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All this mystification expressed over why this flick wasn't considered for an Oscar is, in itself, a bit mystifying. While it wouldn't have been the first time Hollywood recognized what is essentially a tawdry melodrama in that fashion, let's not confuse a bloated, ineptly manipulative movie with great art.

It LOOKS great, though. Very high production values with great costumes and beautiful period sets. And the cinematography is gorgeous. All at the service of... ? A convoluted story, put in the hands of people that seem to have no idea how to tell it. Some good actors involved, though, gamely trying to make something of execrable material.

First, it should be said that this movie has some stunningly beautiful visual images--ones that really stick with you. The trick is taking them in without becoming utterly nauseated in the process.

Anyone who has done any serious thinking about life and literature is probably going to have some serious problems with this flick. One gets a smattering of lots of different philosophies--Hindu, Buddhist, Judeo-Christian, Jungian, "New Age" (which is probably the moniker that best encapsulates the views of life and afterlife)--and lots of borrowed symbols from various brands of mythology, but it's all so mush-minded that ultimately none of the ideas are the least bit compelling. Of course, the weak dialogue doesn't help... it's the kind smug, sophomoric writing where EVERYTHING sounds like a cliché, even when it isn't (which is almost never). The whole mess is capped by a New-Age retelling of the Orpheus legend, with a hell/underworld populated by countless kvetching souls.

As an actor, Robin Williams seems to have two modes: twinkly, calculated lovability and scrappy earnestness, and it's impossible to say which one is more annoying. Annabella Sciorra manages to get in some good work in a thankless role.

I found myself constantly rolling my eyes and groaning through this one... the only explanation I can come up with as to how I managed to watch the whole thing is the car-wreck analogy--you desperately want to look away but you just... can't...

Well-written and very well-acted, "El Diputado" is a very human take on a story of political and sexual intrigue in recently-post-Franco Madrid. The politician Roberto Orbea (José Sacristán) is set up by political opponents, aware of his secret proclivities, for sexual entanglement with the street hustler Juanito (José Luis Alonso). But the unexpected happens and Juanito begins to experience real feelings of love for Orbea, and the political opponents, when the suspect they are being played, are none too happy about this. Mariá Luisa San José is Orbea's almost unbelievably understanding wife.

The three principal actors do some really wonderful work, aided by some very good writing, as members of the love triangle--sterling examples of the "less is more" approach to acting. The viewer feels real compassion for these all-too-human characters, in stark contrast to a movie like "Making Love"--the love-triangle plot reminded me of it, albeit very superficially--which opted for caricatures over actual people.

The look of the movie is real '70's, which only adds to it's immediacy and charm.

A very entertaining movie that seems to me to be ripe for re-release on DVD.

This movie is made in the "mock-umentary" style popularized in recent by Christopher Guest and co. ("Best in Show", "A Mighty Wind"), yet interestingly, it was made before all the ones I can think of except "Spinal Tap". And to my mind, it is just as good, if not better than the others. "Man of the Year" is based on Dirk Shafer's experiences as a Playgirl model--personally, I'd love to know just how much of the movie was based on real events; the movie is so skillfully done, it's difficult to tell. It has a subtle, intelligent humor all its own, and is, at times, quite touching (something other mockumentaries never get near).

A fine piece of movie-making, well worth watching.

I first saw this movie when I was in my teens, and it was the first opera experience I truly loved. Since I now work in opera, that was ultimately a very important event in my life! Bergman manages to achieve the impossible--a perfect synthesis of drama and music, the visual and the aural. (Years ago someone told me he thought that opera--the art that combines drama with music--ended up by denigrating both forms, and I don't completely disagree with that.) But in this almost magical movie, all of the flaws inherent in the piece (and there are many--poor dramatic structure, confusing story line, nonsensical plot elements) are ironed out, or somehow don't matter. Visually, it's sumptuous, thanks to Sven Nykvist's usual gorgeous cinematography, and aurally it's quite pleasing, despite some pretty mediocre singing--but thanks to Bergman's genius, that doesn't matter, either. Because of his careful work with the singing actors, every intention and dramatic impulse is realized, all motivations are clear--something you never see on an opera stage. Of course, much of it is impossible on an opera stage.....Bergman can use close-ups where opera can't. And a little ways into the opera, one realizes that gradually, imperceptibly, the stage has "opened out", and we're on sets and in places that would never be possible in a theater. He makes it all work, seamlessly.

