saraarts Reviews

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (2000)

Exquisite Fairy Tale

[10/10 · 9 January 2001]

For me, this film was an exquisite fairy tale. For my boyfriend, a martial artist and lover of all things Asian -- including Taoism and Buddhism, sensibilities of which are evident throughout the movie -- it was an exquisite betrayal. We both had our breath taken away by the costumes, the locations, the props, the sets, the choreography, the cinematography, the music, and the acting (especially by Michelle Yeoh, who broke both our hearts repeatedly). I felt the story made perfect sense and fulfilled the prophecy of its own stated philosophy in a logical and meaningful fashion. The fact that I could predict each element of the plot as it was dramatically foreshadowed only in this case enhanced my enjoyment, because this is apt within reason for the genre of legendary or pseudo-legendary fantasy. However, my boyfriend felt personally betrayed by some of the "wrong" choices made by a certain character.

To me, his anger speaks to the power of the film. He loved the world created for this film and some of the characters in it so much that it physically assaulted him when another character caused them injury. While I was totally speechless and utterly choked up at the end of the film, it was because I was swimming in a sense of beauty beyond words -- and totally beyond what I expected from a fluffy little kung fu film.

At certain points in the film, after some of the fight scenes, various members of the audience (which was a predominantly affluent, middle-aged audience in a subdued suburb north of Boston) broke out into cheers and applause.

At the end of the film, everyone in the audience (except my boyfriend) went "Oooooooooooooh."

Love it or hate it, it is simple, tender and rich. Go see it on the big screen.

10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

Great job

[9/10 · 28 May 2000]

Okay, I admit it. I loved this movie. I loved it even more than the classic play on which it is based.

Remaking, and especially modernizing, a classic is a delicate business. It's terribly easy, when bringing old truths into modern idiom, to fall so far into the pool of popular culture as to lose depth, or to work so hard at making an old story accessible to a young audience that the result is pure tedium for all ages.

In 1999, She's All That, a very loose and unacknowledged update of Pygmalion, gave us a perfect example of this kind of failure. Thankfully, however, the same year brought us this movie, 10 Things I Hate About You, an update/remake of Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew - and a great example of how to do it right.

Doing it right, you see, is not about putting the thing into modern dress and language or adding gimmicks you think will appeal to people who might otherwise expect themselves to be bored. Doing it right is about deconstructing something old until you get right down to the barest timeless truth of the thing, the reason why the author wrote the original, the reason why you are drawn to retelling the story in the first place, and then - and only then - reconstructing the story around that truth in the spirit of the original author, but dressing it according to your own zeitgeist.

Ever since my parents took me to see The Taming of the Shrew when I was eight years old, I've had kind of a love/hate thing going on with it. I've loved the humor, the cleverness, and the fact that everybody who deserves happiness and love gets it in the end. The parts I've hated are, first, the part where Kate is privately humiliated, and then the part where she has to appear subservient to her husband, even though she does it for love. Without spoiling it for you, I can tell you this is not quite what happens in 10 Things I Hate About You.

Strip away all the business and temporal context of Shakespeare's Shrew and this is the message you are left with: Love, trust, and respect must be earned. They are not simply consequences of being young and cute. Having a good relationship, loving well and being well loved, require trust and respect. These are earned in a relationship when two people are kind, generous, and honest with each other, and bound up in all that, a little humble and a little nakedly needful and desirous of each other.

And guess what? When you strip away all the business and temporal context, this is also the message of 10 Things I Hate About You! Of course, it's been put into modern context, young language and dress. And I love the fact that this version has also been thoroughly adapted to the modern consciousness that a young woman can learn this stuff herself, just by being smart and true to herself, and without being forced there by a bunch of men. I also love the way that the boys in this version of the story have to go through the same painful process and learn the same lessons. But all the best elements of the original - the timeless truth, the humor, the cleverness, and the just deserts - remain intact.

The really cool thing about this version, though, is something I don't remember from the original. In 10 Things, we really get to watch all the main characters grow up. We get to watch them make choices, right and wrong, hurt each other, heal each other, and learn. We get to watch them all become more human.

And that's the kind of transformation that makes a classic.

Like Water for Chocolate (1992)

Rich and satisfying

[8/10 · 28 May 2000]

Years ago, in California, I walked into a gas station convenience store to buy some consumable or other. The man who took my money was a Mexican emigre, and he saw that I was carrying a copy of the book Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel. He asked how I liked it, and I told him I was loving it. He told me not to miss the movie.

"Oh," I answered, "but I always worry that the movie will never be as good as the book."

"It doesn't matter," he told me. "This is a very great film. And it is the first real Mexican film I have ever seen shown in this country. You know, to everybody, not just the Mexican community."

I smiled and told him I would check it out, but honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about. After all, I knew who Dolores Del Rio and Cantinflas were, and the movies with them that I had seen were shown in L.A., to everybody.

