fordraff

This film is nothing more than a Made-for-TV type movie. I went to see it because it played at the local art house; in fact, the movie seems to be playing mainly in art houses across the country. Does the presence of Paul Giamatti automatically result in a film's being shown in art houses? An art house release led me to expect something far superior to this.

At any event, within ten or fifteen minutes, you will know the entire plot because you have seen this film hundreds of times previously. Disturbed teenage boy finds a new life with his foster parents (so to speak) and his participation in sports to live happily ever after. Dad also learns a lesson. There is barely an iota of plausibility in this film. And the actors are all better qualified to handle the parts than the parts demand of them. A waste of talented actors. A waste of my time and admission fee.

The following contains A MAJOR PLOT SPOILER!

This film is as bad as they come and was a total waste of 83 minutes. It is supposedly a film noir, but all it has is the look of noir, and it's not a very good imitation of the real noir look, either. The film is based on a musical called "City Nights" by Glenn M. Stewart, which may account for why most of the film takes place in one set, the Tower nightclub. At first, this nightclub is interesting to look at, but later it becomes boring--same old stuff--and claustrophobic. Aren't we ever going to get out of here? The plot is contained in about four expository speeches rather than being conveyed through action and discovery by the characters. Chaz Davenport's father was murdered, though his death is ruled a suicide, and Chaz is disinherited. We later learn that Chaz's uncle killed the father. It all has to do with the The Consolidated Power Company in LA that Chaz's father and uncle own and their need to control the power in the city. To do so requires the cooperation of the state's governor. When Chaz's father doesn't show enough force in dealing with the governor, the uncle kills him and takes control. Yada, yada, yada, who gives a damn? In case you're wondering, there is no happy ending. Chaz ends up shot to death by the uncle, as if this ending will give the film the necessary punch-up that it's lacked all along. Instead, it's just a blah. Why? Because the characters are never developed in depth; I never cared for the characters or what happened to them, whether they lived or died was of no matter.

Gabriel Mann, who plays Chaz Davenport, would be appropriately cast in the Dobie Gillis TV series. He's definitely a good boy, 1950's style. The best that can be said about Bijou Phillips as Crystal is that she learned her lines and said them without stuttering. Izabella Miko, who plays the singer Madelaine, bears a startling resemblance to Michelle Pfeiffer, which only makes clears all the talent that Miko lacks. And Elias Koteas as the Lieutenant ought to be ashamed of himself for appearing in such junk.

The dance numbers are but a poor imitation of Busby Berkeley routines, lack any variety, and quickly become boring. The songs are ordinary, and it appears all the singers are dubbed with singing voices that are no match for their speaking voices.

Some of the dialogue is risible, which will give you the only laughs you're going to get here.

Since this film was based on a musical, why not keep it a musical? But then it would have to compete directly with "Chicago," I suppose, and that would be a disaster for "Dark Streets." I thought that perhaps the filmmakers were trying to make a ballad--a story in song--but that gives them too much credit.

"Rome Adventure" is primarily a gorgeous color travelogue of Rome and other spots in Italy to which a silly soap opera story has been attached. Indeed, the beauty starts with the credits, which are among the nicest I've ever seen. Director Daves manages to show us all the major sights of Rome and a great many others throughout Italy. Everything is scrupulously clean. It's a bit unreal, but the color is first-rate, and the movie is well worth seeing for its scenery alone. There is also a lush score by Max Steiner.

In front of all this, we have a nonsensical story. The dialogue is sappy, contains many howlers, and is very sexist, encouraging a woman to know her place. Brazzi gives a little speech near the end, telling Prudence that a woman's place is to tame the wildness in a man, and that women were wrong to seek freedom.

The casting is all wrong. Pleshette (who somehow always suggests Joan Collins and Polly Bergen to me) is too sexy, mature, and sophisticated to be a believable partner for Donahue as his character is depicted here, yet she's too young for the Brazzi character, though more believable with him. Daves does photograph her very nicely in a number of close-ups.

Angie Dickinson is not for a moment plausible as a lover of Donahue. She's a sexy dame, and her rightful place was in films like "Point Blank" and "Dressed to Kill," among rougher, tougher types.

Troy Donahue--there he is, the 60s preppy image: white socks, loafers, tan chinos, sweaters, and a slightly pigeon-toed walk. He's not as handsome as I remembered him to be; he has a slack jaw. But Daves, again, gives him a number of nice close-ups. Of course, he can't act; he delivers his lines flatly in a monotone learned, I presume, in the Tony Perkins School of Dramatic Arts.

Hampton Fancher plays Albert Stillwell, a grind graduate student. He's a tall, clean-cut, All-American basketball college jock type. He's certainly as handsome as Donahue, and it was just circumstances that made Fancher a supporting player and Donahue the momentary star. Fancher is the only one doing any acting in this film; it required some skill to put on the face of the bumbling, dull grind.

Constance Ford, as always, comes across as too butch, leaving me the impression that her character is a lesbian, even if the character wasn't intended to be.

I found the film a pleasant trip back to March 1962, which is when the film opened in Manhattan. On April 19, 1961, Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" had opened in the U.S. Which version of Rome do you want to see?

This is the Bix Beiderbecke story for gay men. The film appears to have been made by a combination of GQ, the photographers for the Abercrombie & Fitch catalogue, and Bruce Weber. It's filled with beautiful twenty-something guys (Beiderbecke died at 28), all of them wearing nice clothing--often tuxedoes, posed against vintage 20s automobiles or in art deco theatre lobbies and nightclubs, in prep-school dorms, or on warp-around porches of large Midwestern homes bathed in a soft golden light. Even when the men are a bit scruffy and in need of a shave, they appear as if in high-fashion photo layouts. This is a film where even the ugly guys are handsome. Watching it is like turning the pages of a deluxe coffee table book about Bix's life.

What does the film tell us about Bix? He was a fabulous trumpet player; a disappointment to his parents, who wanted him to live a conventional middle-class life; an alcoholic. But who cares how inaccurate most of this film's details are? The film's subtitle is "An Interpretation of a Legend," and I can only thank director Pupi Avati and cinematographer Pasquale Rachini for interpreting Bix's life in this lush manner.

Bryant Weeks as Bix is a handsome, blond cutie with a sweet, slightly mischievous smile that no one could resist. Emile Levisetti, with his large dark eyes, is thick chocolate, creamy, delicious! (Note: Levisetti is not a black actor. This is not a racist comment! I mean to suggest the warm and sensual nature of this actor.) Why go on to delineate the beauty of the others? Just see them and drink in their handsomeness. But be warned: there's no nudity, though the director did get Week's shirt off in two scenes, and in another, there's a brief glimpse of his great thighs. Other than that, everybody is buttoned from top to bottom. Of course, none of these men look a bit like their actual counterparts. In real life, Beiderbecke was ordinary looking, if not downright ugly. And Romano Orzari as Hoagy Carmichael gave me a laugh, precisely because he's so unlike the real Hoagy, familiar to me from his movie appearances.

Forget women. They don't count for anything here, and aren't much seen--except for Bix's mom.

The film has a solid musical background, recreations of many Beiderbecke numbers. And "Bix" was filmed in authentic Midwestern locations, including the actual home Beiderbecke grew up in in Davenport, Iowa.

Banjo/guitarist Eddie Condon described Beiderbecke's clear, clean tone as "like a girl saying yes." Well, maybe that quote was taken as the key to interpreting Bix's story in this lush, sensual manner. Yes, yes, yes! Don't miss it.

Most of the actors here, among them Bryant Weeks, have no other screen credits. I'd be interested to hear from anyone with further information about Weeks or the other actors. According to Leonard Maltin's comments, "Bix" was originally 120 minutes, cut down to 100 minutes. Does anyone know if a 120-minute video version exists?

I never found Jack Wrangler the least bit sexy. Why wasn't Jack sexy for me? He was a Ken doll, too bland, no depth of personality shown on screen, no interesting quirks. Yes, he was attractive in a smooth, blond way. He'd been to the gym and built himself up. And he certainly had a fine circumcised cock (on display here) that was suitable for porn films. Yet, I can never recall seeing Wrangler in a sex scene where I felt he was actually involved with his partner. He always seemed to be "phoning in" the sex scene, as if the real Jack Wrangler was not even in the same room. His orgasm scenes were equally faked and that is proved in this documentary when clips are shown of Jack ejaculating and Jack being buggered (for want of a more specific word). His reaction is more comic than sexual.

All of this was explained for me in this documentary and in Jack's book, "What Is A Nice Boy Like You Doing?" Wrangler was a character, a persona, that Jack Stillman created, and in that role, Wrangler performed in porn films. Stillman's real self was left behind when he was being filmed.

This documentary clearly states that most of the guys in gay porn films were hustlers, were not well educated, often had criminal records, were heavily into drug use. Wrangler was none of these things. He came from an upper-middle-class background, lived in Beverly Hills, went to a private secondary school, had some college at Northwestern near Chicago, and had taken classes at a drama school in Manhattan. When he left the porn set at the end of the day, he went back to a world very unlike his co-stars returned to. Wrangler never hustled; he didn't have sex for money. Most gay porn actors did. As this documentary makes clear, these gay porn actors used their porn films as a launching pad for hustling and for personal strip show appearances around the country. Through the porn film, the guys became known, and based on that "fame" were able to get bookings into strip clubs and peddle their butts at high prices.

