dmturner

Because everyone else had waxed so euphoric over this film, I went with high expectations. However, though I enjoyed it, I did not find it to be as extraordinary as I was led to expect. For one thing, the Faun is an awkward and crude creation, with a mad hint of Muppet about him; perhaps my vision has been spoiled by the proliferation of special effects in recent decades. For another, the movie was so dark and claustrophobic (both in the fantasy scenes and in the "real-life" scenes) that it was almost a caricature. The young lead actress was excellent, as were all the actors. However, the story line with its noble Nationalists, sadistic captain, innocent child, and bed-ridden mother-to-be struck me as hackneyed. Perhaps I am betraying my age, and all this seems new to everyone else who sees it.

However, the acting is compelling and the savagery of the twisted Captain's acts (and the retribution exacted on him by the terrified, brave Mercedes) will stay with me for a long time.

Because it has Jason Statham, who is good in everything, my husband wanted to go see this movie. Afterwards, as we were leaving, he remarked, "Well, that was not for the faint of heart." To say the least.

Hand chopped off? Check. Car abandoned on mall escalator? Check. Public semi-consensual rape? Check. Numerous car thefts and crashes, interspersed with cab and elevator rides in which a random Japanese businessman addresses the hero in the voice of the hero's mother? Check. Fast cuts, obscenity written in large caption letters across the hero's forehead, and completely improbable use of drugs? Check.

I liked it very much. Fastest 90 minutes I've ever spent, and it was insane and funny.

As I watched this movie, I heard all around me little appreciative chuckles from the audience. I like but don't love crossword puzzles (my mother did the double crostics when I was a kid, which were beyond me) and can take them or leave them, but Will Shortz is a gem and the theme of competition is universal. Heck, I don't usually even like documentaries, but I felt as if this funny, courteous, kind, assortment of people was inviting me into a particularly enjoyable party in which nobody was a wallflower. The film-makers deserve credit for the humor and kindness of this film, as well as for the excellent craftsmanship (and their interesting assortment of celebrity interviewees)

When I saw this film with my family last night, I couldn't help feeling that I had already seen it. Unlike many film sequels, it doesn't leave me with the feeling that I've been handed a grab-bag of leftovers. It was well acted, with excellent special effects, and even having a horde of middle-schoolers wielding cell phones and darting back and forth to talk to one another in front of us didn't keep me from enjoying myself. I've just seen it already.

Emma Watson is, as always, excellent, and Rupert Grint's eternally astonishing face is a gem. Daniel Radcliffe, as always, has the unenviable job of being the unwilling and not-particularly-distinguished hero, and acquitted himself well. The directing was good. You will enjoy this if you have enjoyed the other ones, because it is very much the same thing, and nothing succeeds like consistent quality, after all.

A world-wide plot to destroy the United States, incoherent and random villainy, a frightening new technology, a hash of a plot, incomprehensible behavior . . . and two skilled and charming performers in the main role.

That sum equals a pleasant night out, though it would have been better shorter. Antonio Banderas is gifted, funny, gorgeous, and has panache, and Catherine Zeta-Jones, a remarkable actress who inhabits the role, even when it involves seismic cleavage and corsets, makes us believe her character could possibly exist. Oh, yeah, and she's gorgeous.

The swordplay is the usual banging-on-blades stuff, with numerous unnecessary back-flips and somersaults. The horse is amusing, and so is the little boy. In the pursuit of "family" appeal, no one seems to get stabbed by the swords; instead they are shot, tied to the front of a crashing train, or have their heads (or their entire bodies) blown up (with the more gruesome details conveniently out of sight of the camera).

Though the scenery is grand and sweeping, this fantasy movie has a friendly, funky heart. Unsurprisingly for a movie directed by Ron Howard, the comedy avoids crudity and over-cuteness but the characters have a pleasant, classic narrative superficiality. Consistent with a George Lucas production, its plot is thin in spots and over-reliant on sudden epiphanies. Even the much-vaunted special effects already seemed a little hokey when I saw it in 1988. Yet it is one of my favorites. Why? Well, Warwick Davis, for one, with his fresh young face, nimble acting, and energetic motions. A close second, one of the most adorable babies ever to raise her eyebrows, played by Ruth and Kate Greenwood. Jean Marsh, whose face in the final scenes is one of the most horrifying things I've ever seen. Billy Barty. And, essential for a lady's complete enjoyment of a movie, a good-looking man: a funny, mugging, handsome, clowning heroic Val Kilmer looking scrumptious in everything between a blowsy gown, a bloomer-like loincloth, a suit of vaguely Persian armor, and woodsman attire.

