Reviews

Loretta Young, playing a bland 1950s housewife with the equally bland name of Ellen Jones, starts her day doing bland chores like vacuuming, cooking, and caring for her bedridden husband. By the time her day is over, though, she finds herself in a desperate attempt to cover up a death she had nothing to do with.

In addition to being a taut thriller, Cause for Alarm! Is also an indictment of post World War II suburbia and the frustratingly stifling role women were relegated to in it. As George Jones, Barry Sullivan is a psychologically abusive spouse with a heart condition who is delusionally convinced his wife and doctor are having an affair and trying to kill him. When George dies of a heart attack after trying to bump off Ellen, she sets off on a nightmarish journey to hide his death so she can clear her name first.

She encounters obstacles every step of the way, mostly from men rigidly tied to rules and routines who refuse to help her because, quite frankly, they need her husband's permission first. With him dead in the upstairs bedroom, however, that's not possible. It seems that no matter what she tries, she can't catch a break.

Loretta Young carries the film, and we feel her fear and desperation as an innocent victim who just can't come clean. When it all comes to an end, we're as physically and emotionally exhausted as she is.

Along the way, there are some good supporting performances, especially by Irving Bacon as the overly talkative postman who won't break the rules and Margala Gilmore as the meddling busybody Aunt Clara. Also look for a quick cameo by a grown up Carl Switzer (Our Gang's Alfalfa).

The finale leaves a lot of questions unanswered about how Ellen's going to explain her actions and ultimately get herself out of this jam she's found herself in, but overall, it's a fun ride through a suburban dystopia.

The writers of this teen suicide drama deserve credit for handing you a jigsaw puzzle piece with every episode, making you keep coming back until the puzzle is finished, even if you're not that crazy about the puzzle itself.

I'll try not to drone on about the same things other reviewers have noted about the show, but there were a number of things that just didn't work or rang completely false. For instance:

1. Most of the actors looked well beyond high school age, and none of them spoke the way real teenagers speak. I mean, these were some of the most articulate dumb jocks and cheerleaders I've ever encountered!

2. Hannah's parents were extremely loving and clearly adored their daughter. It made no sense that she couldn't confide in them, even about the really silly things like having her beautiful poem published for everyone to read and enjoy.

3. Speaking of parents, where were most of them? I mean, I understand Justin's absentee drug addict mom, but the others? Seems Bryce's parents simply didn't exist, and whenever Clay or Hannah would wander off in the night for hours a time, it was no big thing.

4. Miles Heizer was horribly miscast as Alex. That boy is gay with a capital "G." I didn't buy for a minute that he was once Jessica's studly boyfriend.

5. Alex's cop father is a strict disciplinarian who makes Alex call him "sir" and inspects Alex's closet to ensure his clothes are perfectly hung and folded. Do you really think a dad like that would let his son bleach his hair white and wear a nose ring? Don't think so.

6. As a parent of one of the students at the high school, Clay's attorney mother would never, ever have been assigned to defend the high school in the Bakers' lawsuit. And even if you suspend your disbelief and say, "Maybe her law firm didn't know she had a son in Hannah's school," if Clay's mom was an ethical lawyer, she'd have immediately recused herself from the case.

7. Does no one in this town close their shades at night, especially when they know someone is skulking around trying to take their picture?

8. What a horrible person Tony is, watching his friend Clay and Hannah's parents in utter despair and agony, when he could easily end their pain by just telling them what the hell's going on. And he sure as hell could've helped the financially strapped Bakers save some money on their lawsuit by just turning over the damn tapes to them! It's all the evidence they needed!

9. The attendance policies at this high school are very lax. Apparently, no one cares when students don't show up for class. And the school counselor doesn't seem to mind at all when he sees a student literally walk off campus, catch a ride, and drive away, even when that student is despondent and a candidate for self-harm.

10. If there are any parents who would have no problem with their child being a lesbian, it's two gay dads. Yet Courtney's just too damn terrified to tell father and father she likes the ladies, with the lame excuse being that she doesn't want to make things harder for them. Puhleez. They'd have a fabulous coming out party for her that would make her the most popular lesbian in the school!

Okay, now that all of that's off my chest, I will say that for the most part, the performances were wonderful, especially those of Kate Walsh, Dylan Minnette,and Alisha Boe. They made the most of the implausible. The episodes were all slickly edited and photographed, and the directing was a cut above.