The talking heads in the show overestimated Jack Wrangler's importance to gay porn because they didn't place Wrangler in context. There was some mention made of other porn filmmakers and actors but not enough. "The Boys in the Sand" was the first important gay porn film in Manhattan, playing months at the 55th Street Playhouse. Casey Donovan certainly had a huge impact on audiences in that early film. Other porn actors were equal to or exceeded Wrangler in popularity. However, most of them died of AIDS and aren't available for interviews today.

Now, having said all of these negative things about Wrangler, I must say this film completely changed my opinion of him. Jack Stillman--not Wrangler--is actually a very entertaining guy who has a stock of interesting and often hilarious stories to tell. And tell them he does! It's hard to get Wrangler to stop talking. This may not be fully apparent in the film itself, but the DVD has an extra that includes footage from Stillman interviews that didn't make the film. And Jack is enormously entertaining. I'd enjoy having dinner with him, because I'm sure he'd dominate the talk, but I'd never be bored.

Another thing that made Jack appealing is his looks. He lost that blond Ken Doll look as he aged. The interviews for this film were done when Jack was 59-60, and I find him much more sexy and appealing as he looks now with his gray hair and his wrinkles than when he was blond and smooth. Now Jack Stillman is a real person--unique, and with a personality that emerges through his talk. He frankly talks about manufacturing the Wrangler image and is willing to both make fun of Jack Wrangler and to treat him deprecatingly.

The Jack Stillman revealed in this documentary made it worth my time to watch the film and is the only reason I would recommend the documentary.

This play, presented May 6, 1979, was made for the BBC TV series "Play of the Month." This production is the play; there is no attempt to "open up" the drama as films often do with plays. It is now available as part of the Noel Coward Collection (Disc 3), a group of five DVD's presenting Coward's major stage plays, among other works.

When "Design for Living" was done originally in 1933, it was shocking in proposing that a woman (Gilda) live with two men (Leo, Otto), neither of whom she was married to, and that they all loved each other. In recent years, emphasis has been placed on the fact that the men would also be having sex with each other as well as with Gilda. But that idea is a ho-hum today. And the play often has talky, preachy passages and extraneous dialogue to pad the play. Is this a comedy? Well, it's supposed to be (though the use of "20th Century Blues" over the opening titles may suggest otherwise), but I didn't get any laughs from it. The play is probably too dated to work well anymore.

The best thing about this production is the casting of Rula Lenska as Gilda. But in most scenes, she bears a strong resemblance to Loretta Young and in other scenes to Joan Collins, which can produce unwanted comic effect. At any event, her Gilda is such a strong, independent female that she dominates the film. This Gilda would never seriously consider either Otto or Leo as lovers. She'd chew them up and spit them out for breakfast. At best, she'd tolerate them as "gay buddies." And that gets to the major casting trouble. Both Clive Arrindell as Otto and John Steiner as Leo come across as gay and wimpy. Here their drunk scene, which occurs at the end of Act 2 after Gilda leaves them both, occurs in a living room, where they get drunk and end up falling into each other's arms. Then there is a cut to show them both in the shower together. As staged here, this is to make clear that they have had sex. (In the play, of course, lines now said in the shower were said in the living room.) But these two come across as such cold fish, it's hard to believe that they'd even have sex with each other. And Coward uses that old pre-Stonewall cliché: the men had to get drunk to have sex with each other. Actually, for this play to work, both male characters have to be convincing as sexual partners not only for Gilda but also for each other. Neither Steiner nor Arrindell fulfills the bill here. Add to that the changing image of the male physique since 1979. Today, actors have pumped-up bodies; here Steiner and Arrindell are both boyishly skinny and need to hit the gym.

In this production, I never found the plot the least bit plausible, didn't find the love among the three leads believable, and didn't care a whit about what happened to them. I realize that comedy plots don't have to be plausible, but here the falsity of the situation was foregrounded because of the poor casting and because of much of the dialogue. Don't ask me to believe for a moment that these three as shown here have a future.

John Bluthal who plays Ernest Friedman, the older man whom Gilda marries, makes him a sympathetic character until the last scene of the last act when Coward burdens Ernest with speeches criticizing Gilda, Leo, and Otto for deciding to live together, making Ernest the symbol of middle-class morality.

As always in a Coward play, the dialogue is highly artificial, of a kind that people wouldn't naturally speak, or let's say that most people wouldn't naturally speak. If a Coward drama isn't played properly, because of the dialogue, the characters come across as a bunch of superficial twits and prissy queens.

As always in BBC shows, the production values here are excellent--the period costumes, the hairstyles, the sets--impeccable--so that when one becomes bored with the characters and their brittle chatter, he can always study the sets or the costumes. Is the film version with Miriam Hopkins, Fredric March, and Gary Cooper better? It has its virtues but is also, finally, an unsatisfactory version of the play.

Over the years, I've had discussion with various gay friends about "gay sensibility." Does such a thing exist, and, if so, how is it defined? One way a term can be defined is by negation--telling what something is not. "Outing Riley" will define by negation very clearly what "Gay Sensibility" is not. This is a heterosexual teen comedy--only it's not the least bit funny, if you're older than 14 and have an IQ higher than 70.

Here's a sampling of this film's "humor": Luke and Connor are in a bar where a horse race is being televised. A woman joins them and asks if they have any money on the horses. "Yes," they say. "On number 2, My Face." So they begin cheering the horse on by saying, "Come on, My Face." Finally, as the race ends the woman realizes she's been made a fool of, shouting out in the bar, "Come on (ejaculate) on my face." Ha, ha! Isn't that just a gut-buster? Another scene--a flashback--shows the father getting exercise equipment for Christmas. He tries out the rowing machine or the slant board (I'm uncertain exactly which it was), and after straining his midsection with a few moves, he expels a loud, explosive fart. If that's your idea of comedy, you'll love this film's "humor." And guess where Connor and Luke arrange to meet Bobby's boyfriend Luke? At a hot dog stand named Weiner Circle. Ain't that just too funny?

We are introduced to Bobby's three Irish brothers and his sister. Oldest brother, Jack Riley, is a priest, and the depiction of his character here makes him a disgusting person, which, perhaps, was the filmmaker's intention, though I doubt it. Jack reveals to his brothers bits of scandalous information that he's learned in the confessional. During a baptismal scene, Jack is paying more attention to trying to hear what his two rude brothers and sister are talking about in the church pews while the baptismal ceremony is going on at the altar. He's hypocritical. He's bifurcated--a priest in the church and rectory but someone else quite different when off the church property. Brother Luke Riley is a pothead and magic mushroom devotee, even though he's married, the father of two daughters, and apparently in his early 30s. And then there's Connor Riley, the overweight internet porn addict--also married and a father.

There isn't an iota of conviction in this film. I didn't for a minute believe that Bobby Riley was gay. Pete Jones remained a straight man playing a gay character. I couldn't believe in Bobby and his boyfriend Andy's love for each other. We see mighty little of Bobby and Andy together, for one thing, and when we do see them together, they are awkward and stiff with each other, incapable of speaking naturally, and certainly not behaving as lovers of several years.

We're to believe that Connor and Luke both come to accept Bobby as gay because they arrange a surprise Coming Out party for him. Nonsense. The priest gives out with the usual Catholic line--the church doesn't condemn a homosexual, just homosexual acts. He says he's still praying for Bobby and hopes he'll make a better choice. This guy is the hypocrite to end them all.

Finally, the only gay moment occurs in a brief ten second (or so) fantasy scene that Bobby has which recalls an Esther Williams water ballet as choreographed by Busby Berkeley. So all is not lost, after all!

I don't think a writer, director, or actor has to be gay to portray gays and their lives successfully. I conclude that Pete Jones is an inept writer and director whose heterosexual sensibility and penchant for gross-out teen comedies was glued unto a story about a gay man coming out.

If you want to know what it's like to come out as a gay or lesbian to a family of religious parents and siblings, I'd recommend the excellent "For the Bible Tells Me So." There's no comedy there, though there are, for the most part, happy endings of acceptance. And, yes, there are comedies about gays and lesbians coming out, but "Outing Riley" isn't one of them.

How did this film get made?

Do the publishers of the Silhouette Romance novels have a line of romance novels for gay men? If so, the script for "Phoenix" would fit right in, for this is just a trifling romantic soap opera.

Dylan Wells, a twinkie in his early 20s, is seeing Kenneth Sparks, a traveling real estate agent whenever Sparks comes into L.A. for the weekend. Their "relationship" is nothing more than weekend sex sessions whenever Sparks is available. Sparks has been stringing Wells along by saying that he will meet his friends and that he will soon move in to live with Wells. A person doesn't need a three-digit IQ to know that Sparks is lying, and Wells should not have hung any expectations for a future with Sparks on what Sparks told him.

