Reviews

This must have seemed like such a great idea at the time. Put Ingmar Bergman (arguably one of the finest filmmakers of our time) at the helm of a big-budget international horror film starring the notable David Carradine and his can-do-no-wrong leading lady Liv Ullmann. As a concept, it's faultless; as a film, it's amazing this has as many moments as it does.

Taking place over a period of one week (November 3-11) in 1923 Berlin, "The Serpent's Egg" zeroes in on two desperate characters who are slowly overtaken by the horror of their situation. The country has virtually come apart around them; the German mark is practically worthless, unemployment is astronomical, and Adolf Hitler is laying the plans for his first attempt to seize power. Abel Rosenberg (Carradine) and Manuela (Ullmann) are out-of-work circus performers whose third partner Max (Abel's brother) commits suicide in the opening of the film. The rest of the movie concerns itself with their gradual awakening to the horrors perpetuated by their current employer Vergerus (Heinz Bennett).

Actually, the rest of the movie concerns itself with taking as hysterical and pessimistic view of life as possible. While not entirely unfamiliar to Bergman's fans, here the gloom is so all-pervasive and the time and place so alien, that the film is often nearly impossible to sit through. It becomes instead a movie of moments, each breaking out of the general tedium to grab the viewer by the throat.

The opening is brilliant, and promises something really special. Likewise, the rat-infested piles of garbage are not something the viewer is likely to forget. But the conclusion they build up to is disappointing and unenlightening. Worst of all, we know no more about the characters at the end of the film than we did at the outset (Liv Ullmann, whose performance is wonderful considering the circumstances, has virtually nonexistent character development to work with).

Any fan of Bergman should try to see this once, if only for the light it sheds on his other films of the period, and his personal turmoil at that moment in time. Casual viewers need not apply.

I have no idea whether this film portrays the story of these two legends with anything resembling historical accuracy (though I'm reasonably certain it is closer to what may have happened than latter-day efforts like "Young Guns"). However, as an artistic evocation of two larger-than-life figures blown up to serious pop-culture proportions, it is nearly unassailable.

Kris Kristofferson (who has had a spotty acting career, to say the least) turns in a witty and nuanced performance as Billy the Kid. Likewise, Coburn has rarely been in such fine form, completely inhabiting the character of Garrett. As Paul Williams has pointed out, the rest of the characters are more or less cameo roles, though Bob Dylan is on screen more than the others, giving a truly peculiar and intriguing performance (he also contributed the spectacularly evocative soundtrack).

The film has a few problems, some of which are typical for Peckinpah. The opening turkey shoot sequence goes on far too long and becomes almost impossible to stomach after awhile. The pacing is occasionally problematic (though nowhere near as awful as the butchered 103 minute version that initially played theaters), though this rarely detracts from the overall enjoyment.

While I'm on that subject, I might as well note that all comments above pertain strictly to the full 122 minute version that Peckinpah intended to release. I give this version 8 out of 10, while the studio cut merits about a 4. In fact, the superiority of this version is so widely recognized at this point that the studio cut has virtually disappeared (though it does turn up here and there on TV).

If you enjoy Westerns, or Peckinpah, or are at all intrigued by these two characters, this is a most thoughtful and enjoyable way to spend two hours.

It was gratifying to read another reviewer imply what I've said for years...that if the film hadn't been made as "Exorcist II" it might have done fairly well. Problem being that if it hadn't been "Exorcist II" it likely would never have been made.

Discussing the film without thinking about the lurid details of its release (the laughter and booing from the audiences, or Boorman yanking the film from theatres after the first day to recut the whole thing) is a difficult task. "Exorcist II" has become, more than a film, a litmus test for sequels. In the opinion of some, no sequel has ever been this poor.

Which is unfair. Taken on its own, the movie is a curious mix of very inspired and very absurd moments and concepts. The casting is problematic and wildly uneven (Fletcher and Blair are fine, Burton is awful, and James Earl Jones steals the entire show). The script also veers from coherency to an almost surreal incompetence, sometimes in the same scene. And yet...

And yet, this is a very misunderstood film. John Boorman was a very brave and unconventional choice as director, and he certainly accomplishes some startling and innovative visual effects. He is also to be commended for attempting to examine the concepts of the original film (and novel) in a metaphysical and nonlinear fashion. I've seen both cuts of the film and find that they differ from each other very little in overall impact. The fatal flaw in either version is the film's complete failure to prepare its audience for any of this material. Audiences were led to expect a carbon-copy repeat of the original and were instead confronted with this arty, heavily psychological mood piece. Understandably, they were a little upset.....