In the end, though, despite the good intentions of "13 Reasons Why," all I can say is that I have many more reasons why not.

Amy Schumer takes the traditional "bad boy meets good girl" storyline, turns it around to make the girl the lothario, and for the most part, manages to make it work. It helps that Schumer isn't afraid to go to the comedic places few others dare to. Watching her describe a particularly heavy menstrual cycle or a problem with a condom that gets misplaced internally, for instance, is simultaneously disgusting and hilarious, thanks to her matter-of-fact delivery.

Schumer plays "Amy," a Hollywood-ized version of herself. She has a glamorous job as a magazine writer, lives in Manhattan, of course, and enjoys all the spoils that come with it, including lots of sex with lots of men. Because of her damaged upbringing, Amy is perfectly happy hopping from bed to bed without emotional ties; that is, until she meets a successful sports doctor (Bill Hader, in a surprisingly low key leading role) who pursues more than just a one night stand with her. When Amy falls for him, her world begins to both come together and fall apart, and we wait to see if she'll eventually screw it all up or see the light.

While thin on actual plot, the movie maintains our interest because of the solid performances from the principle characters and the hysterical lines Schumer has crafted for them. It's true that some of the dialogue comes off like excerpts from an extended Schumer stand-up routine, but overall, Schumer shows a significant amount of depth and heart for the people inhabiting her world.

Not everything works, like the incomprehensible "love intervention" scene involving LeBron James, Chris Evert, Matthew Broderick, and Marv Albert (though it was fun hearing tennis sweetheart Evert say the words "cock block"). What does work, however, is the acting, especially from Schumer herself. She's obviously a gifted comedienne, but there are scenes where she takes your breath away with the depth of her dramatic abilities.

Schumer also deserves credit for sharing the laughs with her co-stars. There are some outstanding supporting performances, most notably from Tilda Swinton (who you will absolutely not recognize) as Amy's manic and narcissistic magazine editor boss, and from the WWE's John Cena, who turns in arguably the best supporting performance in a comedy this year as Amy's muscle-headed and clueless boyfriend. His dirty sex talk scene with Schumer is worth the ticket price alone. LeBron James does a surprisingly good LeBron James, who's just looking out for the best interests of his buddy Hader. And finally, there's a beautifully tender scene between Schumer and 13-year old Evan Brinkman. This kid's got talent.

The movie's ending is silly and stylized, but you won't care, because by the time it's all over, you're on Schumer's side and want her to win. You'll win, too, when you watch the movie.

I imagine this series received critical acclaim and garnered the Golden Globe for Best Television Series because of its groundbreaking subject matter. It is groundbreaking and it does deal with topics rarely seen on the small screen. But leaving behind its envelope pushing and taking it simply as a drama (it's not a comedy at all, even though it won in the Comedy category), Transparent fails on a number of levels.

Series creator and writer Jill Soloway missteps by populating the story with an assortment of aggravating characters, particularly the three grown children of Maura Pfefferman, the transgender father played by Jeffrey Tambor. These three whining ninnies are thoroughly unlikable and annoying. Scratch that - they're reprehensible. It may have been Soloway's intention to present a flawed family, but she forgot to give the kids a single redeeming quality. Eldest daughter Sarah (Amy Landecker) is an upper, upper middle class soccer mom with a stable husband and two kids who suddenly chucks it all one fine day to pursue her repressed lesbianism with a butch flame from her college years, only to decide a short time later that the the gal-on-gal lifestyle may not be her thing after all. Son Josh (Jay Duplass) is a sleazy, well-to-do record company manager who sleeps with lots of young groupie types and impregnates a bubbleheaded chanteuse, but who really gets off on old ladies. Then there's la crème de la crème of the irritating threesome, youngest sibling Ali (Gaby Hoffman), an unemployed nymphomaniac who vacillates between bedding black men, a kinky female-to-male lover, and maybe - just maybe - her best girlfriend who's also sleeping with her hyper-sexed brother. You want to smack all of these kids, but it's Ali you really want to hit over and over again.

Then there's the story. While Maura's struggles with accepting her female gender identity should be Transparent's focus, they take a backseat to the insignificant, and at times, completely implausible, trials and tribulations of the Terrible Trio. Maura's coming out to her children barely registers with them. They practically acknowledge it in passing, then go back to their petty navel gazing. So instead of watching a show about a man who becomes a woman, we watch a show about selfish adults who just happen to have a transgender parent that shows up occasionally to give them money. Only when the focus is on Maura, her small circle of friends, her explorations of her new world, and the humiliation she sometimes faces as an out transgender woman does Transparent feel authentic and moving. Sadly, these moments are few.