I admit it: I re-watch the movie every once in a while, but though I enjoy the story and it really is delightful, my main motivation is Val Kilmer as the blustering, shallow, moonstruck, valiant Madmartigan.

This amusing little movie appeals to a wide range with its comfortable humor, racy but utterly inoffensive conversation, and its roots in Disney-style family values (but for the real world). Queen Latifah does a relaxed and amiable job of tying the film together, and the ensemble cast is sweet and funny. I was impressed with Alicia Silverstone's turn as a geeky little white country girl--it's the first time she hasn't been playing off a well-to-do type and she carries it off. We had a nice relaxing time of it while we were watching, and half an hour later I've forgotten most of it--but that's just fine. Means I can pop it in the DVD player later on, enjoy it, and not remember a word.

Probably one of my most enjoyable movie experiences ever. My (22-year-old) daughter and her friend are Vin Diesel fans, and I like stupid movies, so we went off to see this with no particular expectations. It was delightful! The acting was good, the writing was just off-kilter enough to surprise, and the plot, while predictable, was only predictable a few seconds in advance (which is about how long it took for Vin Diesel's character to process a thought). Our little group of cynics was charmed and quoting lines from the movie all the way home afterwards. We agreed that it was indeed a Disney movie, but it didn't have the cheesy hollowness and wannabe withitness that has hampered those productions since Hayley Mills was my age. Bits of it were unexpectedly moving. Vin Diesel's little side romance was also charming, with a breath of gentle kinkiness ("On land, you're the superior officer," he says to his honey, and she smirks.) Basically it was funny, stupid, and sweet without being annoying, and Vin Diesel was excellent in it. I'll buy it when it comes out in video, or my daughter will--she works in a trendy video store, so that she liked the movie is saying a lot.

I knew I was going to see this when I saw the first preview. Dennis Quaid was one reason, but the theme of holding on to your dreams speaks to me. People talk about this as a movie for kids, but I think it's a movie for baby boomers who are coming to terms with aging, infirm parents, our own mortality, our kids growing up and leaving us, and all the other things we never thought would happen to us.

The movie doesn't fall into the trap of tragedy; it's about what living your dreams means when you have a real life.

Quaid is too small for a pitcher but he makes it look good, and Rachel Griffiths makes a small part as the wife into a thoughtful, layered performance. The camera-work is slow and sweet. When they put this movie together, they left out anything that wasn't necessary. Very nice.

I went to this movie with high expectations for a taut thriller, but though my arms were crossed throughout the movie it was because it was too air-conditioned and I was a little bored. Cruise and Foxx turned in a pair of jaw-clenching performances--with no other particular expression--though the camera work was lovely. There was one moment, when Foxx took off his glasses in a meeting with the assassin's employers, when he had an actual expression on his face. Jada Pinkett Smith was pretty but otherwise not terribly interesting.

I repeat, the camera work was lovely. Los Angeles, for the first time, seemed to have character. And the soundtrack was nice. It will be good on video. Otherwise, it's not even as good a summer time-waster as I, Robot.

The movie as a whole was pat, cute, arch, and definitely not hip--and I swear I'm hallucinating Hayley Mills right now. However, Lindsay Lohan did a lovely shrewish turn as the mother-inside-the-daughter, and Jamie Lee Curtis's playful take on the part was hilarious. Mark Harmon played his part as if he'd been embalmed, however.

My favorite part was the coffee-shop scene between Chad Murray and Jamie Lee Curtis. It's about time we turned the tables on the usual older-male-star/teenage chickie-of-the-moment casting.

Plot? Where? Oh, I don't need no stinking plot. Give me Antonio Banderas striding around enigmatically, firing the occasional guitar case, and lapsing into comas of flashback. Give me Ruben Blades, lending a sad dignity to the part of someone who landed in the part by accident and is swimming hard to keep from drowning. Give me Mickey Rourke lumbering around with a chihuahua, and Willem Dafoe doing heaven knows what--was he in another movie next door and got his directions mixed up? But most of all, if I have Johnny Depp playing a CIA agent with a third arm whose T-shirt says, "I'm with stupid" and has an arrow pointing downwards, I can happily ignore the fact that every new twist in the action came from Mars. I really enjoyed it. No, really. My husband, however, would have walked out after the first five minutes if I hadn't been sitting there cracking up and needing a ride home afterwards.

