Reviews

First of all, there is obviously some fraud going on with the IMDb user ratings. There is no way anyone but the writer-director's parents would give this a 10. No. way. It is the most unprofessional-looking "movie" you could probably find. The sorry excuse for a story the beginning of the problems. This looks like somebody filmed an outdoor community theater production AFTER the community theater got robbed and they had to make do with what little costumes and props they could get their hands on. The three leads can. not. act. to save their lives. This is the kind of thing you end up doing when you become persona non grata in the industry. I cannot stress enough that this seems like it was made by people who were given a challenge to make the worst movie they could in under sixty minutes. If you've read this and are still considering wayching, it can only be because you can't believe a "movie" could be this bad, and you want to prove me wrong. Good luck with that. Watching it might make a really effective punishment for someone, I'll give it that. Whatever the person did wrong, he/she would never do it again.

This is half concert film, half intimate portrait. What I took a way from it most was the stark contrast between the stunning visuals and slick production of her performances and the bare bones existence of Spanish Town in Jamaica where she was born. (Yet here's a certain tranquility to the people we meet there.) Fortunately the subject of the film is someone to whom a lot of people could listen and watch all day. For those who aren't into her, 115 minutes may seem too long, but even they would have to marvel at someone in her late sixties moving with such agility and athleticism. (She sweats buckets.) I do think she could have let her guard down a little more. I don't think we got as much of the woman behind the image as we could have, but she shares a lot of her history, and that is enough. Sophie Fiennes dad an excellent job balancing the spectacle and the person, with as much as Grace was willing to reveal.

Only someone who has never heard of Anna Magnani could watch Vanessa Redgrave's performance and not think of her. To be fair the part in Tennessee Williams' original play was written for Magnani; I just wish somehow she could have made it her own. When she spits out Lady Torrance's best lines, she might as well just look skyward and give the late Italian star a wink. As for the story itself, it is still provocative even viewed by todays eyes--perhaps even more, as thankfully fewer people are accustomed to seeing such deeply rooted racism. However, in this era in which we've come to expect plot twists and character development, there is surprisingly little change in any character from beginning to end. Each person in this story is exactly who he/she appears to be, which will be very frustrating viewing for those who like to see a moral or have someone at least learn something from what has transpired. And since a rather repulsive gossipy woman reveals a rather important detail at the very beginning, I kept hoping for other secrets of some sort to be unveiled. The affected young (by comparison), ghostly Charlotte (Anne Twomey) surely has a story or two to tell, but it never comes. This is not so much a flaw in the script, but rather a warning that it's not the kind of story I expected it to be. It is a clear style choice by Williams, I'm just not sure that less is more in this case. If anything, it made me long for a depiction of the ancient mythical Orpheus on which this play is based.

Oliver Stone did a decent job doing Nixon, a political leader who was almost universally loathed at the end of his administration, so it stand to reason he could have done a great job on a biopic of the leader to whom British musician Danielle Dax referred as "Bad Miss M". Instead you get a Lifetime intimate portrait, starting with the unwise decision to wrap the film in Thatcher's current declining years (HInt: Politics is not the only thing Ronald Reagan had in common with her.) Meryl Streep's usual excellence is on display, and there are some interesting moments with her daughter; but with the longest serving prime minister, there's a lot of ground to cover, and you can't help but wonder what was sacrificed to make time for the twilight years. What really ticked me off was the directer seems to have gone so out of her way to make sure the film was balanced that she went in completely to the other side! Thatcher's opponent's are portrayed as rabid rage-a-holics, while her own party was completely devoid of even a single greedy bureaucrat or corrupt conservative. Little thought seems to have been given to the cause of the angry protesters featured in a few shots, which seem to have been included for the sole purpose of showing her bravely riding through them in a car. Since Streep went to all the trouble of channeling Maggie, you'd think she'd have demanded a better script.

Since the departure of Barbara Walters and Hugh Downs, there is not a scrap of the show that 20/20 used to be left. It's as if they put Geraldo Rivera in charge. With every story, be it a murder case, political story, or profile of a company, they manage to find the LEAST credible interviewees to discuss the subject, to the point where you have to assume they were the absolute last program to pick of the scraps of the few remaining people on any given story who would talk to the press. As for the correspondents on the show, they are no longer of the quality of, say, Lynn Sherr. They tend to ask the most insipid questions in a tone of voice that suggests they think they're brilliant. They are so not. I wrote the show off the day I turned it on and saw smarmy John Stossel and vapid Elizabeth Vargas staring back at me from the anchor desk, the perfect symbol of how OVER the show was, and is.