As shown here, Sparks is a short-tempered man arguing with his business associates. (He smokes, a sure sign this guy is the villain.) Although Sparks gives Dylan a small jug handmade from ClayMakers in Phoenix and tells Dylan it's a work of art, we later learn this was a gift that had earlier been given to Sparks and is not an expensive work of art at all.

On this particular weekend, Sparks leaves Dylan within hours after arriving, pleading business. The day after they part, Dylan impulsively decides to go to Phoenix, where Sparks told him he was going to deal with business. But when Dylan goes to the Mod Resort, where Sparks is staying, he does not find Sparks in residence, though Sparks has a room there. Posing as Sparks, Dylan manages to con a trainee at the front desk into giving him a key to the room. He finds none of Sparks' personal effects in the room.

Dylan phones the police, reporting Sparks as a missing person, and, quite improbably, Detective Smith comes around to interview Dylan, who is still occupying Sparks' room (improbable also). The police would not have responded to Dylan's call since Sparks was not a relative, nor were Sparks and Dylan legally married. Besides, Sparks hadn't been gone more than a day or two. But let's not quibble over small plausibility matters.

After his discussion with Detective Smith, Dylan searches out ClayMakers, where his jar was produced, and discovers that it is a one-man operation in the garage of the owner's home. The owner is Demetrius Stone, a chef in his mid- to late 30s, and, in short order, Dylan discovers that Demetrius and Kenneth Sparks have been partners for more than seven years.

So now, we have two betrayed men. What next? Well, what do you expect in a Silhouette Novel type plot? Demetrius and Dylan have sex, the two consoling each other in their betrayal. Over the next few days, Dylan falls in love with Demetrius, the speed of this emotional entanglement with Demetrius showing Dylan's' immaturity. Nonetheless, Demetrius and Dylan want the same things. As Demetrius says, "All I ever wanted was a husband, a house, and a kid I like." The plot promotes the current thinking in the gay world--become like a heterosexual couple! A few scenes between Demetrius and Dylan make it obvious to the viewer that the two are mismatched. To the film's credit, it doesn't give Demetrius and Dylan a happy ending. The two part as friends, and Dylan goes back to L.A., supposedly a wiser person The movie's tag line is "Every broken heart is a chance for a new beginning," so I assume that--phoenix-like--Dylan will arise anew from the ashes of his two broken "relationships" with Sparks and Demetrius. And, I'm sure, Demetrius will recover, too.

There is some obvious symbolism here in the title, the waves crashing on the shore, phallic rock formations, that anyone who has had an introduction to literature course in college will easily interpret.

The film has decent production values that belie its low budget. However, the sets look like displays of model rooms in a furniture store--all new and all impersonal. The same goes for details like dishes, sheets, wall decorations, kitchen appliances. However, some shots in Demetrius's home reveal it to be a real house-- mismatched kitchen cabinet doors, an older stove, and inexpensive dining room furniture.

The technical quality of the film (lighting, editing) is fine, as is the photography. There is nothing distinguished here, just quality work of the kind that often doesn't appear in low-budget indie films. The film's pace is slow in a few places, which had me looking at the décor in the background rather than the actors in the foreground.

The three leading men are all attractive in a generically handsome way. They're rather like the sets--nice looking and impersonal. Gaelano Jones as Kenneth Sparks does display a mean look that is appropriate to his character. Jeff Castle bears an uncanny resemblance to Cliff Robertson. Chad Bartley looks like the kind of guy who turns up regularly in gay porn films. He is the weakest actor here, but then he only has two IMDb credits, his other being a bit part.

Two older characters, Lewis and Gunther, unnecessary to the film, appear briefly in two scenes as lovers who've been together for about twenty years. They're stereotypes: have an open relationship, trade barbs with each other, and so on.

There is no frontal nudity here, though Bartley does some bare butt scenes. Jones keeps his underpants on throughout, and, although one scene has a naked Jeff Castle in bed, Chad Bartley is positioned in such a way that you don't ever see Castle's bare butt.

Finally, according to the IMDb, this film was Akers' attempt to remake Antonioni's "L'Avventura." Let's not even go there.

This was not a very good film, and, after seeing it and thinking about it, my opinion of it sank even further--to awful. It's supposed to be a comedy, but I didn't get one laugh.

The plot is well detailed by gradyharp, another commentator here. The whole plot is utter hogwash. But I was put off by the film's making fun of the Indian traditions and rituals of engagement and marriage. (No, I am not Indian.) In playing them for laughs, it degraded them, and this wasn't funny.

The gay story is ignored--yes, ignored--for most of the film. I didn't for a moment believe that Jimi and Jack were in love and a devoted couple because the film didn't have enough scenes to make that clear. Chris Bisson is miscast as Jimi Chopra. He looks much older than Peter Ash, who plays Jack. Sushil Chudasama, who plays Ravi, Jimi's brother, would have been better cast as Jimi. There is no chemistry between Bisson and Ash. Jack is ignored for most of the film, and this is insulting to his character. Jack emerges as a chump, willing to take whatever humiliation Jimi hands out. And Jack's willingness to meet Jimi's parents and extended family and to take a role in Jimi's marriage seemed unrealistic.

But Jimi himself isn't very nice; he's cowardly, spineless, unwilling to confront the issues of coming out to his parents. I suppose one could say that if Jimi did so we'd have no movie, or we'd certainly have no comedy. But as presented here, I disliked Jimi for his spinelessness, even though he used the rationale of doing what he did to please his parents. But what Jimi was about to do in marrying Vanessa would have been harmful to many people in short order, even though Vanessa, Jack, and Hanah were all in on the deceptive marriage plot. That they were says nothing positive about their characters.

Actually, the gay plot is so back-grounded, that the film might well work as a heterosexual story. Jimi could just as well have an English girlfriend, say, whom he wanted to marry but whom he knew his parents would disapprove of and will hatch a plot to deceive his parents but allow him to still live with his English girlfriend.

In addition, I was put off by Vanessa, an overweight alcoholic woman who works tending bar in a pub and passes out most nights when she comes home from work. She also has a potty mouth. None of this makes for a humorous effect. Her precocious young daughter, Hanah, not only takes care of herself but also attends to her mother. Unfortunately, most of Hanah's dialogue is implausible, very adult, and proves only that Kazy Clayton can memorize sophisticated dialogue at a young age.

A strip club scene here is unnecessary. Harish Patel, who plays Simran's father, is outrageously over the top in a Zero Mostel manner that I found both embarrassing and irritating. Definitely not recommended.

The credits say the film is based on an uncensored version of the novel, and that has resulted in a film with far too much nudity and too many sex scenes.

The film starts weak because it tries to show something of Gertrude and Walter Morel's meeting and early life. To do this correctly, this part should have been much longer to make us better acquainted with these characters.

The film doesn't settle into a coherent narrative until the two sons, William and Paul, have grown up. The first part gives full attention to William, his going off to London, his involvement with Lucy, a frivolous London woman, and his death.

The connection between Paul and Clara Dawes (in part 2) is almost comical--plenty of hard staring and then dates at the movies where the piano player's music not only accompanies the silent movie but the increasing passion of Paul and Clara, making it comic.

Paul and Clara decamp in hot lust from the movie theater for her place where she tells him to wait in the living room while she gets naked and then prances in for a full frontally nude shot. Part 2 has significant nudity, and none of it works. In another instance, Paul and Clara have a stand-up f*** at work. In another instance, Paul and Clara are kissing in a movie theater, so overcome with their lust that all of the other patrons are staring at them. This also is unrealistic for the time. In yet another modern bit, both Paul and Clara are totally naked and f***ing on a hay truck in an open field. This film is a perfect illustration that nudity and scenes of f***ing don't create a sexy or passionate atmosphere, but in this film are actually annoying and intrusive.

Paul's relationship with Miriam involves nudity on both actors' parts. Here Paul comes across as a clod who obviously doesn't understand much about how to satisfy a woman sexually. He just mounts the poor girl and pounds away. No wonder Miriam is horrified by sex, and Paul isn't satisfied. Miriam doesn't know how lucky she is that she never married Paul. The point is that Paul isn't meant to be shown this way, but that's how he comes across because of the nature of the sex scenes. In this version of the film, Miriam is Paul's victim, yet sadly blames herself.

One of few effective scenes in this overly long drama occurs between Paul and Miriam when he meets her for the last time and tells her that they must end their relationship--despite the sex they've had together, despite his having asked her to marry him, despite her understanding they were engaged. In tears, Miriam asks Paul to tell her parents that he can't marry her, but he doesn't. It's one of the few scenes where the actors are given some decent lines and some intense emotion to act, and they do it well enough.

After Mrs. Morel's death, there is a sudden cut, and we see Paul in some seedy hotel room surrounded by his paints, an easel, and plenty of liquor bottles; Paul is drunk. No explanation for this scene. Mrs. Morel's funeral is skipped over. I presume Paul quit his job at Jordan's and came here, but where is here? Nottingham? London? Clara comes to him here and--you guessed it, another nude sex scene--and sets him straight. He stops his drinking, checks out of the squalid hotel, and goes back home--or so I assume from the direction of the train. World War 1 has just begun. And we leave Paul at that point.