But now, at last, I have seen this movie, and now, at last, I know what this guy was talking about. Like, wow! This really is a real Mexican film! Art! Cinema! More than just a bit of popular fluff!

Tender, compassionate and very witty, like the book on which it is based, this movie celebrates Mexican culture -- not just on the food, the preparation of which forms the premise of the story, but as kind of a rollicking take on the history of the young country at the turn of the century. It celebrates the music, the style of life on a ranch, the strength of the extended family, the beauty of the land, and the ethnic mixing pot that is every Mexican.

There is so much reckless joy and passionate love in this film, even when it portrays pain. It openly depicts female eroticism. (Plus, for a big change from US cinema, we get to see beautiful men and women of many shapes, sizes and colors all on the same screen.) The acting is flawless, and the star, Lumi Cavazos, is absolutely charming, full of life and credibility.

The only flaws I found in this film were minor and had to do with timing. For example, the final ascent to the climax seems to have been shortchanged a little bit. I would have liked to reach through this scene a little more slowly.

To judge Mexican cinema by the type of films I had seen before this one would be like judging U.S. cinema on the basis of Jerry Lewis or some cheesy melodramas from the '40s and '50s, but not taking into account any of our real film art. I'd love to know what else I've missed. Can't wait to find out.

Meet Joe Black (1998)

Almost, but not quite...

[6/10 · 27 May 2000]

There are some really good things about this movie. Pure originality is not one of them. Good taste is not quite one of them either.

The good part: The acting. Excellent. Jeffrey Tambor puts in the best performance I've ever seen from him, very natural and real. Brad Pitt's portrayal of death is simply charming. Anthony Hopkins is at the top of his form. Claire Forlani and Marcia Gay Hardin make it obvious why their characters should be loved. Jake Weber is perfectly believable.

The bad parts: the music, the recycled story (yet another in a long string of previously used material to be coughed out of Hollywood in the last five to ten years), a certain problem of taste.

The music is by Thomas Newman, the same composer who so brilliantly scored Oscar and Lucinda. You can only tell it's him because of one particular theme which seems to have been lifted whole from the score of Oscar and Lucinda. (It's so obviously similar that until I confirmed that the same composer had written both I was outraged at what I thought was an outright theft.) The rest of the score is mostly either a medley of material by popular composers or the usual boring Dolby-ized swells thrown in way too often, even to the point of destroying delicate dialog.

What is it with these Hollywood directors? What is this fashion for hiring brilliant actors and then stomping on their lines with insultingly suggestive music? Do I really need a swell of strings to tell me that dialog is poignant? that an exchange is respectful? that "these characters are Men, dammit"? Don't directors realize that Oscar winners and a decent script can usually do this -- and more -- all by themselves?

The story is hardly original. The old parts are based on a play entitled "Death Takes A Holiday." (This play was first made into a film with the same name in 1934, then into a TV movie in 1971. Why oh why did we need another remake?) The new parts appear to be cobbled together from or just mimicry of a lot of '80s and '90s movies about corporate greed and glamourous rich people. If it weren't for the acting and the beautiful sets and costumes, no one would give a second thought to any of these characters.

Which brings me to taste. Luxurious stuff everywhere on a set does not equate to good taste. Now, this will sound mean, but I don't intend meanness. Also, if the plot of this movie is not already clear as crystal to you thanks to two years of media saturation with a series of tediously explicit previews (another bad recent Hollywood trend), or from the tagline, or from the video cover itself, this might be a little bit of a spoiler, so beware. But here goes.

I love Claire Forlani's acting. Nevertheless, I think she's too thin. Most people are 10-20 pounds lighter than they appear on film. In this film, Ms. Forlani looks like she weighs about 100 lb.

Now, I think most of the women on my screen are too thin these days. However, there is something particularly disturbing about a woman so thin that you can see the articulation of her shoulder joints embracing as a lover the handsome and virile embodiment of death. Enough said.

This movie had a budget of $90m (which should have been enough to at least buy an original story idea). If the figures posted here on IMDb are accurate, it has yet to recoup more than approximately half. I hope Hollywood starts to get some messages from this kind of math. Maybe I'm not the only one watching movies who is sick of remakes, of terrifyingly thin women, and of stale and even insulting musical direction.

Braveheart (1995)

Made huge mistake; must warn others!

[7/10 · 6 April 2000]

First of all, I have to say that the first time I saw Braveheart, I loved it, unequivocally. Too old to remember what I once knew of Scottish history, and therefore entirely unaware of any historical inaccuracies which I've since heard others put forth, I saw only a long, lush, romantic, dramatic, cinematic war poem, the sort of thing that would have become required reading in English literature courses had it been created by a troubador a few centuries earlier. It didn't even bother me that Mel Gibson, despite his usual exceptionally strong acting, was far too old for the hero's role. I was enchanted and deeply moved.

