Netflix It!: “The Way Home”

DVD Movie Review

Directed by Lee Jeong-hyang

By our guest blogger, Julie Lam

Feeling pensive on a lazy Sunday afternoon? Take a break from the 3D bonanza and soak up some warm rays from Lee Jung-hyang’s acclaimed South Korean gem. A surprise box-office hit, the film beat out several top-grossing American blockbusters such as "Spiderman," "Oceans Eleven" and "A Beautiful Mind" in the Korean market.

"Dedicated to grandmothers everywhere," “The Way Home” tells how one grandmother’s unwavering selfless love leads to one young boy’s awakening.

We see the brattish Sang-Woo (Yu Seung-ho) aggressively playing his Gameboy as he and his bone-tired mother ride in a ramshackle bus through the Korean countryside. The busgoers annoy Sang-Woo because of their ‘basic-needs’ lifestyle, and we’re already irritated with Sang-Woo. Mom needs to go job-hunting again so she’s leaving Sang-Woo in the hands of her 78-year-old mute, hunchbacked mother (Kim Eul-boon). The grandmother is a paragon of patience and self-sacrifice. Her face is the kind that can only truly be captured by close-up photojournalism.

During the months that ensue, Sang-Woo wreaks havoc among his grandmother’s household. He urinates on his grandmother’s clogs, forcing her to journey barefoot over rocky terrain to retrieve water. He barely looks at her and even calls her a retard.

The grandmother, on the other hand, responds with nothing but unrelenting love. She travels into the village’s heart and undergoes many hardships just so Sang-Woo can have Kentucky Fried Chicken one night--and of course, the meal wasn’t what he expected, so he bawls his eyes out. Sang-Woo is a sourpuss who makes us question his mother's bad parenting. But part of this film’s staying power lies with its audience participation--in this case, our ability to react viscerally with its characters.

When his insolence has us approaching the edge, the director mitigates it by showing Sang-Woo's increments of appreciation for his mute grandmother.  By the end, he cannot bear to leave her.

Aside from reaffirming the "love surpasses language metaphor," “The Way Home” pulls and lulls with great emotional power and speaks with a cultural sensibility that doesn’t alienate as many foreign films do.

Grade: A-

Netflix It!: “The Way Home”

DVD Movie Review

Directed by Lee Jeong-hyang

By our guest blogger, Julie Lam

Feeling pensive on a lazy Sunday afternoon? Take a break from the 3D bonanza and soak up some warm rays from Lee Jung-hyang’s acclaimed South Korean gem. A surprise box-office hit, the film beat out several top-grossing American blockbusters such as "Spiderman," "Oceans Eleven" and "A Beautiful Mind" in the Korean market.

"Dedicated to grandmothers everywhere," “The Way Home” tells how one grandmother’s unwavering selfless love leads to one young boy’s awakening.

We see the brattish Sang-Woo (Yu Seung-ho) aggressively playing his Gameboy as he and his bone-tired mother ride in a ramshackle bus through the Korean countryside. The busgoers annoy Sang-Woo because of their ‘basic-needs’ lifestyle, and we’re already irritated with Sang-Woo. Mom needs to go job-hunting again so she’s leaving Sang-Woo in the hands of her 78-year-old mute, hunchbacked mother (Kim Eul-boon). The grandmother is a paragon of patience and self-sacrifice. Her face is the kind that can only truly be captured by close-up photojournalism.

During the months that ensue, Sang-Woo wreaks havoc among his grandmother’s household. He urinates on his grandmother’s clogs, forcing her to journey barefoot over rocky terrain to retrieve water. He barely looks at her and even calls her a retard.

The grandmother, on the other hand, responds with nothing but unrelenting love. She travels into the village’s heart and undergoes many hardships just so Sang-Woo can have Kentucky Fried Chicken one night--and of course, the meal wasn’t what he expected, so he bawls his eyes out. Sang-Woo is a sourpuss who makes us question his mother's bad parenting. But part of this film’s staying power lies with its audience participation--in this case, our ability to react viscerally with its characters.

When his insolence has us approaching the edge, the director mitigates it by showing Sang-Woo's increments of appreciation for his mute grandmother.  By the end, he cannot bear to leave her.

Aside from reaffirming the "love surpasses language metaphor," “The Way Home” pulls and lulls with great emotional power and speaks with a cultural sensibility that doesn’t alienate as many foreign films do.

Grade: A-

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review (2010)

"New York, I Love You"

Directed by Faith Akin, Yvan Attal, Alan HughesShunji Iwai, Scarlett Johansson, Shekhar KapurJoshua Martson, Mira Nair, Natalie PortmanBrett Ratner, Jiang Wen, and Andrey Zvyaginstev, Written by Fatih Akin, Yvan Attal, Alexandra Cassavetes, Hu Hong, Shunji IwaiOlivier Lecot, Joshua MarstonSuketu Mehta, Yao MengAnthony Minghella, Jeff Nathanson, Natalie Portman, Stephen Winter, and Andrei Zvyagintsev, 103 Minutes, Rated R

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti

New York is such a diverse city. The five boroughs, the melting pot of a population, the high- and low-class, the many seasons--in many ways, it embodies everything about our country. It's surely been represented in film more than any one city, so one would expect an anthology film about it to contain something wholly new or interesting about the city that we may have never seen before. That's not the case with "New York, I Love You," but it's a fairly great film nonetheless.

The film, like its spiritual predecessor "Paris, Je T'aime," contains multiple stories all helmed by different directors. The previous film had a pretty diverse and relatively high-profile set of directors behind the camera--Alfonso Cuaron, Gus Van Sant, Joel and Ethan Coen, and Vincenzo Natali, among others.  But such is not quite the case with this film. They directors certainly are diverse, ranging from American to German to French, but most of them aren't nearly as high-profile or stylistically distinguished. This works for and against the film. While it may introduce viewers to a lot of directors they may have previously ignored, the film's segments don't differ that greatly in style, with a couple exceptions. There are also a couple filmmakers that aren't quite up to par with the others, which results in some inconsistencies.

All of that said, there are enough highly enjoyable segments to make up for the less interesting ones.

The best segment of the film, directed by Yvan Attal, stars Ethan Hawke as a would-be writer who meets a woman who may or may not be a prositute outside of a restaurant. Hawke, a veteran of dialogue-driven films about random meet-ups ("Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset," to name a couple), is really incredible here, as is Maggie Q, who, despite generally being known as an action actress, can hold her own in drama. The segment eventually splits off and transitions to a similar story outside the same restaurant starring Chris Cooper and Robin Wright Penn as a struggling married couple.

A few other notable segments are one featuring a tete-a-tete between two con men (Hayden Christensen and Andy Garcia) fighting over a woman, one with a Hasidic Jew and a conservative Hindu (Natalie Portman and Irrfan Khan) imagining life married to one another, and a very artful and heartfelt story about a former opera singer (Julie Christie) returning to a hotel in which she stayed decades ago at the pinnacle of her fame. Shia LaBeouf gives a startlingly great performance as a Russian bellhop.

The biggest problem with the film is that, unlike "Paris, Je T'aime," it doesn't really show us much of New York itself--most of the stories take place in Manhattan--and, like I said previously, there are rarely any stylistic difference between the segments, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn't really provide the film with the diversity it seems to be seeking. Still, the film says a great deal about the small connections and romances one can find in the city, and most of the writing and acting is superb. Overall, it's definitely one worth watching, and even if you don't like a segment, it's only a few minutes before the next.

Grade: B

View the movie trailer for "New York, I Love You" below. What are your thoughts?

DVD, Blu-ray Movie Review (2010)

"New York, I Love You"

Directed by Faith Akin, Yvan Attal, Alan HughesShunji Iwai, Scarlett Johansson, Shekhar KapurJoshua Martson, Mira Nair, Natalie PortmanBrett Ratner, Jiang Wen, and Andrey Zvyaginstev, Written by Fatih Akin, Yvan Attal, Alexandra Cassavetes, Hu Hong, Shunji IwaiOlivier Lecot, Joshua MarstonSuketu Mehta, Yao MengAnthony Minghella, Jeff Nathanson, Natalie Portman, Stephen Winter, and Andrei Zvyagintsev, 103 Minutes, Rated R

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti

New York is such a diverse city. The five boroughs, the melting pot of a population, the high- and low-class, the many seasons--in many ways, it embodies everything about our country. It's surely been represented in film more than any one city, so one would expect an anthology film about it to contain something wholly new or interesting about the city that we may have never seen before. That's not the case with "New York, I Love You," but it's a fairly great film nonetheless.

The film, like its spiritual predecessor "Paris, Je T'aime," contains multiple stories all helmed by different directors. The previous film had a pretty diverse and relatively high-profile set of directors behind the camera--Alfonso Cuaron, Gus Van Sant, Joel and Ethan Coen, and Vincenzo Natali, among others.  But such is not quite the case with this film. They directors certainly are diverse, ranging from American to German to French, but most of them aren't nearly as high-profile or stylistically distinguished. This works for and against the film. While it may introduce viewers to a lot of directors they may have previously ignored, the film's segments don't differ that greatly in style, with a couple exceptions. There are also a couple filmmakers that aren't quite up to par with the others, which results in some inconsistencies.

All of that said, there are enough highly enjoyable segments to make up for the less interesting ones.

The best segment of the film, directed by Yvan Attal, stars Ethan Hawke as a would-be writer who meets a woman who may or may not be a prositute outside of a restaurant. Hawke, a veteran of dialogue-driven films about random meet-ups ("Before Sunrise" and "Before Sunset," to name a couple), is really incredible here, as is Maggie Q, who, despite generally being known as an action actress, can hold her own in drama. The segment eventually splits off and transitions to a similar story outside the same restaurant starring Chris Cooper and Robin Wright Penn as a struggling married couple.

A few other notable segments are one featuring a tete-a-tete between two con men (Hayden Christensen and Andy Garcia) fighting over a woman, one with a Hasidic Jew and a conservative Hindu (Natalie Portman and Irrfan Khan) imagining life married to one another, and a very artful and heartfelt story about a former opera singer (Julie Christie) returning to a hotel in which she stayed decades ago at the pinnacle of her fame. Shia LaBeouf gives a startlingly great performance as a Russian bellhop.

The biggest problem with the film is that, unlike "Paris, Je T'aime," it doesn't really show us much of New York itself--most of the stories take place in Manhattan--and, like I said previously, there are rarely any stylistic difference between the segments, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn't really provide the film with the diversity it seems to be seeking. Still, the film says a great deal about the small connections and romances one can find in the city, and most of the writing and acting is superb. Overall, it's definitely one worth watching, and even if you don't like a segment, it's only a few minutes before the next.

Grade: B

View the movie trailer for "New York, I Love You" below. What are your thoughts?

By our guest blogger, Jeremy Wilkinson

Prior to its release in 2008, “Repo! The Genetic Opera” put up two songs on their Web site to gain attention. The song "Zydrate Anatomy" was a dark, catchy song that set the bar a little high for the movie. The other song, “Mark it Up,” was sub-par. It was supposed to be comedic, but ended up being funny because it was awkward. Variance in quality is a major problem with the whole movie. Parts of it are done beautifully, while other parts falter.

The plot:  During the mid-21st century, organ failures become an epidemic. GeneCo, a company specializing in synthetic organs, rises up to give people the replacements they desperately need…albeit for a price. The organs work wonderfully, but if you don’t pay up, Repo Man comes to take back company property. Nathan (Anthony Stewart Head) is one of the Repo Men. He has a daughter, Shilo (Alexa Vega), who has a blood disease and he tries his best to keep it in check with medication. He orders her to stay in her room for her own good and tries to keep his dark job a secret. But she disobeys her father’s orders and tries to seek out a cure for herself.

This movie oozes with style, which is both a blessing and a curse. The costumes and sets look great. Everything just feels “cool.” The atmosphere sucks you into the film. However, the focus on style leaves less room for substance. One could see the film and ponder the dangers of rampant plastic surgery and mega corporations, but this movie isn't high art.

