Reviews

I was not expecting this to be that good, but it was excellent. As a horror film this is merely decent, but as a rumination on loneliness and isolation it is superb.

The lead actress was outstanding, never overdoing her character but letting gestures and facial expressions communicate the inner angst of a stranger in a strange land, trying to learn a new language and assimilate into a foreign culture. There's a scene toward the end of the film that will stick with me for a long time, where her fiance ridicules her in front of his colleagues, thinking she does not understand the language. Well, she does.

The cinematography was wonderful too. I had to freeze several scenes because they were so well composed.

Highly recommended.

I am but a casual Eno fan — or at least I was until I watched this exhaustive and passionate documentary on his electronic excellence. It runs more than 2 1/2 hours, and it's worth every minute of it.

The music and footage are remarkable, tracing his career from Roxy Music to his solo accomplishments and collaborations with musical heavyweights such as David Bowie, Phil Manzanera and Chris Spedding.

The film relies quite a bit on musical scholars at the expense of using Eno's voice, but the talking heads are extremely well spoken and enlightening. For those curious about experimental, avant-garde and ambient music but who need a little nudge to appreciate it, this documentary is invaluable.

Highly recommended, and just a notch short of perfection for the absence of fresh Eno interviews. 9/10 stars.

This forgotten gem of a TV movie deserves to be better known.

Suzanne Pleshette is superb as the bordello owner sentenced to work in a convent run by Cloris Leachman. The plot has some welcome humor along with melodramatic twists, and the supporting cast is top-notch.

Stereotypes are plentiful here: rigid nuns, a carefree madam, and town officials with skeletons (and negligees) in their closets. But that's no drawback to film with so much heart and spunk.

Perhaps inspired by "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas," this entertaining TV movie is beautifully filmed and delivered with heart. Seek it out if you can, and grab it if you find it. 7/10 stars from me.

I saw this DVD in the comedy bin, and I couldn't resist the picture of the bulldog next to the fire hydrant on the cover so I gave it a chance. I was very pleased with the film, which is an odd but endearing mix of documentary and comedy.

The film centers around a pair of British filmmakers who venture to California to open a dog hotel and make a dog-umentary. The thread about the dog hotel doesn't really go anywhere, and I started to get impatient with the humans in the dog costumes, but the pooches are adorable and this film has some excellent information on guide dogs and the unique bonds people have with their pets. It's a treat to see Amanda Plummer in anything, but her role is very small here. Still, if it's dogs you want, it's dogs you'll get, and this film delivers.

Kids who like dogs will love this film, and adults who like dogs will love it as well. Check out this fetching dogu-comedy.

8/10 stars from me, or four paws up!

The bad news about "The Idolmaker" is that, like a lot of music films, it drags between songs. The good news is the songs are excellent.

Ray Sharkey does a fine job as the agent to up-and-coming talent in New Jersey in the late '50s, and Peter Gallagher and Paul Land excel as his creations. The plot has many of the standard clichés about the price of stardom and the cold machinations behind the scenes, but the music makes it worthwhile. As superb as the soundtrack is, however, it appears to be more of a '70s and '80s take on '50s music. The songs are enjoyable, but they sound like something you'd be more likely to hear in "Grease" than on an Elvis Presley record.

While "The Idolmaker" breaks no new ground for fans of '50s nostalgia, it's worth checking out for its fine performances and excellent soundtrack.

Like a good relationship that goes sour, "Heartburn" is impossible to love but hard to write off entirely. Despite its fine cast and script by Nora Ephron, the film is disjointed and, ultimately, dishonest.

Meryl Streep and Jack Nicholson play two Washington journalists who meet at a wedding, and — seemingly in the next scene — are saying their own vows. The developments that follow in their relationship are just as abrupt and just as believable. The rapid-fire pace of their many separations and reconciliations stretches credibility to the limit, and it's hard to generate any interest in these characters when it was never clear what drew them together in the first place.

Streep does a fine job as magazine writer Rachel, but Nicholson's cad is all too familiar in his role of Mark, the womanizing columnist. Supporting players Stockard Channing, Maureen Stapleton, Jeff Daniels and Kevin Spacey, while uniformly excellent, seem underutilized and distract from the main plot.

"Heartburn" is worth watching, if only for its strong cast, but it's as memorable as leftover lasagna.

John Hughes' first film is one of his best, and it holds up quite well almost a quarter-century later.