Repeatedly the script has the actors talk rather than show. Paul talks to his mother about Clara rather than our seeing what we need to of their relationship. Clara talks to Paul to explain Paul's relationship to Miriam.

Lyndsey Marshal as Miriam Leivers is the most interesting actor here, but she wasn't given much chance to show her talents. Sarah Lancashire constantly distracted me because she looked like Vanessa Redgrave. The male leads are just boy toys.

In the superior 1960 version, Wendy Hiller and Trevor Howard are able to convey with dialogue and some excellent facial expressions and fine acting the entire early history of Mr. and Mrs. Morel. In the 1960 version, both Gertrude and Walter are very real characters. Here both are flat, especially Walter, who is simply a bore that falls right out of the narrative, which focuses on Gertrude and her two sons. Walter is out of the narrative for so long at various points that I thought perhaps he'd died. And no one here is in the same league as Dean Stockwell, Mary Ure, and Heather Sears.

The settings are false throughout. The Morel's home in the mining village looks like something right out of "Better Homes and Gardens" or "Traditional Homes"--as if a miner's row house had been gentrified. And these miners' homes are in close proximity to rolling green hills with beautiful views of valleys beneath. Right behind each home, there are perfectly tended vegetable gardens and plenty of room for the laundry to be hung out and blow dry in crisp, fresh air. Nonsense! The costumes the characters wear are, likewise, neat and clean as if put on for a fashion shoot in "Vogue" or some other magazine.

And then there is the score; the 1960 film has the better score, one that works throughout to complement the melancholy mood and atmosphere of the film.

A waste of time. See the 1960 version if you can find it.

This film is a solid product with several strong points.

Point one: Sexy guys! Russell Wade is a real beauty. Where has he been all this time? Well, he was always playing small roles so probably went unnoticed--if I did see him at all. But here he has the lead, and I couldn't miss him. And despite being covered up by suits and ties and usually wearing a hat, he exudes sexual heat. A real hottie. This guy should have taken of his shirt, and he might have hit the big time.

Next up is Robert Kent, a former prizefighter. He's also handsome but has to be photographed a bit more carefully than Russell Wade to show his handsomeness. He conveys a sense of wiry muscularity, though he, too, is always under a suit, a tie, and a hat. Damn! Edmund MacDonald, who plays the district attorney, has a ripe, voluptuous quality to him that seems correct for this corrupt district attorney. MacDonald is like a piece of fruit a few days beyond its peak of ripeness that must be eaten now because tomorrow it will start to rot. Not as handsome as Robert Kent or Russell Wade, his presence here is interesting, nonetheless.

Point two: the photography. A great many scenes here are very beautifully photographed, especially the first shot of Russell Wade. He's backlit, shown in silhouette profile, and then strikes a cigarette to illuminate his handsome face. This is film noir photography to die for. There is a lot more of this chiaroscuro, high contrast photography to be seen here--characters throwing long shadows down dark streets at night and so on. Yummy. Of course, a lot of the darkness was necessary--as in "Detour"--to disguise the low budget of the film. There simply wasn't enough money to build extensive sets for backgrounds.

Third point: This film has an internecine plot with plenty of twists and surprises in its 63 minutes. The main body of the film is told in flashback, as any good film noir should be, and there are flashbacks within that flashback, but more than a few noirs utilize this as well.

Fourth point: Luana Walters may not be the best femme fatale in noir, but at least Walters' character, Marian Langdon, is a solid one, luring attorney Dale into a sham marriage to save her husband Dixie Logan and then turning on Dixie when she realizes he really is a cheap crook. But Marian ends up with the best of the bunch, newspaper reporter Mike (Russell Wade).

And, of course, there is a genuine 1940's background for the film--clothing, hairstyles, cars--as opposed to the manufactured look of noirs made today that have to recreate a 40s look.

This B film's plot certainly has holes in it. At one point, Marian Langdon is shot at (just as she emerges from the justice of the peace's house after being married to Lawrence Dale), but no one seems ruffled by this. Dale is more concerned that the justice of the peace not report the murder attempt to anyone. Ha! The film held my interest from beginning to end. And an extra treat is the boogie-woogie piano playing of Gene Rodgers, who wrote the two songs that he plays.

This is a real treat--especially if you like handsome guys. Who knew guys in hats and suits could be so sexy. Jeez!

These comments contain spoilers, including major plot details.

This is part of the newest DVD Kit Parker Double Feature, Hammer Film Noir series. The films in the series are British B films, usually featuring a has-been American actor in the lead with a supporting British cast. Because of the American name in the lead, the films were issued in the United States as well as England, usually under a different name in the U.S. than in England.

Today "film noir" is used so indiscriminately to describe films that there's not much point is saying this film doesn't qualify as noir, though in Andrea Nevill, the protagonist's wife, it does have a femme noir or femme fatale who deceives her husband (cliché). And in a wife contriving with her lover to murder her husband, we have a standard noir plot (cliché).

Dane Clark is the has-been American star here, and he does well enough, though he is a fish out of water among all these English actors. I've seen Paul Carpenter in other British films, most recently in "The House across the Lake," another film in this Hammer Film Noir series. He's a handsome, appealing guy, not properly cast here as a hit man. But Thea Gregory as the wife comes across well as a beautiful, upper-class woman. Although Cecile Chevreau as secretary Joan Peterson, secretly in love with her boss Jim (cliché), isn't attractive enough for a romantic leading lady role, she does offer solid support.

For me the icing on the cake here was Anthony Forwood as Peter Glanville. As we all know now from recent reputable biographies, he was Dirk Bogarde's lover, and by the time this film was in production, he and Dirk were living together, though Bogarde continued to date studio starlets to maintain the illusion of heterosexuality. Certainly, Forwood was more attractive than Bogarde was and obviously had a more outgoing personality, able to smooth the waters that Bogarde frequently stirred up with his cold, snobbish personality. Forwood didn't make many films, but I have seen him in some others. As here, he was always competent in his performances, though he never appeared in challenging roles.

At 70 minutes, this is a pleasant enough time waster.

This film is the nadir of Frankenheimer's and Bates's careers, to say nothing of others involved here: Dominique Sanda, Claude Renoir (director of photography), and Michel Legrand (the score). It came as no surprise to learn that the film never received a theatrical release in the United States or Britain, and was but briefly seen in France and Spain.

There is not a moment of conviction in the film regarding the plot or the characters. The dialogue is absurd and sophomoric. "That makes me feel like God." I can't count the times Harry said something was "like God." Much of the dialogue is made up of non-sequiturs. And the actors fail abysmally at delivering it, but my sympathy was with them. I imagine they were confused by the lines they were asked to deliver and by the plot.

It is impossible to follow the plot. To me, it was a story of Harry, an English novelist, vacationing with his wife Elizabeth, and their four children in Italy--and I can't be sure of that. Maybe it was the south of France. Harry is working on a novel, and his publisher needs the last two chapters soon as the publication of the novel has already been announced in the firm's fall catalogue.

The bulk of what follows in the film may be nothing more than scenes from the novel that Harry is writing. Or it could be a mixture of reality and his fiction. Here it is: Harry is having an affair with Natalie, who is married to an older businessman, Georges. He knows of the affair, and Natalie has lied to him several times, telling him she's ended the affair. Harry's wife also learns of the affair, I think.

At one point, we see Natalie stab Georges to death, after which the police arrive to question Harry about Natalie. But this murder sequence later proves to be entirely fictional.

Eventually, Natalie becomes pregnant with Harry's child, each divorces his spouse, and they go--to the south of France? to some seacoast area of Italy? Who knows? And there Natalie gives birth to the child. Harry's sons visit, and the group go out in a small boat. A storm comes, the boat is capsized, all are thrown overboard, and the baby is lost.

Then we come to a scene in Venice (I believe) where we see Harry walking across the famous square. Natalie's husband and daughter walk past Harry; then he sees her sitting at a nearby table. He sits down across from her and they talk.

Based on the events here, I'd say Harry is a dreadful novelist. If this "Love Story" is indeed Harry's novel, it meanders everywhere and has no unity or makes little sense. In his dialogue, Harry is usually pontificating, saying clichés, other self-evident things, and a lot of nonsense. Scenes here are melodramatic or soap-opera-ish. And certainly, if his work has no more narrative logic than this film, it must not sell well at all.

The film says nothing meaningful about reality/illusion; it uses the dichotomy as a trick. As another poster has written, the film is derivative of Joseph Losey (English garden scenes), Fellini (fantastic dream sequences), and other New Wave films, all made ten to fifteen years earlier than this one. Was Frankenheimer so lost he knew of nothing else to do than imitate others? Natalie narrates a long section at the end in voice-over. I wondered if Frankenheimer gave up imitation and decided to have someone tell the story rather than to invent dialogue and episodes to reveal by action the characters and plot.

In Fellini-like dream sequences, there are plenty of naked women but no naked men. Some people may have heard that Alan Bates does a nude scene here, but if they are looking to see bare Bates, they will be disappointed. In the few seconds in which Bates is naked, he is carefully posed to show no more than would be seen if Bates were wearing boxing shorts. If it's nude Bates you want, then "Women in Love" is the film to look for.