This film would have been very refreshing if it had been released in the era in which it is set; but even in 1966 it must have been out of place when much more daring material was in theaters--despite the subjects upon which it touches. So how much more dated is it now? Very. You'd think being more educated than the average women of their generation, they'd be...well, INTERESTING.

They're not, unfortunately. And when they keep doing dumb things, you'd expect them to at least get into some interesting trouble. They sorta do, but there was better trouble to be found on movie screens in 1966. For a better bad marriage than the one seen here, a moviegoer could have sought out "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" For socio-political content (very limply handled in the script), "Fahrenheit 451" was playing the same year.

Given that the next ten years were about to bring about a very exciting time in women's history, this film really didn't do much to help it along. The film, while well-directed and acted save a few annoying quirks, is missing a theme, a message. Instead of anticipating a good ending, I was starting to think, "let's wrap this up, shall we?" And when the film finally did, it appeared as if no one learned a thing.

This is one of those stage productions that for some reason works best on stage and loses something when brought from three-dimensional live theater to two-dimensional cinema. It probably loses even more when seen on home video or (even worse) broadcast on television with commercial interruption. The intimate tone of the story requires the attention one gives to a performance on a stage.

There is an advantage, of course, to filming: The actual surroundings can be used, rather than the best facsimile that can be achieved on stage. So what the film lacks in intimacy, it makes up for somewhat with the realism of the location, which is practically a character itself.

The cast includes most of the original play's New York cast, with one notable exception: Jason Alexander steps in as the most broadly drawn of the eight characters, which makes his miscasting all the more obvious. I have often stated that it shouldn't matter if a gay man were to play a heterosexual role. If you're caught up in the story, and the actor fits the role, it works. However, the reverse it NOT always true--especially in this case. Buzz needs to be played by a gay actor, or it comes across as mockery of gay mannerisms. However well- intentioned Alexander was when he went into the film, the result is a cringe-inducing minstrel act. I have seen a live version of L!V!C!, and the actor playing Buzz nailed it, so having seen Buzz played well made it all the more obvious.

That being said, the script is a good one. The story takes you back to the 1980s and a generation of men hovering around 40, and it was told from their point of view, not through heterosexual eyes. This was not common when the play premiered. So younger viewers may not appreciate how groundbreaking it was for gay male characters to speak openly and unapologetically this way. And AIDS was seen as much more of a terminal illness than it is now, with so many men you can see in a gym who could be HIV+ and still pictures of health.

So take it for what it is and enjoy what still works.

This is one of those filmed novels--like "The Prince of Tides", "The Object of My Affection", or "THe Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy"--which readers of the book will find disappointing.

I'm guessing, however, that most people who discover it now will not have read the book. And as a stand-alone film, how could you not like it? Maggie Smith is hilarious; and now that she IS the age of the character she was playing at the time, it makes her broad performance even more amazing. (There are hints of this character in the role she played 29 years later in "Gosford Park".)

The real gift for first-time viewers will be discovering Alec McCowen's wonderful acting as the stiff, stodgy nephew. He's one of those actors you see once, and then immediately you'll want to find out what else he's done. Lou Gossett Jr, and Cindy WIlliams are also enjoyable in early career roles.

This film was made in an era where greats like George Cukor were getting in a few last licks out of lengthy, distinguished career. (William Wyler and Joseph L. Mankiewicz were also showing they still had greatness in them during this period.) The film's score deserves mention, as it teleported me back to 1972, where I could imagine myself seeing this in a theatre wearing bell-bottoms and sporting a shag haircut (like WIlliams' in the movie). The theme song, "Serenade of Love", should have been nominated for an Oscar.

So again, if I'd read the book--which I now plan to do--I might feel differently; but compared to much of today's dreck, this is a whole lot of fun. From the moment that portrait winked at me at the beginning, I enjoyed it.