In no way does it accomplish its goals nearly as well as "The Exorcist", but I find this a far more enjoyable experience than Blatty's own "Exorcist III", which seems to have all of the elements with no idea as to how they should be executed.

Infuriating, uneven, and quite beautiful. See it before you laugh at it.

Jodorowsky is nothing if not an idiosyncratic filmmaker, and this is probably the ideal starting point for his singular flights of fancy. The tightrope that this movie walks from first frame to last is almost unparalleled in modern cinema.

"El Topo" is as pretentious as it is meaningful and as baffling as it is gripping. In a way it is an examination of various religions of the world (particularly Eastern ones), in another way it is a tribute to Bunuel and the surrealists, in another way it's simply an insane LSD vision. No matter which of these you walk in expecting, you'll be satisfied.

It is unfortunate that a key scene in the film is missing, which does play havoc with some of the character motivations (though there is no conventional "plot", what's motivating the characters most of the time is VERY clear). Even with this omission, the film has a power and grace which few epics (let alone controversial "midnight cult" features) have achieved.

I do own a copy of what is probably a "grey market" videocassette of the film taken from a Japanese laserdisc, and the image quality is generally not bad (it never was great with this movie, anyway). Plus, those Japanese subtitles sure are interesting!

When I was ten years old, I was leafing through the TV guide and noticed this film playing on PBS. Intrigued by the odd title (not to mention the absence of a cast list) I asked my father about it. His response was, "You should watch it." My father is a wise man.

Many have commented on the film's pertinence as a criticism of our culture, the modern age, technology, etc.... but the aspect of the film that I enjoy most is the simple breathtaking images and music. I enjoy the music of Philip Glass and own several of his major works, but I have found none to touch his work on "Koyaanisqatsi" (including -- especially -- his score to the wan "Powaqqatsi" of which the less said, the better). Each viewing seems to uncover an image that I had forgotten or not noticed on a previous viewing.

I would like at this point to champion a widescreen DVD release of this important film, which could at least attempt to approximate the experience of seeing this in a theater. That this is out of print and nearly impossible to find is a disservice to the world of cinema.

This is a most fascinating piece of work that has not critically dimmed with age. I'd like to join the other reviewers here in lauding Peter O'Toole in particular for one of the finest performances of his distinguished career. Although I don't disagree with DeNiro winning best actor that year, it doesn't dim the quality of O'Toole's portrayal of Eli Cross.

As to the famously convoluted Chinese puzzle of a plot that enraptures some and seems to bore others to tears: I would suggest watching this more than once. Like "Chinatown", this is such a multidimensional experience that one viewing will likely not do justice (it certainly didn't for me....the first time I saw it I came away convinced that the film had no point to make....boy, was I wrong). Whatever you think the characters' motivations may be, the opposite could also be true....right up until the end. One of the best analyses of the artifice (and artificial power) of filmmaking ever committed to celluloid. If that sounds like a contradiction in terms, welcome to this movie's twisted little world.

Although I've seen nothing else by director Rush that I could even remotely call a good film, this one was quite obviously his labor of love. He worked on this film for nearly ten years and had to wait until two years after its completion (in 1978) to see it released. Do him a favor and show that the effort was (and is) appreciated.

As a great fan of David Mamet's writings in general (he has also proven to be a steady hand with film directing) and counting both "Glengarry Glen Ross" and "House of Games" somewhere in my personal top 50, I was thoroughly perplexed by the end of this one.

On one hand, this dialogue couldn't have come from anyone else. One reviewer here had it absolutely correct, stating something to the effect that the only people who speak like this are people in Mamet plays. That doesn't bother me. Even the necessarily repetitive nature of his dialogue doesn't bother me.

On the other hand, when I woke up the morning after watching the film, I had to pop the cassette back in the VCR and watch five minutes just to make sure the film wasn't a dream. I couldn't bring myself to believe that someone I admire so greatly could conceive of and execute something so mind-numbingly awful.

The subject matter is interesting and relevant. The confined staging also works in the film's favor. However, the success of this film rests solely on the dialogue (and performances) of two characters. In this, the movie is a catastrophe. The characters are both obnoxious. I understand that this is intentional, but they are obnoxious in a way that has no reality for me on the screen. The dialogue is rapid-fire and outwardly flashy (and spouted by the actors with great technical skill) but completely hollow, to the point where I counted nearly 60 (!) repetitions of the phrase "I'd like you to sit down".

