Annual Movie Roundup 2

 
Everyone’s a Critic: Annual Movie Roundup 2

This Web page is made for movie buffs who see at least 40 films a year, including some with subtitles and a few documentaries; we’ll spare you the plot details and the finer points of acting. We’re just having a chat about the movies. Our intention is to present no more than 15 films a year in this forum. Which pictures will end up as the chosen few in the future? You'll just have to come back and see.

[2005-Present]
[2004]
[2003]
[2002]
[2001]
[2000]
[1999]

2004

Fahrenheit 9/11 (Michael Moore)

Michael Moore has done for documentaries what Mel Gibson did for religious films. After Disney’s refusal to distribute his picture and winning the top prize at the Cannes Film Festival—you just can’t buy publicity like this—Moore’s follow-up to his Oscar-winning “Bowling for Columbine” is bound to make history. The only question that remains is this: Is the first nonfiction film to go into wide release and hit No. 1 on opening weekend any good?

From the montage of key political figures before they appear on TV to the way September 11 is shown to how he gives us a tease of the president’s visit to a school that morning and then returns to it several scenes later, Moore is a filmmaker to be reckoned with—regardless of how one feels about his politics. This film seems to lose a bit of momentum when it finally gets around to Iraq, the centerpiece of his work. He’s also come full circle when he takes his camera back to his home state of Michigan, the setting for his breakthrough 1989 documentary, “Roger & Me.”

Now on to the politics…it’s interesting how many critics have described this film as incendiary (funny, some of them used the same word for “The Passion of the Christ” a few months earlier). Moore is actually more subdued than usual. While he didn’t present any opposing views on film, he didn’t try to rewrite history as Oliver Stone did in 1991. One may disagree with his conclusions, but he didn’t present rumors and conspiracies as facts.

We find it amusing that one of few factual errors pointed out by the press has to do with the number of members of Congress who have a son or daughter in Iraq. Whether it’s one or a handful doesn’t change the point Moore was trying to make. And, frankly, mainstream news organizations should be so lucky if they make only this type of error. We understand why some theatre owners choose to ignore the film’s “R” rating (too bad there’s no “PG-15” rating).

Epilog: For a man who has strong feelings about the vote-counting fiasco in Florida in 2000, Moore would appreciate this: Quentin Tarantino, who served on the Cannes jury, disclosed that “Fahrenheit 9/11” won by just one vote.

After his picture had made over $115 million at the box office, the director announced he would not compete in the documentary category in the next Oscar race; instead, he would want his film to be considered in the best picture category. Despite an aggressive campaign, this landmark documentary failed to receive a single nomination. The Motion Picture Academy decided to snub both “Fahrenheit 9/11” and “The Passion of the Christ” in order to look evenhanded. The latter did receive three minor nominations; as a documentary, Moore’s film never really had a chance in the technical categories. Even though we don’t consider either film among the best of the year, the best picture category almost always includes one well-reviewed blockbuster.

Kill Bill: Vol. 2 (Quentin Tarantino)

“Volume 2” is definitely “Kill Bill’s” better half. It is also very different in tone and style. The fight scenes are mercifully brief this time—and more effective. You do miss the soundtrack to “Volume 1” and some of that film’s excesses. Ultimately, you’re left wondering what might have been. We still suspect “Kill Bill” would’ve made a better three-hour picture; the totality of what we see on screen is what usually ends up on DVD. Miramax did move the release date from February to April. As we predicted, “Volume 1” lost the Grammy to “Chicago.”

Kinsey (Bill Condon, U.S./Germany)

The film may not be G-rated, but here’s another biopic that celebrates the relationship between an unconventional man and his devoted wife—just like last year’s “American Splendor” (Robert Pulcini, Shari Springer Berman) and “A Beautiful Mind” (Ron Howard) from 2001 (and they say Hollywood doesn’t care about family values). Since we are dealing with America’s most famous sex researcher, his personal life is fair game. Given Kinsey’s questionable methodologies and complicated relationships with his research team, we’re happy to report what ended up on screen is anything but exploitative. Quite funny in places, this sympathetic portrayal could’ve used a stronger finish.

Maria Full of Grace (Joshua Marston, 2003)

One should be grateful one lives near a theatre that showcases small indie films such as this little gem. At a time when critics seem to give some art-house releases an automatic pass, this one is the real deal. When the story is about a peculiar class of Colombian drug runners, it’s a good thing the writer-director knows what he’s doing. The evenhanded script doesn’t paint a simplistic good versus evil picture; in fact, the title character is not a saint, and the bad guys are not stereotypical villains. Marston has managed to make a matter-of-fact—never cold or sensationalist—movie about people who turn their bodies into Samsonite. Whether the subject matter is real or urban legend (remember that 1997 British documentary excerpted on “60 Minutes” that turned out to be a hoax?), you can still enjoy this film.

Million Dollar Baby (Clint Eastwood)

Call it “Rocky” (John G. Avildsen, 1976) meets “Steel Magnolias” (Herbert Ross, 1989) or “Brian’s Song” (Buzz Kulik, 1971). But the filmmakers have something more mythic and literary in mind—the crusty trainer’s taste for Gaelic books is a tip-off. So does this “Baby” deliver a knockout punch? Well, unlike most sports-to-riches stories, the main character is arguably the coach, and taking a slightly different path than other disease-of-the-week TV movies, this picture’s ending is less traditional—though it’s something we’ve seen before. You can never accuse Eastwood of being a sentimental director, so in someone else’s hands, the outcome could’ve been really embarrassing. The one standout is the cinematography. Considering “Baby” and last year’s “Mystic River,” we just wish he’d pick better scripts.

The Passion of the Christ (Mel Gibson)

So this is the gospel according to Mel Gibson. Filmmakers have always put their own stamp on any subject, historical or otherwise. Some historians have criticized Gibson for writing a revisionist version of the Roman governor. It’s no worse than what “Mississippi Burning” (Alan Parker, 1988) did for the FBI or what Oliver Stone presented as facts in 1991’s “JFK.” As for those people who obsess over who killed Christ, it bears repeating that his death is preordained, and so that question should be irrelevant to people who call themselves Christians.

The marketing of this picture to American churches is a stroke of genius; “The Passion” has united Roman Catholics and Protestants like nothing before. For once Protestant iconoclasts get to share some Catholics’ morbid fascination with the Passion. As one film critic notes, consider the big difference between the gruesomely realistic crucifixes in Catholic churches and the plain and almost abstract crosses in Protestant churches. For the latest updates, set your browser to simpatico.blogspot.com.