Finally, Soloway's writing is mediocre at best. The dialogue among the characters is frequently stilted, and there appear to be many improvised moments that the actors simply fumble. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention Melora Hardin's performance as Sarah's masculine partner Tammy. Hardin plays her as an over the top caricature, slouched forward, legs in a constant wide stance, fingers hooked into her blue jean belt loops. It's unintentionally comical and cringe-worthy.

On the positive side, Transparent does has some noteworthy performances. Jeffrey Tambor brings the right balance of wonder, joy, fear, and world weariness to Maura, and he is every bit deserving of his Golden Globe nod. Bradley Whitford does a surprising and effective turn as Maura's secret transvestite friend Marcy, and Alexandra Billings, as Davina, Maura's transgender confidante, is superb. Judith Light brings nice comic relief to the proceedings as Maura's ex-wife Shelly, but she's completely under-utilized.

All this talent, however, can't overcome the weak script and unsympathetic characters. Transparent has indeed set a new precedent in recognizing the transgender world. I just wish it had done a better job.

Screenwriter Andy Bellin and directors Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman take a chance with "Lovelace" and tell two stories within a single film - one being the rise of 1970s porn star Linda Lovelace, the other being the brutalization and victimization of Linda Boreman. And while it appears the idea was to present what everyone believed to be Linda's story, then turn it upside down by showing the degradation Linda suffered at the hands of Chuck Traynor, it's an idea that, in the end, doesn't work, mainly because we still never get to figure out just who Linda Boreman-Traynor-Lovelace-Marchiano really was.

A big problem with the film is in the casting. While Amanda Seyfried has some remarkable moments as Linda Lovelace, she's just too sweet and pretty to be convincing. The real Linda Lovelace, as anyone who was around during "Deep Throat" mania knows, had a rough, hardened look about her, while Seyfried has a perky loveliness that's difficult for her to suppress. Adam Brody as Harry Reems and James Franco as Hugh Hefner completely miss the mark, and Ron Pritchard, in his one-line appearance as Sammy Davis Jr., looks and sounds nothing like the legendary entertainer.

Another problem with "Lovelace" is its failure to get the details right. Millions have seen "Deep Throat" - many of whom will no doubt also see "Lovelace" - so you would expect Friedman and Epstein to recreate scenes from the adult classic with painstaking detail. Not so. The hairstyles and clothing of Linda and her co-star Dolly Sharp don't even come close to the way they looked in the actual film. And the brief appearance of Young Doctor Young's nurse as a sultry brunette is inexcusable. The nurse in "Deep Throat" was played by Carol Connors - a toothy blonde (and incidentally, the mother of actress Thora Birch). Finally, Elvin Bishop's 1975 hit, "Fooled Around and Fell in Love," is played during a scene set in 1970.

While all of this is distracting enough, the biggest problem is in the script, which fails to delve into the truly complicated life of Linda Lovelace. It completely ignores the porn loops Linda made prior to "Deep Throat" (including one in which she had sex with a dog), and bypasses her re-acceptance of the Linda Lovelance persona in her later, post-feminist life (Linda appeared at porn conventions to sign copies of "Deep Throat" and posed semi-nude for an adult magazine).

The movie gives Linda Lovelace quick and tidy redemption, complete with a tearful reunion with mom and dad, leaving viewers to believe everything turned out just fine. In reality, Linda Lovelace had a difficult and tragic life after Deep Throat, one which would have been worth exploring, but which gets left behind here so the audience doesn't leave the theater feeling all bummed out.

All of this said, "Lovelace" is worth a look for some terrific performances. Peter Sarsgaard shines as the maniacal Chuck Traynor, and Sharon Stone and Robert Patrick are fantastic as Linda's conservative, emotionally distant parents.

Maybe someday someone will come along and do justice to Linda Lovelace by telling the complete story. But for now, we'll have to settle for this semi-mythological version.

They couldn't cast Bruce Willis in the title role, so they settled for that Scottish actor who can't do an American accent without raising the right side of his upper lip. As Secret Service agent Mike Banning, Gerard Butler is tough (he boxes with the President), tender (he teaches the First Son all the ins and outs of White House security), and altruistic (he's married to a nurse who leaves it all on the ER floor, each and every day). So you know things aren't going to go well for Mike.

