DrJoTab

I was a little surprised at first to see this film ranked #1 out of all possible candidates in the IMDB user ratings. When I thought about it, though, it made more sense--this is a "Rocky"-type feel-good movie that doesn't really make you think and reinforces what we would all like to believe about human nature. Don't get me wrong--it's a fine film (I gave it a solid 7 out of 10), it's just not, in my view, up there with _Casablanca_ and _The Graduate_.

I guess the main problem I have with _Shawshank_ is the nature of the script and characters. Think about it: is there a single person in the film who isn't a one-dimensional cardboard cut-out with very simple motivations, or a Hollywood cliche or stereotype? We have (in no particular order), a corrupt, bigoted prison warden (who is a religious hypocrite for good measure), a brutal prison guard, a man who is wrongly accused of murder, an old convict who knows all the ropes and can't live on the outside, and a convict who is murdered by the brutal guards. Now where have we seen this stuff before? Only in a few dozen movies made from the 20s to the 90s. There's really nothing new here. Probably this comes from the fact that the story is from Stephen King, who doesn't really do well with complex characters (a problem I noted as far back as _Carrie_).

If you want to see a good prison picture, try _Cool Hand Luke_ (from which this movie borrows considerably). If you want an escape picture, see either _The Great Escape_ or _Papillon_, both with Steve McQueen. Or if, by some chance, you want a crime and punishment movie that really makes you think, go with the late great Stanley Kubrick's _A Clockwork Orange_.

I couldn't stop thinking about the warden: doesn't he have a family? How did they feel? What are they going to do now? I realize the story is inside the prison, but I wish the movie had made better use of its characters than simply as simple-minded symbols of EVIL or VIRTUE.

I'm not Mr. Cranky, I did enjoy the movie, but I enjoyed it the same way I do an Italian dinner at the Olive Garden--a well-constructed genre product with nothing special to commend it.

I saw this movie in a theater at the tender age of eleven in its original release. I've seen it a number of times on TV since (I even own a copy of the video), but it's just not the same . . . it's a shame it can't really be appreciated on the small screen.

Anyway, the story is plausible (especially given when it was made), Bruce Dern is terrific as his usual Character on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown (© ® Patent Pending), and the special effects don't get in the way of the story as they do in some films made contemporaneously with this one. Instead, we get a real performance from Dern, not just a collection of tics, and a thought-provoking, emotion-tugging plot with a beautiful payoff and final scene.

I like this film better than _Star Wars_, not because it's fashionable lately to trash SW and SW-mania, but because _Silent Running_, like _Close Encounters_, is a more intellectually and emotionally involving movie experience.

By the way--fuhgedaboudit, Joan Baez was great on the soundtrack.

I remember seeing this movie in a theatre with my then-girlfriend in 1980. I remember how I had to hold my tongue and not trash it on the way out, because she loved it (or maybe she just loved Mr. Reeve). I remember really _hating_ this movie, and my opinion hadn't changed when I recently saw it again on cable TV.

I'm not sure why. It is reasonably well-directed and the costumes and sets are beautiful to behold. It is even competently acted, though I think that all of Christopher Reeve's work is being re-evaluated in light of his terrible accident, much as JFK's presidency is overrated because he was killed, and I think _Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman_ is the best thing Jane Seymour ever did. (Note: Damnation-with-faint-praise alert for the irony-impaired.)

There is something that appeals to the romantic nature, I suppose, in stories of love that survives time and even uses supernatural methods to triumph over adversity, but somehow this movie doesn't do it for me. Maybe I'm comparing it unfavorably with _Time and Again_, one of my favorite novels which I understand has been on the Hollywood back burner for a decade or so (see the IMDB entry for more information), or the 1979 _Time After Time_ with Malcolm McDowell and Mary Steenburgen.

At any rate, I'd say this ranks up there with _Sleepless in Seattle_ (which I liked) as the Ultimate Chick Movie. I was also intrigued by Mr. Santiago Collazo's comment that this story may have inspired _Titanic_. The more I think about it, he's right. And that gives me yet another reason to dislike _Somewhere in Time_.

The hoopla surrounding this film (and the book, too, of course) had to do with whether this was really "about" Bill Clinton's 1992 campaign. Well, who cares? This is a terrific film, full of outstanding performances (especially Kathy Bates, who should get an Oscar nomination if there's any justice).

But unquestionably, the best part of the movie is to see that Mike Nichols, one of my favorite directors, has still got it. I wondered after Working Girl if he'd just turned into another Taylor HACKford. Nope! The scene where Henry and Libby drive back across the causeway from Key West--how did he do that? The camera shows the inside of their mini-van through the driver's window, which is rolled down. They talk for a couple of minutes--it looks like the camera is mounted on a fixed platform outside the window. Then, as they finish their conversation, the camera pulls up and up until we are looking down at the van from a hundred feet up! How did he do it?

Kris Kristofferson, at his drugged-out peak in the mid-70s, finds himself barely able to squeeze on to the screen alongside La Streisand's humongous ego and discount-store feminism.

None of the characters are really likable; I was _so_ glad when Kristofferson's Ferrari went over that hill and crashed.