In short, an embarrassment of gargantuan proportions for Mamet. Lucky for him that this film was not a major production (and seen by relatively few)...this could have undone his entire film career!

I really have very little to say that others who fervently love this film have not already said. Even though he went on to make three other (highly underrated) films after this, "Ran" stands as Kurosawa's crowning achievement, and possibly his finest film. It moves with the assurance of an epic, yet the grace of a finely wrought personal drama. Simply one of the finest films ever made.

Although the cast is uniformly excellent, special mention must be given to the performance of Mieko Harada as Lady Kaede. Rarely in modern film has such an evil and unsympathetic character been rendered with such an unerring pathos. Kudos to Harada (who would have won an Oscar with this performance in an English-language film) and to Kurosawa for making this one of the indisputable cornerstones of film art.

What to add to the astounding plethora of comments already out there on this movie? Not much, except to say that I laughed throughout the film, and left with a smile on my face and maybe a little bit more hope and yes, faith, than when I walked in.

Kevin Smith is not a genius, but he is an unusually distinctive filmmaker, particularly these days. That he has chosen to move beyond his self-imposed New Jersey regionalism is heartening, and though he may not have all of the pieces in place yet (the feces-demon was funny but left a sour taste afterwards; wasting Jason Lee in a tangential role is poor judgment) he deserves credit for even attempting something this much more grandiose than all of his previous three films put together.

The casting is wonderful, even though I'm still wondering what Salma Hayek's Serendipity was doing in the story at all. Alanis Morissette's walk-on is surprisingly moving (and not a bit blasphemous, in case you were wondering). Even George Carlin does an admirable job at sticking to his character rather than mocking it. The flaw which grated on my nerves the most was some highly excessive gore in two scenes, which give the movie an undertone of ugliness that it certainly doesn't need.

Incidentally, I saw this film on opening night in this rather conservative Christian community, and nary a protester to be found! Could it be that they might have realized their utter folly in choosing to attack a movie that so vividly argues for the existence of God (and makes the idea so absolutely appealing)? Makes me wonder if the controversy about this film from the Catholic League is something that the average Catholic even cares about, much less condones!

To call Polanski's first film in English a "horror film" is to both perfectly categorize it and to completely miss the point. In its terrifying descent into a very real form of madness, "Repulsion" is most certainly a horror film. However, whereas most horror films are based on a mystery of some kind (especially modern horror) there is no mystery here. Instead we have a straightforward (yet by no means simplistic) chronicle of a woman's complete mental and emotional breakdown.

Catherine Deneuve, looking very young and very frail, is the woman in question, giving a performance that I credit for most of the film's success. A critic whose name now escapes me (one of the editors of Video Times magazine) stated that "Deneuve interprets her role in such near-silence that her every word accrues layers of meaning". I'll buy that. Her subtle interpretation of the lead character's various nervous tics (which worsen throughout the film as surely as that rotting duck) are just as effective. Although some of the more outrageous imagery in the film surely originates from drug visions, that hardly diminishes its power.

This is a film that should probably be watched at home alone with the lights off (if you can take it) for maximum effect. Be warned, however, that it is an exercise you may never repeat again. See also Polanski's other two films about paranoid apartment dwellers ("Rosemary's Baby" and "The Tenant") for the more entertaining but much less frightening side of the story.

Until reading some of the reviews posted here, I must admit I had never thought of the "Eraserhead" comparison (you learn something new every day). The more I think about it now, the more the film seems like "Eraserhead" if Lynch had taken a rather large quantity of speed and a crash course in mathematics.

Which is unfair. In actuality, the film has little in common with "Eraserhead"'s elegant cinematography and deliberate pace. This movie is, above all, a portrait of obsession. The ending is a bit too easy, but up until that point the film creates an utterly believable atmosphere of impending madness. The grainy photography and hyperkinetic cutting are crucial.

Other than that, not too much more to say about this one. An "art house" film it may be, but it's one of the more interesting ones I've seen in the past several years. And to pass on a compliment to Aronofsky (paraphrasing Harry Crews), "I'll certainly see the next thing you direct".

I will take the high road here and not mention by name the reviewer who wrote that the (I'm quoting directly) "retard squealing" made him not enjoy the film. But I would like to take issue with those who feel the ending is a letdown.