Let me also state my opinion that, no matter what, Braveheart is still a really good movie. The sheer choreography of the battle scenes is superb and not to be missed. Patrick McGoohan's performance is the best I've seen him do yet. Most of the little glimpses we get of Sophie Marceau are lovely and memorable. The only real criticisms I can make of this film rest on the length and on certain cliches which could have been avoided; there were a number of scenes that could have been trimmed to strengthen Braveheart's impact immensely, and the script was not always as strong as the point. But these are small criticisms. Watching Braveheart is like immersing yourself greedily in a thick historical novel.

However, when I first saw Braveheart, I had never seen anything like it on film. So over the course of the next few years, hungry for more rich widescreen epics spread over two cassettes, I watched and rewatched a lot of other films, as much David Lean and Akira Kurosawa as I could find. The first movie I saw after Braveheart was Lawrence of Arabia, which I'd seen and loved before; then, at my boyfriend's instigation, I moved into Kurosawa with a vengeance, starting with Ran. If my goal had been to keep loving Braveheart, this was probably my first mistake.

Then my boyfriend, at my urging, bought the video of Braveheart, letterboxed and everything as all originally widescreen films should be. A big Kurosawa fan, and someone who cannot seem to get enough of beautifully presented violent tragedy, I assumed my boyfriend would love Braveheart as much as I had. This was my second mistake. For had he not purchased this videotape, my third and most critical error of judgment would never have occurred.

My third mistake took place a couple of weeks ago. We held a little film party at our house, ostensibly to watch Monty Python movies with a bunch of our friends, ages ranging from early 20s to late 30s. We first watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail, a brilliant and hilarious movie we all love dearly. Then the people who don't like violent tragedies, even when beautifully presented, had to go home. So the question arose, what should we watch next?

For some reason, neither Monty Python's The Meaning of Life nor Life of Bryan, which we had rented just for the occasion, appealed to the remaining guests. For some perverse reason which I can only attribute to too many margaritas, we all agreed to watch Braveheart.

Like The Holy Grail, Braveheart attempts to portray life in medieval Britain as it might really have been, filth and all. So the first time we snickered when we saw a dirty face, we suspected we were in trouble. As soon as the first English soldier in a bullet-shaped helmet appeared to receive a thorough taunting, those of use who had seen Braveheart before knew at once that our love affair with the film was over. It didn't take long for our small audience to begin screaming things at the screen such as, "Come back and fight, you coward!" or "Not dead; in fact, I'm feeling a little better," or "You don't frighten us, English pig dogs!" or, worst of all, "Naughty, naughty Zoot!"

I don't want to spoil Braveheart for others. The purpose of this review is simply to put forth a warning. And so I will not walk you through all the parallels we encountered, much to the detriment of Braveheart, from costume to character to event. It would be unkind. Nor will I go into a detailed analysis of the flaws of Braveheart versus the virtues of, say, Kagemusha.

I would offer two warnings, though. The first warning is that, if you love Braveheart and have not watched a lot of Kurosawa, go carefully into that rich domain. Know that once you have seen Ran, with all its beautifully composed scenes, unique and perfect music, and careful, truly poetic editing, never again will you be able to look at Braveheart with the same respect.

The second warning is much more obscure, probably a mistake others are not likely to make, but still... If you love Braveheart, or if you want to love Braveheart, never ever screen it directly after screening Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Oh, sure; should you disregard this warning, you will certainly have fun. Rolling around on the floor and laughing until you hurt is generally enjoyable. However, you will never again be able to view Braveheart with any type of dignity.

The Green Berets (1968)

Context Is Everything

[6/10 · 5 April 2000]

When this movie was first released, I was five years old. I went to see it with my father, a staunch Republican, and my brother, age 11. We all loved this movie. Everyone on the street where I lived, in a conservative, affluent suburb of Los Angeles, loved this movie, especially we children, who thereafter often could be found playing "Viet Nam" in the streets.

Last month, this movie was shown on one of the movie channels my boyfriend and I receive through our satellite dish. My boyfriend is five years younger than I. We both expected to enjoy watching what I remembered as a classic war movie from an era he's just barely too young to recall.

We were able to tolerate only the first fifteen minutes of the film. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that a big part of this film was about propaganda, more than a nuance, more like a sledgehammer which had entirely eluded me at five years of age. Knowing now what we certainly had no clue about in 1968, my boyfriend and I were well repulsed and had to switch channels to keep our dinners in our tummies.

So, without being able to watch the whole thing now, as a somewhat educated adult, I can't really assess the quality of more than the first fifteen minutes of The Green Berets, except to remember wistfully the impact that the film's action scenes -- but certainly not the dialog or the premise -- had on my childhood street games. (I thought I might grow up to be a Green Beret. The number of actual career paths available to women in the 1960s was another thing I didn't have a clue about at age five. And then there was that whole concept of how, in real life, you don't usually get to get up and play some more after you've been shot. And then there was that whole thing about how getting shot often really hurts quite a bit.)