Gibson has clearly opted to focus on the pain and suffering during the last hours of Christ—that’s not necessary a bad cinematic choice. But once you realize that crucifixion was the preferred form of capital punishment for non-Romans under the rule of the Roman Empire two millennia ago, how Christ died was anything but unusual. With historical context in mind, we’re not terribly moved by all the gory details depicted on screen. The violence in “The Passion” is not gratuitous—it only reflects the general trend of more explicit images on film. Brief flashbacks are nicely integrated throughout the movie.

Unlike this film’s strongest detractors and supporters, we find it to be neither incendiary nor profoundly moving. Something like Martin Scorsese’s “The Last Temptation of Christ” (1988) is infinitely more interesting than a graphic retelling of the events after the Last Supper. Now that one Hollywood filmmaker has got his Passion play out of his system, we hope we’ve seen the end of it.

Sideways (Alexander Payne)

Paul Giamatti must have a great agent—how did he manage to star in a well-reviewed film two years in a row? Most actors dream of having that kind of track record. He is great as usual in this atypical buddy picture about an alcoholic teacher and his actor friend. But the most inspired casting goes to Virginia Madsen, the queen of countless cheesy TV movies and straight-to-video films. Her acting has matured beautifully like a bottle of fine wine; her delivery of that little speech about wine appreciation is perfect. Will “No merlot” become as famous as “No wire hangers” from “Mommie Dearest” (Frank Perry, 1981)?

Update: We’re thrilled Payne received an Oscar nomination for best directing. Usually underrated among his contemporaries, his work (“About Schmidt,” “Election”) is less flamboyant than Quentin Tarantino’s (“Kill Bill,” “Jackie Brown,” “Pulp Fiction,” “Reservoir Dogs”) and more commercial than David O. Russell’s (“I Heart Huckabees,” “Three Kings,” “Flirting With Disaster,” “Spanking the Monkey”). He also seems to have a nose for picking the right books to adapt for the big screen.

Spider-Man 2 (Sam Raimi)

A richer story, a better villain, a superhero with ejectile dysfunction—what more could one ask for in a sequel? This improved Version 2 also provides an iconic—albeit derivative—moment on the train. The best superhero movie ever made? No, we’re partial to the first “Batman” (Tim Burton, 1989). The problems of a college student seem mundane compared to the demons of an older man. Enough with the child-rescue scenes involving a moving bus or falling object—it looks too cartoonish.

Super Size Me (Morgan Spurlock)

Documentary’s golden age continues with another headline-grabbing feature. Anyone with common sense knows too much fast food and sugar-loaded drinks is not good for you. Still, this film is timely because of recent food-related lawsuits that mirror past tobacco litigation. Junk food’s effects on one’s liver and libido should be explored further—if what happened to the director is not uncommon. Spurlock could become the next Michael Moore. We noticed a lot of people in the audience were clutching their super-sized popcorn and drinks as they watched this film. Hopefully, it will turn some people into smarter consumers.

Troy (Wolfgang Petersen, U.K./Malta)
Hero (Zhang Yimou, China, 2002)
Shaun of the Dead (Edgar Wright, U.K.)

Each of these films has the misfortune of instantly reminding viewers of a similar release from the recent past. One holds its own, one is arguably better, and one doesn’t quite measure up.

Coming close on the heels (pun intended) of “Gladiator” (Ridley Scott, 2000), the latest Greco-Roman epic “Troy” is actually quite respectable. Let’s start with the surprisingly exciting battle scenes ranging from Achilles’ landing (shades of D-day at Normandy) to those rolling fireballs and the sacking of Troy around 1200 B.C. The production design and special effects blend seamlessly—nothing looks off as was the case in “Gladiator.” Great supporting cast includes Brian Cox, whose Oscar nomination is long overdue, and Peter O’Toole. When you finally see the one thing most of us remember about this tale, the Trojan horse, it’s almost like icing on the cake. The screenwriters have done such a good job that you don’t mind that the horse is not the star of the picture. In fact, they could’ve taken the horse out of the story, and it would’ve been fine.

More satisfying than “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” (Ang Lee, 2000), “Hero” debuted overseas just two years after Lee’s award-winning picture. Like so many fables from different cultures, a commoner spins a tale for the king who would later become China’s first emperor by 221 B.C. We get to see three different (color-coded) versions of the sequence of events—a popular cinematic device these days. If Zhang’s past films weren’t banned in his native country, some people might interpret this picture’s theme of individual versus community as socialist. Fortunately, this movie isn’t some ponderous morality play (one critic believes it’s about the essence of Taoism or Daoism); you’ll be amazed by the stunning visuals. Zhang has made quite a few period films that were released in the U.S.—“Red Sorghum” (1988), “Ju Dou” (1990), “Raise the Red Lantern” (1991), and “Shanghai Triad” (1995)—this is his best work yet. If the Miramax marketing machine does its thing, “Hero” should receive the same number of technical Oscar nominations as “Crouching Tiger.”

Where have all the better zombie movies gone? To England, apparently. “Shaun of the Dead” is another U.K. import that deals with really dead people walking. It’s closer to other horror-comedies such as Peter Jackson’s “Dead Alive” (New Zealand, 1992/1993) than last year’s moody “28 Days Later…” (Danny Boyle, U.K.). After giving us a few chuckles at the beginning, the script itself becomes lifeless by the time the main characters arrive at their chosen hideout. Well, at least this film can claim one of the best titles of the year.

Vera Drake (Mike Leigh, U.K.)

If any director should tackle the politically charged subject of abortion, the capable and normally understated Leigh is your man. However, one can sense the director-co-writer working with a checklist this time—showing different types of unwanted pregnancies (check) and presenting two opposing views (check), just to name two bullets. When the son of Vera Drake, the woman who helps girls in trouble in 1950 Britain, screams about killing babies, it feels calculated.

The difference between Drake and the title character in “Maria Full of Grace” (see above) is that Drake is portrayed as a saint. There’s a woman in the story who charges a small referral fee (another item off the checklist); it would’ve been more interesting if Drake herself asks for a donation, for example. The subject matter has forced Leigh to be balanced and thorough—to a fault. Whereas his past films are natural and organic, this one is uncharacteristically forced and mechanical. What we hope this picture will do is inspire people to have a dialog; you can start by asking your mother or grandmother what it was like not too long ago.