Molly Ringwald plays Samantha, who is both naive and jaded as her 16th birthday comes and goes without any recognition from her family. The supporting cast is excellent, particularly Anthony Michael Hall as the geek who loves her and Justin Henry as the hunk she loves. Too bad none of them had the careers they deserved. It's also a treat to look back at John and Joan Cusack and Jami Gertz early in their careers.

While some may find "Sixteen Candles" needless course in some regards and politically correct in others, it's a film that perceptively captures the angst and aspirations of teendom during the more innocent, more horny era of the mid-'80s. The film also contains some of the finest music of the time, including tunes from Nick Heyward, Stevie Ray Vaughan, Tim Finn, Oingo Boingo, Spandau Ballet and the Thompson Twins.

A good one for the time capsule, "Sixteen Candles" could never be made today and should never be remade.

As much as I would love to give the cast and crew credit for this independent effort, I can't recommend it. In fact, in many ways this is the epitome of what's wrong with most indie films: bad acting, clumsy direction, poorly developed characters and a threadbare script.

"The Ghosts of Edendale" has an interesting premise. A couple, hoping to strike it big in the entertainment industry, moves into a neighborhood where Hollywood history was made during the silent era. They encounter quirky neighbors who seem to know a bit too much about them. The man becomes increasingly strange as his obsession with his script grows, while the woman becomes increasingly alienated by his coldness, frustrated by her modeling career, and spooked by the visions she sees in the house.

Unfortunately, the execution leaves a lot to be desired. "The Ghosts of Edendale" fails to build any suspense, the actors lack passion for their roles, and the script is burdened with clichés about Hollywood being a "tough town." When the filmmakers run out of ideas about where the story should lead, they pile on embarrassingly bad digital effects in a failed attempt at dramatic tension.

I will continue to support independent efforts — especially in the frequently disappointing horror genre — but films like this really try my patience. John Cassavetes made remarkable indie films 30 years ago, but it seems today anyone with a camcorder, a handful of friends and a free weekend is becoming a filmmaker.

To the independent visionaries with ideas, I say: More power to you. To the cast and crew of "The Ghosts of Edendale," I say: Better luck next time.

I'm not sure why this movie is titled "Trick or Treats" instead of "Trick of Treat," but the filmmakers obviously didn't put much thought into the title — or the rest of the film, for that matter. They could have named it "Halloween," but of course, that title was taken. Then again, the "Halloween" plot was taken also, but that didn't stop the filmmakers from lifting that.

The plot involves a young woman babysitting for a practical joker on Halloween. The boy's father has escaped from a mental institution and returns home to terrorize his ex-wife, who committed him. Are the strange noises and phone calls to the babysitter the result of a crazed lunatic, or just the 10-year-old's pranks? Does the mental patient even realize his ex-wife is out for the evening? Do we care?

The film has absolutely no suspense, the scenes are disjointed and choppy, and the performances are uniformly bad. Even Steve Railsback, normally a commanding presence in B-movies, phones in his performance — literally. This cheap "Trick" has nothing to distinguish it from the crowded field of forgettable '80s slasher flicks. Like the rotten apple at the bottom of a Halloween candy bag, "Trick or Treats" is best trashed and forgotten.

"Burnt Offerings" doesn't make a lot of sense, but its appealing cast makes up for the script's deficiencies in logic.

Karen Black and Oliver Reed play a couple who agree to stay in a Gothic house for the summer, on the condition that they care for the unseen elderly mother of the house's owners. Almost from the start, strange things start to happen. The couple's son almost drowns in the pool during an episode of severe horseplay with the father, and he almost dies after his grandmother, played to the hilt by Bette Davis, accidentally locks him in his room next to a leaky radiator.

"Burnt Offerings" is a bit long, and the "shocker" ending won't come as a surprise to most viewers, but the film provides ample opportunity for scenery chewing, and no one in the cast goes away hungry. In a role that seems ready-made for her, Karen Black is particularly good as she becomes strangely obsessed with the home's unseen resident. The movie was made at the historic Dunsmuir House in Oakland, Calif., and the building itself has a strong supporting role.

If this movie were made today, it would have a lot of digitized graphics and gimmicky thrills, but "Burnt Offerings" is a solid success because its fine cast makes you care.

The lights are off but somebody's home in this tale of childhood fear, which builds to a climax that never quite arrives.