The bad news - Ashley Judd is the First Lady. The good news - she gets a side order of limo rear window to the face and dies after plunging into the icy Potomac within the film's first five minutes.

Then all the fun ends. Banning gets banished to a desk job at the U.S. Treasury because the mere sight of him now makes POTUS sad. As Banning's pushing paper, the White House suddenly and ridiculously gets taken over by a mob of angry North Koreans. Yes, kids, the No-Kos are Hollywood's new Nazis. Within minutes, virtually every agent guarding the Oval Office is dead, and the President, Vice President, and Secretary of Defense are being held hostage in the bunker by the Asian version of Dr. Evil. This guy even appears on a giant TV screen to taunt the Speaker of the House and the Secret Service Director, played by Morgan Freeman and Angela Bassett - Central Casting's go-to people when a movie calls for stern, level-headed, well-spoken African Americans in positions of great power.

Somehow, Banning manages to survive the hail of gunfire and sneak into the White House all by his lonesome to save the day. Fortunately, no one has bothered to remove Banning's White House security codes and passwords (even though it's been seven months since he was given the boot), which make it quite convenient for him to come to the rescue.

But it's not all computers and electronic devices for Banning, no. When the No-Kos come at him with their guns, knives (you know how good those Asians are with knives, what with Benhihana Restaurant and all), and karate-kwon-do stuff, he takes 'em all down, one by one, until he finally reaches the Prez and walks him right out the front door.

When you're not raising your palm to your forehead over the torrent of impossible situations, you'll be laughing out loud at the dialogue that practically writes itself. When taunted by the nasty No-Kos, for example, virtually every character sneers and growls, "F**k you," including the President himself. How raw!

Two stars - one for the wise decision to violently dispose of Ashley Judd right off the bat, and one for Melissa Leo for being costumed up to look like Debbie Downer.

George Clooney has never been better, Shailene Woodley displays poise and depth beyond her years, and I can't say enough about Robert Forster, Judy Greer, Nick Krause, and even the typically dorky Matthew Lillard.

Thankfully, the terrific acting helps distract from an implausible plot that frequently goes so far off the map that it falls off the edge altogether.

I found it difficult to believe that Woodley's out of control, bitter character would come around so quickly and easily. I didn't buy that Clooney would allow Woodley's dim-bulb boyfriend to tag along with the rest of the family on their journey. And I struggled to accept that the clan would go to such lengths just to make contact with mom's secret lover.

Still, there are some utterly awesome acting moments, most of them so quiet, yet so powerful, that make this movie worth seeing - Robert Forster looking off in the distance, struggling to hold it together when he realizes he's going to lose his daughter; Nick Krause showing sadness and vulnerability with just a faint smile as he tells Clooney about his own father's passing; and Clooney's heart wrenching final goodbye to his wife as tears glide down his face.

Payne got 120% from his actors in this production. It's a shame he couldn't have crafted a script that gave the same.

Right from the start, CBS wants you to know it's intent on accomplishing two things – zapping you directly back into 1976 and convincing you that Jessica Fletcher doesn't live there. And boy, do they do it well. Before the show itself even starts, we see the actual CBS logo from that year – a neon glowing eye, accompanied by the musical slogan, "Turn us on, we'll turn you on." Then wham – we see what appears to be a scene of oral sex.

And even though "Swingtown" is a drama, the show's creator's take every opportunity to treat viewers to all the camp that symbolized the 1970s, and they do it with pinpoint precision: an airplane cabin decorated in garish orange and gold, populated by passengers wearing leisure suits and smoking cigarettes on board; a woman with a modified Dorothy Hamill hairdo opening a pull-top can of Tab; an episode of "The $10,000 Pyramid" featuring Tony Randall feeding clues to a contestant for the puzzle, "Things that are Spread;" men sporting bushy porn star mustaches and wearing Angels Flight pants or cut-off blue jeans shorts. Then there's the music – nearly every scene has signature 70s pop tunes playing in the background – The Captain and Tennille, Chicago, Seals and Crofts, Johnny Nash. If you were alive during this awkward decade, you won't be able to stop smiling, sometimes uncomfortably.