I recently had a debate with a friend who felt that "The Blair Witch Project" was a disappointment only because of the ending. Her position was that the film was utterly pointless because the ending was ambiguous, whereas my point of view has always been that (for horror films anyway) an unexplained ending is often the key to a frightening film. To me, the ending of "Cube" has that sort of feel. Sure, one character does offer some sort of plausible explanation, but I'm not sure I trust it, and I think the explanation is more to provide the film with an extra layer of metaphoric significance than to explain the origins of the "cube". No, the actual ending is not exactly profound, and I don't believe it has any religious symbolism attached to it. But doesn't anyone but me find a bit of Rod Serling irony in it?

Overall, I was rather surprised at the vitriolic attacks on the movie appearing in this review section. It is not perfect, but the movie is more original in theme and structure than virtually any science fiction film of the last ten years ("12 Monkeys" excepted). And to respond to the reviewers (more than one) who claim that this is not worth watching because "Lifeboat" was so much better: It's a shame we shouldn't watch "Goodfellas" because "The Godfather" was there first.

As an adaptation of the novel by Joyce Carol Oates, this film doesn't work in the slightest. On its own terms (the terms it should be taken on, of course), it almost realizes its potential.

I won't deny that the difficulty of making the film as a period piece (the novel is set in that peculiar Oates version of the 1950s) would probably have proven quite impossible. I think the general updating of the story to the 1990s was actually handled quite well. However, some of the character changes seem like forcing square pegs into round holes.

The character of Goldie is my main problem with the film. She's an utterly unbelievable character no matter which angle you study her from. The actress tries valiantly, but nothing could save that dimensionless piece of cardboard. The film also suffers from some major pacing problems, particularly in the midsection (it would appear that some heavy editing may have been involved).

On the other hand, the two lead characters are very well-drawn and well-played. As a refreshing antidote to macho male-bonding gang films, this is indeed a most welcome addition to the canon. The entirely new ending (which differs significantly from the ending of the novel) is also a knockout. I just can't help but think that somewhere in there was a great film that didn't quite make it out, and settled for being merely good.

A few years ago, two critics whose names escape me created a list called the "Disturbo 13" of the 13 most disturbing films of all time. That "Eraserhead" would be listed in the notorious company of "Cannibal Holocaust" and "Combat Shock" was quite surprising, and initially I felt nonplussed that such an obviously serious and artistic statement was listed alongside bottom-of-the-barrel exploitation trash like "Man Behind the Sun" (although, to be fair, Pasolini's "Salo" and "In a Glass Cage" were also on the list -- these are films I personally detest, but they do at least have artistic value).

However, I was hard pressed to find a reason why "Eraserhead" wouldn't qualify for this list. It is certainly the most convincing portrayal of a nightmare ever put on film. Like a nightmare, it has its own logic, which doesn't seem open to question while the film is playing itself out. Afterwards, like the afterimage of a nightmare, one doesn't fully understand what transpired, but knows that it made sense while inside of it. And that, to me, is what lifts "Eraserhead" above the pretentious hackwork that many claim it is. Unlike Lynch's "Lost Highway", this one doesn't break its own rules.

I don't believe that this film holds any answers whatsoever, but that its meaning is whatever you choose to make it. Because the film is completely nonlinear, any assertion made about its symbolism could be inverted -- the opposite could also be true. Although I still don't know what to make of those "man-made" chickens......

As a postscript: I don't want to start any little wars here, but to smugly proclaim your interpretation of the film to be the correct one and to accuse anyone who didn't like the film of utter ignorance is no more intelligent than claiming the film was stupid in a review where half the words are misspelled.

I guess I can't add a great deal to the hundreds of other comments also displayed here. Suffice to say that I believe that this was probably the best film of 1998 for its daring, brilliant ensemble cast, and unashamedly bleak view of human life and ambition. I am also quite sure I will never watch it again. I can only hope that Solondz got something out of his system here, because to follow down this path could mean only one thing: to make a brilliant film that nobody could stand to watch.

How well I remember the arguments among the faithful Lynch fanatics when "Wild at Heart" was released. And yet again when the Twin Peaks film showed up for its two-day run. It seems that about the only things Lynch fans can agree on is that "Eraserhead" is a classic, "Blue Velvet" is his masterpiece, and the Twin Peaks series is certainly interesting, if not entirely successful.