Jesse James plays Ryan, a 12-year-old diagnosed with acute fear of the dark, and Kevin Zegers plays Dale, his skeptical older brother. When their parents leave them alone for the evening, Ryan convinces Dale that the fear may be justified, and assorted misadventures in babysitting ensue when a storm knock out the power in their house.

The performances are better than in most thrillers, and James and Zegers are likable enough to keep you interested. It's also a treat to see Linda Purl, an actress with a disappointing career after she was a mainstay in '70s TV movies, as the boys' mother, though she's given little screen time here.

Unfortunately, as with the similarly themed "Boogeyman," the thin script and gimmicky special effects leave you longing for more. The film has a decent buildup, but no real resolution. Teenagers may be entertained by "Fear of the Dark," but adults are likely to be bored at this overly familiar tale. There's absolutely nothing to fear here.

Vincent Price is once again in his element as Nicholas Medina, the strange keeper of an even stranger castle. This Roger Corman production takes a lot of liberties with Edgar Allan Poe's short story, but the rich atmosphere and excellent cast, including John Kerr and Barbara Steele, make this a memorable classic in Gothic horror.

Particularly vivid are the scenes of the castle's torture chamber, a medieval dungeon with all the tools of the trade. The art direction is superb, including liberal use of blood-red, in contrast to the castle's grays. Also noteworthy are the opening and closing credits, which have a psychedelic feel years before such images became a standard.

"The House of Usher" oozes atmosphere through every nook and cranny. Vincent Price is superb as Roderick Usher, the extremely protective brother of Madeline Usher (Myrna Fahey). When Philip Winthrop (Mark Damon), Madeline's suitor, comes to call, he learns of the family's legacy of madness and death.

Roger Corman's adaptation of the Edgar Allan Poe story is alternately beautiful and terrifying, with grandiose views of the house's interiors, a fantastic dream sequence that was well ahead of its time in 1960, and colorful images that seem to leap from the screen.

But Corman's direction would be meaningless without the powerful performance of Vincent Price, who fits the tortured role of Roderick like a corpse fits a casket.

"American Dreamz" falls a bit short of the mark both as a political satire and as a lampoon of the "American Idol" craze, but it has enough good performances to make it worth a rental.

Hugh Grant, hardly my favorite actor, does a remarkable job nailing a dour, Simon Cowell- type judge. He also has the best lines. Mandy Moore and Sam Golzari are likable as the two finalists, whose talent is perhaps exceeded by their ambition — hers to get out of Ohio, his to commit the ultimate act of terrorism. Dennis Quaid does a spot-on commander-in-chief, but he's upstaged by Willem Dafoe, barely recognizable in his Dick Cheney facade.

Unfortunately, the satire falls flat, like so many "Saturday Night Live" skits lifted from the week's headlines. Christopher Guest could have given this production a sharper edge, but he covered similar ground in "Waiting for Guffman," as did Barry Levinson in "Wag the Dog." Perhaps "American Idol" contestants such as William Hung and Sanjaya Malakar have already made the show unspoofable.

Despite its strong cast and good intentions, "American Dreamz" has about the same staying power as last year's "American Idol" winner.

Like the drunken uncle who embarrasses himself at family picnics, "Georgia Rule" is hard to love but impossible to ignore. The movie has charm and beauty, but its overwrought plot and strange mixture of melodrama and slapstick distracts from its grace.

Lindsay Lohan, an actress who in many ways resembles the aforementioned uncle, plays Rachel, a wild child from California sent by her alcoholic mother (Felicity Huffman) to live with her grandmother Georgia (Jane Fonda) in Utah. Rachel is grating at first, a foul foil to Georgia's prissy prude. As her character develops, we gain insight into her rebelliousness, as well as respect for Lohan for pulling it off. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Fonda, who followed up her disappointing role in "Monster in Law" with another one-note character that will leave her fans yearning for the days when her roles truly mattered.

The film follows the expected path of the family fighting and the family making up, but it also takes some interesting and odd detours along the way. Like most detours, not all of them lead anywhere, but they still make the trip worthwhile. The film's overacted and overwritten scenes weigh heavily on "Georgia Rule," but like your drunken uncle, it can't just be ignored. Whether you want it to or not, it grows on you.

"Welcome to the Jungle" has nothing to do with the Guns N' Roses song of the same name, but it owes a lot to "The Blair Witch Project." Too bad it has none of the latter's suspense or creativity.