The real drama here would be to discover the story of how Frankenheimer, Bates, and everyone else became caught up in this mess. Then, what went wrong.

I can say nothing favorable about the acting of anyone here, except that they all bravely soldiered forward and crossed the field--even if they met disaster. They deserved some thanks for doing that.

This 1980 3-part version of Zola's novel, Thérèse Raquin, done by the BBC is dull, boring, and unsuccessful as a film in almost every respect.

Both Kate Nelligan as Thérèse and Brain Cox as her lover, Laurent, are miscast. Neither actor exudes the least bit of sexual heat, nor is there any "chemistry" between them. At no time does Nelligan suggest a woman sexually obsessed with her lover. Indeed, when Cox finally grabbed Nelligan and planted a kiss on her, I burst out laughing; the moment was like one in a Carol Burnet parody comic sketch. And the nude scenes showing Nelligan and Cox in bed are boring, proving that nudity doesn't automatically equate to sexual heat. In fact, here the nudity makes it abundantly clear that Brian Cox should have gone to the gym to get in shape for this part. The foundation of the plot depends on the intense sexual attraction between Therese and Laurent, and this film doesn't have the actors to convey that.

Neither Nelligan nor Cox does a good acting job here, either. Neither one becomes the character s/he is playing. They simply recite their lines. Indeed, for most of the film, I wondered what Alan Bates (whom Cox resembles) would have done with this part--added some fire, I'm sure.

Mona Washbourne is well cast as Madame Raquin and steals this movie. In this version, Madam Raquin becomes a sympathetic character, the one who drew my attention. She plays Madame as a sweet (stereotypical?) grandmother type, and does well at this. But--should Madame Raquin have been this type of sweet woman? The remaining cast members are adequate. Alan Rickman, who plays Laurent's friend, Vidal, a successful artist, is almost unrecognizable under a curly wig.

The film is stage bound. Indeed, I thought perhaps this film was an adaptation of a stage play, but nothing in the credits indicated that. For the most part, the film is confined to Madame Raquin's shop and two rooms above it on a narrow alley in Paris. At the end of the first section, when Thérèse, Camille, and Laurent go into the country for a day, the film receives a much-needed breath of fresh air, as if someone had pushed up a window and let the stuffiness out.

Like a play, the film moves through three neat (too neat?) acts: the first ends with Camille's drowning, the second with Thérèse and Laurent marrying, and the third with the deaths of Thérèse and Laurent.

After marrying, Laurent and Thérèse are immediately haunted by the presence of Camille, whose corpse appears to occupy their bed. The visions of Camille render Laurent impotent and unhinge Thérèse, who is shown dressing gaudily and going to a bar where she is picked up by various men.

The symbolism of Camille representing the lovers' guilt for drowning him is obvious and awkward. In the third section of the film, I never felt the guilt was very real (probably because some of the worst acting from Nelligan and Cox appear here), just a clumsy literary device.

The scenes in the Paris morgue, while laying the groundwork for Laurent's nightmares, seem more appropriate to a horror film than a serious drama; the same is true for showing the ghost of Camille as a rotting corpse in their bed.

Contrast this 1980 version with the 1953 version, starring Simone Signoret and Raf Vallone, and all of the failures of the 1980 version immediately become apparent. Vallone's Laurent is a freedom-loving Italian truck driver who, from his first appearance, telegraphs all of the sexual power that Cox's Laurent doesn't have. Cox's Laurent works in an office and knuckles under to his supervisor; Vallone's Laurent wouldn't put up with that for a moment.

And Nelligan and Signoret aren't even in the same ballpark when it comes to portraying Thérèse. Signoret has a grasp on Thérèse's complexity, the duality of her outward serenity and the inward desire for sexual fulfillment and romance. Signoret BECOMES Thérèse; she doesn't simply say the lines.

In the 1953 version, we see Thérèse and Laurent kiss passionately, but there's more heat in that kiss than in all the nude scenes in the 1980 version.

The 1953 version, influenced by American film noir, has a conclusion that departs significantly from the novel, what with the appearance of Riton, a sailor who blackmails the lovers because the sailor knows they dispatched Camille. Yet, Riton's blackmail plot is a more effective instrument of retribution than Camille's ghost, which might have worked when the novel was published in 1867 but is dated now. And Roland Lesaffre, a Robert Mitchum look-alike, fuses Mitchum-like insouciance and smoldering sexuality to Riton, adding to the film's sensual atmosphere.

While Madame Raquin is a sweet old grandmother in the 1980 version, Sylvie, who plays Madame in the 1953 version, makes her a domineering woman (sort of a wicked stepmother figure) who doesn't like Thérèse very much. After Madame has deduced what Laurent and Thérèse did to Camille, Sylvie is able to convey with her eyes intense hatred beyond anything Mona Washbourne can do. Sylvie's stare of hatred could give a person nightmares.

The 1953 version is a first-rate film, required viewing. This 1980 version is a shambles. Its only virtues are Washbourne and its fidelity to the novel's plot, though the latter "virtue" unhinged the film.

This was a thoroughly entertaining film that had laughs and a predictably happy ending. Yes, the characters are stereotypes, but at the same time, the guys are all real people. I know people exactly like these men, and I could see myself in various aspects of these characters. And the topics of conversation were exactly ones that I've had with my friends.

I found Casper Andreas as Markus, the protagonist, perfectly acceptable as a sensitive guy who's a bit shell-shocked after coming home to find his lover Julian making out with a trick. Julian exits, ending their four-year relationship. And Markus takes a job in a Manhattan restaurant, where his friend Marilyn works. Since Markus has been out of the cruising scene, he's taking very tentative steps to get back in circulation.

Markus is surrounded with a very believable group of gay waiters, who are, at the same time, stereotypes. Luke is the smart-talking queen, who recommends his own promiscuous lifestyle as a model for Markus to get over Julian. Tyler is a model who wants no part of relationships. Peter, an actor, is a serious young man who is holding out for Mr. Right, who just doesn't seem to be around.

The guys talk about topics that plenty of gay men talk about: can men be faithful; is a monogamous relationship possible; how many guys constitute an orgy (they agree on five); what does "sleeping with" mean (if you and another guy fellate each other in the steam room at the gym, can you then say you've slept with him), how is "sleeping with" different from "hooking up with," and so on. Thank God, this film spares us any "in-depth, darling" conversations.

The restaurant setting was very real, and the interaction of the waiters and customers plays out fantasies of what many waiters must want to do to obnoxious customers.

All of the men are good looking in their differing ways and deliver solid performances. The accents of Casper Andreas, Jamie Hatchett, and Christos Klapsis added flavor to their characters. And, yes, Jesse Archer as the smart-talking Luke, steals most of the scene, but isn't that true in just about every gay film that features a smart-talking queen? Don't overlook the extras. The deleted scenes and outtakes are entertaining, too. There's one deleted scene showing a disgruntled patron complaining to an already angry Peter that there are only two olives in his martini instead of three. Peter grabs up a handful of olives from a bowl and returns to throw them at the startled patron before Peter slams out of the restaurant. Hurrah, Peter, says every waiter in the business. There are also interesting interviews with the actors, and Jesse Archer, who plays Luke, hosts a short documentary in which he takes to the streets of Chelsea to ask various gay men there, "What is a slut"? This was a funny footnote to the film.

Most newspaper critics and more than a few commentators here have been hard on this film. But I think it's quite a remarkable achievement for a first film, made on a miniscule budget, and shot in just fourteen days. Lighten up. It's fun.

The plot of this film is ultimately undecipherable. You'll have more luck figuring out "Finnegan's Wake." Were I to see this film several more times, I still would not be able to determine what is reality, what is fantasy, what is taking place in real time, what is taking place in imaginative time. There are flashbacks within flashbacks until chaos reigns. Entire plot lines, such as that of Jareño, are unrelated to others. The opening sequence will certainly draw you into the film, but it has virtually nothing to do with the main characters in the film. Both Javier and Felix could be described as the film's protagonist; whose story is this? I can't imagine that many people would stay with the film more than twenty minutes, thirty minutes at the most. I stayed with the film, naively thinking that in the denouement all of the pieces of plot would come clear. Unfortunately, this is not the case.

The revelation made in the climax about the character Jacinto is something most viewers will probably be able to predict from the moment Jacinto first comes unto the screen. (I agree with another commentator here; watch the Adam's apple.) This character transformation (shall I say?) has been used in a number of films. And the plot device of having someone get away with murder has become ordinary. Just as in Woody Allen's new film, "Match Point," a coincidence here allows the real killer to go uncharged with the crime.

The credits are a direct steal from Saul Bass's credits from "Vertigo," and the music is imitative of Bernard Herrmann's score for the same film, which led me to expect something far more than this film delivers.

Save yourself a rental fee and a headache as well.

From the excellent period costumes and detail (the 1930's) to the luxurious, well-appointed sets, to the vibrant colors (check out the red lipstick), "Love In A Cold Climate" can stand next to "Imitation of Life," "All That Heaven Allows," "Written on the Wind," and other Technicolor Sirk hits.

Each of the three women who are the focus of the film has traits that viewers can identify with as they follow the girls' pursuit of love.