[Back to Top]

2003

American Splendor (Robert Pulcini, Shari Springer Berman)

“American Splendor” is based on a series of comic books of the same name. That’s where the similarities to other comics turned films end. For starters, Harvey Pekar’s underground comic books, which debuted in 1976, are autobiographical, and he is the opposite of a caped superhero. Until this picture took top honors at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, his claim to fame was his stints on David Letterman’s old NBC show. Inspired by the unconventional look of Pekar’s comic books (he employs different artists to do the drawings), the directors jazz up this feature film with animation and documentary.

From “Waking Life” (Richard Linklater, 2001) and “The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys” (Peter Care, 2002) to those Microsoft TV commercials, the blending of animation and live action is more popular than ever. And for someone who became an unlikely TV celebrity in the 1980s, it is perhaps apropos that he should turn up in his own movie bio. But switching back and forth between the real Pekar and the actor playing him is a risky move. Fortuitously for the directors, we’re getting used to the blurring line between fact and fiction in the age of reality TV; there are two scenes in particular where documentary and drama intersect. While we greatly admire the directors for pulling off this delicate maneuver, it’s only afterwards that you realize the interview segments with Pekar, his wife, and one of his coworkers don’t add to the understanding of the man himself—other than satisfy our curiosity as to what they look and sound like.

And that’s the quibble we have with this non-cookie-cutter movie: We learn a lot about his adult life, but we still don’t know what makes him tick. Are eccentric people born that way or made? Despite the omnipresence of Pekar (he also serves as the film’s narrator), Paul Giamatti shines as the hard-working underdog. The directors should be congratulated for selling the same scenario “A Beautiful Mind” (Ron Howard, 2001) couldn’t quite get away with: Pekar and John Nash are both saved by the love of a woman. Reverse snobbery on the part of some critics?

Better Luck Tomorrow (Justin Lin)

The good news: “Better Luck Tomorrow” is not another “Pulp Fiction” (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) knockoff. The bad news: It’s not as auspicious a directorial debut as some critics would have you believe. For one thing, this is actually Lin's second film, and once again he's a triple threat: directing, writing, and editing. A murky ending involving the death of an underdeveloped character and some dull patches mar this otherwise decent effort. We’ve seen better lost-youth pictures before; “River’s Edge” (Tim Hunter, 1986/1987) comes to mind.

“BLT” also fails our “gimmick” test. Take “The Sixth Sense” (M. Night Shyamalan, 1999) as an example; the twist ending helped make this overrated thriller a critical and box-office success. The surprise in the middle of “The Crying Game” (Neil Jordan, Ireland, 1992) was partly responsible for all those Oscar nominations. If the director and ensemble cast of “BLT” were all white, would critics have paid much attention? We’re not saying race is a “gimmick” here, but it is the most distinguishing feature of this domestic picture. While we agree it’s great to see diversity in front of and behind the camera—and some would say it’s long overdue—you don’t check your objectivity at the door.

Kill Bill: Vol. 1 (Quentin Tarantino)

One can never pass up an opportunity to talk about a certain type of Tarantino film. You probably know the story already: Miramax liked this movie so much that instead of releasing one “long” epic, the studio decided to turn it into a twofer as an afterthought (the executives probably had a case of “Matrix” and “Lord of the Rings” envy). Even though we’ve only seen “Volume 1,” we can say a longer “Bill” is not necessarily a better “Bill.” It would’ve been preferable to have just one three-hour version for the big screen and save the four-hour edition for the video. The Japanese anime sequence might’ve made an interesting extra on the DVD—it’s boring on film; we also could’ve done with an abridged sword-maker episode.

For fans of Japanese samurai films of the 1970s (we’re partial to the ones featuring blind heroines), Tarantino’s tribute doesn’t quite hit the spot. His take is all clang (as in swordfights) and no soul. It’s telling that the only moment that has any kind of emotional impact is the revelation at the very end of “Volume 1.” Despite her circumstances, we’re not completely engrossed in the journey of the bride with the ultimate wedding disaster. In a Newsweek interview, the director conceded that “the resonance …from this story will be [in the second half.]” That’s why we question the decision to split the film in half.

The fourth offering from Tarantino (as he reminds the viewer in the opening credits) is supposed to include nothing but the cool parts. When a filmmaker sets out to deliver a cool picture, he falls short every time. While we’re thankful the gravity-defying moves in “Bill” are kept to a minimum—yes, they have become a cliché—the fight sequences are nothing to write home about (a mace does have its moments). It’s too bad this picture wasn’t made in the 1980s; our favorite drive-in critic, Joe Bob Briggs, would’ve had tons of fun with it.

As always, we appreciate the eclectic selection of oldies ranging from Nancy Sinatra’s version of “Bang Bang” to the theme from TV’s “Ironside” and Santa Esmeralda’s disco remake of “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood.” The other musical cues seem to pay homage to Ennio Morricone’s spaghetti Western music. The two best tracks: Tomoyasu Hotei’s “Battle Without Honor or Humanity,” which has become the unofficial theme, and “The Lonely Shepherd,” a haunting instrumental by James Last & Gheorghe Zamfir.

Epilog: Now that we’ve seen the relatively disappointing reception of the final installment of “The Matrix,” Miramax should reconsider the February 2004 release date for “Volume 2.” The studio would be wise to wait 12 months after “Volume 1” before releasing the second half—and hope that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

We’re pleased the soundtrack received a surprise Grammy nomination for best compilation soundtrack. This category is supposed to be a catchall for soundtracks that don’t fit the score soundtrack and Broadway musical show categories. But here the nominees don’t belong in the same category: a soundtrack comprised of mostly previously recorded material like “Bill” is up against one musical with only two new tracks (“Chicago”), two quasi-musicals with different amounts of original material (“A Mighty Wind” and “School of Rock”), and one soundtrack that features only a few songs (“Gangs of New York”). We predict the winner will be “Chicago” because it’s a genuine musical and because it did very well on Oscar night.

Lost in Translation (Sofia Coppola)

The Japanese setting is both a blessing and a curse: While the exotic location heightens the connection between the two expatriates, the film wastes valuable capital on culture-clash vignettes (common problem with pictures set in the East). One misses the superior dialog in European movies, in particular the relationship genre excelled by the French.

Update: With all the Oscar nominations between the two films—not to mention the critical acclaim—“Mystic River” and “Lost in Translation” are two of the most overrated pictures in a while. Our conclusion: 2003 was not a very good year.