The film shows its variance in quality from the get go. When it begins, comic book panels tell the audience of the organ failures and GeneCo’s rise to power. It doesn’t look bad--in fact, it’s a neat way to fill in the viewer. But then we cut to a graveyard where Shilo is visiting her mother’s tomb and then encounters the GraveRobber (Terrance Zdunich). Based off his name, you can guess why he’s there. He ends up drawing attention to them by yelling out while there are cops nearby. That makes no sense and only serves as a plot device to get Shilo back in her bed. There are multiple head scratching moments like this.

"Repo!" stays true to its title by having the characters sing almost all of their dialogue. Parts of the film are bogged down due to poor songwriting. I often wished the film was a musical instead of an ‘opera.’ There are multiple lines that lose their effectiveness by being sung instead of spoken. In addition, some of the cast are not very good at singing (Paris Hilton, for example). Alexa Vega does her best and shows glimmers of real talent in places, but she seems to hold back with most of her singing. Paul Sorvino, who play GeneCo founder Rotti Largo, is the best of the bunch. But, again, great singing can’t make up for poor writing.

"Repo!" is a violent, stylized opera that impresses just as often as it fails. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is a saving grace for the film. But even then, it’s still not a great film. It’s the kind of film non-horror fans would consider a guilty pleasure at best. You need to be in the right mindset to enjoy the movie.


Grade for gorehounds and horror fans: B-
Grade for everyone else: D

By our guest blogger, Jeremy Wilkinson

Prior to its release in 2008, “Repo! The Genetic Opera” put up two songs on their Web site to gain attention. The song "Zydrate Anatomy" was a dark, catchy song that set the bar a little high for the movie. The other song, “Mark it Up,” was sub-par. It was supposed to be comedic, but ended up being funny because it was awkward. Variance in quality is a major problem with the whole movie. Parts of it are done beautifully, while other parts falter.

The plot:  During the mid-21st century, organ failures become an epidemic. GeneCo, a company specializing in synthetic organs, rises up to give people the replacements they desperately need…albeit for a price. The organs work wonderfully, but if you don’t pay up, Repo Man comes to take back company property. Nathan (Anthony Stewart Head) is one of the Repo Men. He has a daughter, Shilo (Alexa Vega), who has a blood disease and he tries his best to keep it in check with medication. He orders her to stay in her room for her own good and tries to keep his dark job a secret. But she disobeys her father’s orders and tries to seek out a cure for herself.

This movie oozes with style, which is both a blessing and a curse. The costumes and sets look great. Everything just feels “cool.” The atmosphere sucks you into the film. However, the focus on style leaves less room for substance. One could see the film and ponder the dangers of rampant plastic surgery and mega corporations, but this movie isn't high art.

The film shows its variance in quality from the get go. When it begins, comic book panels tell the audience of the organ failures and GeneCo’s rise to power. It doesn’t look bad--in fact, it’s a neat way to fill in the viewer. But then we cut to a graveyard where Shilo is visiting her mother’s tomb and then encounters the GraveRobber (Terrance Zdunich). Based off his name, you can guess why he’s there. He ends up drawing attention to them by yelling out while there are cops nearby. That makes no sense and only serves as a plot device to get Shilo back in her bed. There are multiple head scratching moments like this.

"Repo!" stays true to its title by having the characters sing almost all of their dialogue. Parts of the film are bogged down due to poor songwriting. I often wished the film was a musical instead of an ‘opera.’ There are multiple lines that lose their effectiveness by being sung instead of spoken. In addition, some of the cast are not very good at singing (Paris Hilton, for example). Alexa Vega does her best and shows glimmers of real talent in places, but she seems to hold back with most of her singing. Paul Sorvino, who play GeneCo founder Rotti Largo, is the best of the bunch. But, again, great singing can’t make up for poor writing.

"Repo!" is a violent, stylized opera that impresses just as often as it fails. It doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is a saving grace for the film. But even then, it’s still not a great film. It’s the kind of film non-horror fans would consider a guilty pleasure at best. You need to be in the right mindset to enjoy the movie.


Grade for gorehounds and horror fans: B-
Grade for everyone else: D

DVD, Movie Review

"Being There"

Directed by Hal Ashby, Written by Jerzy Kosinski and Robert C. Jones, 130 Minutes, Rated PG.

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti

"Being There" was the final film appearance of genius comic actor Peter Sellers before his death in 1980. Despite the fact that Sellers is generally remembered more for his performances in "Dr. Strangelove" and the "Pink Panther" films, "Being There" is in many ways the essential Sellers role, and the actor spent his entire career waiting for a dramatic role. It was worth the wait--it is by far his greatest performance.

Sellers plays Chance, a man raised (as an orphan or otherwise, we aren't told) in a house in Washington D.C.  He has received no education and has never journeyed into the outside world. He is simple-minded, almost blank. Everything he knows he learned from watching television, which he has on at all hours of the day. He's a gardener for the household, but upon the death of the old man who lives there, Chance is forced to leave and to enter a world he does not know or understand.

By sheer fate, the car of wealthy businessman Ben Rand accidentally backs into Chance as he walks aimlessly downtown. The wife of the businessman, a Mrs. Eva Rand (Shirley MacLaine), asks him to come back to their home to have his leg looked at in case he was injured. There he meets Ben (Melvyn Douglas, who received an Oscar for his performance), a very old man who has very little time to live. He asks Chance to stay for dinner. After some misunderstandings, the Rand couple believes Chance to be named Chauncy Gardiner, and they take his simple-mindedness and minimal speech for low-key brilliance and profundity. This mistake soon spreads to everyone Chance meets, including Ben's good friend, the President of the United States.

It's not long before the President starts quoting Chance in speeches and the gardener becomes an unexpected media phenomenon.

"Being There" is quite a simple film, taking place almost entirely on the Rand estate and exploring societal detachment, the upper-class and finding hope in the simplest things. Director Hal Ashby uses Chance as a rather disconnected figure in which to view this extravagant world--the gardener has very little personality to speak of, but the people meets are able to project everything they desire into his personality. Eva is a lonely woman--she finds love and acceptance in Chance. Ben finds his personality and philosophies (really all just gardening tips) refreshing, and he is ultimately able to find peace with death because of him.

No matter what the purpose or plot of the film, however, it all belongs to Peter Sellers from beginning to end. He has an immense level of detachment, but there are so many subtle emotions in his performance, and even in his overall obliviousness you cannot help but fall in love with him. Perhaps it's because he serves as a blank slate upon which the viewer can project as well. Sellers received an Oscar-nomination for the performance, which he unfortunately didn't win, but it truly is his best.

Ashby, known predominately for his cult-hit "Harold and Maude," maintains a similar balance of drama and comedy here, though sometimes the attempts at comedy are a bit less and amusing and feel either out of place or entirely inappopriate. He also has a somewhat uneasy detached style in his direction, like his main character, which works some times and doesn't on other occasions.

Overall, "Being There" is not a perfect film, but Sellers does give a perfect performance that serves as a fantastic swan song for the brilliant actor, and the film is often quite beautiful and life-affirming, especially during the poignant finale. Surely one of the essential drama-comedies of the 1970s and a must-see for any fan of Sellers.


Grade: B

DVD, Movie Review

"Being There"

Directed by Hal Ashby, Written by Jerzy Kosinski and Robert C. Jones, 130 Minutes, Rated PG.

By our guest blogger, Rob Stammitti

"Being There" was the final film appearance of genius comic actor Peter Sellers before his death in 1980. Despite the fact that Sellers is generally remembered more for his performances in "Dr. Strangelove" and the "Pink Panther" films, "Being There" is in many ways the essential Sellers role, and the actor spent his entire career waiting for a dramatic role. It was worth the wait--it is by far his greatest performance.

Sellers plays Chance, a man raised (as an orphan or otherwise, we aren't told) in a house in Washington D.C.  He has received no education and has never journeyed into the outside world. He is simple-minded, almost blank. Everything he knows he learned from watching television, which he has on at all hours of the day. He's a gardener for the household, but upon the death of the old man who lives there, Chance is forced to leave and to enter a world he does not know or understand.

By sheer fate, the car of wealthy businessman Ben Rand accidentally backs into Chance as he walks aimlessly downtown. The wife of the businessman, a Mrs. Eva Rand (Shirley MacLaine), asks him to come back to their home to have his leg looked at in case he was injured. There he meets Ben (Melvyn Douglas, who received an Oscar for his performance), a very old man who has very little time to live. He asks Chance to stay for dinner. After some misunderstandings, the Rand couple believes Chance to be named Chauncy Gardiner, and they take his simple-mindedness and minimal speech for low-key brilliance and profundity. This mistake soon spreads to everyone Chance meets, including Ben's good friend, the President of the United States.

It's not long before the President starts quoting Chance in speeches and the gardener becomes an unexpected media phenomenon.

"Being There" is quite a simple film, taking place almost entirely on the Rand estate and exploring societal detachment, the upper-class and finding hope in the simplest things. Director Hal Ashby uses Chance as a rather disconnected figure in which to view this extravagant world--the gardener has very little personality to speak of, but the people meets are able to project everything they desire into his personality. Eva is a lonely woman--she finds love and acceptance in Chance. Ben finds his personality and philosophies (really all just gardening tips) refreshing, and he is ultimately able to find peace with death because of him.

No matter what the purpose or plot of the film, however, it all belongs to Peter Sellers from beginning to end. He has an immense level of detachment, but there are so many subtle emotions in his performance, and even in his overall obliviousness you cannot help but fall in love with him. Perhaps it's because he serves as a blank slate upon which the viewer can project as well. Sellers received an Oscar-nomination for the performance, which he unfortunately didn't win, but it truly is his best.

Ashby, known predominately for his cult-hit "Harold and Maude," maintains a similar balance of drama and comedy here, though sometimes the attempts at comedy are a bit less and amusing and feel either out of place or entirely inappopriate. He also has a somewhat uneasy detached style in his direction, like his main character, which works some times and doesn't on other occasions.

Overall, "Being There" is not a perfect film, but Sellers does give a perfect performance that serves as a fantastic swan song for the brilliant actor, and the film is often quite beautiful and life-affirming, especially during the poignant finale. Surely one of the essential drama-comedies of the 1970s and a must-see for any fan of Sellers.


Grade: B

DVD, Movie Review

"Breathless"

Directed by Jean-Luc Godard, written by Francois Truffaut (story) and Jean-Luc Godard (screenplay), 90 minutes, unrated.

By our guest blogger, Marguerita Merrick

What is it about Jean-Luc Godard’s “Breathless” that still captivates people today? Most people I mention it to (of any generation) have seen it and have something to say about it. Obviously, it’s a film which is very much of its era--it came to be an emblem of the '60s, with its jump cuts, its edgy aesthetic, its rejection of conservative values.

So, in what way does the film still resonate today? The film centers around a mischievous car thief and crook, Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo), who tries to convince Patricia (Jean Seberg), an American girl living in Paris, to run away with him to Italy once he gets the money he needs to abscond. He solicits his various creditors, avoids the police and seduces Patricia--all the while drifting through Paris with a remarkable insouciance. This is essentially the substance of the film, so what is it about this premise and style that render the film timeless?

People refer to “Breathless” as ‘existentialist’--probably because of this fundamental question it poses--whether it is something inside a person that prompts him/her to do something or whether a person decides to do something because he/she wants to be someone different. In other words, do we have an initiative which determines our actions, or do our actions define our personality once they are taken. This is a timeless question, which the film never answers. But both Michel and Patricia seem to operate as if their actions are just experiments with no real consequences. Michel acts as if he’s living inside a movie, swaggering about with his gangster hat and cigarette, impersonating Humphrey Bogart. And Patricia asks questions about why people do things but in the end, she acts on an impulse inexplicably--critics have been debating her motives ever since, which are left open.

Also, freedom in this film is celebrated but at the same time it's scary because it can appear that all the choices people make are arbitrary. This is another existential tenet that the film seems to uphold, that angst is a necessary component of freedom, and that it is part of the human condition. The whole question of free will and the seeming absurdity of all human striving is what makes this film existentialist--and perhaps timeless. Both Michel and Patricia seem resigned for angst. But one thing I always have found fascinating about this film (and others made the same year) is the aimlessness, the purposelessness of the characters. They are just wandering. One could say Michel and Patricia are trying to define themselves--or perhaps distinguish themselves from their images. But basically they both are going nowhere and seem to have no real goals. Michel shoots people and steals things, and Patricia haplessly hangs around with him. I think that is what is disturbing about the freedom they possess--they are not shackled by society’s mores or conventions, but then they don’t do anything constructive with their freedom, so it turns out to be more a liability and burden than a privilege.