Fanny Logan is the quiet, sensible, conservative woman who marries a college professor and lives a routine but satisfying life. Haven't we all had moments of longing for that sort of secure life?

Linda Radlett, Fanny's cousin, has the romantic life we've all fantasized about. First, she marries Tony Kroesig, wealthy son of a banker, who appears fun loving but turns stuffy after marriage. Linda divorces Tony to marry Christian Talbert, a handsome young Communist who takes her off to help refugees in the Spanish Civil War. When Christian finds in Lavender Davies a woman who shares his radical sympathies more sincerely than does Linda, she is off to London. But when Linda misses her train in Paris and doesn't have any money to purchase another fare, she meets Fabrice, a wealthy, handsome nobleman, and becomes his mistress, set up in a beautiful apartment with plenty of money to buy frocks at the best Paris shops.

And then there are those times when one behaves perversely, stubbornly, spitefully. And Polly Hampton, the third protagonist, will provide us a source to identify in those moments. Polly is stubbornly defiant of her mother's attempts to marry her off, until Boy Dougdale becomes available--after the death of his wife, Polly's aunt. Polly marries Boy to spite her mother, since Boy is rumored to be her mother's lover.

But when Boy eventually becomes involved with Cedric Hampton, a flamboyant gay from Nova Scotia (don't ask), Polly is able to go off with a more acceptable man (fleeing in a flashy, low-slung sport car) who will provide her a better future.

In addition to gay Cedric and bisexual Boy, there is the eccentric Lord Merlin, who may well be gay--or just asexual. This eccentric old guy observes the doings of the women, makes apt observations, and gives good advice, all of which is ignored, of course.

Lest you think this pursuit of love is all serious business, I will tell you that there is plenty of laughing-out-loud humor here as well--exactly the sort that would have pleased the Ross Hunter who made the Doris Day-Rock Hudson comedies.

The three leading ladies are perfectly cast but so are the supporting players, who often (unintentionally) upstage the protagonists. And the boyfriends are all handsome fellows. Yummy.

There is only one thing to do: Make a pot of tea, place some fine cookies on a nice plate or open that box of chocolates, and sink into a soft sofa. Then watch "Love In A Cold Climate" and enjoy two and a half hours of fine entertainment--one of the best women's pictures ever.

This 300-minute miniseries, presented on Showtime in five parts, October 27 - November 26, 1985, is the definitive film version of this Fitzgerald work. This miniseries was never repeated on Showtime, and most people don't even know of its existence.

What's good about it? The casting. Peter Strauss as Dick Diver and Mary Steenburgen as Nicole Warren inhabit their roles completely. They are so good that I cannot imagine any other actors in these parts. This is Mary Steenburgen's best performance on film, yet it lies buried here. She conveys well Nicole's vulnerability and psychological fragility at the film's start as well as her growing strength and health by the film's conclusion.

Because of Peter Strauss's good looks and winning performance, it's easy to understand why women were attracted to Dick Diver and fell in love with him so easily. Scott and Zelda themselves couldn't have made a better couple than Strauss and Steenburgen do here.

Part 1 is a delectable romantic film in its own right. There's an excellent scene in a barn where Dick and Nicole are dancing--just a rather simple dance--to some records that are playing on her portable phonograph. It's a magical movie moment that makes their love clear and supports Dick's desire to marry Nicole, despite the warning of his colleagues.

Once married, Nicole and Dick are off to life at Villa Diana on the French Riviera, 1925, among the rich. Nicole's family is very wealthy, and her money supports the fine lifestyle that she and Dick enjoy here.

These scenes on The Riviera capture perfectly what life must have been like for Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald when they were there with Sara and Gerald Murphy and others of the international set of the times. The Divers are a charismatic couple; everyone wants to be their friend. But the film is not about that glittering life, which is just the background for the doomed romance.

The plot shows us that Diver, a psychologist, is going to make Nicole well. A victim of incest, Nicole is subject to breakdowns and has been diagnosed as manic-depressive. As she gets better with Dick's help, he goes the opposite way: from the strong, romantic psychologist who is Nicole's life-support system to a man who has lost all confidence in himself, who's become alcoholic, who longs for the past, who sees his love lost--whose world just disappears. Strauss brings this off very well, especially in Part 3 of the series, which is excellent at showing Dick's decline, his sourness, and his self-loathing, intertwined with his desire for the past he remembers favorably. Dick is revealed as a both a martyr (for love) and a hero too. He remains a very sympathetic character to the end, and that's difficult to pull off after Dick becomes a drunk. But we see a man who gave all he had to give--himself--to cure a woman he loved. My God, what love story could ask for more than that?

Some viewers may say the film is too long. But this length is necessary to show characters built unhurriedly, complexly, and well and to show the changes in both Nicole and Dick. It can't be done faster, or these changes wouldn't be plausible. (Which explains why no two-hour film version of this novel will ever be successful.) However, this length is inevitably going to slow the film's pace, and anyone interested in strong narrative thrust will be disappointed by this miniseries.

The film succeeds in large part because it has a decent script by Dennis Potter, best known for "Pennies from Heaven" (1978), and for the "Singing Detective" series (1986), which infuses many scenes in the film with Fitzgerald's romantic, nostalgic tone. But one must remember that there are faults in the novel's structure which even Potter couldn't overcome.

The strength of the film is in its casting (both major and minor roles) and the performances of Strauss and Steenburgen, the fine production values, fine period costumes and detail, all of which reflect the film's $7 million budget. There is good use of songs from the period but that is not overdone, and there's a good musical score for the film itself, which, likewise is not overdone, even though there is a romantic theme here that could have been a hit but didn't gain popularity because it's not overused in the film.

Though the film doesn't have strong narrative thrust, it has the density, the complexity, of a long novel where one gets to know fully the characters, becomes totally involved with them, and hates to say goodbye to them. I can't say that about many films.

Read David O. Selznick's memos about "Tender is the Night" in "Memo from David O. Selznick," and you'll understand that this is the production Selznick hoped to make. It's filmed on location and detailed enough to suit him, unlike the 1962 version with Jennifer Jones, which was poor throughout.

A recent NY Times article said that Jesse Wigutow is adapting "Tender is the Night" for yet another screen version. He has introduced Ernest Hemingway and Dorothy Parker into the story. Need one know more to realize the disaster this remake will be? The Showtime miniseries should be issued on DVD together with a documentary, "The Making of 'Tender is the Night,'" which was made for publicity purposes in connection with this miniseries.

This film reminds me of the gay porn movies I saw in the early and mid-70s in Manhattan at such places as the Park Miller Theatre. In those pre-video, pre-DVD days--those early days of gay porn films--the films had a narrative line so that the exhibitors, if arrested for showing obscene films, could resist conviction claiming the films had "redeeming social value." Thus, those early gay porn films often focused on problems boys had with prison officials, school principals, other authority figures, etc. Inevitably, there came a moment in the plot when everyone got naked and had hard-core sex.

"The Singing Forest" has the same plot structure, the same poor production values of these early gay porn films, the same inept acting those porn "stars" provided, the same bad lighting, sets, and sound.

The story here focuses on Christopher Hayes, a columnist for a magazine or newspaper, who appears to have a major drinking problem. He hasn't seen his daughter, Destiny, since she graduated from college some years ago.

Time out here: Christopher "met" Destiny's mom, Savannah, when he raped her after following her as she walked home from the library! Savannah became pregnant with Destiny because of the rape. But she still married Christopher and, we're supposed to believe, lived happily with him and her daughter until her early death.

Now Destiny is about to marry Ben Ross, so Christopher is going to the wedding. He will be staying with the couple at their home before the nuptials.

Christopher believes that he is the reincarnation of a former self who was executed in 1933 by the Nazis. Back in that former life, Christopher was a gay man, whose lover, Alexander, was also executed.

When Christopher gets to his daughter's place, he immediately thinks that her fiancé, Ben Ross, is his former lover Alexander, reincarnated! The plot is a hoot from beginning to end and makes no sense. Just as in those early gay porn films, if a woman was present, she had to be off the scene most of the time. Here Destiny is always at work, so she is not home when drunken Ben returns from his bachelor party and falls into bed naked with Christopher, who is already in bed and naked. Of course, Christopher turns over and begins to make love to Ben. Now in the gay porn flicks of yesteryear, we would have seen the explicit footage. Here there's a fade out.

And the next morning we actually have that old dodge: Ben asking, "How did I get here in this bed? Why am I naked? I was so drunk I can't remember a thing." Ha! Not only does Ben have to be drunk to have homosex, he also has to be reincarnated, as does Christopher.

There are other opportunities for Christopher and Ben to be in bed naked while Destiny is at work (is that a pun?). We have unintentionally hilarious lines like Jon Sherrin as Christopher trying his best to be confused and hesitant at the same time as he mutters, "Uh--here I am--I can't believe it--in bed with my soon-to-be son-in-law." That sounds like a line Rock Hudson would have needed 35 takes to get right.

And Craig Pinkston as Ben can say, "I'm not some crazy ghost from your past. I'm from Des Moines." And you can imagine the many howlers that arise because of Destiny's name.