Matchstick Men (Ridley Scott)

It’s unfair for some critics to say this is a familiar picture about a con man and his child (it’s been a long time since “Paper Moon” [Peter Bogdanovich, 1973]). The father-teenage daughter relationship is believable and touching. Nicholas Cage is not overbearing at all as another neurotic character on his resume.

The Matrix Reloaded (The Wachowski Brothers)

“The Matrix Reloaded” is this year’s “Signs” (M. Night Shyamalan, 2002)—it’s shaping up to be the year’s biggest disappointment. We enjoyed the first “Matrix” (1999) even though we’ve always maintained that the Wachowski brothers’ 1996 debut film “Bound” is a more satisfying work. (By the way, does anybody else notice the similarities between the original “Matrix” and Alex Proyas’ “Dark City” from 1997/1998?)

This much-anticipated sequel is strangely lifeless. Once the characters don hemp tunics and attend council meetings, we’re in the dreaded “Star Wars: Episodes I and II” territory. Like George Lucas, the brothers have forgotten that less is more. When you see Keanu Reeves fighting not one agent but multiple copies at a time, it just seems tedious. Even the over-hyped car chase feels synthetic and flat; we can name a few more thrilling car chases from the last 25 years: “The Road Warrior” (George Miller, Australia, 1981/1982), “To Live and Die in L.A.” (William Friedkin, 1985), and “The Hitcher” (Robert Harmon, 1986).

Some people call “The Matrix” this generation’s “Star Wars.” Well, it took Lucas 22 years to destroy the Star Wars mystique with the release of “Episode I;” the Wachowski brothers manage to tarnish “The Matrix” in four years. Let’s hope the third and final installment in “The Matrix” trilogy is as entertaining as the first one. If not, the cult status that the first one achieved will diminish for certain.

The Matrix Revolutions (The Wachowski Brothers)
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (Peter Jackson)

You can’t fool the American audience all the time. After the disappointing “Matrix Reloaded,” only diehard fans stuck around for “Matrix Revolutions”—despite the fact that “Revolutions” received slightly better reviews. The people who made the decision to release the two “Matrix” sequels in the same year must be kicking themselves now. If they had made sure enough time would pass between the two releases, “Revolutions” would’ve fared better at the U.S. box office (the three-year wait is the only explanation we can think of for the financial success of last year’s “Star Wars: Episode II—Attack of the Clones”). Newsweek’s decision to proclaim 2003 the year of “The Matrix” on the cover of the December 30, 2002 issue also seems like a really bad move in hindsight.

So it’s good riddance to “The Matrix” snoozapalooza and a fond farewell to “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy. The first installment is clearly the best; the two sequels thankfully did not tarnish the trilogy—bucking the trend set by “The Matrix” trilogy and the “Star Wars” series (George Lucas should’ve stopped after the first three). The problem with this final chapter and the second one is that a siege takes center stage again. You’ve seen one siege, well, you’ve seen them all.

Epilog: The final insult: The two “Matrix” pictures received no Oscar nominations—not even one in any of the technical categories—and to think the cast went on the talk show circuit and touted these pictures as if they were “Citizen Kane” in black leather.

A Mighty Wind (Christopher Guest)

Who knew back in 1984, when Rob Reiner’s “This Is Spinal Tap” became an instant classic, that Christopher Guest, one of the writers of that screenplay, would turn similar mock documentaries into a cottage industry? If you’re apprehensive about actor-director Guest running a good thing into the ground, relax. After “Waiting for Guffman” (1996/1997) and “Best in Show” (2000), the latest droll comedy from Guest and his stable of collaborators and friends is actually the most effortless and—surprise—touching. These “mockumentaries” work because they have an affection for the characters they’re lampooning. What’s also key is that they never become a self-indulgent exercise for the people involved. When you have actors showing off their musical talents in a spoof—as they do here and in “Guffman” (and “Spinal Tap”)—the temptation to go over the top is there.

Mystic River (Clint Eastwood)
House of Sand and Fog (Vadim Perelman)

Book readers are a forgiving lot compared to movie audience (despite the fact that a hardcover costs more than a ticket and requires more than two hours of your time). A writer can get away with virtually no plot at all; in fact, many great books have the barest of plot. But great cinematography and performances can’t save a movie the way great prose can a book.

Here we have two best-selling novels that don’t work in movie form. The best word to describe the plot of “Mystic River” is hokey. The two murders that happen on one fateful night are totally contrived. The behavior of some characters seems more fitting in a certain kind of Martin Scorsese picture; the Lady Macbeth speech by one of the female characters at the end comes out of the blue. You say this film is about how the past can haunt people for a long time. We get that after the first 10 minutes. All that “Godfather”/“Sopranos” stuff detracts from the point of the story.

Until the last 15 minutes, “House of Sand and Fog” is a well-directed portrait of two people who are more alike than they would admit. Assuming the ending is more or less the same as what’s in the original novel, we only wish the screenwriters had the wherewithal to come up with a less melodramatic and more appropriate resolution. The most unbelievable thing: the low asking price of this type of house south of San Francisco.

28 Days Later… (Danny Boyle, U.K., 2002)

A cross between “Night of the Living Dead” (George A. Romero, 1968) and “The Day of the Triffids” (Steve Sekely, Freddie Francis, U.K., 1962/1963), this low-budget horror film is big on atmosphere and refreshingly devoid of high-tech special effects. Just as Romero’s classic featured a black hero, Boyle’s black heroine saves the day (or so it seems). In the final analysis, this picture explores familiar themes like “We have met the enemy and he is us.” In another summer of overblown sequels, this little movie could become a sleeper hit. The screenplay is written by Alex Garland, whose novel “The Beach” was made by Boyle into the 2000 movie starring Leonardo DiCaprio.

Epilog: In case you’re wondering about that special edition that’s been playing in theatres since July 25, the one with the different ending following the closing credits, save your money if you’ve seen the original version. We were expecting a twist or an ironic and sobering ending a la Romero’s classic. The new ads proclaim the alternative “ending so terrifying it will haunt you for days.” Not! E-mail us and we’ll fill you in.

Whale Rider (Niki Caro, New Zealand/Germany, 2002)

We’re all for girl-power, but this predictable import feels like one of those old ABC after-school specials—with amateur acting, too. A better director might have created something magical and truly moving. We don’t have a problem with the score by Lisa Gerrard, though. If you enjoy mysteries of the sea, check out John Sayles’ “The Secret of Roan Inish” (1993/1995) and another Kiwi import, “The Navigator: A Medieval Odyssey” (Vincent Ward, 1988/1989).