There is the same aimlessness in two other films from 1960--Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” and Antonioni’s "L’Avventura.” Each film features a group of leisurely characters who go to parties in Rome or go boating off Sicily, and on one hand their freedom seems glamorous, but there is a sense of ennui and frustration.  There is an emptiness to it all. The central characters, the journalist Marcello in "La Dolce Vita" and Sandro in “L’Avventura,” seem unable to break out of the emptiness, as if they are trapped in it. In each of these Italian films, the characters are unable to tap into anything important or substantive.

As previously noted, all three of these films were released in 1960. “Breathless” came to symbolize the upcoming decade, but the '60s hadn’t actually happened yet. In hindsight, it is interesting to see the disillusionment and pessimism of the films of that year, particularly knowing what that decade would later represent--its ideals, its cultural revolution, the Vietnam War, the assassinations, conflicts, counter culture.  In French, title “Breathless," “À Bout de Souffle,” means "tired, beaten down, at the end of breath," rather than "eager" and "full of anticipation," as the English title implies. It is interesting to see this beaten down feeling from our vantage point 50 years later, knowing how things ended up playing out in the '60s, '70s, '80s, '90s, on to now. So maybe that’s it. There’s a fundamental tendency on the part of human beings at various junctures to be disillusioned or to give up a little, to be at the end of breath and life when in reality, they or we are just in the middle of it.

The film’s visuals are forever arresting--its jump cuts, its jaggedness, it’s incredible spontaneity. It was filmed on the streets of Paris using totally natural backgrounds, so we see real passersby, an actual parade, we hear actual sirens. Godard often asked his actors to improvise, so the dialogue is natural, not scripted. There are scenes with long, winding conversations--Godard was famous for these. Belmondo’s performance with all his phony gestures, the faces he makes because he wants to see how he looks making them, likely because of his gangster hero bravado, is one of a kind. Jean Seberg’s performance is magnificent. A few times during the film she looks, with her beautiful eyes, directly into the camera, albeit fleetingly.

“Breathless” was daring upon its release, but at the same time, we still recognize something fundamentally human about it.


Grade A-

DVD, Movie Review

"Breathless"

Directed by Jean-Luc Godard, written by Francois Truffaut (story) and Jean-Luc Godard (screenplay), 90 minutes, unrated.

By our guest blogger, Marguerita Merrick

What is it about Jean-Luc Godard’s “Breathless” that still captivates people today? Most people I mention it to (of any generation) have seen it and have something to say about it. Obviously, it’s a film which is very much of its era--it came to be an emblem of the '60s, with its jump cuts, its edgy aesthetic, its rejection of conservative values.

So, in what way does the film still resonate today? The film centers around a mischievous car thief and crook, Michel (Jean-Paul Belmondo), who tries to convince Patricia (Jean Seberg), an American girl living in Paris, to run away with him to Italy once he gets the money he needs to abscond. He solicits his various creditors, avoids the police and seduces Patricia--all the while drifting through Paris with a remarkable insouciance. This is essentially the substance of the film, so what is it about this premise and style that render the film timeless?

People refer to “Breathless” as ‘existentialist’--probably because of this fundamental question it poses--whether it is something inside a person that prompts him/her to do something or whether a person decides to do something because he/she wants to be someone different. In other words, do we have an initiative which determines our actions, or do our actions define our personality once they are taken. This is a timeless question, which the film never answers. But both Michel and Patricia seem to operate as if their actions are just experiments with no real consequences. Michel acts as if he’s living inside a movie, swaggering about with his gangster hat and cigarette, impersonating Humphrey Bogart. And Patricia asks questions about why people do things but in the end, she acts on an impulse inexplicably--critics have been debating her motives ever since, which are left open.

Also, freedom in this film is celebrated but at the same time it's scary because it can appear that all the choices people make are arbitrary. This is another existential tenet that the film seems to uphold, that angst is a necessary component of freedom, and that it is part of the human condition. The whole question of free will and the seeming absurdity of all human striving is what makes this film existentialist--and perhaps timeless. Both Michel and Patricia seem resigned for angst. But one thing I always have found fascinating about this film (and others made the same year) is the aimlessness, the purposelessness of the characters. They are just wandering. One could say Michel and Patricia are trying to define themselves--or perhaps distinguish themselves from their images. But basically they both are going nowhere and seem to have no real goals. Michel shoots people and steals things, and Patricia haplessly hangs around with him. I think that is what is disturbing about the freedom they possess--they are not shackled by society’s mores or conventions, but then they don’t do anything constructive with their freedom, so it turns out to be more a liability and burden than a privilege.

There is the same aimlessness in two other films from 1960--Fellini’s “La Dolce Vita” and Antonioni’s "L’Avventura.” Each film features a group of leisurely characters who go to parties in Rome or go boating off Sicily, and on one hand their freedom seems glamorous, but there is a sense of ennui and frustration.  There is an emptiness to it all. The central characters, the journalist Marcello in "La Dolce Vita" and Sandro in “L’Avventura,” seem unable to break out of the emptiness, as if they are trapped in it. In each of these Italian films, the characters are unable to tap into anything important or substantive.

As previously noted, all three of these films were released in 1960. “Breathless” came to symbolize the upcoming decade, but the '60s hadn’t actually happened yet. In hindsight, it is interesting to see the disillusionment and pessimism of the films of that year, particularly knowing what that decade would later represent--its ideals, its cultural revolution, the Vietnam War, the assassinations, conflicts, counter culture.  In French, title “Breathless," “À Bout de Souffle,” means "tired, beaten down, at the end of breath," rather than "eager" and "full of anticipation," as the English title implies. It is interesting to see this beaten down feeling from our vantage point 50 years later, knowing how things ended up playing out in the '60s, '70s, '80s, '90s, on to now. So maybe that’s it. There’s a fundamental tendency on the part of human beings at various junctures to be disillusioned or to give up a little, to be at the end of breath and life when in reality, they or we are just in the middle of it.

The film’s visuals are forever arresting--its jump cuts, its jaggedness, it’s incredible spontaneity. It was filmed on the streets of Paris using totally natural backgrounds, so we see real passersby, an actual parade, we hear actual sirens. Godard often asked his actors to improvise, so the dialogue is natural, not scripted. There are scenes with long, winding conversations--Godard was famous for these. Belmondo’s performance with all his phony gestures, the faces he makes because he wants to see how he looks making them, likely because of his gangster hero bravado, is one of a kind. Jean Seberg’s performance is magnificent. A few times during the film she looks, with her beautiful eyes, directly into the camera, albeit fleetingly.

“Breathless” was daring upon its release, but at the same time, we still recognize something fundamentally human about it.


Grade A-

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. The following review of "The Winslow Boy," never published here before, is the original 1999 review.

On the surface, David Mamet’s new film, “The Winslow Boy,” is about justice. British justice. But beneath it all, Mamet has other things in mind, such as a film about passion. British passion.

Set in 1910, the film follows Ronnie Winslow (Guy Edwards), a young naval cadet accused of stealing a five-shilling postal order from a classmate. Convinced he’s innocent, Ronnie’s father (Nigel Hawthorne) stakes the family fortune (not to mention the family’s psychological health) on the famous lawyer Sir Robert Norton (Jeremy Northam), who once fought for Oscar Wilde and who now uses his genius to save Ronnie in court.

What makes “The Winslow Boy” a must see is how Mamet takes a conventional courtroom drama and twists it so most of the courtroom action happens off screen--including the ruling, which is handled superbly.

But this film isn’t just about the plight of poor Ronnie. Far from it. It’s also about getting his older sister, Catherine (Mamet’s wife Rebecca Pidgeon), paired with an intellectual equal. That equal is Sir Robert, who ignites in Catherine a passion that isn’t exactly hot, but rather clinical.

Based on a true story, “The Winslow Boy” is a departure for Mamet, who is known for his in-your-face characters and spare, tough dialogue. Those qualities are in evidence here, but they’ve been toned down to reflect the times. Indeed, Catherine and Robert are so cold and so aloof, so pretty and so uptight, their courtship plays out like a game of chess.

But which one is the Queen?

Grade: A-

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. The following review of "The Winslow Boy," never published here before, is the original 1999 review.

On the surface, David Mamet’s new film, “The Winslow Boy,” is about justice. British justice. But beneath it all, Mamet has other things in mind, such as a film about passion. British passion.

Set in 1910, the film follows Ronnie Winslow (Guy Edwards), a young naval cadet accused of stealing a five-shilling postal order from a classmate. Convinced he’s innocent, Ronnie’s father (Nigel Hawthorne) stakes the family fortune (not to mention the family’s psychological health) on the famous lawyer Sir Robert Norton (Jeremy Northam), who once fought for Oscar Wilde and who now uses his genius to save Ronnie in court.

What makes “The Winslow Boy” a must see is how Mamet takes a conventional courtroom drama and twists it so most of the courtroom action happens off screen--including the ruling, which is handled superbly.

But this film isn’t just about the plight of poor Ronnie. Far from it. It’s also about getting his older sister, Catherine (Mamet’s wife Rebecca Pidgeon), paired with an intellectual equal. That equal is Sir Robert, who ignites in Catherine a passion that isn’t exactly hot, but rather clinical.

Based on a true story, “The Winslow Boy” is a departure for Mamet, who is known for his in-your-face characters and spare, tough dialogue. Those qualities are in evidence here, but they’ve been toned down to reflect the times. Indeed, Catherine and Robert are so cold and so aloof, so pretty and so uptight, their courtship plays out like a game of chess.

But which one is the Queen?

Grade: A-

“Fast & Furious” DVD, Blu-ray
In this, the fourth film in the franchise, the producers apparently ran out of titles, and so now we have just “Fast & Furious,” which is perfect because it’s actually faster to say. Beyond that triumph, the movie comes through with exactly what its title promises. Vin Diesel and Paul Walker--each of whom were in dire need of a career lift before they signed onto this project--got one here. The movie was a surprise box office hit, and after viewing it, it’s easy to see why since it plays directly and unapologetically to its core audience. The film is old school. It gets back to the basics--fast cars, Michelle Rodriguez, illogical situations, daring stunts--which is precisely what fans wanted and got. Nobody should come (or will come, for that matter) to the movie seeking much of a storyline, and so it all comes down to the crazed pace, the insane driving, the corny one-liners, and the amplification of all that’s ridiculous. That’s the point of this film, and while it’s true that parts of it are crudely done, it’s also good to remember that this is a B-movie--and one that mostly gets the job done. Rated PG-13. Grade: B-

“The Fast and the Furious” Blu-ray
The first film in the franchise is slick entertainment without a brain in its head, a movie whose tough, sweaty cast dumbs down the action with this sort of leaded dialogue: “I live my life a quarter-mile at a time!” Exactly how does one do that? Best not to ask. What’s more curious is the actor who speaks that gem: Vin Diesel, the bald-headed block of beef who plays Dominic Toretto, a popular L.A. garage mechanic whose sideline--street racing--isn’t just his passion, but let’s face it, folks, also his manhood. Surrounding Toretto are a group of outsiders who make the people behind street racing seem like a bizarre subspecies--the women are hot, the men and their cars are fueled with nitrous oxide, together they’re explosive. When Brian (Paul Walker), a pretty boy street racer with tipped hair and capped teeth, joins this greasy fray, Toretto and crew initially believe he’s just a poseur who wants street cred and respect. But Brian has other plans up his exhaust pipe, none of which will be revealed here. “The Fast and the Furious” is wise in that it knows what it is--a flashy bit of nothingness streamlined to be a guilty pleasure. The film has no pretensions, just muscle cars and muscle heads burning up the pavement at speeds that soar above and beyond the legal limit. The filmmakers get it. They know they’ve created something vapid, but that knowledge informs the movie, unhinges it, and allows it all the amusing liberties it eagerly takes. Rated PG-13. Grade: B