"Lost Highway" beats them all on the debating front. However, I beg to differ with the reviewer who claimed it is a love-it-or-hate-it affair. I neither love nor hate this film. To me, it is a triumph of mediocrity, with the odd spiky bit here and there to remind one that someone of great filmmaking ability had a hand in it. Here's the good, the bad, and the ugly:

The good is essentially the first 40 minutes or so of the film. The atmosphere is almost unspeakably tense, and the low-level rumbling sound present in every scene truly makes one feel trapped in a nightmare of sorts (incidentally, a theater is required for that effect). The infamous "tailgating" scene is also wonderful, though it is just a fragment that could just as easily belong to another film. An honorable mention goes to the sex scene in the desert illuminated by headlights while This Mortal Coil's version of Tim Buckley's "Song to the Siren" plays on the soundtrack.

The bad: Almost any scene which attempts to push the plot forward. The arguments against this film usually state that the plot doesn't make any sense. The arguments for the film counter that by saying that it is a work of art and doesn't need to make sense. While in the latter camp as a matter of principle, I must also state that a film which attempts to be plot-focused and intimates that its story makes sense when it clearly does not is neither artistic nor intelligent, but merely clumsy and calculated.

The ugly: The sadomasochistic eroticism introduced into the film for no other reason but in awareness that the audience's patience has been stretched to the breaking point, so we'd better give them an eyeful of something.

My recommendation? Watch the film once, and if you haven't hit the rewind button by the end, watch it once more. Then pop in "Blue Velvet" to see a talented director completely assured of what he wants to say.

Let me begin by saying I am very biased in my opinion on this film. I am a rather fervent fan of the TV series that begat it. I also believe that when David Lynch is in full command of his ambition, his dadaist/surrealist visions are equalled only by Jodorowsky. This is a case where he was in command.

Most of the irrationally harsh criticisms aimed at this prequel claim that the film is poor because it is virtually incomprehensible to anyone who has never seen the series (and also, incidentally to most of those who took the series at face value). This debate has popped up a few times in recent years for an intriguing variety of films ("Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle" and "Naked Lunch" are the first examples that spring to mind). Is a film required to appeal to any viewer, regardless of their predispositions to be interested in the subject matter or not? Would a person to whom the music of Pink Floyd is uninteresting enjoy "The Wall" (the film)?

To my way of thinking, the answer to that question is a resounding no, and thus my bias towards this particular movie. The film is not without its flaws: overlength being the prime one (I get the feeling while watching it that it should be about fifteen minutes shorter, although I admit I can't say what fifteen minutes could be excised).

That leaves the good stuff to ponder: A scene in a traffic jam which turns into one of the most unbearably intense moments in modern film (upon first viewing in a theater, the scene felt hours long; I was shocked to discover, later on at home, that the scene runs about three minutes). The "Pink Room" sequence at a seedy Canadian dive, strobes and music pounding away. The inexplicable foreknowledge of the old woman and her grandson. Not, of course, overlooking the uniformly fine performances given by the large ensemble cast.

Fans of the television show's mythology will love this film, the uninitiated will probably loathe it, and the average filmgoer will be utterly confused. Let's face it, folks, isn't that the way it should be?

"The Last of England" was the second Derek Jarman film I saw (after "Edward II"). It still amazes me how a film that is so cold in feel and structure (not to mention image) can be so emotionally moving and draining. This was Jarman's peculiar gift, and he employs it here perhaps better than anywhere else (although "Blue" comes close - but that's a completely different experience). If you're looking for introductions to Jarman, you should probably be advised to look elsewhere - this is not easy going for the novice - but as a treatise on the emotional, spiritual, and physical fragmentation of modern society (in this case England, but it really could be anywhere), this film is one of the very best. No linear plotline, only one recognizable recurring character, but somehow one feels that Jarman has channeled all of his worries, fears, and frustrations directly into your cranium. Needless to say, not for everyone - but you already knew that, right?

In his heyday, no one made televised science fiction like Gene Roddenberry, and this is one of the finest examples. Created as a pilot for a proposed TV series (which, unsurprisingly, was never produced), this is one of the best instances of science fiction meeting philosophy that has ever occurred anywhere (big screen included). The performances are astonishingly good considering the cast of mostly TV actors (in particular, Robert Foxworth gives the performance of his career as the android). The movie does steer itself away from its own track once in awhile (some of the details in the subplot about Helena Trimble hardly seem relevant to the film and were probably created in case the series was approved), but overall, the pacing is excellent. Some dated technology and an ear-piercingly poor musical score knock this down a notch or two, but its premise and resolution are wonderfully humanistic. Not a special-effects movie, then, but sci-fi that cares more for its characters than its visual appeal. Now could we please just have this on video?