[Back to Top]

2002

Chicago (Rob Marshall)

Since we have an ear for music, we thought we’d focus exclusively on the singing in this musical. Catherine Zeta-Jones and John C. Reilly have Broadway-friendly voices; they can more than adequately belt one out. Richard Gere’s singing is the weakest. Oddly enough, Renee Zellweger is the only one with a possible career in pop music—she sounds a little bit like Jewel.

City of God (Fernando Meirelles, Katia Lund, Brazil)

If you judge a country strictly by its movies, you wouldn’t want to visit Brazil. Of course, we’re mindful that if foreigners judge America by all that Hollywood produces, they would stay away in droves (oh, wait, they do hate the U.S.). “City of God” is less depressing that the usual Brazilian imports (India and Brazil are known for their pictures depicting the bleak lives of children). This autobiography of a newspaper photographer is sort of like a Brazilian version of “Boyz N the Hood” (John Singleton, 1991). The directors do a good job with the large cast, including the looming title character that is the notorious Rio de Janeiro slum.

Daughter From Danang (Gail Dolgin, Vicente Franco)

The filmmakers follow a woman from the South as she travels to Vietnam to meet her birth mother. Just when you think you’ve seen similar stories on TV newsmagazine shows like “20/20,” you start pondering the nature versus nurture question and the issue of race in America. Some viewers will fixate on what transpires during the reunion; we submit her fate was sealed long before her plane landed in Vietnam. Suffice it to say this woman, who’s a mother herself, has enough issues for several Dr. Phil shows.

This documentary does confirm one thing we already know: The South has a way of making a Southerner out of you no matter where you come from. It’s no wonder this woman hangs on to the only identity she knows for sure—her Southern upbringing. As compelling as her story is—it can’t get more compelling than the adoption of an Afro-Vietnamese child by a single white woman in Dixie—the directors fail to dig deeper into her life before the trip to Vietnam; it’s a shame they couldn’t get the adoptive mother to talk. The culture-shock footage in Vietnam is not the heart of the story.

Epilog: For an insider’s take on transracial and transpacific adoptions, look for these first-person documentaries on PBS about two Korean Americans who grew up in the Bay Area and Minnesota, respectively. The director of “First Person Plural” (Deann Borshay, 2000) actually took her adoptive parents to meet her biological family in South Korea. The filmmaker of “Passing Through: A Personal Diary Documentary” (Nathan Adolfson, 1998) is a young man who seems the least damaged. These short documentaries were featured on the “P.O.V.” and “Independent Lens” series (see pbs.org and naatanet.org).

Femme Fatale (Brian de Palma)

Depending on your perspective, this is either vintage de Palma or tired retread. Until the very end, “Femme Fatale” does seem awfully familiar to anyone who has seen some of his earlier works involving mistaken identity and double lives. The final twist may not be enough to win old fans over. We’ve often felt that there’s an X-rated director dying to get out of de Palma; his leading actresses always have to do something gratuitously soft-core. No longer an A-list director, de Palma’s best pictures are sadly behind him.

The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (Peter Jackson)

After the totally engrossing “Fellowship of the Ring,” it’s perhaps inevitable that the second “Lord of the Rings” installment would be a bit of a letdown. The babbling and ambulatory trees are downright silly—despite the fact that this is a fantasy film. Still, this picture gives us the finest performance by a computer-generated actor to date. Gollum makes Harry Potter’s Dobby and Star Wars’ Jar Jar Binks look like hand puppets. We have faith the final chapter will not disappoint.

Minority Report (Steven Spielberg)

As one of the characters screams at one point in this movie, you should run to see Spielberg’s latest offering. This is easily the best Philip K. Dick (1928-1982) adaptation to date; it beats Ridley Scott’s “Blade Runner” from 1982 (underrated then, overrated now), the solid B-movie “Total Recall” (Paul Verhoeven, 1990), and the disposable “Screamers” (Christian Duguay, 1995). When you realize the source material is a skimpy story (about 30 pages long), the screenwriters have done a remarkable job. The only thing wrong with this picture is the title.

Epilog: What a scandal that “Minority Report” received only one Oscar nomination for sound editing. It deserves recognition in technical areas such as cinematography, art direction, and visual effects. The Academy has overlooked comedies and science-fiction films since the 1970s, which would explain why this sci-fi story lost out in the best picture and directing categories. If this movie was released in December, it might have received a nomination for screenplay adaptation.

Monsoon Wedding (Mira Nair, India, 2001)

Audiences seem to respond favorably to wedding pictures in general; it’s unfortunate that “Monsoon Wedding” doesn’t deserve the warm reception. The script is TV-movie-of-the-week quality; the serious accusation at the end comes out of left field and is therefore a contrivance and a cliché. The performances are uneven; the actress who plays the bride looks much younger than the age of her character—and acts like an amateur. Nair has made better movies in the past like “Mississippi Masala” (1991/1992) and “Salaam Bombay!” (India, 1988).

The Pianist (Roman Polanski, U.K. et al.)
Nowhere in Africa (Caroline Link, Germany, 2001)

These two films prove once again there is a seemingly endless supply of World War II stories, especially involving the Holocaust. The directing and performances in “The Pianist” are good. But after “Schindler’s List” (Steven Spielberg, 1993), every Holocaust picture pales in comparison. Nonetheless, this is Polanski’s best film in many years.

Ostensibly a fish-out-of-water story, “Nowhere in Africa” is about a German family of three surviving in British Kenya for 10 years starting in the late 1930s. The mother gradually adjusts to life in Africa, and the daughter comes of age. The African cook will remind you of a similar character in “Out of Africa” (Sydney Pollack, 1985). The family’s African experience recalls the 1981 TV miniseries “The Flame Trees of Thika” (Roy Ward Baker, U.K.) as well. In fact, everything in this picture feels a little too familiar; the only new thing is a brief debate over repatriation.

Signs (M. Night Shyamalan)

Talk about much ado about nothing. The only real jolt in this movie comes near the end (a reflection shot); otherwise, this flimsy sci-fi story about crop circles is looking like the biggest disappointment of the year. Steven Spielberg won’t say it, so we’ll do it for him: How insulting that Newsweek would proclaim Shyamalan the next Spielberg on its cover.