Should you decide to stream this online from Amazon, know that --as the other reviewer alluded--the synopsis was obviously written by someone who only sat through the first five minutes of this film. The correct story is simply this: a young man in his late teens, angry at the world because his father long ago abandoned his late mother, picks up a drifter on the way to the beach with two friends.

The decent looking but hardly gorgeous prostituted woman described in the misleading synopsis has one pointless scene. The drifter, for someone who spends his first scene waking up in a junkyard, is unrealistically well-spoken, dressed, and groomed. Heh, who wouldn't pick him up? This could have been an interesting character study, but the poster for the film and background music would have you believe it's an exploitation flick. Turns out it's quite innocuous--a lot of build up to what really is just a day at the beach for people with, um, issues.

There may be some cult interest in this due to 1.) the scene at the gym with many scantily short-shorted shirtless men, and 2.) the presence of Barbara Joyce as the teenage girl who would like to be fast and loose, but is really just kind of a goofball. Before her 2010 death, Ms. Joyce's more infamous contribution to pop culture was as the first (and thus far only) person to portray in live action the DC comics superheroine The Huntress, in two one- hour so-bad-they're-good television specials known as Legends of the Superheroes. This specials aired two decades after Hothead was filmed (the IMDb date goes by release, but the copyright shown on screen is 1958, when she was 17).

Bottom line: Slightly better than I thought it would be, only because I thought I wouldn't even be able to sit through it.

I know someone who views gore scenes in films like this as "art", knows the work that goes into the special effects, and she probably will not be disappointed. The rest of us, on the other hand, will watch it as a whole and it is the cinematic equivalent of really bad, cheap junk food devoid of substance, and not satisfying even on a guilty pleasure level.

I remember seeing the movie "Very Bad Things" and feeling bad just for having sat through it. Watching this film tops (or I should say, "bottoms") even that. What's worse is the presence of people who occasionally appear in good films (including one Oscar winner and a onetime nominee) legitimizing it. It is sexist (with the typical female nudity used for titillation and male nudity used for comic relief or as a turn-Off rather than On), gruesome, and crass--a little of which can be used to great effect, as in The Hangover, but here it's extremely poorly executed.

This is not an all-in-good-fun horror movie, it's the kind of film that just fuels the fire of people who want to trample the first amendment by showing the awful results achieved by creativity totally devoid of actual meaning. As for the humor, maybe a Morning Zoo-type radio personality would find it funny, but we thought it lame. (Jerry O'Connell gives his all as a scumbag video producer, but it seemed beneath even his B-list dignity.) Sadly, this was nothing more than dramatized Snuff.

Randolph Scott gets top billing, but ultimately this is Ruth Warrick's picture. She's a doctor holding together a makeshift hospital in China while its founder (Scott) is on his way back with much needed supplies--and a new wife, to her thinly-veiled disappointment. Having seen Warrick in a few other 1940s films, I can understand why the doc failed to notice her: despite her attractiveness, she never really exuded any sex appeal. But her character is very likable, while the new wife's shallowness becomes apparent within minutes of her entrance. And that's the problem with this picture--too easy. In fact, all it does is lower the audience's opinion of the foolish doctor for not seeing what's painfully apparent even to the other character's who don't speak the language. There's a similar subplot involving another doctor and a nurse, that's equally obvious. A wounded Japanese villain provides more action for the story, whose loose ends get tied up all too neatly and quickly. Either Pearl S. Buck's original novel just wasn't one of her better ones, or this movie doesn't do it justice. Nevertheless, it probably made for a decent lead-in on a double-feature back in the day.

I often lament that writers rarely get their due when a film is praised. So many times directors and actors get lauded for movies that have outstanding screenplays and stories, while the person who gave them their words escapes notice.

Well, turnabout is fair play; so if I'm willing to give credit where credit is due, I shall place the blame where it is due in this case. It's Wes Craven's story and Adam Alleca and Carl Ellsworth's screenplay.

I have not seen Wes Craven's original film, so looking at this film on it's own merits, I must say there are few. It's not that I'm squeamish, I just needed more to justify all I was witnessing on screen. We basically see two scenarios unfold, innocent people being violently victimized, and then what when the perpetrators "meet the parents".