In a way, the beautiful 18th-century Drottningholm Court Theater is a secondary star--one can't imagine a more perfect place for this opera to be performed. But the real star (among the singer/actors, at least) is Håkan Hagegård. There is no more beautiful and charming (both physically and vocally) Papageno imaginable--he became an international opera star a few years later. He more than compensates for all the other weak vocal links in the cast.

You'll never see a better "Magic Flute" than this.

How on earth does one attempt to describe a movie like this? First, a caveat or two: do not go to this film expecting any sort of plot, or even coherent narrative; do not expect any information about Maria Malibran's life, or even her death, for that matter (she died of complications from a horseback riding accident--one could never guess this from the film); do not expect any sense of what it is to be a singer, or any sense of opera as an art form; do not even expect to have any clear idea which face on the screen is supposed to be Maria Malibran.

Obviously, this film was an utter, confused mystery to me. A few arresting images (and a bunch of commonplace and pointless ones) are all well and good, but one needs some sort of structure (even the suggestion of a guideline would have been welcome) to hang them on in order for them to have any real power. I'll do my best to describe the opening 15 minutes or so of the film as I remember it (it's been almost 15 years.....it's stayed with me this long, so it must have had something to it, but god knows what)......there are two female heads, from about the shoulders up, in the frame leaning in from either side toward each other at odd angles. The faces are made up with powder (complete with a beauty mark or two) and both appear to be wearing 18th-cent.-style wigs, suggesting stage costuming (or court dress) of some kind. In the background, a muted, scratchy recording of a chunk of the first movement of Beethoven's Triple Concerto is playing (which goes back to some point part-way-through the movement several times, in case you didn't hear it the first time, presumably--and this not any sort of logical edit we're talking about). There is no dialogue, no movement (perhaps the heads do, VERY slowly, lean imperceptibly toward each other...it's difficult to know for sure). This goes on for 15 minutes or so. That's it. The effect would be mind-numbing if it weren't so annoying. It then shifts to something else completely, and someone finally says something, but one is so busy trying to figure out what Schroeter could have possibly meant to convey by that impossibly long opening exercise that it's difficult settle into any sort of "groove" with it. Nothing is explained, almost nothing is suggested, and what is suggested is done so with no frame of reference, making the "suggestions" ultimately meaningless.

Perhaps the key is to experience this film "as a dream". I, for one, do not experience art that way (and this film certainly has pretensions to "art"!), and would suggest that if it has nothing more to offer than a bunch of dream-like images and sequences with no apparent connection, subtext, or or even frame of reference, then it's not art in the first place. Which leaves the question, "What is it?"

This film of Frederick Lonsdale's play is one of my favorite movies of all time. Not because it breaks new artistic ground--it's simply as close to being perfectly cast and perfectly executed as one can imagine. It's Bea Lillie's most important work on film (and as far as I can tell, except for "Thoroughly Modern Millie", the only thing of hers available on home video....will someone PLEASE bring out "Doctor Rhythm"?), and it really does give us a sense of why she was so famous in her day. The amazing Clive Brook is her perfect foil, and Googie Withers is beautiful and utterly charming.

"On Approval" is full of small pleasures that, because of their perfection, are unforgettable. Who can forget Bea Lillie's perfect delivery of "You will find the dinghy by the jetty."? The bickering of Lillie and Brook ("Maria, I don't want to speak to you, but I must." "I don't want to speak to you and I won't!") .....Googie Withers refusing a proposal of marriage by asking the color of her eyes.....Bea Lillie doing vocal exercises at the piano....I could go on endlessly. It's exquisite fun.

If you're an Almodovar fan, this film is definitely worth seeing; others may find it a bit obscure. Almodovar's unique personality is already in full evidence in this first film of his to be widely distributed. Yes, most of its low-budget seams are in full evidence, but compensates with moments of outrageous hilarity that no one else would even attempt. It's worth seeing for the lesbian rock star's punk love song to her lover alone.