As for the show itself, well, it's deeply flawed, but it's got potential, mainly because of the terrific performances by the principle actors. Grant Show and Lana Parrilla play Tom and Trina Decker, an airline pilot and his former stewardess wife living in an upscale Chicago suburb. Their singular mission appears to be recruiting anyone and everyone to join them for group sex sessions. Jack Davenport and Molly Parker are the new, naive neighbors who immediately become the prey of the Deckers' lust hunt.

The Deckers invite the Parkers to their 4th of July party, where Jack and Molly discover Quaaludes, pot, cocaine, and orgies. Jack and Molly seem to get comfortable with it all a little too quickly, and by the end of the episode, they're sharing a bed with the Deckers. And as if all this weren't enough, there are other subplots involving involve teenage angst, a whacked-out and drug-addled neighbor, and possible allusions to budding homosexuality.

It's hard to know how long the show's writers can sustain the gimmick of 70s nostalgia while building a drama that revolves around key parties and wife swapping, but there's no doubt that it's going to be fun watching them try. I can't wait for the episode featuring the Pet Rock!

I have been a huge fan of this side-splittingly hilarious series since it first aired on HBO in 2005 and have always admired the writing, the acting, and the outrageous situations created by the ingenious minds of Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant.

I didn't think anything in the show's finale could possibly top what I'd already seen in prior episodes, but Gervais and Merchant managed to take the show's screwball concept, turn it upside down, and deliver an incredibly moving and heartfelt dramatic ending. It was a big gamble to toss aside the comedy and go for the serious stuff, but it paid off.

The episode begins lightly enough, with Gervais' character, Andy Millman, struggling to adapt to his sudden fortune and fame. No longer an extra scraping to get by and dreaming of making it big, he's now the star of a hit sitcom on the BBC, he has his own catchphrase that's bigger in Britain than "You ARE the weakest link" - he even has a doll in his TV character's likeness. Trouble is, being famous isn't at all how Andy envisioned it. He feels like a sellout - a one-trick pony who will never be able to rise above the sitcom cesspool he now finds himself in.

And this is where the show takes a dark turn. Andy becomes increasingly embittered, jealous, and egotistical, to the point where he fires his inept agent and literally pushes his best friend Maggie out of his life. Ashley Jensen delivers the single finest small screen performance by an actress this year as Maggie Jacobs, the long-suffering, not too bright, yet unwaveringly loyal best friend of Andy. In a pivotal scene featuring Clive Owen as himself, Maggie comes to the sad conclusion that she can no longer continue to work as an extra. The scene is played for laughs, but it's uncomfortable to watch, because although we're witnessing the ongoing degradation that Maggie has always suffered as just another warm body on the movie set, it's really the first time Maggie herself realizes what's happening to her. Jensen brilliantly plays it out through nothing more than her facial expressions, and her pain is palpable.

Maggie's despair continues as she becomes more distant from Andy and ends up taking jobs as a maid and a dishwasher just to survive. The scene in which she begs Andy's former agent for a job at his new workplace, Car Phone Warehouse, is particularly heartbreaking. Why Jensen was denied a Golden Globe nomination this year is beyond me.

Meanwhile, Andy discovers that his new affiliation with a hip and sexy talent firm isn't all it's cracked up to be. Andy wants to be a "serious actor," but all he's offered are throwaway roles in "Dr. Who" and "Hotel Babylon." His new agent stops taking his calls altogether, and Andy realizes the only way to get work is to throw his legitimate acting aspirations out the window and go exclusively for the fame and fortune. He winds up as a contestant on Celebrity Big Brother - something he swore he'd never do - and it's here that the realization of what his life has become finally sets in.

In what's probably the most poignant and moving scene in television this year, Andy bares his soul to the watchful eye of the Big Brother camera. Here, Gervais shows he's just as adept at drama as he is at comedy.

Just when you think it can't get any worse for the show's characters (Andy's sunk to the lowest of lows, Maggie's living in a run-down, one-room flat, and Andy's agent is a cell phone salesman), Andy has an epiphany, and ultimately, a redemption. What better ending could you hope for than watching Andy and Maggie drive away in her beat up little car, headed for Heathrow airport, the promise of new hope and new adventures in front of them? When a brilliantly executed series ends after such an abbreviated run (see Gervais' "The Office"), I usually feel cheated and longing for more, but not in this case. "Extras" takes us to the place we know these characters need to be, then fondly waves goodbye and doesn't look back.