“2 Fast 2 Furious” Blu-ray
This sequel to the surprise 2001 hit offers audiences solid answers to that age-old question: Exactly how does one become too fast and too furious? Apparently, doing so involves more than just having the right muscle car or, for that matter, the right muscles. There’s a dress code involved: Miami-tramp contemporary seems to work best for the ladies as does cabana-boy casual for the men. Regardless of gender, hair should be teased and tousled, as if you just hopped out of bed--preferably somebody else’s. Tattoos and implants are encouraged, as are piercings and bright-white orthodontia. And yet here’s the irony--in spite of all this, the movie deserves a dressing down. It’s too much of a dim bulb to live up to its title, too long-winded to be considered quick, let alone fast. Initially, it seems as if it’s going to continue the fun, cartoonish ride offered in the first movie, but it doesn’t go the distance. By its midpoint, it gets bogged down in a silly drug cartel plotline involving Paul Walker, Tyrese, Eva Mendes and Cole Hauser that's taken so seriously, the film loses the giddy spunk that made its predecessor so enjoyably dumb and over-the-top. The problem with “2 Fast 2 Furious” isn’t just that it’s no longer running hard on Vin Diesel, which turns out to be a strike against it, but that it actually wants to be about something, which is sweet, but a shame. The first film never wanted to be anything more than an homage to the hot rod films of the 1950s; its kitschy embrace of a forgotten subculture was part of its charm. Worse for “2 Furious,” there’s nothing about it that sets it apart from the pack. It’s just sort of there, revving its engines and racing around street corners with no place to go. Rated PG-13. Grade: C-

“The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift” Blu-ray
The third film in the franchise embraces the idea that this series should only ever be about fast cars, faster car races, fast women and lobotomized, testosterone-soaked men, with just enough menacing villains glowering in dark rooms to make things entertaining. The plot is beautifully uncluttered--17-year-old Sean Boswell (Lucas Black) can’t stay out of trouble in the States, so he’s shipped to Tokyo, where he gets into trouble with an underground circuit of young men and women who "drift" dangerously through the busy streets and winding hillsides of that city. The film channels cheap melodrama, which is a release. Like the best films in this series, it delivers precisely what fans want, it does it well, and on those terms, it succeeds. Rated PG-13. Grade: B

"The Joan Collins Superstar Collection"
Long before she was swinging her fists, shaking her diamonds and smoking her cigarillos on "Dynasty," Collins was a movie star, slinking from stage left to stage right as if she belonged at stage center. And she did, too, even if too many of her movies were stinkers. This collection from Fox gives us five Collins' films, all from the Cinescope era, with three proving just absurd enough to be disarming--1955's "Girl in the Red Velvet Swing"; 1957's "Sea Wife," with Collins marooned onscreen opposite Richard Burton; and the 1957 espionage thriller "Stopover Tokyo," with Joan and Robert Wagner struck dumb in Japan. The set's two other movies, 1958's "Rally 'Round the Flag, Boys" and 1960's "Seven Thieves," are as enjoyably appalling as you could imagine. This is the rare boxed set in which the cover art alone, which features Collins as kneeling, bustiered sex kitten, is worthy of its own commentary, though not in a family newspaper. Grade: B

Also on DVD and Blu-ray disc

Fans of science fiction with a British twist should look to the recent editions from the BBC’s Doctor Who series, including “Doctor Who: Planet of the Dead" and “Doctor Who: The Complete Fourth Series”--each of which is appropriately surreal.

The seventh season of the television show “Monk” also is available, and it’s germ free--at least when it comes to the writing and acting, which are solid. In this season of the unusual detective show, Tony Shalhoub settles further into his niche as Adrian Monk, the reluctant, San Francisco-based detective whose Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, complicated by his wife's death, actually helps him solve mysteries. He’s so hyper aware of his surroundings, he's able to see clues others can't see. Echoes of "Columbo" abound, but the show nevertheless stands on its own.

Also available is the first season of “Hotel,” which is based on Arthur Hailey’s novel and features a hirsute James Brolin as the manager of an elegant San Francisco hotel. Not unlike so many shows of the time (“Fantasy Island,” “The Love Boat”), the series was meant to offer a faded red carpet of throwbacks in the likes of such weekly guest stars as Scatman Crothers, Eva Gabor, Dina Merrill and Englebert Humperdinck, all of whom were happy to generate their share of chaos.

Rounding out those television shows new and recommended on DVD are the second season of “Early Edition,” in which Gary Hobson (Kyle Chandler) is saddled with the responsibility of knowing whatever tragedy will strike the next day (and how to prevent it); Lucille Ball in the first season of “The Lucy Show”; Joss Whedon’s “Dollhouse: Season One” and “Battlestar Galactica: Season 4.5,” the latter two of which are heavy on the sci-fi--and which also are available on Blu-ray disc.

“Fast & Furious” DVD, Blu-ray
In this, the fourth film in the franchise, the producers apparently ran out of titles, and so now we have just “Fast & Furious,” which is perfect because it’s actually faster to say. Beyond that triumph, the movie comes through with exactly what its title promises. Vin Diesel and Paul Walker--each of whom were in dire need of a career lift before they signed onto this project--got one here. The movie was a surprise box office hit, and after viewing it, it’s easy to see why since it plays directly and unapologetically to its core audience. The film is old school. It gets back to the basics--fast cars, Michelle Rodriguez, illogical situations, daring stunts--which is precisely what fans wanted and got. Nobody should come (or will come, for that matter) to the movie seeking much of a storyline, and so it all comes down to the crazed pace, the insane driving, the corny one-liners, and the amplification of all that’s ridiculous. That’s the point of this film, and while it’s true that parts of it are crudely done, it’s also good to remember that this is a B-movie--and one that mostly gets the job done. Rated PG-13. Grade: B-

“The Fast and the Furious” Blu-ray
The first film in the franchise is slick entertainment without a brain in its head, a movie whose tough, sweaty cast dumbs down the action with this sort of leaded dialogue: “I live my life a quarter-mile at a time!” Exactly how does one do that? Best not to ask. What’s more curious is the actor who speaks that gem: Vin Diesel, the bald-headed block of beef who plays Dominic Toretto, a popular L.A. garage mechanic whose sideline--street racing--isn’t just his passion, but let’s face it, folks, also his manhood. Surrounding Toretto are a group of outsiders who make the people behind street racing seem like a bizarre subspecies--the women are hot, the men and their cars are fueled with nitrous oxide, together they’re explosive. When Brian (Paul Walker), a pretty boy street racer with tipped hair and capped teeth, joins this greasy fray, Toretto and crew initially believe he’s just a poseur who wants street cred and respect. But Brian has other plans up his exhaust pipe, none of which will be revealed here. “The Fast and the Furious” is wise in that it knows what it is--a flashy bit of nothingness streamlined to be a guilty pleasure. The film has no pretensions, just muscle cars and muscle heads burning up the pavement at speeds that soar above and beyond the legal limit. The filmmakers get it. They know they’ve created something vapid, but that knowledge informs the movie, unhinges it, and allows it all the amusing liberties it eagerly takes. Rated PG-13. Grade: B

“2 Fast 2 Furious” Blu-ray
This sequel to the surprise 2001 hit offers audiences solid answers to that age-old question: Exactly how does one become too fast and too furious? Apparently, doing so involves more than just having the right muscle car or, for that matter, the right muscles. There’s a dress code involved: Miami-tramp contemporary seems to work best for the ladies as does cabana-boy casual for the men. Regardless of gender, hair should be teased and tousled, as if you just hopped out of bed--preferably somebody else’s. Tattoos and implants are encouraged, as are piercings and bright-white orthodontia. And yet here’s the irony--in spite of all this, the movie deserves a dressing down. It’s too much of a dim bulb to live up to its title, too long-winded to be considered quick, let alone fast. Initially, it seems as if it’s going to continue the fun, cartoonish ride offered in the first movie, but it doesn’t go the distance. By its midpoint, it gets bogged down in a silly drug cartel plotline involving Paul Walker, Tyrese, Eva Mendes and Cole Hauser that's taken so seriously, the film loses the giddy spunk that made its predecessor so enjoyably dumb and over-the-top. The problem with “2 Fast 2 Furious” isn’t just that it’s no longer running hard on Vin Diesel, which turns out to be a strike against it, but that it actually wants to be about something, which is sweet, but a shame. The first film never wanted to be anything more than an homage to the hot rod films of the 1950s; its kitschy embrace of a forgotten subculture was part of its charm. Worse for “2 Furious,” there’s nothing about it that sets it apart from the pack. It’s just sort of there, revving its engines and racing around street corners with no place to go. Rated PG-13. Grade: C-

“The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift” Blu-ray
The third film in the franchise embraces the idea that this series should only ever be about fast cars, faster car races, fast women and lobotomized, testosterone-soaked men, with just enough menacing villains glowering in dark rooms to make things entertaining. The plot is beautifully uncluttered--17-year-old Sean Boswell (Lucas Black) can’t stay out of trouble in the States, so he’s shipped to Tokyo, where he gets into trouble with an underground circuit of young men and women who "drift" dangerously through the busy streets and winding hillsides of that city. The film channels cheap melodrama, which is a release. Like the best films in this series, it delivers precisely what fans want, it does it well, and on those terms, it succeeds. Rated PG-13. Grade: B

"The Joan Collins Superstar Collection"
Long before she was swinging her fists, shaking her diamonds and smoking her cigarillos on "Dynasty," Collins was a movie star, slinking from stage left to stage right as if she belonged at stage center. And she did, too, even if too many of her movies were stinkers. This collection from Fox gives us five Collins' films, all from the Cinescope era, with three proving just absurd enough to be disarming--1955's "Girl in the Red Velvet Swing"; 1957's "Sea Wife," with Collins marooned onscreen opposite Richard Burton; and the 1957 espionage thriller "Stopover Tokyo," with Joan and Robert Wagner struck dumb in Japan. The set's two other movies, 1958's "Rally 'Round the Flag, Boys" and 1960's "Seven Thieves," are as enjoyably appalling as you could imagine. This is the rare boxed set in which the cover art alone, which features Collins as kneeling, bustiered sex kitten, is worthy of its own commentary, though not in a family newspaper. Grade: B

Also on DVD and Blu-ray disc

Fans of science fiction with a British twist should look to the recent editions from the BBC’s Doctor Who series, including “Doctor Who: Planet of the Dead" and “Doctor Who: The Complete Fourth Series”--each of which is appropriately surreal.

The seventh season of the television show “Monk” also is available, and it’s germ free--at least when it comes to the writing and acting, which are solid. In this season of the unusual detective show, Tony Shalhoub settles further into his niche as Adrian Monk, the reluctant, San Francisco-based detective whose Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, complicated by his wife's death, actually helps him solve mysteries. He’s so hyper aware of his surroundings, he's able to see clues others can't see. Echoes of "Columbo" abound, but the show nevertheless stands on its own.

Also available is the first season of “Hotel,” which is based on Arthur Hailey’s novel and features a hirsute James Brolin as the manager of an elegant San Francisco hotel. Not unlike so many shows of the time (“Fantasy Island,” “The Love Boat”), the series was meant to offer a faded red carpet of throwbacks in the likes of such weekly guest stars as Scatman Crothers, Eva Gabor, Dina Merrill and Englebert Humperdinck, all of whom were happy to generate their share of chaos.

Rounding out those television shows new and recommended on DVD are the second season of “Early Edition,” in which Gary Hobson (Kyle Chandler) is saddled with the responsibility of knowing whatever tragedy will strike the next day (and how to prevent it); Lucille Ball in the first season of “The Lucy Show”; Joss Whedon’s “Dollhouse: Season One” and “Battlestar Galactica: Season 4.5,” the latter two of which are heavy on the sci-fi--and which also are available on Blu-ray disc.

Directed by Nicholas Ray, written by Philip Yordan, 105 minutes, unrated.

Nicholas Ray’s great camp movie, “Johnny Guitar," stars Joan Crawford as Vienna, a swanky saloon-casino owner in the Old West who knows the value of cutting cards, employing men to spin her roulette wheel, and who at one point is called “a railroad tramp not fit to live among decent people.”

Sounds harsh, but Vienna can take it.

Crawford plays Vienna as nobody’s fool. Back straight, hair pulled into a vice grip of brown curls, lips as red as a stop sign, gun at the ready, she’s a force, this one. As one of her employees remarks, “Never seen a woman who was more a man. She thinks like one, acts like one, and sometimes makes me feel like I’m not one.” And yet Vienna has a softer, more feminine side, such as when she closes the bar, puts on an elaborate white gown, and plays the piano with festive pluck.