What could have been a psychological drama (and they still could have kept the horror) just turns into pure carnage. It would have been interesting to see the main characters (Tony Goldwyn and Monica Potter) wrestle with moral ambiguity of facing their daughter's torturers, but they are not given time to process anything in the kill-or-be situation as it is presented. So the film quickly devolves into just another torture-porn flick, with a tacked on ending just to please TP aficionados. Count me out.

This is worth watching only if you happen to come upon it, not worth going out of your way to rent--which I did. A little of Campbell's tongue-in-cheek persona works better in his "straight" B-movies, not one that is supposed to be a send up. I should take off another rating point for the unrealistic--and thankless--gay characters, although the portrayal wasn't disrespectful, it was still a silly attempt to use gayness for humor, and unsuccessful at that.

I guess it's just not bad enough to be "so bad it's good", and not good enough to recommend enthusiastically. It might have been better if they played it straight instead of making the cheapness so obvious. I think we would have gotten it.

I first watched this film with great anticipation, knowing it was an Oscar nominee for best picture. It looked like the kind of movie I would like. I even remember reading the description on the video box promising a delightful viewing experience, a mixture of comedy and drama. (I laugh now thinking how they oversold the movie with their glowing synopsis on that box.) Like any movie that tries too hard to be quirky, this fails. The main characters journey just simply is not compelling. I really didn't feel he deserved to meet Geena Davis's character (the film's saving grace, no wonder she won the Oscar), and I found his family of dullards to be more annoying than amusing.

I know some people here have already posted high praise for this film--but my second viewing of it years later only confirmed the things I didn't like about it the first time.

Despite the presence of stars Myrna Loy and William Powell (not to mention Rosalind Russell in her brief film debut), supporting player Isabel Jewell's performance is easily the most memorable in this drama. Powell plays a prominent lawyer, and Jewell plays a potential client, one who can't afford his serves as much as the glamorous socialite played by Russell. The legendary Loy has some fine scenes, but she really isn't given much of a chance to change her somber demeanor throughout the picture. There isn't really much action in this film, just a few well-placed confrontations and plot devices to keep up a modest amount of suspense, plenty enough to hold ones interest in a short running time. Films of this era didn't have to rely on spectacle or sensation to be good, and this is one example.

This is the film version of a play that premiered more than twenty years earlier (1919), and boy does the story show its age! The title character is so good-golly-gosh wholesome you'll either want to laugh or just haul off and smack her. This being my first introduction to Anna Naegle, I can only hope it was the character and not a limited acting range. She's the anti-femme-fatale, and that could not have been good for her career in the coming years in Hollywood.

That being said, it's not such a bad little film with pros like Ray Milland and Billie Burke in the cast. The opening credits with marionettes flipping cue cards is cute, but it sets a more comedic tone than this film can deliver. I will say it is fun checking out the fashions of the era, not to mention the interior designs, and the story touches on class differences without the film really making any kind of statement about them. It may be a little too-cute for its own good, but it's worth a look if you're curious.

All those who criticize The Sopranos for its stereotypical portrayals of Italians haven't seen anything until they've gotten a good look at this cornball gangster film which focuses on a family so irritating, you almost want them to be rubbed out.

The parents in this clan aren't so bad, but their two little boys--one a total brat, one cloyingly cutesy-poo--are insufferable, while their older good-for-nothing son and Pollyanna daughter ably compete for audience contempt. But the granddaddy of them all is, well, Granddaddy. As played by Chic Sale (in full "Dag-nabbit!" mode) he serves as the films moral compass, throwing in lots of diatribes about "dang, dirty foreigners" for good measure. If these are the good guys, it's no wonder the actors of that era who played baddies became the big stars.

Not that there are any stellar performances to be found among the criminal actors, but they at least acquit themselves better than the grating Leeds family. The incompetent police officers aren't even given enough screen time to bring things down any further. Only Walter Huston, as the district attorney, elevates the cliché-riddled material in his futile attempts to breathe some levelheadedness into these dolts.

The film deserves credit for being an early entry in what would prove to be a very popular silencing-the-witness formula, and it doesn't flinch in its depiction of the hard-bitten underworld lifestyle, but there are quite simply better--and less xenophobic--examples in the genre.

I went into viewing this film with the utmost optimism that it would be just as funny and deserving of its high rating on this site as one would expect.

I wanted to like it, and boy did I try to find something redeeming.