I knew I was going to see this when I saw the first preview. Dennis Quaid was one reason, but the theme of holding on to your dreams speaks to me. People talk about this as a movie for kids, but I think it's a movie for baby boomers who are coming to terms with aging, infirm parents, our own mortality, our kids growing up and leaving us, and all the other things we never thought would happen to us.

The movie doesn't fall into the trap of tragedy; it's about what living your dreams means when you have a real life.

Quaid is too small for a pitcher but he makes it look good, and Rachel Griffiths makes a small part as the wife into a thoughtful, layered performance. The camera-work is slow and sweet. When they put this movie together, they left out anything that wasn't necessary. Very nice.

My husband and I were looking for an evening's mindless entertainment and this was it. Nice special effects which don't dominate the movie, a far-fetched plot with some pseudoscientific background, and directing which doesn't present teenagers as hip monsters, bizarre brats, or improbable geniuses. In fact, I'd say my only complaint was that the teenagers were maybe a tad too wholesome. Nice to see the gravel-voiced French Stewart with a good part. My husband (who normally likes decadent movies) said enthusiastically as the lights rose, "That was really excellent." I don't think I'd go that far, but consider this: the theater was full of 10-year-olds but I didn't hear any noise or anyone talking during the performance.

This movie is excellent entertainment, underscoring the ultimate futility of revenge while nonetheless delivering a heckuva lot of it in very satisfying fashion but without exploding howitzers, special effects, or gaudy blood-spurting. There is blood, however, and sex, but I didn't spend much of my time (as I too often do in movies) thinking, "How did they get the actors to consent to do THAT on screen?" or wondering what kind of manufacturer specializes in internal organs and how their shop floor looks. I will say, however, that as I drove away from this movie, the thing I remembered most is the bone structure of the actors, which deserves an Academy Award all its own.

The hot-air balloon entrance was a lovely set piece, one of the best I've seen.

James Caveziel and Guy Pearce both handled the task of showing the effects of age and development of character excellently. Dagmara Dominczyk, however, suffered the fate of too many female characters in Hollywood, which was being apparently the same exact (rather ineffectual) person in her mid-thirties as she was in her late teens, after a life of loss, motherhood, and systematic betrayal by her husband. I would love someone besides Rene Russo and Jodie Foster to be allowed to look like a grownup female without being a dowdy frump.

I loved the original cartoons, and this movie preserves the parts I liked about it. The self-mocking, theatrical, relentless innocence is overshadowed only by the frequency of the puns. Though Piper Perabo is dreadful in it, that's only appropriate for the role of cartoon ingenue. Rene Russo is splendid in skin-tight spy-glam, Jason Alexander does a good job of impersonating a cartoon character, and Robert DeNiro, as usual of late, enjoys parodizing himself. There are a slew of unnecessary, loud cameos, some by people I didn't recognize but whom I was obviously supposed to. But what the heck: Rocky and Bullwinkle themselves turned in a superb performance.

In a mood to waste time? This amiably incoherent B movie is not a bad way to do just that. Kurt Russell is, as always, perfectly suited to the quality of the film, which is not an insult; all the others are miscast, however. Kevin Costner makes a wooden and dreadful bad guy (whoa on the sideburns, big fella, they make you look like an underdone muffin) and Courtney Cox has fun trying to play a narsty person, though her weeping breakdown scene had to be filmed with her face to the wall so we didn't have to see her act. The kid who plays the kid did a good job. I was ready to walk out during the opening credits, which were peculiar, and then during first ten minutes of the film, which were badly written, but then there was a great shootout with multiple Elvises and showgirls in a casino, and the rest of the movie was moderately fun. The plot twists were, though predictable, nonetheless well timed, and it's always nice to see Thomas Haden Church get work. "Well, that was forgettable," we said as we left, but it was fun.

This movie is a grand, sweeping comic book of a movie and about as deep, though certainly well photographed for the most part. It was a shame to see so many good actors with sriking faces wading through such a formulaic script, though the sets were lovely. I suspect the only reason so many people have been blown away by the movie is that it features women fighting each other with more than marginal competence. The fight scenes are all too relentlessly high-speed to be savored, however, and the anti-gravity element gives the whole thing a puppet-theater quality which is jarring. I think I would have enjoyed the movie more if the characters had worn masks; the surrealistic, fairy-tale element would have made more sense then.

I don't often think Hollywood gets much right; this film got a great deal right about a complicated issue. Benicio del Torres was remarkable, Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones were well cast, and the unusual camera work, blurring, and color palette were used to make a point rather than show off.