Philip Yordan wrote the script (under the influence?) and what he conceived is a story that involves how a mean, ferocious woman named Emma (Mercedes McCambridge, unforgettable) is determined to see Vienna hang because she believes that Vienna was involved in her brother’s murder.

When Vienna’s long-ago lover, Johnny Guitar (Sterling Hayden), rides back into her life, the movie heaves and sighs as the Dancin’ Kid (Scott Brady) and his gang (including Ernest Borgnine) also storm the saloon and start to cause trouble. Were they also involved in the death of Emma’s brother? Since Emma is certain of it--and because she wields absolute control over the men in this movie--soon the kid gloves are off, guns are drawn, and accusations are hurled.

About those accusations--the dialogue in this movie is beyond comprehension. Consider, for example, this exchange between a gun-wielding Vienna, the law men who have come to get her, and Emma, who wants her dead.

Vienna: “Get out! Get out all of you!”

Emma, in a low voice: “That’s big talk for a little gun. You can’t shoot all of us.”

Vienna, bemused: “Two of you will do.”

Emma, challenging: “You don’t have the nerve.”

Vienna: “Try me.”

The men around them: “Put down that gun, Vienna. Put down the gun.”

Vienna: “Down there I sell whiskey and cards. All you can buy up these stairs is a bullet in the head.” She swaggers. She smirks. “Now…which do you want?”

As the men scramble away, Emma approaches like a pint-sized version of the Black Death in a green elf’s uniform: “I’m going to kill you.”

Vienna, towering over her: “I know--if I don’t kill you first.”

Here’s what’s certain--the movie will kill audiences, but in the best way. Just watching the sparring between Crawford and McCambridge is enough to send you over the moon. As for the movie, it’s an absurdist’s dream--in one scene in which guns are drawn and tensions are high, the strapping Hayden enters the bar with a delicate tea cup in his hand. You watch the scene thinking, “Oh, no he didn’t.” But he did. And that’s just the start of it in what’s easily a must film for your Netflix queue.

Grade: A

Directed by Nicholas Ray, written by Philip Yordan, 105 minutes, unrated.

Nicholas Ray’s great camp movie, “Johnny Guitar," stars Joan Crawford as Vienna, a swanky saloon-casino owner in the Old West who knows the value of cutting cards, employing men to spin her roulette wheel, and who at one point is called “a railroad tramp not fit to live among decent people.”

Sounds harsh, but Vienna can take it.

Crawford plays Vienna as nobody’s fool. Back straight, hair pulled into a vice grip of brown curls, lips as red as a stop sign, gun at the ready, she’s a force, this one. As one of her employees remarks, “Never seen a woman who was more a man. She thinks like one, acts like one, and sometimes makes me feel like I’m not one.” And yet Vienna has a softer, more feminine side, such as when she closes the bar, puts on an elaborate white gown, and plays the piano with festive pluck.

Philip Yordan wrote the script (under the influence?) and what he conceived is a story that involves how a mean, ferocious woman named Emma (Mercedes McCambridge, unforgettable) is determined to see Vienna hang because she believes that Vienna was involved in her brother’s murder.

When Vienna’s long-ago lover, Johnny Guitar (Sterling Hayden), rides back into her life, the movie heaves and sighs as the Dancin’ Kid (Scott Brady) and his gang (including Ernest Borgnine) also storm the saloon and start to cause trouble. Were they also involved in the death of Emma’s brother? Since Emma is certain of it--and because she wields absolute control over the men in this movie--soon the kid gloves are off, guns are drawn, and accusations are hurled.

About those accusations--the dialogue in this movie is beyond comprehension. Consider, for example, this exchange between a gun-wielding Vienna, the law men who have come to get her, and Emma, who wants her dead.

Vienna: “Get out! Get out all of you!”

Emma, in a low voice: “That’s big talk for a little gun. You can’t shoot all of us.”

Vienna, bemused: “Two of you will do.”

Emma, challenging: “You don’t have the nerve.”

Vienna: “Try me.”

The men around them: “Put down that gun, Vienna. Put down the gun.”

Vienna: “Down there I sell whiskey and cards. All you can buy up these stairs is a bullet in the head.” She swaggers. She smirks. “Now…which do you want?”

As the men scramble away, Emma approaches like a pint-sized version of the Black Death in a green elf’s uniform: “I’m going to kill you.”

Vienna, towering over her: “I know--if I don’t kill you first.”

Here’s what’s certain--the movie will kill audiences, but in the best way. Just watching the sparring between Crawford and McCambridge is enough to send you over the moon. As for the movie, it’s an absurdist’s dream--in one scene in which guns are drawn and tensions are high, the strapping Hayden enters the bar with a delicate tea cup in his hand. You watch the scene thinking, “Oh, no he didn’t.” But he did. And that’s just the start of it in what’s easily a must film for your Netflix queue.

Grade: A

Written and directed by Caroline Link, based on the novel by Stefanie Zweig, 138 minutes, rated R, in German with English subtitles.

Caroline Link's excellent, Academy Award-winning foreign-language film, "Nowhere in Africa," follows the recent "Shanghai Ghetto" and "The Pianist" in exposing another harrowing corner of the Holocaust, stripping it bare of sentiment but, in this case, not of a sense of humor.

Based on a true story, the film follows three German Jews--father, mother, daughter--who flee Frankfurt for the rural flatlands of East Africa in the long, turbulent days leading up to the Nazi stronghold.

It's 1938. One member of the family leaves Germany first--Walter Redlich (Merab Ninidze), the patriarch of the group, who arrives in Kenya to find work at a cattle ranch before sending for his wife, Jettel (Juliane Kohler of "Aimee and Jaguar") and young daughter, Regina (Lea Kurka).

When Jettel and Regina arrive on boat, it's with the belief that all this unpleasantness will be behind them within a year. Two years tops.

As such, Jettel refuses to fully unpack--why bother to find room for the china when their trip will be relatively brief?

Removing from her bags only what she believes she'll need--such as an elaborate gown, which suggests this striking woman has no idea what awaits her in this barren land--she bulldozes through her new shack of a house with the disdain of someone more used to throwing parties than throwing mosquito nets around her bed at night.

Jettel isn't unlikable--far from it. However, she is complex, an alien in a foreign country struggling to come to terms with the difficulty of her circumstances.

That she loves her daughter is clear. Also clear is that her strained relationship with Walter could crumble at any moment. Indeed, part of the film's underlying tension comes from the lingering doubt that this man and this woman--this family--will be able to remain intact through the defining years to come.

You certainly hope so, if only for the sake of Regina, a special girl who is deeply shy when she leaves Germany, but who finds in Africa a place and a people that help to round her into a remarkable young woman (played by Karoline Eckertz), one whose relationship with the family cook, Owuor (Sidede Onyulo), is among the movie's best qualities.

Winner of five German Film Awards, including Best Picture, and beautifully acted by a great cast, "Nowhere in Africa" deals honestly with the past, refusing to romanticize the proceedings and thus ask us to feel something that's false and manufactured.

With some exceptions, that's the difference between a film made with a European mindset and one made with a Hollywood mindset, the latter of which is more inclined to pat our hands when all is said and done in an effort to reassure us that all is okay with the world.

Directors like Caroline Link know better, and in her work, you find electrifying jolts of the truth.

Grade: A

Written and directed by Caroline Link, based on the novel by Stefanie Zweig, 138 minutes, rated R, in German with English subtitles.

Caroline Link's excellent, Academy Award-winning foreign-language film, "Nowhere in Africa," follows the recent "Shanghai Ghetto" and "The Pianist" in exposing another harrowing corner of the Holocaust, stripping it bare of sentiment but, in this case, not of a sense of humor.

Based on a true story, the film follows three German Jews--father, mother, daughter--who flee Frankfurt for the rural flatlands of East Africa in the long, turbulent days leading up to the Nazi stronghold.

It's 1938. One member of the family leaves Germany first--Walter Redlich (Merab Ninidze), the patriarch of the group, who arrives in Kenya to find work at a cattle ranch before sending for his wife, Jettel (Juliane Kohler of "Aimee and Jaguar") and young daughter, Regina (Lea Kurka).

When Jettel and Regina arrive on boat, it's with the belief that all this unpleasantness will be behind them within a year. Two years tops.

As such, Jettel refuses to fully unpack--why bother to find room for the china when their trip will be relatively brief?

Removing from her bags only what she believes she'll need--such as an elaborate gown, which suggests this striking woman has no idea what awaits her in this barren land--she bulldozes through her new shack of a house with the disdain of someone more used to throwing parties than throwing mosquito nets around her bed at night.

Jettel isn't unlikable--far from it. However, she is complex, an alien in a foreign country struggling to come to terms with the difficulty of her circumstances.

That she loves her daughter is clear. Also clear is that her strained relationship with Walter could crumble at any moment. Indeed, part of the film's underlying tension comes from the lingering doubt that this man and this woman--this family--will be able to remain intact through the defining years to come.

You certainly hope so, if only for the sake of Regina, a special girl who is deeply shy when she leaves Germany, but who finds in Africa a place and a people that help to round her into a remarkable young woman (played by Karoline Eckertz), one whose relationship with the family cook, Owuor (Sidede Onyulo), is among the movie's best qualities.

Winner of five German Film Awards, including Best Picture, and beautifully acted by a great cast, "Nowhere in Africa" deals honestly with the past, refusing to romanticize the proceedings and thus ask us to feel something that's false and manufactured.

With some exceptions, that's the difference between a film made with a European mindset and one made with a Hollywood mindset, the latter of which is more inclined to pat our hands when all is said and done in an effort to reassure us that all is okay with the world.

Directors like Caroline Link know better, and in her work, you find electrifying jolts of the truth.

Grade: A

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. The following review of "Muriel's Wedding," never published here before, is the original 1997 review.

Directed by P.J. Hogan, 105 minutes, rated R.

In Porpoise Spit, Australia, awkward, insecure and big-boned Muriel (Toni Collette), clad in a cheap, stolen leopard-skin dress and wearing too much makeup, catches the bouquet at a beautiful friend’s wedding--and is immediately chastised by a group of outraged, equally beautiful women. “Throw it again!” they shout at Muriel. “You’ll never get married!”

Such is the plight for poor, misguided Muriel, who has no self-confidence, no prospects for a good job, and finds her sole inspiration not in her family, her friends or in her dreams, but in songs by ABBA. “I want my life to be as good as an ABBA song,” she says to herself in her bedroom mirror. “I want it to be as good as ‘Dancing Queen.’”

To achieve this unique sort of retro-nirvana, Muriel believes she must be rid of her family, which includes her tragic, over-worked mother, Betty (Jeanie Drynan), her cruel, failure of a father, Bill (Bill Hunter), and her siblings, who spend their days staring at the television in stunned, wide-eyed wonderment.

To be truly happy, Muriel also believes she must be married--only then will she be complete. Thus, when she suddenly comes into some money (which she steals), she flees her depressing, meager beginnings in the hick town of Porpoise Spit and takes flight to the glamorous lights of Sydney, where she gets a job at a video store, changes her name to Mariel, and tries to become someone she isn’t in order to catch her man.

Poor Muriel. Over and over again, she watches on video the ornate and trumpeted marriage of Lady Diana, Princess of Wales, but she doesn’t seem willing--or able--to remember that that marriage ended with Charles having an affair, the queen calling the whole thing off, and Diana desperately unhappy. Muriel, who has no self worth, sees only the romance of Diana’s Cinderella-like marriage, and believes that if she too can find a prince to marry her, her shapeless life will suddenly take form and at last have meaning.

Her obsession with marriage is explored when she starts frequenting wedding boutiques, lying to the sales people in an effort to be fitted for wedding gowns, and leaving with Polaroid pictures of herself in full wedding regalia. Eventually, she does find a wealthy South African swimmer who needs a wife to get an Australian passport, but finds that marriage with him--or with anybody she doesn’t truly love--is worthless and certainly no key to happiness.

Take comfort. By film’s end, Muriel does come into her own, and eventually chooses to live her life with all the fun and all the dignity of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.”

Grade: A-

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. The following review of "Muriel's Wedding," never published here before, is the original 1997 review.