However, I would recommend that, if anyone out there now believes that *all* Americans opposed the Viet Nam conflict while it was happening, those poor deluded souls should take in as much of The Green Berets as they can stand, as it might provide a valuable glimpse through a now deliberately occluded window on our culture at that time. This was a big, probably expensive, mainstream production, starring and directed by John Wayne. And this was what a lot of the people who didn't attend Woodstock looked like, talked like, and believed -- or wanted to look like, talk like, and believe.

Supercop (1992)

Mr. Chan: more like this; less like the Americans, please!

[8/10 · 3 January 2000]

This is a really fun movie. Jerry Bruckheimer could learn a thing or five from Stanley Tong. I can only give it 8 out of 10 because it's not exactly deep, y'know? It is light as a feather, but it's also fun, fun, fun -- far more interesting and surprising than any "action" film I've seen out of Hollywood in a long, long time, all of which have seemed to me to be recycling the same script, plot, characters, and score to desperation. (Beats me how people could shell out eight bucks a pop to see Enemy of the State aka Mercury Rising aka Absolute Power...when they could rent Supercop for two bucks and actually see something unexpected.)

Of course, this film stars Jackie Chan being his usual goofy self, deftly making his extraordinary skills as a martial artist, stuntman, and physical comedian look as natural as breathing, but the other amazing talent in this piece is exhibited by the fantastic stuntwoman Michelle Yeoh (aka Michelle Khan), the same woman who for the first time blew away many Western moviegoers in Tomorrow Never Dies.

I think this woman is made entirely of rubber and springs. Most of her stunts in this movie are actually scarier and more daring than most of Chan's, and some of the most brutal took more than one take. And she did a lot of them in a dress!

Fortunately, she is also in the sequel to this, Supercop II. It's seven years old, and I can hardly wait to rent it. (When was the last time you were in a hurry to see an action flick almost ten years old?) Too bad I can't say the same for Rush Hour, which I had to click off after less than 10 minutes because Chan's co-lead character was such an obnoxious idiot.

I really hope Hollywood learns from Chan and his Hong Kong associates, and not the other way around. Indicators are not positive. Keep your fingers crossed. Meanwhile, watch Supercop and enjoy something fresh.

Daria (1997–2002)

The truth about being a brain...

[5 November 1999]

There are now but four televisions shows I watch with any regularity. Daria is one of them. Daria is also the only thing on MTV that I can ever stand to watch anymore. MTV used to be the home of some really intriguing animation. This is all that's left, as far as I can tell.

Once upon a time, Ally McBeal, which I loathe for its shallowness and cruelty, was marketed to us, the American public, as the show that would finally reveal "what women are really thinking." This marketing was a lie. The only show I've seen on TV that even comes close to fulfilling this promise is Daria.

Scathing and true, this show never fails to make me, or my boyfriend, or anyone in my circle of friends (ages 20+ to 50+) laugh hysterically. I dunno; maybe we're just all a bunch of overgrown outcast brains who can't help but feel kinship for the popularity exiles of Lawndale High. Maybe it's because we were once suburban youth. Or maybe it's because, with all their various base and frivolous traits, there isn't a single character in this program who is not, at some point, sympathetic, and there isn't a single character who doesn't represent more than just a high school student.

The only bad thing I have to say about this program is that MTV seems to have misplaced it. When oh when will we be graced with new episodes? We wait with 'bated breath...

Sports Night (1998–2000)

Smart!

[10 August 1999]

It is rare that I am moved to joy by a network TV show, but Sports Night has done it.

I'm a total geek. I don't do sports. Why should I like this show? Because it's smart. Really smart. They use big words. They talk fast. This show has wit, irony, outright human silliness, and even some slapstick, as well as drama, intrigue, and politics. Most of the time, there is no perceptible laugh track to insult me, although I think the producers tried it on somewhat subtly for a couple of episodes. Also, this show isn't really about sports, it's about life, all the tenderness and humiliation and care that everybody puts in and takes out every day.

Although it waxes a bit self-conscious and preachy at times, and even though there's a whole lot more romance happening in this office than I ever saw anywhere I ever worked, it's a new show and it holds a lot of promise. I really hope it survives to flourish, prosper, and deepen, and that the producers continue to leave the laugh track out.

Mystery Men (1999)

Haven't laughed this hard at a movie in 10 years, at least

[10/10 · 9 August 1999]

This movie is wonderful! There is not a single type of joke that the makers of this film avoided; it's all there -- physical, mental, wordplay, slapstick, erudition, vulgarity -- costume jokes, word jokes, makeup jokes, posture jokes, accent jokes, set jokes, history jokes, science jokes, culture jokes, scatological jokes, even silverware jokes -- and it all works. I haven't laughed this hard at a movie since the first time I saw Ghostbusters.

The production design is magnificent. Combined physical and computer generated sets and scenery provide the thrill of entering a complete universe that is at once slightly foreign and futuristic and yet instantly recognizable as a probable dimension of our own world. Unlike Dick Tracy, the costumes in this movie, which is also based on a series of comics, do not look like comic-book costumes, but like things real people would actually wear. In fact, they are real things people actually do wear. Or have worn.