The acting was good, and I'm sure many people could relate to living in a nasty apartment and being broke, but that's about it. However, when a film is this unglamorous and unattractive, there had better be a compelling story and dialogue to back it up. There ain't. It just didn't work for me.

Maybe it's because I'm not British (though there are several British comedies I love), or maybe the frame of mind I was in wasn't right. But it's not my responsibility to find a reason to like this film if there's none to be found. I know others like it, and Tracey Ullmann when introducing it on TCM said that it had her "weeping with laughter", but I suspect I won't be the only viewer on whom this films possible charms are lost. (Maybe that's why Ullmann's show never found a U.S. audience if this is her taste.) Well, Withnail fans, I tried. At least give me credit for not turning this off and deleting it from my DVR--as the person with whom I was watching wanted me to. I gave this film every chance, and it gave me nothing back. Two half chuckles at the most, but not one laugh. Sorry.

When word came out that one of the highest prices to date was paid for this screenplay, many excellent screenwriters must have been scratching their heads in disbelief. But the studio got a return on its investment, in dollars if not in quality.

Kudos to Michael Douglas for accepting a daring part at this stage in his career, but for all he and Sharon Stone give to their roles, the script lets them down, with poorly-developed supporting characters and a very unsatisfying conclusion.

Then there's the gay/bisexual angle. This film angered some gay activists because of its negative portrayal of female sexuality. I don't think there was any disrespect intended, but it seemed that way because of the careless handling of the female characters. The character of Roxy, a girlfriend of Stone's character, would have been much more fleshed-out in a better film.

So for all the thrill of the sex scenes and the suspense, the viewer is left at the end saying merely, "Okay, I've seen it." And that's all I'll say as well. It's worth seeing once if you're curious, but once is more than enough. It does not hold up in repeated viewings.

Michael Curtiz's skillful direction has often been overshadowed by the tremendous star power radiated in his most well-known films. Unlike many other directors of his era, his films seldom bear any "signature" or "stamp". Like the best actors who disappear into their roles, you can't really "spot" his great direction, but it's all here: the lighting, the close-ups, the the pacing, etc.

This is my favorite of the three well-known film versions of James M. Cain's novels. (The other two being Double Indemnity and The Postman Always Rings Twice. He also wrote the novel on which the 1982 Pia Zadora flick "Butterfly" is based, but let's not hold that against him.) It's a favorite because it has the sharpest dialogue AND the most compelling conclusion. This is thanks to screenwriter Ranald MacDougall--with a little help from William Faulkner and Catherine Turney.

Of course the most memorable part about this film is the tempestuous mother-daughter relationship played by Joan Crawford and Ann Blyth. Crawford really allows Blyth to shine in her meaty role; it's probably the most generous she had ever been with a female co-star, as far as sharing the screen. The images and characters in this film are so indelible that Carol Burnett couldn't resist parodying it on her television show. And even after seeing it lampooned, it still holds up as a classic. A true MUST-SEE.

And I don't mean that in a bad way. This slowly-paced story is just the right kind of entertainment to watch as you're going to bed--or on one of those days you choose no to GET out of bed. This was long before every older person in movies had to be either cantankerous or full of spunk. Elisabeth Risdon's ready-to-retire teacher is that rarity of movie characters--one who actually is allowed to act her age. (For an even better film with just such a performance, check out Dame May Witty in "The Lady Vanishes".) The plot concerns a music teacher who writes a corny song for her school, only to have it somehow fall into the hands of a musician who makes a hit novelty recording out of it. What happens to her after that is best left for the viewer to discover, but suffice to say, it is rather amusing, but not all that exciting in the long run. There's some potential romance with the main character's stuffy daughter, but mostly the film hinges on Risdon, and it's nice to see her in a lead role after years of almost anonymous character acting.

I found this movie just flipping channels and enjoyed it. I would recommend it to anyone curious about checking it out for light--very light--entertainment. (And if you're reading this, that's probably you.)

I didn't even like Bruce Almighty but agreed to watch this with someone else, and I'm glad I did. It is better than Bruce simply because Steve Carrell isn't and will never be as big of a Ham as Jim Carrey--fortunately.

Akthough it gets off to a slow start with several tedious scenes with Carell's family, once it picks up there are enough laughs to satisfy viewers of all ages. The animal bits are a nice touch, and the ark itself is impressive.

