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Men who may be enamored of their own prowess should see this machine in action --- if women across the country found out about it, they would have no use for us anymore at all. Watching the movie is both a stimulating and humbling experience.

A thoughtful, somber exploration of the vagaries of depression and the inability of psychological treatment to get at the root of human complexity. Could stand to be edited, comes close enough to cliche to smell it, but always pulls away at the last second. Angelina Jolie is, of course, perfect, but Winona Ryder has perhaps the more difficult (i.e., less showy) role and acquits herself well. Destined to be clasped to the bosom of misunderstood 18-year-old girls.

Honest, beautiful, ugly, sneaky, clever, open, cautious, revealing, reckless, wonderfully alive. A seamless criscrossing of the glory and raw-nerve connectedness of youth with the wisdom and foolishness of age, shaking each of them until the truth falls out all over poor Lester Burnham. By the time it's closed its circle, it has done what all the best films do --- it has set your own mind and heart into motion.

As vibrant, creative and joyfully tuneful as the soundtrack is, it's almost a violation of the laws of physics that the film itself is so unspeakably awful. Plodding, plotless, static, a terrible, terrible mistake. It's enough to make a man change his name to an unpronouncable symbol! But by all means, get that soundtrack.

Once I had the flu, and I hurt all over so badly I couldn't sleep. I was trapped on the living room couch, wondering if I'd ever recover, and the only thing that made me feel better was "The Princess Bride." I think I watched it five times that night. That was about 10 years ago, but even today I can't watch just a little of it without watching the whole thing, and I can't watch any of it without smiling. It does an end run around my pessimism and cynicism and gets right at the uncorruptible romantic inside me.