"Advise and Consent" offers a glimpse into the dirty deeds and misguided ideals that keep the Washington political machine running, and it's as powerful and relevant today as it was 45 years ago.

The story revolves around the nomination of a controversial candidate for Secretary of State. Henry Fonda plays Robert Leffingwell, the man whom the U.S. President (Franchot Tone) is determined to add to his administration. Leffingwell is a reluctant nominee, a man whose past dalliance with the Communist party could come back to haunt him. Walter Pidgeon, as the Senate's Majority Leader, embarks on a strategic campaign to approve Leffingwell's nomination, but he is opposed by the conservative and curmudgeonly Senator Cooley from South Carolina. As Cooley, Charles Laughton delivers one of the best performances of his career (and sadly, his last) as the politician you love to hate.

To add balance to Leffingwell's confirmation proceedings, the Majority Leader brings in the young and energetic Senator from Utah, Brig Anderson, played by Don Murray, to chair the confirmation subcommittee. When it appears that Anderson may hold up Leffingwell's confirmation, power hungry Senator Ackerman (wonderfully realized by George Grizzard) digs up a secret from Anderson's past in a blackmail attempt.

Murray has the film's most challenging role as the gay and closeted Brig Anderson, so full of guilt and self loathing that he goes to extreme measures to preserve his secret. "Advise and Consent" supposedly is the first American film to actually depict the inside of a gay bar. We see it from Anderson's perspective, a dark and foreboding location full of shadowed figures, while Frank Sinatra's "Secret Place" plays in the background. Anderson's reaction to what he sees is reflective of 1962 societal views of homosexuality; it's an uncomfortable and degrading scene to watch, and the film's weakest point. Still, it brings a visual and physical perspective to Anderson's utter desperation to keep this side of his life hidden.

Inga Swenson (probably best known as the bitter Swedish housekeeper Kraus on TV's "Benson"), turns in a touching performance as Anderson's wife, who preserves her husband's secret in order to maintain his dignity.

Otto Preminger, known for his perfectionism and dictatorial style, gets the best out his actors. There isn't a single flawed performance in the film, but Laughton and Murray certainly shine brightest. Look for some smaller, but effective performances by Peter Lawford as, ironically, a suave and womanizing JFK type, and by Betty White as the senator from Kansas. Gene Tierney also appears as Dolly Harrison, a rich Washington widow who throws lavish parties, but there's far too little of her in the movie.

"Advise and Consent" offers no happy and tidy ending, but a realistic one nonetheless. The theme of the movie can be best summed up when Pidgeon's Majority Leader responds to Ackerman's justification of Anderson's blackmail as having been done for the good of the country. Pidgeon's pointed retort, "Fortunately, our country always manages to survive patriots like you," is a pessimistic statement about the state of the U.S. political process.

This movie should have been entitled "Hateful, Self-Loathing, Bitter, Ugly, Hopeless Staircase." Make no mistake about it - this movie sends a clear message to audiences that homosexuals live miserable lives. It's 1 hour and 49 minutes of mincing, bickering, sniping, and degradation. Thank God this film bombed when it was released; otherwise, who knows how many gay men would have committed suicide or stayed forever in the closet after seeing it? That said, the film is an important time capsule reflecting heterosexual attitudes toward gays during the 1960s and a reminder of just how far images of gays on screen have progressed in the last 38 years.

Rex Harrison and Richard Burton play long-term lovers Charles and Harry, respectively. Charles dons mascara and "male cosmetics" before venturing outside. He's a narcissistic heel who goes out drinking nightly and sometimes brings home tricks to flaunt in front of Harry. Harry is the long-suffering partner who's recently been afflicted with alopecia and can't bear to leave his bald head unwrapped, even when he's taking a bath. Harry endures Charles' verbal abuse and philandering, dutifully cleaning the flat, fixing Charles' meals, and tending to his own bedridden mother who lives with with them both (the scenes between Burton and Cathleen Nesbitt as the mother are particularly distasteful).

Harry owns and works in the "Chez Harry" barbershop below the men's flat. Charles helps out at the shop, but spends most of his time lamenting his failed attempt at an acting career. Charles' daughter from his marriage to a woman is coming to visit, and Charles is worried about how he'll explain Harry's presence. On top of that, Charles has been served with a notice to appear in court for an incident involving cross dressing and putting on a performance in a local pub. The thought of having to explain the whole ugly mess and being "outed" as homosexual has Charles either lashing out bitterly at Harry or sobbing uncontrollably over what he sees as the end of his world.