There is so much to look at. There is so much to hear. This is one to watch more than once, especially since you will laugh so much you will not be able to hear all the lines the first time.

The things that make this movie not just a nice pastime but genuinely great are the overall message (more on that later) and the character development, which is not just provided by the script and plot, but absolutely depends on the unique performance given by each actor. The sincerity of William H. Macy as The Shoveler is probably the deepest performance in the film, the one which really makes the audience care about not just his character, but all the others. His earnest, serious performance, combined with the sweetness of Louise Lasser as the Blue Raja's mother, and the earthiness of the actress who plays Mrs. Shoveler (Jenifer Lewis, I think), is what keeps this movie from degenerating into just another Gen-X-ridicule-fest.

As the Bowler, Janeane Garofalo perfectly plays the usual sarcastic, demented, but strangely grounded character which keeps packing us in to see her. Hank Azaria once again displays his vocal and facial versatility both as the Blue Raja and the man behind the costume. Ben Affleck fully inhabits the character of Mr. Furious, who is after all just trying to learn how to become a real boy. Kel Mitchell's Invisible Boy is heart-piercingly sweet and charming, even at his most ridiculous. Geoffrey Rush, Tom Waits, Wes Studi and Paul Rubens -- well, let's just say no one else could possibly have played their parts. No, really. They have done such a good job that anyone else in any of these roles becomes inconceivable.

Now, the childless group with whom I saw this film ranged in age from 31 to 38, and we laughed ourselves ill, but also thoroughly loved the movie for the story, the acting, the costumes, the sets... Still, I would venture to suggest that you could bring a child age 8 or above to this movie and not be sorry. I think it's the overall message which makes this film, even with all the sometimes graphic violence and frequently coarse silliness, perfectly appropriate for slightly older children.

So what about that message? It's the very best one: Be yourself. Accept yourself. Respect yourself. Follow your dreams. Accept and respect other people and their dreams. Do your best. Have fun.

Ghostbusters (1984)

Saras everywhere agree...this is a funny one!

[10/10 · 9 August 1999]

The first time I saw Ghostbusters was a comic revelation. With wit, sophistication, and absolute knowledge of the culture, Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis delivered laughs on every imaginable level, beautifully framed by expert performances by Sigourney Weaver, Annie Potts, and Rick Moranis.

While there is no time like the first time, it's good to come back to this film from time to time. Murray and Weaver are true artists, continually pushing the boundaries of their talents, and these are characters you don't want to miss if you are a fan of either. Also, I miss Dan Aykroyd being this funny. If all you've ever seen of his work is Blues Brothers 2000 or Soul Man on TV, you need to watch Ghostbusters to understand why people of my generation (baby boom) still love and respect him.

The art direction and production design in this movie are also notable. The sets, costumes, and special effects are wild and strangely honest at the same time, subtle or obvious exactly where they should be. No matter how crazy things get, credibility is always suspended, just like in a good magic show.

The Sweet Hereafter (1997)

Magnificent and stunning

[10/10 · 26 July 1999]

This movie could never have been made in Hollywood. Hollywood simply does not produce works this intelligent. This movie is so intelligent, in fact, that it is remarkable that it was ever made at all, anywhere.

It is not, however, unintelligible. The entire film is told in a language well accessible to all: the language of relationships.

Besides the stunning cinematography, which transforms the very landscape into a character, there are five remarkable aspects of this film: the extraordinary storytelling technique, the use of sound, the exploration of relationships, the acting, and the way the whole film reaches in and grabs your heart, wrenches it about, and still leaves you feeling lightened and strangely refreshed at the end.

The most remarkable of these aspects is the storytelling. The plot slips backward and forward in time, like memory -- a single image here, a conversation there, an absurdity, a pang -- just as a person would remember a sequence of events -- nonsequentially. Often when directors attempt this approach we are left confused or exhausted by too much arty-ness. Not here. The film builds patiently, but not slowly, and it is impossible to lose track of the actual course of events. Although there is a certain oblique quality to the views we are granted -- we don't really know these people, and it is clear that we are outsiders observing their lives through someone else's memory glass -- there is no confusion as to what happened to whom, when -- and why, when there is a "why."

One of the reasons we do not lose track is the truly virtuoso handling of sound. All the sounds of the characters and their lives, their speech, their footsteps and other incidental sounds, as well as the strong and poignant soundtrack, weave complex scenes together with some very neat and complicated editing. A strain of speech or music overlapping from its scene of origin into another scene not only accomplishes the continuity but also increases this feeling of memory, that we are experiencing this entire period of time the way the people living in it would when looking back upon it, in random yet connected pieces, not as a single shot from beginning to end. It also underscores another strong element of the structure of the movie, the way we are made to feel the slippery, sliding aspect of the future coming up quickly and inexorably.