As for the actors, they probably should have chosen between Wanda Sykes and John Michael Higgins, because both are not needed. I would have gone with Sykes' character, because Higgins' is needlessly irritating here, and I normally like him. Evan's wife is an underwritten, underdeveloped character--and not very likable. He could have been a widower and it wouldn't have made much difference. John Goodman is well cast as a corrupt senator, but it seems he just toned down his evil salesman from O Brother Where Art Thou.

But other than a few minor quibbles with the characters, there's little in this movie not to like. Comedy is often very subjective. There are some well-reviewed films I don't find funny at all, while this one I have to say deserves a higher rating. I think many viewers who give this a chance will agree with me.

There's one big musical number by an otherwise underused Ben Vereen that shows why he became a household name despite little screen work. Oh, if only that sparkle was evident in the rest of this movie! Barbra has one good splashy musical number, and a song toward the end that propels the story to its conclusion (the only song to almost live up to the music in Funny Girl).

The character of Fanny Brice is brasher and not as likable than she was in 1968. Even less likable is James Caan as the overconfident producer Billy Rose who shoves his way into Fanny's career and life. Omar Sharif he ain't, but he does have chemistry with Streisand. The fact that Billy insults Roddy McDowall (also underused) in his first scene sets the tone for how he comes across for the remainder of the film, and that's tough to endure. There's also no Kay Medford and no Walter Pigeon.

However, if one were to watch this at face value NOT KNOWING that a near-perfect original preceded it--it'd be okay, worth seeing once anyway just to know how Brice's story turns out.

As for Sharif reprising the role of Nicky Arnstein, well, his presence only reminds the viewer how much BETTER and more HEART the original film had. Their relationship could not be a more fitting metaphor for this sequel: the magic just isn't there anymore.

I am normally a person who dislikes remakes or updated takes on classic film concepts, but since 38 had passed since "Mr. Blandings Builds His Dreamhouse"--and since that film is not as well known as several other Cary Grant comedies, this film seemed to have come along at the right time. I'm surprised it was not a box office hit.

Before anyone quibbles with my high rating, take a look at the list of every other film Tom Hanks made before BIG. Other than Splash, this is the only one that I would watch again. The concept is funny, there are some classic slapstick moments, and Maureen Stapleton is terrific in her brief screen time--much better than the boring real estate agent in "Blandings". As for Shelley Long, I couldn't picture anyone but her in the lead.

Hanks and Long have good chemistry as husband a married couple, so much so that it really hurts to see the house wreak havoc on their marriage--not to mention a well-cast Alexander Godonov tampering with it. I was surprised by the negative reviews this film received when it came out, since I saw it in a packed theatre that was laughing all the way through. And even though I'm no longer a high school freshman I still enjoyed it two decades later. To repeat, this is the best of the films Hanks made between Splash and Big--by far.

I went into this with the full expectation of turning it off once I got the gist of it, and got a good look at Elizabeth Taylor just at the point her career and her beauty were reaching their heights. Surprisingly, I watched it all the way through and enjoyed several mildly humorous moments--no great belly laughs, but solidly amusing moments nonetheless.

The plot is paper thin, and it's a compliment that director Stanley Donen was able to get a full length feature out of what could easily been a short pilot for a sitcom. Also escalating the material are Old Pro character actors at the top of their game, such as Kathleen Freeman as a loyal seamstress and Ann Doran as the meddling mother of Elizabeth Taylor's dance rival, played by a very young (and blond) Elinor Donihue. It is no wonder these ladies enjoyed very lengthy careers in literally hundreds of films.

But the real heart of the film is Taylor's lovable, understanding father played by Tom Tully, as the type of Dad we wish we all had, but few actually did.

The only part of this film that hasn't aged well is the lead character, played by Larry Parks. This film was made at a time when male characters got away with far more sexist behavior than any man would get away with today. In fact, if a man in New York--no matter how well dressed or handsome--behaved in such ways toward a woman he just met today...well, she'd probably summon the nearest police officer! If you're willing to overlook that major flaw, you might enjoy this romantic comedy, especially the madcap children's dance recital at the end. The kids are terrible throughout the film, which makes it all the more funny.