Spellbound (Jeffrey Blitz)

You want character development? This film spends the first 45 minutes introducing the audience to the eight lead characters. You want suspense? This fast-paced movie keeps the viewers guessing which of the characters would be left standing at the end. Are we talking about a murder mystery? No, it’s the 1999 national spelling bee—and this documentary has more human drama and suspense than most fictional films could muster. You’ll hear the audience gasp as some of its favorite “characters” get eliminated. It helps that most of us don’t remember who won the 2002 spelling bee, let alone the 1999 competition.

Star Wars: Episode II—Attack of the Clones (George Lucas)

Well, “Episode II” is an improvement over “Episode I,” but that’s not high praise when the last one was such a dud. The classic “Star Wars” (George Lucas, 1977) and, to a lesser extent, its first two sequels were at least innovators in terms of their visual style; portions of “Episode II” owe plenty to such previous films as “Blade Runner” (Ridley Scott, 1982), “The Abyss” (James Cameron, 1989), “RoboCop” (Paul Verhoeven, 1987), “Toy Story” (John Lasseter, 1995), and “Gladiator” (Ridley Scott, 2000). So many shots in this picture and “Episode I” suffer from visual overload—just because you can do something technically doesn’t mean it has artistic value. Since these two pointless prequels add nothing to the original “Star Wars” trilogy, it doesn’t bode well for “Episode III.”

Epilog: How many wake-up calls does Lucas need? Seven—that’s the number of Razzie nominations “Episode II” received (see razzies.com). “Episode I” had received eight Razzie nominations three years ago—“Episode II” is an improvement.

[Back to Top]

2001

A.I. Artificial Intelligence (Steven Spielberg)

It must be the script’s connection to the late Stanley Kubrick (1928-1999) that’s made it a no-win situation for Spielberg; it’s hard to counter the perception that this is some kind of superstar collaboration. The first hour of the film is deeply absorbing. After the boy is separated from his family, the plot tends to meander a little, and the ending is less than satisfying. “A.I.” is still a fascinating piece of work.

Epilog: It’s ironic how performances are often overlooked in films that are deemed unworthy. Haley Joel Osment’s performance is more nuanced here than in “The Sixth Sense” (M. Night Shyamalan, 1999), yet that earlier performance got the Oscar nomination. Granted, his character in “A.I.” is not a supporting role, and the Academy has seldom, if ever, nominated a child actor in the lead category. But we know what’s considered a lead or supporting performance is often defined by studio campaigns.

A Beautiful Mind (Ron Howard)

Much has been written about this picture and the mathematician with the “beautiful mind.” Instead, we’d like to defend the director’s decision to gloss over some aspects of the Nobel Prize winner’s personal life. We can cite dozens of biopics where they dwell on the subject’s sex life ad nauseam. The more unconventional the lifestyle, the more they exploit it on screen (this is especially true of stories about artists and historical figures). Whatever his reasoning, we’re grateful Howard took a different path.

Gosford Park (Robert Altman)

Do all the critics who gave Altman’s latest a rave review watch the “Mystery!” series on PBS? Apparently not. The plot of “Gosford Park” is reminiscent of one of those “Mystery!” programs. This is enjoyable fare, but Altman doesn’t exactly transcend the genre.

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (Peter Jackson)
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone (Chris Columbus)

After the stirring prolog, we’re hooked. Like last year’s “Gladiator” (Ridley Scott), “The Lord of the Rings” is the type of spectacle that Hollywood doesn’t make anymore (or doesn’t know how to make). The fact that neither Scott nor Jackson is American is probably more than a coincidence. When you consider how hard it is to make a good fantasy film (how many decent unicorn movies can you name?), this is a major accomplishment indeed. In hindsight, we could say we knew all along this J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973) adaptation would be in good hands because of Jackson’s resume. He made the first-rate “Heavenly Creatures” (New Zealand, 1994) and the quirky “Dead Alive” (New Zealand, 1992/1993).

“Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” is, on the other hand, just okay for kids. Why are these two fantasy films so different in quality? J.K. Rowling is no J.R.R. Tolkien. “Harry Potter” lacks one thing “The Lord of the Rings” has: gravitas. And, of course, Jackson is a more talented director than Columbus. As one critic has pointed out, that moment when Harry and friends scream in unison is straight out of “Home Alone,” Columbus’ mega-hit from 1990.

Epilog: Since “Harry Potter” and “The Lord of the Rings” came out only a few weeks apart, they make a good litmus test. Beware of adult critics who prefer Mr. Potter to Mr. Frodo. Yes, the critic who named “The Claim” (see below) one of the best films of 2000 is one of them. We got another litmus test in 2004 when two period pictures from Zhang Yimou, “Hero” (see above) and the far inferior “House of Flying Daggers,” were released in the U.S. within a few months of each other. The same critic placed “Daggers” in his top 10 for the year—that’s three strikes against him.

[Back to Top]

2000

Billy Elliot (Stephen Daldry, U.K.)

We don’t expect the dancing to be slick and acrobatic as in “Flashdance” (Adrian Lyne, 1983), but young Billy’s missing a step or two. Awkward dancing aside, this clichéd story has surprisingly won a lot of critical acclaim. If you want to see another British import that uses the Margaret Thatcher deregulation blues as a backdrop, check out the far superior and more effective “Brassed Off” (Mark Herman, U.K., 1996/1997).

The Cell (Tarsem Singh)

Not a bio-terror picture or prison drama, “The Cell” is the story of a psychotherapist in pursuit of a serial killer. It does contain an element of science fiction, the therapist’s ability to enter the killer’s mind (this is a popular device in movies and on TV shows like “The Outer Limits”). The director may have a promising future, but his debut is hampered by a dull plot and uninteresting characters. A few striking images do not a great picture make. Inexplicably, the production design suffers whenever we’re outside the killer’s mind. For instance, the place where they perform the mind merge looks like the nondescript interrogation room at your local police station. The best thing about “The Cell” is the costume design.

The Claim (Michael Winterbottom, U.K./Canada)

A man in the Wild West makes a Faustian bargain, and it comes back to haunt him years later. For some reason you don’t care much about his secret. Why? It turns out the original story, Thomas Hardy’s (1840-1928) “The Mayor of Casterbridge,” is set in Victorian England, which might explain why this transatlantic adaptation has lost so much punch as a Western. Sometimes you transport a story’s time and place and end up with interesting results (look at some adaptations of Shakespeare’s plays). And sometimes you get “The Claim.” The British director’s vision of the American West is about as authentic as your local Renaissance faire. You’ll cringe/laugh when the script unleashes tired stereotypes like good-hearted prostitutes and Chinese servants. Hardy must be turning over in his grave.