Directed by P.J. Hogan, 105 minutes, rated R.

In Porpoise Spit, Australia, awkward, insecure and big-boned Muriel (Toni Collette), clad in a cheap, stolen leopard-skin dress and wearing too much makeup, catches the bouquet at a beautiful friend’s wedding--and is immediately chastised by a group of outraged, equally beautiful women. “Throw it again!” they shout at Muriel. “You’ll never get married!”

Such is the plight for poor, misguided Muriel, who has no self-confidence, no prospects for a good job, and finds her sole inspiration not in her family, her friends or in her dreams, but in songs by ABBA. “I want my life to be as good as an ABBA song,” she says to herself in her bedroom mirror. “I want it to be as good as ‘Dancing Queen.’”

To achieve this unique sort of retro-nirvana, Muriel believes she must be rid of her family, which includes her tragic, over-worked mother, Betty (Jeanie Drynan), her cruel, failure of a father, Bill (Bill Hunter), and her siblings, who spend their days staring at the television in stunned, wide-eyed wonderment.

To be truly happy, Muriel also believes she must be married--only then will she be complete. Thus, when she suddenly comes into some money (which she steals), she flees her depressing, meager beginnings in the hick town of Porpoise Spit and takes flight to the glamorous lights of Sydney, where she gets a job at a video store, changes her name to Mariel, and tries to become someone she isn’t in order to catch her man.

Poor Muriel. Over and over again, she watches on video the ornate and trumpeted marriage of Lady Diana, Princess of Wales, but she doesn’t seem willing--or able--to remember that that marriage ended with Charles having an affair, the queen calling the whole thing off, and Diana desperately unhappy. Muriel, who has no self worth, sees only the romance of Diana’s Cinderella-like marriage, and believes that if she too can find a prince to marry her, her shapeless life will suddenly take form and at last have meaning.

Her obsession with marriage is explored when she starts frequenting wedding boutiques, lying to the sales people in an effort to be fitted for wedding gowns, and leaving with Polaroid pictures of herself in full wedding regalia. Eventually, she does find a wealthy South African swimmer who needs a wife to get an Australian passport, but finds that marriage with him--or with anybody she doesn’t truly love--is worthless and certainly no key to happiness.

Take comfort. By film’s end, Muriel does come into her own, and eventually chooses to live her life with all the fun and all the dignity of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen.”

Grade: A-

Directed by Steven Spielberg, written by Scott Frank and Jon Cohen, 145 minutes, rated PG-13.

If we can somehow get through the next 52 years, homeland security will be airtight and crime as we know it will be abolished, starting in Washington, D.C. and fanning out nationally under the guidance of the federally funded Department of Pre-Crime.

All of this will come at the cost of our privacy, of course, but should that really be a concern considering the increasing risks of living in today’s brave new world?

With Big Brother able to glimpse the future with the help of three psychic prognosticators called “Pre-Cogs,” each of whom exist in a dream state and can see a crime before it happens, we’ll be safer than we are now. Safer from those plotting to murder us, safer from a world determined to undo us--safer, even, from ourselves.

It’s this scenario--and the sharply observed, provocative ramifications that bloom from it--that are at the core of Steven Spielberg’s ambitious thriller, “Minority Report,” which is the first film since Christopher Nolan’s “Memento” to offer so much to chew on, it deserves to be seen twice.

Set in the year 2054, the film, from a script Scott Frank and Jon Cohen adapted from a short story by Philip K. Dick (“Blade Runner,” “Total Recall”), is great-looking sci-fi noir, a brooding, cerebral look at the dangerous level of faith we place on technology that’s peppered with enough depth and glitz to satisfy those seeking something more substantial when it comes to their science-fiction.

In the film, Tom Cruise is Jon Anderton, a Pre-Crime cop who joined the department after the kidnapping and murder of his young son, Sean, six years before. Divorced from his wife, Lara (Kathryn Morris), and hooked on mood-lifting drugs, Jon is an emotional wreck, for sure, but he’s gifted at his job and has complete faith in the department’s ability to stop a crime cold before it even happens.

That is, of course, until the Pre-Cogs finger him.

Now certain the system is flawed, Jon is forced to hit the streets running; in 36 hours, he’ll allegedly kill a man he doesn’t know. If he is to survive over the next day and a half, he’ll need to stay one step ahead of his own department, which is now out to get him, and prove the Pre-Cogs wrong, something nearly impossible to do.

What spools from this premise is a labyrinthine plot that sometimes becomes unwieldy but which never becomes absurd. What's great about “Minority Report” is the sense that the roots for the future it envisions are being nurtured right now in government think tanks and corporate board rooms, fueled by a world that wants, above all, to be safe.

Borrowing from a wealth of influences--“Metropolis,” “Blade Runner,” “Tron” and “The Wizard of Oz” chief among them--Spielberg retains the chill of his film, “A.I.,” yet firms his grip on the proceedings.

He’s still a crowdpleaser, but unlike his friend George Lucas, who seems to have lost his way, Spielberg’s work doesn’t feel forced or emotionally stunted. Instead, it’s punched with ideas--and liberated by them.

With Colin Farrell, Max von Sydow, Samantha Morton and Lois Smith all pitch-perfect in supporting roles (if you look closely, you’ll also see director Cameron Crowe in cameo), “Minority Report” considers a world without murder and throws its bloody answers at the screen.

Thanks to the great cinematographer Janusz Kaminski and a top-notch special effects team, what sticks is beautiful to look at, but when you leave the movie, don’t be surprised if you feel less safe than you when you first went into it.

Grade: A-

View the trailer for "Minority Report" here:

Directed by Steven Spielberg, written by Scott Frank and Jon Cohen, 145 minutes, rated PG-13.

If we can somehow get through the next 52 years, homeland security will be airtight and crime as we know it will be abolished, starting in Washington, D.C. and fanning out nationally under the guidance of the federally funded Department of Pre-Crime.

All of this will come at the cost of our privacy, of course, but should that really be a concern considering the increasing risks of living in today’s brave new world?

With Big Brother able to glimpse the future with the help of three psychic prognosticators called “Pre-Cogs,” each of whom exist in a dream state and can see a crime before it happens, we’ll be safer than we are now. Safer from those plotting to murder us, safer from a world determined to undo us--safer, even, from ourselves.

It’s this scenario--and the sharply observed, provocative ramifications that bloom from it--that are at the core of Steven Spielberg’s ambitious thriller, “Minority Report,” which is the first film since Christopher Nolan’s “Memento” to offer so much to chew on, it deserves to be seen twice.

Set in the year 2054, the film, from a script Scott Frank and Jon Cohen adapted from a short story by Philip K. Dick (“Blade Runner,” “Total Recall”), is great-looking sci-fi noir, a brooding, cerebral look at the dangerous level of faith we place on technology that’s peppered with enough depth and glitz to satisfy those seeking something more substantial when it comes to their science-fiction.

In the film, Tom Cruise is Jon Anderton, a Pre-Crime cop who joined the department after the kidnapping and murder of his young son, Sean, six years before. Divorced from his wife, Lara (Kathryn Morris), and hooked on mood-lifting drugs, Jon is an emotional wreck, for sure, but he’s gifted at his job and has complete faith in the department’s ability to stop a crime cold before it even happens.

That is, of course, until the Pre-Cogs finger him.

Now certain the system is flawed, Jon is forced to hit the streets running; in 36 hours, he’ll allegedly kill a man he doesn’t know. If he is to survive over the next day and a half, he’ll need to stay one step ahead of his own department, which is now out to get him, and prove the Pre-Cogs wrong, something nearly impossible to do.

What spools from this premise is a labyrinthine plot that sometimes becomes unwieldy but which never becomes absurd. What's great about “Minority Report” is the sense that the roots for the future it envisions are being nurtured right now in government think tanks and corporate board rooms, fueled by a world that wants, above all, to be safe.

Borrowing from a wealth of influences--“Metropolis,” “Blade Runner,” “Tron” and “The Wizard of Oz” chief among them--Spielberg retains the chill of his film, “A.I.,” yet firms his grip on the proceedings.

He’s still a crowdpleaser, but unlike his friend George Lucas, who seems to have lost his way, Spielberg’s work doesn’t feel forced or emotionally stunted. Instead, it’s punched with ideas--and liberated by them.

With Colin Farrell, Max von Sydow, Samantha Morton and Lois Smith all pitch-perfect in supporting roles (if you look closely, you’ll also see director Cameron Crowe in cameo), “Minority Report” considers a world without murder and throws its bloody answers at the screen.

Thanks to the great cinematographer Janusz Kaminski and a top-notch special effects team, what sticks is beautiful to look at, but when you leave the movie, don’t be surprised if you feel less safe than you when you first went into it.

Grade: A-

View the trailer for "Minority Report" here:

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either renting or adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. The following review of "Three Kings," never published here before, is the original 1999 review.

Right up until its final moments, David Russell’s “Three Kings” does what the best movies do--it trust its audience completely.

There’s no time for hand-holding here. The film is on a mission, one that defies genre categorization because it knows too much about the absurdities of life and the lunacy of war to be pigeonholed so neatly.

This is the sort of film that finds shock and hilarity in blowing up a wayward cow lost in the deserts of Iraq, only to completely change tone moments later with the disturbing, graphic execution of frightened Kuwaiti woman pleading for her life.

Is “Three Kings” a comedy? A morality tale? A war movie? It’s all three--and then some. As dark as “Apocalypse Now,” “Full Metal Jacket” and “The Deer Hunter,” it has one essential difference: Unlike those films, this film isn’t so much about comprehending war, as it is about exploiting war for personal gain--first monetarily, then spiritually.

The film is set in March 1991, immediately after the Gulf War, which, as CNN showed every hour on the hour for several months, differed from Vietnam in that it was mostly fought with high-tech weaponry.

Push a button, obliterate a bunker. Flip a switch, cripple Saddam’s army. For those ground troops sent overseas to halt Hussein’s infiltration of Kuwait, much of their time was spent in the desert waiting for some sort of ground action to happen--which, for the most part, it didn’t.

To Russell’s great credit, he nevertheless leaps into what could have been a dull, dry cinematic terrain and mines a terrific story out of it.

The film follows four men (George Clooney, Ice Cube, Mark Wahlberg, Spike Jonze) who go AWOL in search of the gold bullion Saddam Hussein has stolen from Kuwait. It is about their greed, their thievery, and finally their morality.

Grade: A-

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either renting or adding to their Netflix queue, or renting at their local DVD store. The following review of "Three Kings," never published here before, is the original 1999 review.

Right up until its final moments, David Russell’s “Three Kings” does what the best movies do--it trust its audience completely.

There’s no time for hand-holding here. The film is on a mission, one that defies genre categorization because it knows too much about the absurdities of life and the lunacy of war to be pigeonholed so neatly.

This is the sort of film that finds shock and hilarity in blowing up a wayward cow lost in the deserts of Iraq, only to completely change tone moments later with the disturbing, graphic execution of frightened Kuwaiti woman pleading for her life.

Is “Three Kings” a comedy? A morality tale? A war movie? It’s all three--and then some. As dark as “Apocalypse Now,” “Full Metal Jacket” and “The Deer Hunter,” it has one essential difference: Unlike those films, this film isn’t so much about comprehending war, as it is about exploiting war for personal gain--first monetarily, then spiritually.

The film is set in March 1991, immediately after the Gulf War, which, as CNN showed every hour on the hour for several months, differed from Vietnam in that it was mostly fought with high-tech weaponry.

Push a button, obliterate a bunker. Flip a switch, cripple Saddam’s army. For those ground troops sent overseas to halt Hussein’s infiltration of Kuwait, much of their time was spent in the desert waiting for some sort of ground action to happen--which, for the most part, it didn’t.

To Russell’s great credit, he nevertheless leaps into what could have been a dull, dry cinematic terrain and mines a terrific story out of it.

The film follows four men (George Clooney, Ice Cube, Mark Wahlberg, Spike Jonze) who go AWOL in search of the gold bullion Saddam Hussein has stolen from Kuwait. It is about their greed, their thievery, and finally their morality.

Grade: A-

Directed by Eugene Jarecki, written by Alex Gibney, based on the book "The Trial of Henry Kissinger" by Christopher Hitchens, 80 minutes, not rated.