More than anything else, the relationships in this film are the point -- relationships between parents and children, between lovers, between community members with each other, between humans and the landscape, between a community and an outsider. The film explores not only how these relationships are, in plain and simple fact, but how they change both due to fate and due to chosen courses of action.

The relationships explored are shown in depth by several truly brilliant performances. Of particular note are the characters created by Ian Holm, Gabrielle Rose, Bruce Greenwood, Alberta Watson, and Arsinee Khanjian. Each of these characters is so real and natural and full, even put together as they are in a sort of patchwork, snippet-by-snippet fashion, it is hard to believe they are make-believe. I will never ever forget any of them, and I do hope to see a lot more of each of these actors -- especially the lesser known -- in the future.

The Sweet Hereafter is a tragedy in that it hinges on a tragic event, a bus accident which kills a number of children in a small town. This is no spoiler; the viewer discovers it very soon. Because of this central event, many people have described this film as too depressing to watch. This is simply not true. As my friend Teri so rightly put it, The Sweet Hereafter is "curiously life affirming."

Yes, the film affirms, there are things that happen to us from which we can never recover, as individuals and as a community. Yes, most lives, even some young lives, contain betrayal and disappointment and even horror. Nevertheless, the film also affirms that it is possible to survive and wish to. It also shows how it is possible to continue loving a person who has betrayed you or disappointed you, even more than once, just as it is possible to betray someone out of love without destroying the relationship. Sometimes betrayal is something you can't help, and sometimes it's something you have to do to save someone else.

Now, why this exploration leaves a certain lightness behind is something I cannot explain without spoiling the film. I will say, however, that the experience of the movie left me smiling, albeit wistfully, that I watched it more than once, and that I will watch it again.

Three Colors: Blue (1993)

Extraordinary use of music

[9/10 · 26 July 1999]

The cover of the box in which this movie comes says "Mysterious. Sexy." Blue is not really either one. It is very straightforward, and sexual where appropriate, but not at all sexy. It is very pretty, and it is very, very intense.

My American prejudice forces me to assume that any movie in French will be visually stimulating. I expect gorgeous locations, pretty people not necessarily model-perfect but dripping with style, and fabulous scene compositions. In this aspect, Blue certainly does not disappoint. Blue is also extremely well-acted, and overall a touching, sensitive, and honest exploration of grief. However, the aspect I most want to comment on is the way sound, particularly music, is implemented in this film. It's absolutely ingenious.

Most films addressing dramatic events or tough emotional situations seem nowadays to hammer in their points with overblown music -- violins for sentiment, bassoons for majestic landscapes, drums for suspense and action. Audiences are not allowed to simply let the experiences the actors are delivering wash over us and sink in naturally; we must constantly be ordered to notice each nuance through the insistent blare of overweening musical backup. The most refreshing aspect of Blue is that it does not do this at all.

Natural ambient sound is the most frequent background in Blue. This is shockingly effective. Ordinary noise -- traffic, or the sounds of a person moving around a room alone -- provide all the atmosphere necessary to make us feel what is being conveyed. Surprising sounds surprise us. Startling noises startle us. We feel everything that each sound makes each character feel, because we have experienced it in exactly the same way.

The only place that the very wonderful music is used is when the protagonist or another character of the world of music thinks. The protagonist is a musical woman, a composer and a composer's wife, and it is perfectly right that she should feel and think everything first in music. When she or someone else reads music, we hear what is being read, just like a voiceover. When the protagonist is impacted by an image, an utterance, or a memory, we are impacted by the musical chords by which her mind and heart respond first.

This is not only very effective, but it's also very respectful of the actors and of the audience. I have never, ever had the pleasure of a film experience like this before. Although the film falls apart a little at the end, rushing where it shouldn't and turning slightly derivative of Wings of Desire, and although it's probably not a movie I'd watch twice since half its impact is based on not knowing what will happen next, it is a very good film and definitely worth watching just for this amazing experience of hearing music and sound handled so expertly and with such dignity.

In the Line of Fire (1993)

Malkovich shines

[8/10 · 12 July 1999]

This movie is worth seeing just to revel in John Malkovich's virtuoso performance. For an entertaining theme evening -- the theme being film psychotics who wish, for money or passion, to do violent damage to the American president -- show this flick as a double feature with The Jackal starring Bruce Willis. Both of these movies have really creepy bad guys, extremely well portrayed (although Malkovich is the greater artist); both are well shot and have cute men and women that are fun to look at; both have lots of plot twists which, predictable or not, are fun to ride along with. Jolly good cheese, well served, nice and cold.

The Spanish Prisoner (1997)

Almost a good movie

[5/10 · 9 July 1999]

This is almost a really good movie. Unfortunately, I guessed the entire plot within the first 1/2 hour. This was due to the wooden performances of most of the actors, and something about the music, too, that I can't quite put my finger on. Since most of these actors have displayed tremendous talent elsewhere, it must be the direction which is at fault. I hate to say this, but this is one film I'd like to see re-made with a different director. It's a really good basic play, but as executed it failed utterly to suspend my credibility or tease my suspense buttons.