The plot, such as it is, involves two young couples armed with video cameras who set off into the New Guinea jungle to find Michael Rockefeller, heir to the wealthy family, who disappeared on an expedition there in 1961. Reports are that Rockefeller encountered cannibals, and there's no need to post a spoiler here because the developments of this film are pretty obvious from the start. Unfortunately, before those developments actually develop, we are subject to an hour of improvised whining while the four adventurers wander the jungle, oblivious to the danger that the viewer knows awaits them.

The acting is average, the dialogue is banal, and the hand-held camera is a chore to endure. The film lacks scenes of torture — all of it happens off-camera, ironically — but the images of carnage are as gratuitous as you'd expect from Dimension Extreme. It's hard to feel any sympathy for these self-involved tourists once they've made it clear they'd never be welcome at our dinner table.

The only thing "Welcome to the Jungle" has going for it is some impressive photography. Unfortunately, the dessert doesn't justify the main course.

Maybe this isn't the "Citizen Kane" of rampaging puppet movies, but it's hard to deny the appeal of "Puppet Master III: Toulon's Revenge" as an extremely entertaining B-movie.

A prequel to the imaginative series, "Toulon's Revenge" recounts how Andre Toulon brought his puppets to life, how the Nazis tried to steal his experiments to raise their dead, and how Toulon struck back with the help of his puppets — Six-Shooter, Blade, Tunneler, Pin Head and Ms. Leech. The film features above-average acting for a Full Moon production, and Guy Rolfe convincingly portrays Toulon. Especially notable is Ian Abercrombie, who played Mr. Pitt in "Seinfeld," as Dr. Hess.

Of course, the highlight of this series is the puppets, and "Toulon's Revenge" does not disappoint. Both the live-action and stop-motion sequences are well-crafted and downright creepy.

Don't ask too many questions, like why the Germans speak English or why Toulon is presented as a good guy when the first "Puppetmaster" painted a much different picture. Just enjoy "Toulon's Revenge" for what it is: an entertaining prequel, no strings attached.

Despite its strong cast and tight script, "Mr. Brooks" is a strangely dispassionate film that stops a bit shy of hitting the mark.

Kevin Costner plays Mr. Brooks, a model citizen to all who know him but the "Thumbprint Killer" known only to himself and his alter ego, Marshall (William Hurt). When his alter ego talks him into killing "one last time," Mr. Brooks slips, and the murders of a couple are witnessed by an amateur photographer (Dane Cook), who also is a bit of a groupie.

The script weaves a remarkable amount of domestic drama into the film. Mr. Brooks' daughter has dropped out of college and reports that she is pregnant, though Mr. Brooks soon realizes she has a larger reason for coming home. Meanwhile, the detective pursuing the "Thumbprint Killer," played by a Demi Moore, is undergoing a bitter divorce from her vengeful husband.

While the use of family melodrama is a refreshing change of pace for a crime thriller, much of the film feels stagey and artificial. The performances are convincing, though Moore seems miscast and the character of an alter ego seems all too familiar for Hurt. "Mr. Brooks" is worth seeing, but it's not worth remembering.

"Terror at the Opera" is one of Dario Argento's better films, but it's far from his best. What the film lacks in acting and suspense, it almost makes up for in directing and visuals. Almost.

Christina Marsillach plays Betty, an opera diva whose associates are the target of a mysterious, deranged fan who wants her for himself. The killings are extremely gruesome, as are the blades the stalker puts on Betty's lower eyelids to keep her from blinking. In her dreams, Betty has a vision of her tormentor and connects him to her childhood.

The musical scenes are well performed, with Betty's vocals provided by Maria Callas. Unfortunately, the acting is much less convincing, and the scenes drag between the killings. Argento's style is distinctive, though he borrows liberally from Hitchcock's "The Birds" in this film.

When you look back at Paul Reubens' career, it's easy to forget what a joy "Pee-wee's Big Adventure" was. He followed it up with a disappointing sequel and, to some, an even bigger indiscretion in his personal life.

"Pee-wee's Big Adventure" is a rarity for a live-action film: A film for kids that adults might like even more. This road movie about Pee-wee's search for his stolen bicycle is colorful, imaginative, well written and even, gulp, educational in spots. After all, who would have thought that the Alamo doesn't have a basement?

Director Tim Burton's surrealistic touches provided an introduction to his quirky career, and Danny Elfman's score set the stage for brilliant soundtracks to come. The delightful walk-ons by Milton Berle, Phil Hartman, Jan Hooks and Twisted Sister make this a good one for the time capsule, and James Brolin and Morgan Fairchild are hilarious in the "Hollywood" version of Pee-wee's adventure.