Of all the questions raised in Eugene Jarecki's stinging documentary "The Trials of Henry Kissinger," the most damning against Kissinger are those that condemn him as a war criminal.

Directly charging him with mass murder, the film colors Kissinger, winner of the 1973 Nobel Peace Prize, as a secretive, paranoid, duplicitous megalomaniac whose quest for power was put before our country's best interests and who rose to political superstardom while literally--the movie claims--getting away with decisions that left hundreds of thousands dead in Vietnam, Chile, Cambodia and East Timor.

The film, which screenwriter Alex Gibney based on Christopher Hitchens' book, presents both sides of the case against Kissinger, using a series of interviews with such Kissinger supporters as Gen. Alexander Haig and such detractors as William Safire and Brent Scowcroft, there's no denying that it’s slanted against the former secretary of state, that the undercurrent is ugly and that the atmosphere is akin to a lynching.

Bolstering its blistering tone are facts culled from archival footage and government documents declassified by Clinton in 1998, when Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet was arrested in London for his involvement in the 1973 assassination of Chilean president Salvador Allende.

As the film painstakingly points out, it was Kissinger who formally approved of the coup that led to Allende's death and, in turn, to Pinochet's rise to power. Also revealed and documented are Kissinger’s involvement in the secret and illegal bombing of Cambodia in 1969 and how he made certain in 1975 that Indonesia had all the U.S. weapons it needed to carry out its invasion of East Timor, which resulted in thousands of civilian deaths.

As narrated by an icily detached Brian Cox--who, it must be said, likely got the job because he’s best known for his portrayal of serial killer Hannibal Lecter in 1986's "Manhunter"--the film demands that its audience be fully up to speed on all of the events it covers.

Unlike the documentary "Bowling for Columbine," it has no patience for those who aren't intimately familiar with its subject. Instead, it immediately launches audiences into the heart of Kissinger's bloody mine fields, which some will likely appreciate but which others, such as younger viewers coming to the film without any concrete understanding of the times or the events that clouded them, might find isolating and confusing.

Peppered with a handful of breezy pop tunes that add a weird buoyancy to what's otherwise a dark tale of evil, the film’s treatment of Kissinger is unbalanced, for sure, but there's no denying its timeliness or, for that matter, Kissinger’s own enduring relevance.

In November 2003, President Bush appointed the former diplomat to head an independent commission to investigate what went wrong with U.S. intelligence in the months and days preceding Sept. 11.

It was a decision that ignited a media firestorm and found such critics as David Corn, Washington editor of The Nation, blasting Bush and Kissinger in his November 27 Capital Games column. “Asking Henry Kissinger to investigate government malfeasance or nonfeasance is akin to asking Slobodan Milosevic to investigate war crimes,” Corn wrote. “This is a sick, black-is-white, war-is-peace joke--a cruel insult to the memory of those killed on 9/11 and a screw-you affront to any American who believes the public deserves a full accounting of government actions or lack thereof.”

A month later--in spite of vowing he wouldn’t bow to political pressure--Kissinger, looking frail, stepped down from the post.

Grade: B

Directed by Eugene Jarecki, written by Alex Gibney, based on the book "The Trial of Henry Kissinger" by Christopher Hitchens, 80 minutes, not rated.

Of all the questions raised in Eugene Jarecki's stinging documentary "The Trials of Henry Kissinger," the most damning against Kissinger are those that condemn him as a war criminal.

Directly charging him with mass murder, the film colors Kissinger, winner of the 1973 Nobel Peace Prize, as a secretive, paranoid, duplicitous megalomaniac whose quest for power was put before our country's best interests and who rose to political superstardom while literally--the movie claims--getting away with decisions that left hundreds of thousands dead in Vietnam, Chile, Cambodia and East Timor.

The film, which screenwriter Alex Gibney based on Christopher Hitchens' book, presents both sides of the case against Kissinger, using a series of interviews with such Kissinger supporters as Gen. Alexander Haig and such detractors as William Safire and Brent Scowcroft, there's no denying that it’s slanted against the former secretary of state, that the undercurrent is ugly and that the atmosphere is akin to a lynching.

Bolstering its blistering tone are facts culled from archival footage and government documents declassified by Clinton in 1998, when Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet was arrested in London for his involvement in the 1973 assassination of Chilean president Salvador Allende.

As the film painstakingly points out, it was Kissinger who formally approved of the coup that led to Allende's death and, in turn, to Pinochet's rise to power. Also revealed and documented are Kissinger’s involvement in the secret and illegal bombing of Cambodia in 1969 and how he made certain in 1975 that Indonesia had all the U.S. weapons it needed to carry out its invasion of East Timor, which resulted in thousands of civilian deaths.

As narrated by an icily detached Brian Cox--who, it must be said, likely got the job because he’s best known for his portrayal of serial killer Hannibal Lecter in 1986's "Manhunter"--the film demands that its audience be fully up to speed on all of the events it covers.

Unlike the documentary "Bowling for Columbine," it has no patience for those who aren't intimately familiar with its subject. Instead, it immediately launches audiences into the heart of Kissinger's bloody mine fields, which some will likely appreciate but which others, such as younger viewers coming to the film without any concrete understanding of the times or the events that clouded them, might find isolating and confusing.

Peppered with a handful of breezy pop tunes that add a weird buoyancy to what's otherwise a dark tale of evil, the film’s treatment of Kissinger is unbalanced, for sure, but there's no denying its timeliness or, for that matter, Kissinger’s own enduring relevance.

In November 2003, President Bush appointed the former diplomat to head an independent commission to investigate what went wrong with U.S. intelligence in the months and days preceding Sept. 11.

It was a decision that ignited a media firestorm and found such critics as David Corn, Washington editor of The Nation, blasting Bush and Kissinger in his November 27 Capital Games column. “Asking Henry Kissinger to investigate government malfeasance or nonfeasance is akin to asking Slobodan Milosevic to investigate war crimes,” Corn wrote. “This is a sick, black-is-white, war-is-peace joke--a cruel insult to the memory of those killed on 9/11 and a screw-you affront to any American who believes the public deserves a full accounting of government actions or lack thereof.”

A month later--in spite of vowing he wouldn’t bow to political pressure--Kissinger, looking frail, stepped down from the post.

Grade: B

"Collateral Damage" Blu-ray
Apt title. Arnold Schwarzenegger is Gordy Brewer, an L.A. fireman whose wife and son are killed by a terrorist's bomb in a scene that can't be viewed without recalling the terrorist attacks of 2001. The movie was made before 9-11, so really, it has no weight and is just what you expect from a Schwarzenegger movie--one filled with a string of unlikely scenarios featuring our pumped-up hero. Furious that the CIA isn't doing enough to catch the terrorist who murdered his family, Gordy sets out to bring the man, identified as an American-hating Colombian named The Woolf (Cliff Curtis), to justice on his own. Predictably, it's a journey peppered with peril and danger, but surprisingly little suspense or tension. As an actor, Schwarzenegger still has the emotional range of a cube steak, which serves him well in such films as, say, "Terminator 3," in which he plays a defunct robot programmed to have no emotions. But in a movie whose subject demands he showcase a range of pain and rage, Schwarzenegger proves he's not our wartime Everyman--or what this clumsy movie needs. Rated R. Grade: D

“No Country for Old Men: 2-Disc Collector’s Edition” Blu-ray
Creepy time down south. This Academy Award-winning, modern-day Western hails from Ethan and Joel Coen, who arm themselves with Cormac McCarthy’s fantastic 2005 book and craft a violent, engrossing movie that never telegraphs or condescends--it keeps its twists and its surprises close to its bleeding heart, which is significant because in this movie, that heart often is hemorrhaging. Set in 1980, the film stars Josh Brolin as Llewelyn Moss, a Vietnam veteran hunting one day along the Texas-Mexico border when he comes upon a grisly mass murder in the desert. There, he also comes upon a stash of drugs and, later, $2 million in cash sandwiched within a black case. It's when Moss takes the money that everything goes wrong. After all, working against him is the formidable psychopath Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem, perfect), a man determined to track Moss down, get that money for himself--and God help anyone who gets in his way. One person who does is Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), who completes the film’s deadly triangle by going after Moss and Chigurh. This superb movie is about the sly weaving of skill and chance that unfolds among them all, with the characters crisscrossing in and out of each other’s reach with such mounting heat, they create a knot onscreen that tightens deep in your gut. The collector’s edition includes a digital copy, featurettes, interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. Rated R. Grade: A

"Collateral Damage" Blu-ray
Apt title. Arnold Schwarzenegger is Gordy Brewer, an L.A. fireman whose wife and son are killed by a terrorist's bomb in a scene that can't be viewed without recalling the terrorist attacks of 2001. The movie was made before 9-11, so really, it has no weight and is just what you expect from a Schwarzenegger movie--one filled with a string of unlikely scenarios featuring our pumped-up hero. Furious that the CIA isn't doing enough to catch the terrorist who murdered his family, Gordy sets out to bring the man, identified as an American-hating Colombian named The Woolf (Cliff Curtis), to justice on his own. Predictably, it's a journey peppered with peril and danger, but surprisingly little suspense or tension. As an actor, Schwarzenegger still has the emotional range of a cube steak, which serves him well in such films as, say, "Terminator 3," in which he plays a defunct robot programmed to have no emotions. But in a movie whose subject demands he showcase a range of pain and rage, Schwarzenegger proves he's not our wartime Everyman--or what this clumsy movie needs. Rated R. Grade: D

“No Country for Old Men: 2-Disc Collector’s Edition” Blu-ray
Creepy time down south. This Academy Award-winning, modern-day Western hails from Ethan and Joel Coen, who arm themselves with Cormac McCarthy’s fantastic 2005 book and craft a violent, engrossing movie that never telegraphs or condescends--it keeps its twists and its surprises close to its bleeding heart, which is significant because in this movie, that heart often is hemorrhaging. Set in 1980, the film stars Josh Brolin as Llewelyn Moss, a Vietnam veteran hunting one day along the Texas-Mexico border when he comes upon a grisly mass murder in the desert. There, he also comes upon a stash of drugs and, later, $2 million in cash sandwiched within a black case. It's when Moss takes the money that everything goes wrong. After all, working against him is the formidable psychopath Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem, perfect), a man determined to track Moss down, get that money for himself--and God help anyone who gets in his way. One person who does is Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), who completes the film’s deadly triangle by going after Moss and Chigurh. This superb movie is about the sly weaving of skill and chance that unfolds among them all, with the characters crisscrossing in and out of each other’s reach with such mounting heat, they create a knot onscreen that tightens deep in your gut. The collector’s edition includes a digital copy, featurettes, interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. Rated R. Grade: A

In this hip and spirited comedy by newcomer Greg Mottola, we are invited into the unraveling lives of the Malone family, who somehow, in the course of 87 minutes, manage to band together and bring dysfunction to an all-time new low.

It all starts out rather badly for Eliza Malone D’Amico (Hope Davis) when she finds a love letter addressed to her husband Louis (Stanley Tucci) by a mysterious, unknown ‘Sandy.’

Concerned--but not yet alarmed, as she believes her marriage is mistress proof--Eliza takes the letter to her parents house, where her sister Jo (Parker Posey) and her fiancee Carl (Liev Schreiber) are there for Thanksgiving. It is Rita Malone (Anne Meara), the hysterical, needy and co-dependent matriarch of the Malone clan, who whisks her family into their battle tank of a station wagon for one bumpy ride into New York City.

There, where Louis works as a book editor, they plan to confront him with the letter.

While what ensues might at times seem contrived, and the ending a bit too predictable for its own good, this nightmare of a family is nevertheless great fun to watch as they are forced to re-evaluate their relationships in misadventure after misadventure.

The performances--especially Anne Meara’s (Medusa anyone?) and Parker Posey’s (no one sneers better in America than Ms. Posey)--are strong. Follow my advice: If you’re having a family reunion anytime soon, forget the Prozac and see this movie first. I promise your family will look tame--perhaps even healthy--in comparison.

Grade: B+

In this hip and spirited comedy by newcomer Greg Mottola, we are invited into the unraveling lives of the Malone family, who somehow, in the course of 87 minutes, manage to band together and bring dysfunction to an all-time new low.