Charles and Harry clearly detest one another after being together for so long, yet they can't possibly envision their lives without each other. Charles needs Harry to wait on him hand and foot and to comfort him when he breaks down; Harry needs to feel needed, and Charles is the only person who can fit the bill for him. The exchanges between Harry and Charles are vile, bitchy, and condescending. At one point, they resort to physical violence. Only once, when Charles fears that Harry is dead, does any sort of humanity come through. Otherwise, it's like an all-male version of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," with Rex Harrison in the Elizabeth Taylor role.

Harrison's character shares the same name as the film's screenwriter, Charles Dyer, who also penned the stage play upon which the movie is based. I don't know if Dyer is straight or gay, but he's homophobic and makes no attempt to disguise it. Director Stanley Donen, known for classics like "Singing in the Rain," drains any semblance of warmth or hope from the film. Even the staging is cold and dreary and depressing - most of the film takes place in Harry and Charles' run-down, cramped apartment.

Harrison and Burton are surprisingly effective as the sparring partners. Though they generate no sparks together, they bring out in each other the physical and spiritual despair the characters are living.

"Staircase" is a film lacking any sense of pride or dignity. It's a sad look back at how homosexuals were once regarded, but it gets two stars for at least being a sobering gay history lesson.

John Huston beautifully envisions Carson McCullers' novel about the seamy and steamy goings-on at a Southern military base. It's a movie rife with visual symbolism amid a sense of impending doom that gets under your skin and stays there.

"Reflections" has long been derided for Huston's decision to bathe the picture in a misty golden hue instead of using standard black and white or color photography, but this is precisely what gives the film not only its dream-like splendor, but its unnerving tension, as well. From the opening tracking shot of the impossibly handsome Robert Forster against the cloud-dotted sky, I was immediately drawn in. This was Forster's first film, and his physical presence here is astonishing. He conveys overwhelming sadness and longing, even though he has almost no dialogue throughout the movie.

Forster play Private Williams, a reclusive young soldier who at first seems to bond only with the horses in the stable he tends. His affection for the horses borders on a sexual obsession. But then he sees Elizabeth Taylor (as Leonora, the wife of Brando's Major Penderton) seductively mount her majestic white filly and gallop away, and he transfers that obsession to her. Williams begins sneaking into the Penderton house at night just so he can go into Leonora's bedroom, watch her sleep, smell her perfume, and fondle her lingerie.

From the first time we see Leonora and Major Penderton together, it's clear they're in a loveless marriage of convenience. She carries on a clandestine affair with her husband's best friend Morris (Brian Keith) and taunts the Major with her brazen sexuality. The Major can barely tolerate Leonora, and instead embarks on his own obsession when he spies Private Williams in a meadow riding nude on a strikingly beautiful black mare.

The conflict that brews between Penderton's attraction to the troubled Williams and his own outward, hyper-masculine persona brings his marriage even closer to its inevitable destruction. Soon, Penderton's comrade Morris and his mentally unstable wife Alison (Julie Harris) become unwitting participants in the psychological nightmare. Alison discovers Private Williams in Leonora's bedroom, but because of her volatile emotional state, Morris can't believe her when she tells him what she's seen. Her only confidante is her flamboyant Filipino houseboy, Anacleto, who is the very embodiment of everything Brando (and possibly even Morris) fears within himself.

Major Penderton becomes so fixated on Williams that he begins following him, getting close enough so that Williams is aware of his presence, yet never going beyond the frightening physical and psychological border that would force Penderton to reckon with his feelings. When we see Penderton at his work desk delicately flattening out a Baby Ruth candy bar wrapper discarded by Williams, it's almost an erotic experience.

Huston steps back and lets the cinematography and characterizations take the film over, sweeping us into the story right up until the final jolt. Elizabeth Taylor, too often wrongly dismissed as a so-so actress, delivers one of her strongest performances as Leonora. She's a boozy, ballsy Southern gal, and she unashamedly puts herself out there for everyone to see, warts and all. When she stands naked on the staircase, sneers at Brando, and snidely asks, "Have you ever been collared and dragged out into the street and thrashed by a naked woman," you don't know whether to slap her or lift her up and take her to the bedroom. Brando is equally effective as Major Penderton. I had a problem with the trademark Brando marble-mouthed speaking voice, which too often made his dialogue unintelligible, but his physical presence can't be denied. In this movie, he wears his painful repression outwardly - you can see it in his jutted chin, his strained neck, his stuffed shirt posture.