"Pee-wee's Big Adventure" is a good movie to watch when you're depressed, and a better one to watch when you're happy. Whether you take it straight or with a shot of "Tequila," it holds up on repeated viewings.

Come back, Pee-wee! All is forgiven. We need you now more than ever before.

Technology and the Internet allow endless possibilities for innovative film-making, taking us places we haven't been before, looking at people and objects in new ways, telling stories that need to be told.

Unfortunately, this film does none of the above.

In "My Little Eye," a sort of "Real World" meets "Blair Witch Project," a group of five young people agree to live together in an old house for five months while cameras film their every move for a Webcast. If they succeed, they split $1 million. If even one of them leaves, they get nothing.

I'm glad I wasn't competing for the prize, because I wouldn't last 10 minutes with this self-absorbed group. The whining is unrelenting, the characters are wholly unlikeable, and let's just say there are no Mensa members present.

The film offers plenty of gimmicky camera angles to make up for the lack of any real sense of tension or horror. The acting is poor, the dialogue is overwrought, and the twist ending is contrived. It appears that technology offers just about anyone with a computer and a Steadicam the opportunity to become a filmmaker, but sadly, it has also opened the door to mediocre films like this.

The dynamic of sisters is complex and volatile. Their shared past can be a bond that nurtures them into codependence, or it can be a wedge that drives them to estrangement. In Curtis Hanson's "In Her Shoes," it does both.

Toni Collette plays Rose, the responsible sister. She lives to work, fails at romance, and despises her body, which she thinks is fat and frumpy. Cameron Diaz plays Maggie, the carefree — and careless — sister. She can't hold a job, she can't hold her liquor, but she can hold a man — several of them, in fact, including her sister's.

Their mother committed suicide, and their father immediately cut their grandmother out of their lives. In search of a meal ticket, Maggie reconnects with their grandmother, played by Shirley MacLaine, and family relationships unfold and implode in the process.

The believable characters and superb writing elevate "In Her Shoes" from the crowded field of women's relationship movies starring the likes of Julia Roberts and Meg Ryan. The physical differences that would make Collette and Diaz unlikely sisters seem to diminish as the film progresses, and we begin to see them as necessary opposites. Thankfully, the film has no speechifying or grand moments of clarity. Instead, the characters follow their paths gradually, often awkwardly, always humanly.

The strong supporting cast includes Mark Feuerstein and Richard Burgi as Rose's paramours at various points, plus actual residents of a Florida assisted living center.

Don't be fooled by the marketing for this film, which make it look like a romantic comedy or a feature-length "Sex and the City." Though "In Her Shoes" didn't get the attention of previous Curtis Hanson films such as "L.A. Confidential" and "8 Mile," it is a powerful statement on how siblings can transform rivalry into revelry.

"An American Haunting" fails to scare up even the smallest of chills. It is a tedious history lesson about an unknown entity that terrorized a Tennessee family in the early 1800s and ultimately was blamed for a man's death in the early 1800s.

Despite its fine cast, including Sissy Spacek and Donald Sutherland, the film lacks dramatic tension and believability. Instead of seeing this entity, we are subjected to endless scenes of candles being blown out at random, fires starting without human assistance, mysterious winds sweeping a farmhouse, and a young victim writhing in terror under the spell of a supposed ghost.

There may have been some truth to the strange occurrences reported in Red River, Tenn., almost 200 years ago, but we'll have to wait for a more credible source than this film to make the case. "An American Haunting" fails to convince, inspire or even entertain.

Atom Egoyan, an enigmatic director known for probing the psychology of relationships, branches out further with "Where the Truth Lies," a superb crime thriller with outstanding performances.

Alison Lohman plays a journalist probing the breakup of a 1950s Martin and Lewis-style comedy team, played by Kevin Bacon and Colin Firth. The two parted company assuming the other was responsible for the death of another young, enterprising young journalist doing a bit of undercover work with the pair while employed by the hotel where she was killed.

As with all of Egoyan's films, the relationships are complex, and all of the principal characters use each other and get used in return. Like the finest of film noir, no one is innocent here. While much has been made of the film's explicit sexuality, it's refreshing to see a crime thriller without exploitive violence.

Bacon and Firth give remarkable performances as the film shifts between the characters in the 1950s and the 1970s, but primary credit should go to Lohman for her captivating portrayal as a wounded soul who has her own vested interest in solving the mystery.