Men in Black (1997)

What about the cat?

[8/10 · 9 July 1999]

No doubt about it, this is a really fun movie. But I have one question: What happens to the cat? With all the fear and heart-stopping pace in Alien, Ridley Scott found time to deal with the cat; he even made its fate part of the suspense. So, what, is Barry Sonnenfeld in too much of a hurry to stop and let us know what happened to the cat in this light comedy? Geez. I'm sorry, but that little loose end costs this otherwise enjoyable movie 2 points on my scorecard. 8/10.

Alien: Resurrection (1997)

Surprising and brilliant

[10/10 · 9 July 1999]

I watched this film with three other people, all of whom, unlike me, had seen all the other films in this series. Besides this one, I have only seen Alien, the first in the series. While all of us agreed that Alien was a really good, definitely scary movie -- a real undie-stainer if you're not used to horror -- none of the people with whom I watched Alien Resurrection could remember much about the two other installments of the saga. I think we will all remember this installment, though.

I expected Alien Resurrection to scare me almost but not quite as much as Alien, or to completely bore me like the fourth-generation sequel it is. I was completely surprised. Yes, it scared me when it was supposed to, and yes, it grossed me out when it was supposed to. But this is like saying the hollandaise sauce on a dish of eggs Benedict is creamy; true to its arena, this is just what it's supposed to be. What I did not expect Alien Resurrection to do, and what it truly succeeded at, was to move me and to make me think. I also did not expect this fourth-generation sequel to be able to stand alone as a work of art which can be understood and appreciated completely separately from the previous generations.

In terms of art, the costumes and sets are perfect. The acting is incredible; there's a whole lot of subtext going on. The writing is spare; unlike, say, Air Force One, a different breed of action thriller, there is no excess dialog giving rise to ridiculous overacting. A substantial portion of this film's message -- which is mostly a series of questions -- is delivered by Sigourney Weaver's face.

One of the people with whom I watched this film asserts that it is the finest science/speculative fiction movie ever made, the quintessential expression of the genre. This is because of those questions, the message of the film and the issues addressed. Speculative fiction at its best explores constants in human experience by removing them from temporal quotidian settings and placing them, at least in concrete terms, "where no one has gone before."

All the great constants are here. The very human issues addressed in this film include arrogance, bureaucracy, love, strength on all levels, the meaning of humanity, the meaning of tribe, motherhood, and finally, home and the implications of survivorhood. Some classic questions include: What exactly is humanity? Human or not, what is the real definition of courage? Is there such a thing as "natural" selection, and how does free will enter into that equation? What is a woman? What are the duties of a mother, and how do we define that bond? And, in a black-humor kind of way, when is it appropriate to apply tough love?

This film is certainly not for everyone. It's absolutely not for children. It's also not a good choice for either the squeamish or the jaded viewer, or for a viewer looking for an easy thrill or a formula horror flick. It is a brilliant, ambitious work and one that might keep you up thinking past your bedtime.

Toy Story (1995)

Horrible message

[1/10 · 9 July 1999]

I was well prepared to like this movie on the basis of the art alone, and the art did not disappoint. However, I found much of the humor to be based on cruelty, and I was truly horrified by the overall message of the film: "Lower your expectations for yourself and everything will work out fine." It reminded me of The Breakfast Club, whose main theme seemed to be "Conform to the style of the popular kids, and all your problems will dissipate." This is just so wrong. If you want to see really good computer animation that will amuse you, inspire your children to be good and strong and true, and which predates this shallow and uninspiring vehicle, check out the television series Reboot, now being re-run on Cartoon Network. This movie is only good for refreshing your mental catalog of toys you may have once owned.

A Feast at Midnight (1994)

Charming and light

[10/10 · 9 July 1999]

This movie is absolutely delicious, as light as one of Magnus' (the main character's) own confections. Nevertheless it has held my interest through many viewings and even brought me to tears near the end, every single time.

Not only is the acting of brilliant veterans Robert Hardy, Christopher Lee, Carol MacReady, and Edward Fox as perfect as you would expect, but the children put in brilliant, subtle performances as well, with Freddie Findlay showing true star promise. The lush Dover location and surprisingly poignant music also add dimensions of richness to a very simple, honest story.

The focal characters are realistically bad and good boys -- realistic because often the same boys are both bad and good under believable circumstances -- who learn about the real meaning of friendship, teamwork, and even honor through, well, cooking. Do have fattening and decadent snacks on hand when you watch, because what the boys whip up will certainly make you hungry.