The director doesn't realize he's making a motion picture since virtually all of the scenes are static, showing the actors speaking dialogue such as no actual people would naturally say. The actors are sitting on the couch in the living room, at the kitchen table, on a bed, on the rocks by the sea--but they are sitting, not moving. The locations appear to be actual bedrooms, kitchens, and living rooms in low-rent apartments.

Although the film is listed as having a 93-minute running time, it actually runs just 62 minutes, followed by 7 minutes of slow-crawling credits. It just seems like--well, 93 hours.

This film reminded me of "You'll Get Over It" ("À cause d'un garçon"). Both were made for TV; both run about 90 minutes; both focus on adolescents and homosexuality. Both seem like "After School Specials," intended to make teenagers aware of various aspects of homosexuality.

This film focuses upon Olympe, who appears to be in tenth or eleventh grade in a suburban high school. Her mother Martine, a lesbian, was married to Antoine, a gay man; together they had Olympe and then divorced. There are no further details. At any event, since the divorce, Martine has had custody of Olympe, and Antoine lives in Paris, where he works as an architect.

Martine is in a relationship with a nurse named Do. Although Do and Martine aren't living together, they should be since they spend so much time together at Martine's apartment.

Olympe is uncomfortable living in this situation. And Olympe's discomfort is largely Martine's fault. A good deal of what happens to Olympe occurs because Martine hasn't been forthright with her daughter. Martine herself is living in the shadows, still largely in the closet.

When the film starts, Olympe is a normal teenager with her eye on a handsome guy named Leo. Her rival for Leo's affections is a girl named Géraldine. When Leo cast his lot with Olympe, Géraldine blackmails her by saying that if Olympe doesn't give up Leo, she will tell everyone in school what she knows--that Olympe's mother is a lesbian living with another lesbian.

Since Leo and Olympe remain a couple, Géraldine tells her classmates about Olympe's mother and lover. Although Leo says that this doesn't matter, most of the students soon ostracize Olympe, though her good friend Marion stands by.

Olympe doesn't talk to her mother about what's happening at school, though Martine senses that something is wrong. Instead, Olympe goes to see her father in Paris and tells him. Olympe thinks the solution to her problem is to live with her father and go to school in Paris. But this isn't going to happen because dad has a boyfriend, whom he's been seeing for about a year, and that boyfriend is about to move in with him.

Olympe's problems increase until she seriously contemplates suicide. At school, she intercepts a note that causes her to dash out of the classroom. When Olympe fails to return home that afternoon, and the police find her bicycle near the river, they conclude she might have committed suicide. Martine and Antoine are both at last shocked into paying attention.

The resolution of the plot comes too quickly but involves Olympe's mother becoming supportive of Olympe. The two begin talking to each other, and, at last, Olympe has the support she needs to handle the situation at school and gain strength.

At times, I felt the film was trying to cover too much material in its 90-minute running time, but overall, I liked it because it focuses on both the daughter as well as making clear the parents responsibility to Olympe.

Louise Monot who played Olympe is a very attractive girl (woman?) who did a good job. Samuel Labarthe, as the father Antoine, has matinée idol good looks in the tradition of Charles Boyer. Handsome 18-year-old Lucas Bonnifait played Leo, a piece of eye candy. Other cast members did a satisfactory job.

This film is worth a rental because it will give you something to think about and discuss. It's certainly much better than most of what is on U.S. TV about homosexuality.

I walked out of this film after fifty minutes and would have been better off had I left after ten minutes.

This film provides an example that the French are as capable of making films as bad as mainstream American trash. Here we focus on married couples, one of which--an Indian couple--hardly receives any attention because they represent a still-loving pair after fifteen or so years of marriage.

Instead, the remaining husbands, Vincent and Georges, plus their single friend Fred, are the focus of attention. All of them are sexist louts only concerned with talking about bedding women and discussing women's T&A. Fred is a stereotype: the ugly guy you would think no woman would look at twice but who is, in fact, juggling a string of women. But then none of the male or female characters is developed in any depth here.

It's hard to believe a film would waste time on such guys. Their wives would be better off divorced from these sexist pigs and their children probably would be better off without them, too. The lifestyle these people are shown living is remarkably like that of too many Americans seen in mainstream films--arguing with each other, spending too much time in front of a TV set, overeating, and overweight. Of course, in French films, there's plenty of smoking, but it often looks chic. Not here, where Gabrielle is shown cooking in one scene with a cigarette dangling out of her lips. Ugh! Even the apartments these people live in are ugly. Gabrielle's kitchen could use the services of a good cleaning company.

The narrative line of the film is fractured. In the opening scene, Vincent comes into a bar and picks up his own wife, whom two other men are also trying to pick up. At this point, we don't understand that Vincent and Gabrielle are married. This makes for a very confusing opening to say the least.

Elsewhere in the film, similar chronology tricks are employed. I hadn't the least interest in the characters and was be-damned if I was going to try to figure out the fractured chronology. As in the atrocious "The Constant Gardener," the in-your-face technique (swish pans and rack focusing in particular here) seem an attempt to distract viewers from the humorless, lousy story.

At one point, Johnny Depp has a cameo moment with Gabrielle in a record store. Depp looks awful, as if he needed a shower, a shave, and a haircut as well as the services of the makeup people on the set. I understand that in a later scene, Depp reappears as a client to whom Gabrielle, a real estate agent, shows an apartment. And in that scene in an elevator going up to that apartment Gabrielle and the nameless character Depp plays at last have sex. Ho-hum. I obviously didn't miss a thing by walking out when I did.

During the fifty minutes I was in the audience at the 19th Street Theatre in Allentown, PA, I heard no laughter at all from an audience of about 70 people. During a food fight scene (Can you believe it?) between Gabrielle and Vincent, I heard a few titters of laughter, that sounded like an embarrassed response, as if the titters came from people who were asking themselves, "What are we doing watching something like this?" I couldn't understand why the entire audience didn't arise en masse and leave the theatre.

This is not a good film. The script is a loose adaptation of the novel with much dialogue that is too direct in stating themes and purposes; nothing is left to implication. This might make it useful for showing in high school classrooms but makes it a tedious business for intelligent viewers.

Because there is no framework here of older Gene returning to Devon, a title announces that it is February 1943. And to grab viewers' attention, the film begins with a scene of black robed and hooded boys bursting into Finny and Gene's room, with Brinker telling his cohorts to haul out Finny and Gene. Then another title tells us we're flashing back to "Seven Months Earlier." Gene is arriving for the first time at Devon from his home in the South.

In a too-explicit expository voice-over, Gene makes it clear that he's not one of the wealthy boys whose families have attended Devon for generations but just an average guy from a middle-class background. Nevertheless, he is glad to have this opportunity to be a student at the school.

The boys are immediately plunged into a blitzball game without explanation as to what this is, and then they are running off to jump from the tree at the edge of the river. This is all too quick. The film needs to introduce the characters, build up the characters and their relationships to each other, and then move into the plot events. Because this isn't done here, the characters remain two dimensional, not people I could become involved with and care about. Thus, the film can register no impact; it didn't draw me in.

Toby Moore is totally miscast as Finny. He towers over the other boys, has a 21st century gym-buffed body, and doesn't project a whiff of charisma. He was 26 when the film was shot and is too old for the part. Finny comes across here as a damned pest who is constantly keeping Gene from studying. One wonders why Gene doesn't simply tell Finny to f*** off. For "A Separate Peace" to work, Finny must have charisma, magnetism, innocence, a quality that makes him irresistible to others, even when he's cajoling them to do something they don't want to. If one doesn't warm to Finny, there is no film.

J. Carton plays Gene, who was directed to give the role a heavy Southern accent, which comes and goes throughout the film. When it's present, it's an annoyance. Other than that, Gene is simply a generic preppy here.

Brinker has had all his rough edges smoothed to become a vanilla blah. And Leper is now just an odd student whom the others treat as if he were the dorm mascot. In one horrendous scene, Leper actually impersonates Hitler and comes along with Brinker into Finny and Gene's room to do a little dance. And Quackenbush has simply disappeared altogether.

The film has a bad score which uses no period music that was so necessary to building up atmosphere in the '72 version. Instead, at one point, we get "Hold that Tiger," which must go back to the 20s at least.

The very important scene between Gene and Finny at the beach is treated inconsequently. The dialogue has been changed from the novel so that Finny says quickly to Gene that it's important to be at the beach "with your best buddy." Finny doesn't add, "Which is what you are." And there's no indication that Gene wants to reply to Finny in kind. The very core of the novel is tossed aside here.

When Gene and Finny climb the tree for the fateful jump, Gene is photographed to look like a devil glowering from under his heavy brows at Finny. And here there is no ambiguity about Gene's jouncing the limb; we see him do it. And since I'd not been drawn into Gene's character any more than I'd been drawn into Finny's, I couldn't care much for what Gene did or what happened to Finny.

When Gene goes to see Finny in the hospital after the fall, Finny is far too hale and healthy, not like someone who's just had a serious accident and had his leg set and put into a cast.