Epilog: A certain syndicated critic named this the third-best film of the year…to each his own.

Gladiator (Ridley Scott)

It’s safe to assume everyone was a little skeptical of a toga-and-sandals epic in these cynical times (1959’s “Ben-Hur” [William Wyler] is so 20th century). Well, Scott has succeeded beyond expectations; he has delivered a glorious saga anchored by the believable title character, a fictitious general under Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (reigned 161-180). “Gladiator” is also blessed with a strong supporting cast and a fantastic score. Curiously, some of the special effects look slightly off; the coliseum scenes lack the appropriate sense of scale and space.

Requiem for a Dream (Darren Aronofsky)

This is the kind of film that gives art-house pictures a bad name. Drug addicts (and alcoholics) have become such celluloid clichés. The director tries hard to breathe life into a dead-end script, based on a book by Hubert Selby, Jr., who wrote the screenplay with the director. Even though some readers consider this 1978 novel Selby’s masterpiece, what’s poetry on the printed page may not resonate on the big screen. A word to the wise: the worst thing that can happen to a woman is not always the selling of her body—except in formulaic stories. If you like this picture, you’ll love an earlier adaptation of Selby’s 1964 cult classic “Last Exit to Brooklyn” (Uli Edel, 1989/1990).

Traffic (Steven Soderbergh)

This remake of the 1989 British TV miniseries “Traffik” (Alastair Reid) could have been the work of Michael Mann or Martin Scorsese. Indeed, it would make a terrific double bill with “Heat” (1995) or “GoodFellas” (1990). It must be a rite of passage for some directors to prove they can manage an expansive canvas. Soderbergh has been on a row since 1998’s “Out of Sight.” It’s nice to see him fulfill the promise of his 1989 breakthrough film “Sex, Lies, and Videotape.”

Epilog: If you get a chance to watch the original “Traffik” on TV (it was shown on PBS after the release of the movie), you’ll appreciate Soderbergh’s version even more.

The Virgin Suicides (Sofia Coppola, 1999)

Adapted for the screen by the actress-director herself (from Jeffrey Eugenides’ 1993 novel), this film succeeds in evoking an elegiac tone not normally associated with stories set in the 1970s. We’ll never know why some people do what they do; we can never solve all of life’s mysteries. While this is not a great movie, it’s still a nice change of pace.

Yi Yi (Edward Yang, Taiwan, 1999)

This is one frustrating movie: The good stuff is very good, but the bad parts keep getting in the way. This family drama about a couple and their two children nails it when it deals with the kids, especially the younger son. But the script is only half-baked where the adults are concerned. This import would make a perfect case study in film schools; it illustrates what can go wrong when a director shoots his own script and doesn’t have the heart to trim the fat. Needlessly long at three hours, “Yi Yi” could have used some judicious editing.

Critics sometimes complain that characters in American movies don’t seem to have a professional life; the father’s business dealings become a liability in this picture. So let’s start by leaving out most of the office stuff and the side trip to Japan (one suspects the film’s Japanese investors have something to do with the decision to shoot on location in Japan). Some people say casting is 90 percent of the performance. The father is played by an actor who looks and acts much older than the actresses who play his wife and his old flame; he seems out of sync with the rest of the adult cast.

[Back to Top]

1999

After Life (Hirokazu Kore-Eda, Japan)

An intriguing premise—recently departed souls at a “way station” must choose a memory from their past for preservation—that needs better execution. You never really get to know the different subjects (to be fair, the story is also about the “employees” who help them with their choices). Still, any introspective person who’s ever reminisced should not miss this spiritual (but not necessarily religious) film.

American Beauty (Sam Mendes)

Once in a while a so-called art-house film crosses over and becomes a mainstream hit; multiplex patrons pat themselves on the back for enjoying a sophisticated, mature picture. But hold on, is “American Beauty” really highbrow material? We can find no fault with the acting and directing. The script, however, seems heavy-handed in places, and the crucial misunderstanding at the end is like a sketch out of “Saturday Night Live” or a scene from this year’s “American Pie” (Paul Weitz). If the average Joe and Jane think they have an appetite for dark family satire, they should try last year’s “Happiness” (Todd Solondz).

Epilog: The screenwriter’s sensibilities must be perfect for the small screen; he went on to create the critically acclaimed “Six Feet Under” series for HBO. He did do his homework by reading real-life undertaker Thomas Lynch’s books.

Being John Malkovich (Spike Jonze)

The ending may not work completely, but the director and the screenwriter—this is the first feature film for both—deserve credit for having the conviction to follow through on the script’s twisted premise, a real doozy about a secret portal to actor John Malkovich’s mind (they probably would’ve changed the title if they couldn’t cast Malkovich himself). Give this movie an A for originality.

The Blair Witch Project (Daniel Myrick, Eduardo Sanchez)
Princess Mononoke (Hayao Miyazaki, Japan, 1997)

Don’t believe the hype—“The Blair Witch Project” is not much of a scary movie. There’s one effective scene in the middle and a mildly haunting shot at the end. But you must put up with three twentysomethings yelling at each other for a good 30 minutes. Teen horror flick or not, it still has to resort to another scream queen. The mock interviews at the beginning are very well done. And the idea of finding a video diary of a missing party is a great gimmick. Imagine if the girls in “Picnic at Hanging Rock” (Peter Weir, Australia, 1975) had a camcorder!

“Princess Mononoke” is another picture that received some pre-opening hype. Unfortunately, it’s also a disappointment. The story is so boring that a few people walked out in the middle of the screening we attended. As far as the animation is concerned, if you’ve been to SIGGRAPH (an annual computer graphics convention) or if you’ve seen one of those “Beyond the Mind’s Eye” compilation videos, then you know what’s in “Mononoke” is hardly state of the art.

Epilog: “The Blair Witch Project” was nominated for two Razzies.