Perhaps I'm biased -- Bob Dylan is quite possibly my favourite performing artist in the world. This very cinema-verite look at Dylan's 1965 tour of England offers both a serious justification of the man's genius and a very unflattering look at the costs and results of that genius. This was clearly not a happy time for Dylan, who rushes through most of the songs included here like a man who clearly wishes he were somewhere else. Not that the performances are poor (quite the contrary) but the heart and sincerity are quite obviously missing (note how "The Times they are a-Changin'" speeds up gradually but unmistakably throughout the film). The backstage material (the bulk of the film) shows Dylan being generally nasty to everyone around him, including Joan Baez (well, he's not nasty precisely, but he never really even acknowledges her presence), a newspaper reporter (the "science student") and basically anyone he comes in contact with.

In other words, this is not a portrait of the artist that I happen to like, but it is the truth (or at least it was at that time). In addition, Albert Grossman, Dylan's manager, is shown in possibly the least flattering light possible. A bonus is that the film begins with the brilliant 1965 promotional clip for "Subterranean Homesick Blues", and watch for the scene in a hotel room when Dylan and Bob Neuwirth sing "Lost Highway" - it's worth the price of admission.

As a fan of Roberto Benigni since the marvelous Rome sequence in Jarmusch's "Night on Earth", I must say that this is the film where he truly graduates to the level of auteur. His simple, understated direction and outrageous comic presence merge perfectly into a film that is never downbeat, despite its grim subject matter.

Although I haven't hit on the correct answer as to why three of the five nominees for the Academy's best picture award were stories of World War II, I feel this film easily outdistances the other two. While "Thin Red Line" was a little too cold in its pursuit of technical perfection (but just a little), and Spielberg's "epic" floundered in hideous nationalism and bad writing, this is the only film of the three to really confront a recognizable human cost to the catastrophe. Not a bad moment in the film, not an unmoved eye in the theater.

Oh, just one more thing....there is also a marvelous, classic, lilting score by Nicola Piovani - one of the best I've heard in a film in years! Buy the album!

John Carpenter is one of the very few directors who has built a profitable and popular career directing almost nothing but horror films ("Dark Star" excepted). But as a fan, nothing is more depressing than slumping down in my chair in a movie theater, horribly embarrassed that I am actually viewing something like "Village of the Damned" or "Vampires". Having said that, I was not exactly excited when I bought the ticket for this one. Surprise, surprise. This film hit me directly between the eyes, starting with the savagely intelligent (and more than a tad tongue-in-cheek) screenplay and Sam Neill's dynamite performance. The concept is a little shopworn, but given the Lovecraft homage, not inappropriately. The only real quibble I have is the same one everyone has: namely, Julie Carmen (sorry, Julie, but this is not your finest 90 minutes). And lest I forget, the classic John Carpenter nihilistic ending (did you expect anything less?). See it and then be sure to avoid all the sorry excuses for Carpenter movies that come before and after it.

John Carpenter's "Prince of Darkness" is riddled with flaws. The opening credits extend seemingly into the next millenium, much of the early dialogue is downright poor, its science is shaky and it does sometimes seem awfully derivative (at points it's like watching "The Exorcist", "The Omen", and "Night of the Living Dead" all superimposed on one another).

But......

What do you feel when you turn out the light and go to bed immediately after watching this film? Yes, fear, that's what I thought. This film can definitely put the hook in you, probably without you realizing it's doing so. I think it does this because no matter how much pseudo-philosophical garbage is sprayed onto the screen during the film (having much of it come from an advanced physics professor is truly laughable), logic ultimately means nothing in a nightmare. And hasn't everyone had a dream like those creepy "visions" that permeate the film? Except for a disappointing resolution from Carpenter (the kind he usually goes out of his way to avoid) I do recommend this to the curious and of course, to the thoughtful horror fan. For maximum impact, please try to catch the film before December 31, 1999, after which a key point on which the story revolves will be hopelessly, laughably dated (shame on you for not thinking of that, Mr. Carpenter!)

Stanley Kubrick made a great many masterworks in his life, possibly more than any other film auteur of the last 50 years. Included among that impressive list is his final film "Eyes Wide Shut". I will not attempt to describe the film here or offer any real insight into the deep-rooted motivations of the characters or of the director (it would take many more words than I am allowed here and I still wouldn't be able to discuss half of it). Rather, I will simply say that the film has very little in common with the way it has been described in the press or by Kubrick himself. Empty your mind of all that and prepare to watch the most gorgeously-lensed, superbly-acted, meaningful film you're likely to see this year or any other for that matter. As so often with Kubrick the term "masterpiece" is in no way misapplied. See it twice!