all, with music. Bertolucci is frequently obssessed with his heroine's beauty, and this is no exception. The camera frequently lingers on the gentle curve of Newton's arm, the slope of her back, and on her great dark eyes. However, Bertolucci has for once given us a compelling female character, a woman of determination as well as beauty, unlike his usual bevy of vacuous/self destructive mannequins (e.g. Liv Tyler in "Stealing Beauty", Dominique Sanda in "1900", etc). Shandurai's new-world vigor and her sense of purpose contrast starkly with Kinsky's aimlessness, his solitude, and especially his music, which permeates the movie with exquisite melancholy (the music consists mainly of solo piano pieces by Bach, Chopin, Scrabin and Coltrane). Likewise, the effect of their relationship on Kinsky is expressed most effectively through the transformation in his music, as primitive beats of Africa are blended into the lyricism of Kinsky's composition.

The movie is short, sparse and as different as night and day from the usually action-driven fares of Hollywood. Bertolucci, in a rare form, has fashioned a truly adult film that deftly navigates through the complexities of the human heart.

"Lili" is one of the sweetest, most enchanting musicals Hollywood has ever produced. Not that most of the Hollywood musicals are ever realistic, but this particular story is more of a fable than an imitation of life. The character of Mel Ferrer is reminiscent of the Beast in "the Beauty and the Beast", a tortured soul aching for love, and as any girl worth her salt would know, tortured souls make the best kind of heroes!

The two dance/fantasy sequences are charming, especially the latter one, where Lili grows from an awkward, love-sick child into a woman of character and determination, all in a few steps of waltz. Oh, and the puppets are totally adorable!!