Boys Don’t Cry (Kimberly Peirce)

With a movie like “Boys Don’t Cry,” everything hinges on whether the actor can pass as a member of the opposite sex. In this case, the relatively unknown Hilary Swank makes a plausible male. But she does something that detracts from her impersonation; her accent in this picture stands out for the wrong reasons. It’s never a good idea if your character is the only one with a local accent; in “Fargo” (Joel Coen, 1995/1996), most of the characters in the community have a similar accent. Swank’s Nebraska accent sounds more like a Southern accent, which makes it even more of a distraction. The last time an American accent drove us crazy was Rob Morrow’s New England accent in “Quiz Show” (Robert Redford, 1994). It’s the director’s responsibility to put an annoying accent out of its misery. “Boys Don’t Cry” presents the main character, based on a true story, as frisky if not a little sex-obsessed. We’re leery of screenplays that “sex up” a real person’s story.

Election (Alexander Payne)

We like our comedies black, and “Election” gets our vote for the best black comedy in a while. This subversive high-school tale never takes itself seriously. Note the effective use of freeze-frames, a lost art these days. If you like this picture, you may want to read the book by Tom Perrotta.

Epilog: Now that Reese Witherspoon is a big star, maybe more people will seek out this little gem of a movie. In light of the chaos that ensued the 2000 elections, this picture reminds us that every election is important to somebody. They should also check out another one of her earlier films, “Freeway” (Matthew Bright, 1996).

Eyes Wide Shut (Stanley Kubrick)

The dream-like quality of this picture will either captivate you or put you to sleep. Whether the story is a real dream is irrelevant. Kubrick’s final film doesn’t look or feel as meticulously composed as, say, “The Shining” from 1980. There are wonderful touches like the striking Venetian masks and key musical cues—we’ve come to expect nothing less from the late director. The screenplay is based on the novella “Dream Story” by Austrian author Arthur Schnitzler (1862-1931); the former physician is said to have been influenced by Sigmund Freud (1856-1939).

The King of Masks (Wu Tian Ming, Hong Kong, 1995)

A predictable and somewhat sentimental story is saved by restrained directing. An old street performer in 1930s China must find an heir to pass on his dying art. Like all memorable films about childhood, this one has a distinctive look and a tinge of melancholy. We appreciate the fact that the story gives equal time to the old man.

Run Lola Run (Tom Tykwer, Germany, 1998)

This is actually a cute and sweet (in a good way) import. Constructed in three parts, the movie’s last act has enough twists to win you over. This is yet another post-“Pulp Fiction” (Quentin Tarantino, 1994) film that plays with different points of view and a nonlinear time line; the structure is more conventional than “Go” (Doug Liman) from early this year.

Show Me Love (Lukas Moodysson, Sweden, 1998)

If you look past the foreign location and the lesbian angle, this high-school drama is nothing special. If you’re a big fan of singer Robyn, whose song is used as the title, you’ll be very happy with this picture. According to The Internet Movie Database, the title for this import’s home market (and the rest of Scandinavia?) is “F*cking Amal”—pardon the writer-director’s English (Amal is the name of a Swedish town). If you’re waiting for the next Ingmar Bergman, keep looking.

South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut (Trey Parker)

Who says the American movie musical is dead? It lives on in animation. Even the creators of Comedy Central’s “South Park” series have stolen a page from Disney; they manage to deliver a couple of catchy tunes, the best being…well, we can’t mention the title in front of young children and small animals. This orgy of bad words and bodily functions—music to a child’s ears—runs out of gas (no pun intended) after a while, and the Satan stuff is not funny. This little cartoon definitely won’t play in Baghdad or Redmond, Wash., the home of Microsoft. It may also offend actors named Baldwin and many others.

Star Wars: Episode I—The Phantom Menace (George Lucas)

Memo to Mr. Lucas: Before you sit down to write “Episode II,” take some time off from your busy schedule. Let someone else run your empire for six months and go watch some good movies from the last 10 years for inspiration. Hopefully, you’ll get your groove back. May the force be with you when you film the next two episodes.

What can one say about a movie that only comes alive when a minor character (Darth Maul) is on screen? Simply put, Lucas has lost his mojo. When the screenplay is this clunky (talk about the phantom story!), every actor looks bad. Compounding the problem is the miscasting of Jake Lloyd as young Anakin Skywalker, the future Darth Vader. A real and older (by three years) actor like Mason Gamble (“Rushmore,” “Gattaca,” “Dennis the Menace”) would have made a smarter choice.

Strip away all the mythological elements and one could still enjoy the original “Star Wars” trilogy as a swashbuckling adventure. The fun stops here. Slicing and dicing androids (shades of Paul Verhoeven’s “RoboCop” from 1987) isn’t very exciting. The podrace is all noise and motion and no thrills. If the American Film Institute’s list of 100 greatest movies had come out after “Episode I,” the No. 15 ranking of the first “Star Wars” might have been lower (see afi.com).

Epilog: Lucas’ uninspired directing must be contagious; the video for Weird Al Yankovic’s parody song, “The Saga Begins,” is equally flat.

The Straight Story (David Lynch)

We sometimes forget what a good director Lynch is. He must accept some of the blame because we are often distracted by his affinity for controversial subjects and kinky characters. Directing the true story of an old man’s tractor journey from Iowa to visit his estranged brother in Wisconsin, Lynch strikes just the right tone. This movie is poignant but not sentimental, straightforward not ponderous.

Epilog: “The Straight Story” turned out to be veteran actor Richard Farnsworth’s (1920-2000) last feature film, another reason for people to check out this wonderful picture.

Tales of the Four Seasons: Autumn Tale (Eric Rohmer, France, 1998)

If there is one genre of movies the French own, it is the kind where the characters sit around and talk. They’re not romantic comedies necessarily; in fact, it’s best to call them relationship films. But since they’re not chick flicks either, maybe we should just call them movies about humanity. “Autumn Tale” is the latest in a long line of terrific Gallic “talkies.” The story centers on the personal life of a widow in her 40s. No sex, no violence, no problems. If you enjoy this picture, you may want to look for Rohmer’s other seasonal tales on video: “A Tale of Springtime” (1990), “A Tale of Winter” (1992), and “A Summer’s Tale” (1996). His best films are “Pauline at the Beach” from 1983 and “Boyfriends and Girlfriends” from 1988.

[Back to Top]

Cool Web Surfers Don’t Cut and Paste

Would you like to share this Web page with friends? Don’t cut and paste. Provide a Web link to this page or refer to its Web address. We invite all content providers to join our “Don’t Cut and Paste” campaign.

Copyright © 1999-2018 Calba Media LLC. All rights reserved.

Labels: movies, pop culture, reviews

posted by Blog Masters at Permalink