If you want to see a good movie about rock and roll stardom, try _The Buddy Holly Story_ (made only about a year and a half after this dreck).

All I could think of while I was watching this derivative, hokey, silly sci-fi fantasy was: "They could have made ten $20 million movies for what this cost."

Think about it--ten "The Usual Suspects," ten "Fargo"s, ten "This is Spinal Tap"s, ten . . .

I don't want to think about it.

When I was a freshman in high school (1973-74), I spent a lot of time daydreaming, especially in English class. One of my favorite fantasies was that the U.S. would be invaded by some foreign power, maybe the Russkies, and that a group of high school students (led by some intrepid cool guy, like, oh . . . me, for instance) would have to fight them off using guerilla tactics and maybe secret underground bases. Of course, I would also have some really happenin' chicks on the team, all of whom would fall for me in a big way. After all, in this post-apocalyptic world, there would be no reason for any moralistic rules like no premarital sex, right? So anyway, we would fight the Russians using cool customized cars and bikes with machine guns and rocket launchers mounted on them, and would capture the bad guys' weapons and use them to attack the Russian bases. Man, I loved that daydream. . .

Then I saw Red Dawn. They ripped off my whole idea! I'll sue! Hey, if Art Buchwald can nail Eddie Murphy for stealing Coming to America, I'm sure to win.

Dang. I forgot to copyright the idea. Or even write it down.

I was never a fan of Adam Sandler on SNL and his first few movies (Happy Gilmore in particular) made me think he'd end up like fellow SNL alum Chevy Chase: a Hollywood loser. But The Wedding Singer shows that he has a talent for romantic comedy. Who knew? His character is likable and smart (unlike his other films). Also, the uncredited cameos from Steve Buscemi and Jon Lovitz, and the credited one from Billy Idol, are hilarious.

The main downside was the constant stream of references to 80s bands, pop culture trends and politics. Come on, we get the idea already. My wife and I were married in August 1985 also, and I found several of the references inaccurate (for example, I knew a number of people with CD players and large CD collections in 1985--I found it unlikely that characters would be totally unfamiliar with the technology).

Even if you hate "mock" documentaries, even if you hate Rob Reiner, you owe it to yourself to see this movie, especially if you enjoy watching pomposity deflated. Spinal Tap is five guys who, given their apparent songwriting and performing talent, take themselves _way_ too seriously. I mean, how serious can you be if you've written songs called "Sex Farm" and "Big Bottom" (not to mention "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You (Tonite)")? Note to the uninitiated: "Big Bottom" is _not_ about bass drums.

There isn't a scene in this film that doesn't absolutely slay me. I also have the soundtrack album, which has a featureless black cover (if you've seen the movie, you'll understand). Spinal Tap's "comeback" album and concert video from 1993, "Break Like the Wind," is okay but not anywhere near as funny as the original.

My favorite line from the film is uttered by David St. Hubbins:

"It's such a fine line between stupid and clever."

Yes it is, David, but this film stays firmly on the clever side.

This is a great, great film. Robert Duvall richly deserved the Oscar he won for Best Actor, and Bruce Beresford's direction is quirky but consistently entertaining.

The most wonderful aspect of this movie is how the screenwriter (Horton Foote) doesn't let the characters engage in all the obvious, "Hollywood" histrionics that the plot would allow them to do. For example: when Mack (Duvall) finally meets his long-lost daughter late in the film, he doesn't run to her and embrace her with tears staining his face while music swells beneath the scene, as a hack director would have him do. Instead, he looks at his shoes, makes small talk, and acts embarrassed. Why? Because, consistently throughout the film, he doesn't believe he deserves the good things that come his way.

This is the tale of a man who, in the absolute pit of despair and hopelessness, is saved by the love of a good woman and the love of God. You need to see it.

This is a truly great movie--but unquestionably the best thing about it is the writing. I have seen few scripts in the history of film that are as tightly constructed, as witty, and full of as much real genius as you will find here. On top of that, Dustin Hoffman, Teri Garr, Jessica Lange and Charles Durning give the performances of their lives.

But the real standout among the actors is Bill Murray. As silly and tedious as Murray can be in some roles, he is perfect here as a self-important playwright who has just the right "zinger" lines to bring everyone else down to size. A truly great _supporting_ performance.

I must have seen this movie three dozen times, and every time I find something new in it. While the script is wonderful, the acting first-rate, and the soundtrack evocative and beautiful, I still have to say that the best parts of The Graduate are the cinematography and editing. During the long musical interlude halfway through, we watch Benjamin drift aimlessly from one assignation with Mrs. Robinson to another, lying to himself, lying to his parents, just plain lying . . . around. He walks through a door in the hotel room to find himself in his parent's den. Then he walks from the den into the hotel room--and so on. I don't think a director has ever evoked the pointlessness of a character's life better than Mike Nichols does in this one scene.

Also, when Benjamin finally tells Elaine who the married woman is, the camera slowly pulls her face into focus as she realizes the impact of his words. It just doesn't get any better than this.

Two tidbits: (1) I don't think the movie is dated at all; and (2) isn't it more than cool that we never find out Mrs. Robinson's first name?