Incidentally, this film also managed to charm my boyfriend and to hold his interest throughout, and since this is such a tiny little dessert of a film, and since said boyfriend generally goes for the gamut of action flicks from Jackie Chan to Akira Kurosawa, or 2-hour Chow Yun-Fat/John Woo bloodbaths, this is really saying something. Because of the way the film gets right into the world of children, while not abandoning entirely the world and motivations of adults, I would also certainly recommend it for children age 8 or 10 and up; but there are still enough jokes and subtleties for grown-ups only that it won't bore parents.

The Princess Bride (1987)

Almost but not quite

[8/10 · 9 July 1999]

I have just one thing to say about this movie: It's NOT the book. I LOVED the book. I mean, I read it like 60 times in high school. I really, really loved the book.

I enjoyed this film fairly well. However, the whole intricate concept which I know and love so dearly has lost a lot -- maybe 70% -- in translation to the screen, even though the same guy wrote both the book and the screenplay.

Now, if you haven't read the book and you want to see this movie, then you're better off never reading the book at all; just watch the film, have fun, and stop there. However, if you've read the book, it won't hurt you to see this movie -- and in fact it's worth it to see this movie just to see Mandy Patinkin as Inigo Montoya, or Billy Crystal and Carol Kane as Miracle Max and his Witch Valerie, or even to see the rendering of the Cliffs of Insanity -- but it won't be nearly the experience you're expecting.

This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

Keyed to a particular audience

[10/10 · 9 July 1999]

This movie is hilarious. (It definitely goes to 11.) However, having observed a number of people being forced by their friends (such as myself) to watch this movie, I have learned that it's mostly hilarious for anyone who's ever been involved in any aspect of the music industry or any other performance-related show business, and that it's especially hilarious for these people when they've also grown out of a nigh-religious following of head-banging rock 'n' roll. If you've never participated in any way in a band tour (and I mean any band of any kind; they really are all the same in ways that matter), you won't get a third of it. If you still love heavy metal and the whole pseudo-goth culture that attends it, you might not get this movie at all, or this movie might spoil that for you forever.

The Mask of Zorro (1998)

zzzzz zzz zzzzz

[5/10 · 7 July 1999]

I fell asleep after 30 minutes. No kidding. On the couch, flat dead. It was the script that got me, or maybe the too-much music which wasn't even original. I'm really sick of this trend in movies where the director seems to think I'm too stupid to know what to feel for every shot, and so points out what I should feel with heavy-handed music. I love a good swashbuckler. This is not one. I knew who everybody was, who they would become, and what would happen, in five minutes. No breath of a plot twist was promised. And right before I passed out, I was being hammered into sleep by the acting. (Remember Jon Lovitz on Saturday Night Live? You know -- "AC-ting!" Yeah, well, this is the kind of thing that gave him that idea...) People who were watching with me and did not fall asleep said my expectations were too high, that this was just another offering of delicious cheese in a cheesy genre. Okay, but it really wasn't delicious at all. Bland. Very very bland. I'd prefer a lower budget and more real (as opposed to musically generated) drama and suspense. I guess I was looking for a decent Trader Joe's brie -- or even pepper jack -- and ended up with Safeway pasteurized process.

Oscar and Lucinda (1997)

Unique and splendid

[10/10 · 7 July 1999]

I saw this movie a week ago. I'm still thinking about it. Delicious, absurd, and tragic -- a true "new world" manifesto. Beautifully shot; breathtaking use of music. The fugue use of glass and gambling throughout insists the main point of the film, the fragility of our inherited existence, the so-delicate threads of choice and fate that are the difference between survival and annihilation and which connect us with our ancestors.

My Best Friend's Wedding (1997)

Ugh

[1/10 · 7 July 1999]

I'm sorry, but aside from Plan 9 from Outer Space, which had a certain innocent redemptive charm, this may be the most stupid movie I've ever seen. My boyfriend thought it was "cute," but only because he loves Julia Roberts; she reminds him of someone he's still half in love with, I think. Now, while I feel this way about Rupert Everett, even his elegance and charisma cannot salve the basic flaw of this film: that the main character is absolutely despicable, and that I cannot possibly spare a flying expletive for the fate of any of the other characters. I would have been able to just chalk all this up to yet another disappointing film viewing experience, except for the huge amount of money and talent expended in putting together this worthless stretch of plastic and the obscene commercial success it engendered. It's a true shame; or you could just say it's truly shameful. I understand wanting to like anything with a favorite actor involved in it. Likewise, I understand the pressures of coming up with something new, sure-shot, and original. Unfortunately, while this movie made a ton of money to justify its existence, a filmed revival of perhaps a Noel Coward play with the same cast and cost would have accomplished the same fiscal result with the felicitous side benefits that the end product would have been tasteful, intelligent, and genuinely witty, and that, for just a little longer, the shallow predilections of the producers and much of the American movie-going public (who just ate this up) might have remained unexposed.

The Horse Whisperer (1998)

Eye candy; shallow characters.

[6/10 · 7 July 1999]

Very pretty to look at. Protagonist not interesting unless you read Vogue. Redford also about 10 years too old for role he plays, alas.