It all starts out rather badly for Eliza Malone D’Amico (Hope Davis) when she finds a love letter addressed to her husband Louis (Stanley Tucci) by a mysterious, unknown ‘Sandy.’

Concerned--but not yet alarmed, as she believes her marriage is mistress proof--Eliza takes the letter to her parents house, where her sister Jo (Parker Posey) and her fiancee Carl (Liev Schreiber) are there for Thanksgiving. It is Rita Malone (Anne Meara), the hysterical, needy and co-dependent matriarch of the Malone clan, who whisks her family into their battle tank of a station wagon for one bumpy ride into New York City.

There, where Louis works as a book editor, they plan to confront him with the letter.

While what ensues might at times seem contrived, and the ending a bit too predictable for its own good, this nightmare of a family is nevertheless great fun to watch as they are forced to re-evaluate their relationships in misadventure after misadventure.

The performances--especially Anne Meara’s (Medusa anyone?) and Parker Posey’s (no one sneers better in America than Ms. Posey)--are strong. Follow my advice: If you’re having a family reunion anytime soon, forget the Prozac and see this movie first. I promise your family will look tame--perhaps even healthy--in comparison.

Grade: B+

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a new feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either renting or adding to their Netflix queue. The following review of "The Good Girl," never published here before, is the original 2002 review.

Directed by Miguel Arteta, written by Mike White, 93 minutes, rated R.

In "The Good Girl," Miguel Arteta's beautifully observed follow-up to "Chuck & Buck" and "Star Maps," Jennifer Aniston proves again why she's one of the smarter television actresses working today.

Instead of using her considerable clout to star in big-budget films designed to break her free from her television roots and launch her into a new career as a screen actress, she's played it smart, wisely choosing to appear in a series of smaller films that showcase a range not always apparent in her television show, "Friends."

In such films as Nicholas Hytner's "The Object of My Affection," Mike Judge's "Office Space" and especially last year's "Rock Star," in which she played a rock star's girlfriend, Aniston has created an impressive body of work that stands as a persuasive argument for her transition into movies.

Instead of demanding her place on the big screen, as so many other popular television actors have done, she's earned her place on the marquee and generated a good deal of respect in the process. With the final season of "Friends" set to air this month, it seems as though Aniston is the one friend who will have the best shot at screen success when the series ends.

In "The Good Girl," Aniston is Justine Last, a 30-year-old cosmetic-counter sales clerk at a West Texas department store chain that's such a dilapidated pit, it makes the current shopping climate at Ames seem like a high-end experience. The store in question is called the Retail Rodeo and it's hell on Earth, the sort of drab, colorless box that looks as bankrupt as the poor souls trying to keep it running.

And that's the point. Everyone at the Retail Rodeo is barely functioning themselves, including the customers, who come to Justine and her co-worker, Gwen (Deborah Rush), for cosmetic makeovers when you sense what they really want and need is a makeover of their own lives.

The only person eager to break through the emotional fog hanging over the store is Cheryl (Zooey Deschanel), a caustic cashier with a mean mouth and a face full of makeup who taunts the customers with sarcastic jabs that momentarily lift them out of their misery and into the moment. She's a witch - and a breath of fresh air.

But Justine is drowning. Unhappily married for seven years to a house painter named Phil (John C. Reilly), a man she refers to as "a pig who can talk" who gets stoned nightly with his buddy Bubba (Tim Blake Nelson), Justine is one of those small-town girls who never found the courage to realize her true potential. And then she meets Holden (Jake Gyllenhaal), a brooding young man hired at the Rodeo who seems as disappointed and as disenchanted in the world as she.

Awkwardly, they form a friendship, fall into lust and are soon recklessly carrying on a torrid affair in the Rodeo's cramped stockroom and in nearby motels.

Since this is a small town, with all that implies, Justine and Holden must deal with the ugly ramifications that erupt when their tryst suddenly becomes public.

I have a theory about movies that, for the most part, has proved true over the years: Give a film 10 minutes and you can tell whether it's going to work or whether it's going to fail, whether a director will connect with an audience or create a disconnect from which most movies never recover.

"The Good Girl" is a good example of this. Almost immediately, from the film's bleak opening shot, which cuts from the Retail Rodeo sagging under the heat of a blistering Texas sun to a close-up of Justine sagging with boredom under the store's fluorescent gloom, you sense this is going to be one of those small, carefully realized gems that exposes something true about the human experience. And it is.

Grade: A-

View the trailer here:

Editor's Note: Netflix It is a new feature meant to draw attention to older films some readers might have missed, and might consider either renting or adding to their Netflix queue. The following review of "The Good Girl," never published here before, is the original 2002 review.

Directed by Miguel Arteta, written by Mike White, 93 minutes, rated R.

In "The Good Girl," Miguel Arteta's beautifully observed follow-up to "Chuck & Buck" and "Star Maps," Jennifer Aniston proves again why she's one of the smarter television actresses working today.

Instead of using her considerable clout to star in big-budget films designed to break her free from her television roots and launch her into a new career as a screen actress, she's played it smart, wisely choosing to appear in a series of smaller films that showcase a range not always apparent in her television show, "Friends."

In such films as Nicholas Hytner's "The Object of My Affection," Mike Judge's "Office Space" and especially last year's "Rock Star," in which she played a rock star's girlfriend, Aniston has created an impressive body of work that stands as a persuasive argument for her transition into movies.

Instead of demanding her place on the big screen, as so many other popular television actors have done, she's earned her place on the marquee and generated a good deal of respect in the process. With the final season of "Friends" set to air this month, it seems as though Aniston is the one friend who will have the best shot at screen success when the series ends.

In "The Good Girl," Aniston is Justine Last, a 30-year-old cosmetic-counter sales clerk at a West Texas department store chain that's such a dilapidated pit, it makes the current shopping climate at Ames seem like a high-end experience. The store in question is called the Retail Rodeo and it's hell on Earth, the sort of drab, colorless box that looks as bankrupt as the poor souls trying to keep it running.

And that's the point. Everyone at the Retail Rodeo is barely functioning themselves, including the customers, who come to Justine and her co-worker, Gwen (Deborah Rush), for cosmetic makeovers when you sense what they really want and need is a makeover of their own lives.

The only person eager to break through the emotional fog hanging over the store is Cheryl (Zooey Deschanel), a caustic cashier with a mean mouth and a face full of makeup who taunts the customers with sarcastic jabs that momentarily lift them out of their misery and into the moment. She's a witch - and a breath of fresh air.

But Justine is drowning. Unhappily married for seven years to a house painter named Phil (John C. Reilly), a man she refers to as "a pig who can talk" who gets stoned nightly with his buddy Bubba (Tim Blake Nelson), Justine is one of those small-town girls who never found the courage to realize her true potential. And then she meets Holden (Jake Gyllenhaal), a brooding young man hired at the Rodeo who seems as disappointed and as disenchanted in the world as she.

Awkwardly, they form a friendship, fall into lust and are soon recklessly carrying on a torrid affair in the Rodeo's cramped stockroom and in nearby motels.

Since this is a small town, with all that implies, Justine and Holden must deal with the ugly ramifications that erupt when their tryst suddenly becomes public.

I have a theory about movies that, for the most part, has proved true over the years: Give a film 10 minutes and you can tell whether it's going to work or whether it's going to fail, whether a director will connect with an audience or create a disconnect from which most movies never recover.

"The Good Girl" is a good example of this. Almost immediately, from the film's bleak opening shot, which cuts from the Retail Rodeo sagging under the heat of a blistering Texas sun to a close-up of Justine sagging with boredom under the store's fluorescent gloom, you sense this is going to be one of those small, carefully realized gems that exposes something true about the human experience. And it is.

Grade: A-

View the trailer here:

Written and directed by Burr Steers, 97 minutes, rated R.

Burr Steers' "Igby Goes Down" is enough to make even the most troubled, dysfunctional group seem fun and light-hearted in comparison.

Just look at what it has to offer: a self-destructive, schizophrenic father locked away in a mental institution. An abusive, pill-popping mother so self-absorbed, she could double as a sponge. A high-living, heroin-addicted whore who just wants to be loved.

There's more: a godfather who communicates best with his fists. Sibling rivalry taken to the extreme. And - at the center of it all - poor Igby Slocum (Kieran Culkin), a bright yet aimless 17-year-old boy whose biting wit is reminiscent of Salinger's Holden Caufield's but who, you sense, has a bit more of a backbone.

The film, a smashing debut by Steers, is caustic and dark - and often blisteringly funny. It's also surprisingly moving and affecting, a movie about a shattered, upper-class family on hard times whose emotional wounds run so deep, they'll likely never heal, so why bother trying to fix them? At least that's Igby's philosophy.

The film, which is like "The Royal Tenenbaums" without the quirks, has a terrific cast and some very smart dialogue. It's about a young man overcoming a peculiar situation - a life of wealth, class, high expectations and private schools - and it portrays that situation as every bit as deadly and as dire as any story steeped in the hood.

In it, Susan Sarandon gives it her all as Mimi Slocum, a hateful shrew who poisons her sons, Igby and the older Oliver (Ryan Phillippe), with the sort of love that inspires Igby to call her the Heinous One, apparently because "Medea was already taken." She's perfect in the role, often recalling Bette Davis at her sneering best.

When Igby is kicked out of his umpteenth private school and becomes the official Slocum slacker, he decides he can't bear his mother's barbed insults any longer and pushes to find a way out.

At a party in the Hamptons thrown by his sleazy godfather, D.H. (Jeff Goldblum), Igby befriends two women - the druggy society girl Rachel (Amanda Peet), and the down-to-earth Sookie Sapperstein (Claire Danes) - who help him to see his world for what it is so he can have the power to break free.

While the film is filled with excellent performances, the standout being Culkin, its momentum comes from wondering which way Igby will go. Will he succumb to his situation as his father (Bill Pullman) did and "go down," as the title suggests? Or will life give him a second chance? It takes a murder-suicide to tip the balance in his favor.

Grade: A

Written and directed by Burr Steers, 97 minutes, rated R.

Burr Steers' "Igby Goes Down" is enough to make even the most troubled, dysfunctional group seem fun and light-hearted in comparison.

Just look at what it has to offer: a self-destructive, schizophrenic father locked away in a mental institution. An abusive, pill-popping mother so self-absorbed, she could double as a sponge. A high-living, heroin-addicted whore who just wants to be loved.

There's more: a godfather who communicates best with his fists. Sibling rivalry taken to the extreme. And - at the center of it all - poor Igby Slocum (Kieran Culkin), a bright yet aimless 17-year-old boy whose biting wit is reminiscent of Salinger's Holden Caufield's but who, you sense, has a bit more of a backbone.

The film, a smashing debut by Steers, is caustic and dark - and often blisteringly funny. It's also surprisingly moving and affecting, a movie about a shattered, upper-class family on hard times whose emotional wounds run so deep, they'll likely never heal, so why bother trying to fix them? At least that's Igby's philosophy.

The film, which is like "The Royal Tenenbaums" without the quirks, has a terrific cast and some very smart dialogue. It's about a young man overcoming a peculiar situation - a life of wealth, class, high expectations and private schools - and it portrays that situation as every bit as deadly and as dire as any story steeped in the hood.

In it, Susan Sarandon gives it her all as Mimi Slocum, a hateful shrew who poisons her sons, Igby and the older Oliver (Ryan Phillippe), with the sort of love that inspires Igby to call her the Heinous One, apparently because "Medea was already taken." She's perfect in the role, often recalling Bette Davis at her sneering best.

When Igby is kicked out of his umpteenth private school and becomes the official Slocum slacker, he decides he can't bear his mother's barbed insults any longer and pushes to find a way out.

At a party in the Hamptons thrown by his sleazy godfather, D.H. (Jeff Goldblum), Igby befriends two women - the druggy society girl Rachel (Amanda Peet), and the down-to-earth Sookie Sapperstein (Claire Danes) - who help him to see his world for what it is so he can have the power to break free.

While the film is filled with excellent performances, the standout being Culkin, its momentum comes from wondering which way Igby will go. Will he succumb to his situation as his father (Bill Pullman) did and "go down," as the title suggests? Or will life give him a second chance? It takes a murder-suicide to tip the balance in his favor.

Grade: A