There is a scene here where the students go apple picking in nearby orchards because the usual harvesters are off at war. In this scene, the farmer who owns the orchard tells the boys that his son was killed in the war and that he recently buried him in the orchard under his favorite apple tree. He gives his son's army cap to Leper. This scene makes explicit the implications that are in the much finer scene of the '72 version where the boys are shoveling snow off the railroad tracks and face the young soldiers in the train, who are a mirror for their future.

The best moment in this dismal remake occurs when Gene spots Leper on campus and follows him to his makeshift hideout in the woods. In this scene, Danny Swerdlow as Leper actually has some decent dialogue and a situation to act out, and he does a fine job of it. It was the only scene in the film to register some feeling and begin to draw me in.

The film trickles off after Finny's death. Gene is enlisting, and Brinker, if you can believe this, is going off into the woods wearing Leper's old cap hoping to find the beaver damn that Leper was earlier looking for in the winter. Gene has a voice-over at the end that mouths platitudes like, "Just be yourself; just go on." My God! Is that the best this film can offer? This pallid film version reflects attenuation of the book and isn't going to build enthusiasm for the book or reveal what makes the novel such a fine one.

This 95-minute film shows Ellroy having dinner with a number of men who work for the LAPD homicide squad and with whom he is discussing the Blue Dahlia murder. The film cuts away from the dinner to go elsewhere. For instance, there's a tour of the section of L.A. where the teenaged Ellroy broke into various homes. He'd related this in "My Dark Places," which is pretty much what this film is a version of. Of course, we get the story of his mother's death, which was central to "My Dark Places." There is no doubt that his mother's death was the defining event of his life.

In one segment, we see Ellroy giving a reading at an L.A. bookshop. This was a dismaying sequence because it revealed Ellroy to be a vulgar fellow, someone, apparently, who has lived far too long with his characters and the way they talk and perhaps the way they think. He began his reading session by saying, "Welcome all you perverts, pedophiles, panty sniffers" and continued with other words beginning with p. I could see the dismay on many of the faces in the room. Others warmed to this sort of "humor." He did a long riff on how he detests Clinton and hopes that he outlives Clinton so that he can make Clinton a character in a book and give him his due. Ellroy also detests the Kennedys and makes this clear.

The best part of the film is listening to one of the detectives--a rather attractive, gray-haired man perhaps in his mid-40s--elucidate his theory that an L.A. surgeon was the Blue Dahlia killer. The details the detective used to support his theory impressed me as sound. And Ellroy himself agrees with this detective's theory.

This movie is for Ellroy fans only, and some may be disappointed with the personality Ellroy reveals here. At one point, Nick Nolte enters the private dining room and sits down next to Ellroy. He looks like death warmed over and apologizes for his appearance by saying that he's just had some facial surgery. Nolte was very quiet and took it all in.

This is a fine film and deserves a reevaluation. The film is excellently cast with boys who look exactly as I pictured the characters when I read the novel in 1960.

And the film is well acted. None of the boys, with the exception of Stevenson, were professional actors but students at Phillips Exeter Academy at the time, and Stevenson was making his film debut here. These boys convey the characters very well. Heyl is excellent as Finny, and Stevenson is fine as Gene. In particular, Heyl does the scene at the beach very well. Peter Bush conveys the timidity of Leper and Victor Bevine the arrogance of Brinker.

The dialogue is sometimes stiff, but the boys are young and unsure of what to say or whether to express their feelings at all. Conversely, much of the dialogue is more literary than natural, presenting the actors with the problem of having to say expository lines and make that talk seem natural. Even the best professionals have trouble doing this.

This movie was filmed at Phillips Exeter Academy, where author John Knowles went to school. There is a nice sense of the passing of the seasons here, though I would have appreciated even more attention to the colors or autumn and the blossoms of spring; summer and winter are well attended to here.

And the musical score is excellent. The moment when the film goes to flashback and the boys dash out of the dorm unto the playing fields to Benny Goodman's theme, "Let's Dance," is one of the finest openings in all motion picture history. For those with a frame of reference, it instantly transports one back to the 40s.

The clothing recalls a time when schoolboys, especially at private schools, dressed well to go to class. In the 40s, no one wore sneakers, blue jeans, or t-shirts to class.

The film is well composed, which is apparent if one sees it on DVD where it is shown in its proper aspect ratio. And it makes excellent use of color and lighting. The shot of Finny lying at the bottom of the white marble stairs after his second accident is a fine example of this. Another excellent example of the use of color (brown), lighting (shadowing), and composition (Gene is foreground left; Finny in background right) can be seen in the scene where Gene and Finny are in their room and Finny tells Gene he's seen the AWOL Leper on campus.

It's filled with the symbolism that was in the novel but also small bits like this one: during the trial scene, notice that Finny has his arm on the back of Gene's chair, symbolizing a closeness, an embrace of Gene, but as the truth of what Gene did penetrates fully to Finny, he lets his arm drop, symbolizing the break between the two. And what an excellent moment we have when the boys are shoveling snow from the tracks for the troop train to pass. There we have the soldiers in the train, already hostage to war, and the boys outside with their shovels, still free--what is, what will be.

The film isn't the book and to condemn it on that basis is unfair. The book can deal more completely with the interior lives of Gene and the others than the movie can, but the film does as good a job as it can without giving us arty stream-of-consciousness scenes.

About that scene at the beach and why a voice-over by Gene would be a helpful addition to the film. I'm quoting from the book here:

Finny: "I hope you're having a pretty good time here. I know I kind of dragged you away at the point of a gun, but, after all, you can't come to the shore with just anybody, and you can't come by yourself, and at this teen-age period in life, the proper person is your best pal." He hesitated and then added, "Which is what you are," and there was silence on his dune.

It was a courageous thing to say, Gene thinks. Exposing a sincere emotion nakedly like that at the Devon School was the next thing to suicide. I should have told him then that he was my best friend also and rounded off what he had said. I started to; I nearly did. But something held me back. Perhaps I was stopped by that level of feeling, deeper than thought, which contains the truth."

That level of truth is not that Gene loved Finny. Gene didn't trust Finny, was suspicious of Finny's motives toward him, had his defenses up, and no one can truly love another in that state. Nonetheless, the paragraph following Finny's dialogue should have been in a voice-over. Knowles agrees and made this point in the July/August 1987 issue of "American Film."

It's fashionable to see a homosexual subtext in the novel now. But I read and taught the novel before the 1969 Stonewall rebellion, in a time when a relationship between boys could be "just friendship and intense devotion" without its being sexual.

I had great success teaching this novel for two or three years at Harford Junior College in Bel Air, Maryland. I valued so much the joy of teaching the book and the response of the students there that I never again taught the book because I didn't want to have those memories tarnished by a later generation of lethargic, rebellious, resistant students. The male students of 1964 and 1965 were still subject to the draft, and the Vietnam War was reaching the boiling point. Like the boys of Devon on the rails shoveling the snow, my students (male, at least) could well understand that in the not-too-distant future they would be in the train on the way to war. And among those students I taught, several lost their lives in Vietnam.

Given the title of this miniseries, I thought I was going to see the Vivien Leigh-Larry Olivier story. That is not what this is, much to my dismay. Instead, we have here the story of Olivier and Leigh leading an Old Vic tour of Australia during 1947 or 1948.

The screenplay attempts to use this year's tour as a microcosm of the Leigh-Olivier relationship. And that's the problem. The film is mostly talk rather than action, or, more specifically, mostly arguing between Olivier and Leigh, which quickly becomes boring. In addition to all the dialogue, much of it expository, there are newsreels that provide transitions and still further exposition.

We need a backstory. This film should have shown the origins of the Leigh-Olivier romance, and then have shown us what lead up to their trouble. Instead of being the whole story, the Australian tour should have been a ten-minute episode in the Olivier-Leigh story.

Apparently, Leigh did meet Peter Finch in Australia, and the two had a sexual encounter there. Also, Finch met Olivier there and managed to negotiate with him a position with the Old Vic Company, arriving in England the day after Leigh and Olivier returned from the tour.

We see Leigh's breakdowns here, and Elsie Beyer, manager of the Old Vic tour, tells Olivier that Leigh is mentally ill, that she'd seen patients like Leigh when she was a nurse, earlier in her life. It is with Elsie's announcement that Olivier begins to understand and accept just what he has on his hands with Leigh.

Throughout the film, the characters never came to life. I was never drawn into their situation, made to care for them. And there was little narrative thrust, since I knew exactly where the Olivier-Leigh relationship was bound.

A significant contribution to the miniseries' failure--beyond the writing and the plebeian TV-style direction--is the casting. Anthony Higgins bears no physical resemblance to Olivier at all. He came across as a mundane, all-purpose TV series type actor. Mel Martin, who played Vivien, does manage in some scenes to look like Vivien, but most of the time she does not. Jerome Ehlers does show a probable resemblance to the young Peter Finch. None of these actors does a good job in his/her role, and I don't think their failure can all be blamed on the faulty script and mundane direction. They are all walking through this, just waiting to collect their paychecks and get on to the next assignment.

Jackie Kelleher as Elsie Beyer is the only actor who impressed me, probably because her character was the only one that wasn't one note. Elsie undergoes a change from a hard-as-nail company manager to a more sympathetic and understanding woman before the film is over.