Brian Keith and Julie Harris are also strong in their supporting roles. You get the sense that Keith's character may also be struggling, especially in the moments when he meditates on the departure of the effeminate Anacleto. It's as if Keith views Anacleto as his "wife," just like he does Julie Harris. The weakest link in this picture is Zorro David as Anacleto. Although physically right for the role, it sounded like most of his dialogue was looped in using someone else's voice, and that became a big distraction.

This is not a movie with an ending that's wrapped up with a pretty ribbon, which is probably one of the reasons why audiences stayed away when "Reflections" was released in 1967, but it's an experience you won't be able to easily dismiss today.

What could have been a run-of-the mill thriller about the strange goings on in a creaky old mansion is instead transformed into a cheesy camp fest by the amazing James Whale. Although there are a lot of subtle "wink-nudge" moments in the film, I'm just not sure the movie was originally intended to be as subversive as it appears to be today.

Standard scary movie setup here - a young, naive, and stodgy married couple, traveling with their single, wisecracking male friend, get lost in a fierce rainstorm and find refuge in the only place they can - a scary looking old house in the middle of the Welsh countryside.

They're greeted at the door by a mute (and mutant-like) butler played by Boris Karloff, whose dialogue consists solely of a series of grunts and guttural noises. I couldn't help but think this character helped inspire the Addams Family's man-servant, Lurch. The house is owned by a loony brother and sister pair named Rebecca and Horace Femm (an obvious Whale shout out to the gay audiences of 1932), expertly played by Eva Moore and Ernest Thesiger. Eva is an over-the-top religious whacko who immediately accuses the gorgeous Gloria Stuart (yes - THAT Gloria Stuart from Titanic) of indulging in "pleasures of the flesh," all the while trying to cop a feel of the young beauty at every opportunity. Horace is a wimpy scaredy cat who's too afraid to walk up the stairs to the top floor of the house and fetch a candelabra.

Before long, two more stranded travelers show up at the house - Sir William Porterhouse, who, as played by Charles Laughton, appears to have done nothing but consume them for the past 20 years, and his plaything, Gladys DuCane Perkins (Lillian Bond). We know immediately that Gladys is a "bad girl" because she starts dancing like a gin-swilling flapper as soon as she gets in the house. Within 15 minutes, however, she's enraptured and tamed by the wisecracking bachelor Roger Penderel (Melvyn Douglas) and falls head over heels in love with him.

Gladys tells Penderel that Porterhouse likes people to think he's "ever so gay," even though he "expects nothing" from her. I wonder if Whale was paralleling Laughton's off-screen persona here, since Laughton was known to be gay, even though he was married to actress Elsa Lanchester (the female monster in Whale's Bride of Frankenstein).

There's an absolute gem of an uncomfortable dinner scene involving all the characters, with Rebecca and Horace trading snipes across the table like George and Martha in Who's Afraid of Virgina Woolf. And Horace's repeated directive to each of his guests to "have a potato" is priceless.

Eventually, the movie unveils a crazy brother locked up in the attic, a 102-year old man (played by a 61-year old woman named Elspeth Dudgeon) tucked away in a remote chamber, and the requisite murderous rampage as the guests run and hide to save their lives.

Some of the more unintentionally funny scenes involve Gloria Stuart's highly theatrical panic as she tries to escape the lustful clutches of Karloff's mad butler character, and Lillian Bond's declaration of unconditional love for Melvyn Douglass while hiding with Stuart in a closet as Douglas battles outside with the crazy brother. The only clichéd thing the women in this movie don't seem to do is faint when confronted by the horror before them.

Then there's the day after all the chaos with Horace gleefully gliding down the stairs and greeting his guests with a chipper "good morning," apparently forgetting that his home was ransacked and set on fire and that his brother was killed just the night before.

Although probably intended to be a scary movie when it was released, it's really not scary at all. Whale's excellent use of light and shadows helps bring a cold, eerie atmosphere to the proceedings, but the film is really more of a parlor piece that's engaging primarily because of the quirky characters populating the screen.

See it for the novelty aspect, but don't expect to be chilled by the experience.