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I've tried to sit through this film at least 3 times over the years and never enjoyed it. I first saw the Spanish dub and thought maybe it was the translation or the voice actors that made it so dull and dreary. Having just bailed on the English OST for the second time, I think it's safe to say it's not the translation that's at fault.

This is the film that really put Siamese cats on the map in the US. As many reviewers have mentioned, Pyewacket is the best character in the film. Novak apparently takes her cues from the cat as she stretches and purrs and pulls faces--but romantic? Not so much. Stewart seems very uncomfortable with the script; he tries to play his standard upright Joe in a strange situation, but his heart is obviously not in it. Ernie Kovacks bumbles his way through his part as an alcoholic writer, mumbling his lines so any comic effect is lost, while Elsa Lanchester seems to be channeling Blanche DuBois.

Unpleasant people doing unpleasant things, and this is supposed to be a comedy. Yawn.

Growing up in the 60s this show was in syndication. A lot of my mom's friends drooled over "the Beaver" because he was "so cute." Even at the age of 4-5, I knew Beaver was an idiot. All of his actions were totally cringe-making to a real child (like the time he put the brussels sprouts in his shirt pocket. Like you do.) Older brother Larry was a complete pain the the neck, and never talked like any American boy I ever met, "on account of nobody really talks like that." Even at the age of 4-5, I always knew within 5 minutes how the episode was going to play out, crisis, denouement and all. Sadly, I was never wrong. My siblings and I preferred Eddy Haskell, who as Shakespeare put it, may not be a flattering honest man like Larry, but he was a plain dealing villain!

Watching this film was a surreal experience. I saw "Drame en Trois Actes" from the "Petits Meurtes d'Agatha Christie" first, and began to think I had seen this film before. I hadn't, but the camera angles, scenes and sets were strikingly similar. This film came first; it's quite possible that Drame en Trois Actes was a sort of remake.

Any resemblance to Christie's "Three Act Tragedy" is purely imaginary. The screenwriter shoehorns in a nod to a lesbian relationship (or a least pickup) but ignores a plot hole big enough to drive a prop wagon through.

If the first victim wasn't actually dead, who did the body belong to? There is no explanation even though the whole "solution" hinges on a dental report, which is only mentioned in passing.

The non-ending was extremely annoying as nothing, but nothing, is resolved. .

When I first started watching I enjoyed seeing the animals. After a while though, Dr K's disdain for "vets who only treat...dogs and cats" started to grate. Her admiration for exotic pet owners seems to be based on how much money they are.prepared to spend in her practice. This was painfully obvious in the episode dealing with a marmoset. From the start of the episode, Kelleher speaks of the possibility of an agressive form of herpes. She repeatedly mentions that the marmoset is in pain, but decides it could be something else -- roll out the CT scans and other expensive tests. After three days (during which the animal continues to suffer), it becomes obvious that yes, this is the aggressive herpes she had mentioned three days earlier, so the animal must be euthanised. They also filmed and showed the owner's hysterical crying at the loss of her pet, which I found disgusting. Personal grief is private, or should be.

After a few more episodes in which exotic birds and reptiles died under anaesthesia, some of which were revived only to die a few hours later, I realised this show isn't for me. The giggly-girl babytalk of the vets and techs is seriously out of place when it's a constant in the back room, and the profit motive is a bit too obvious for comfort.

I saw this film in French, with the title "Une Femme Dans La Tourmente". A year later I still think about it. Postwar Japan is gearing up for the period of "rapid growth", and many of the small family-owned businesses and the families that run them are being swept away. Reiko has supported her late husband's family with her indefatigable work throughout the war and still cooks, cleans and takes up the slack. The family was quite happy to take advantage of her hard work during the hard days, but now that their remaining son is old enough to marry they find her an embarrassment. The son is a lazy young man, used to going with the flow and frankly not trying very hard at anything. When a modern supermarket chain comes to their area, many small shops are going to the wall. Should they continue to struggle on as they are, or sell out for what they can get? Reiko faces her own decision: stay or go? And if she goes, where?

I enjoy seeing the exotic pets that many vets don't treat, and having seen "Dr T" on the "Doctor K" show I was interested. The animals are still fascinating, and I appreciate the staff telling viewers about the need to be properly prepared before taking on an exotic pet, but after a few episodes "Dr T's" cutey-cute persona starts to grate. The constant baby talk in the too-loud, too-excited voice, the constant response to every new exotic as "Oh, I want one so bad", are bad enough, but then there's her habit? Of making every statement? Sound like a question? When she's explaining to the audience? This is one of the most annoying speech tics I've ever come across. I teach ESL, and I advise my students to watch her show to understand that making everything they say sound like a question will really annoy the examiner when they take their finals, and may count against them. They get it the first time they listen to her.

As a long time friend and client of Therese de Lisieux, I have read everything she wrote in three languages.. What a shame the directors didn't take the trouble to get the details right, from the wrong habits, showing lots of hair!, to men walking around in the enclosure. Yes, the police would visit the chapel where the body was found, but they would not be walking in the convent gardens talking with the nuns. Strict enclosure means what it says, and you don't get much stricter than the Discalced Carmelites. Nor would you get a single Carmelite leaving the enclosure to help out in the investigation; even in the third millenium, Carmelites in the outside world come in pairs. They never leave the enclosure unless it's for something like surgery.

I have to wonder what the nuns of Lisieux thought of the finished product, if indeed they ever saw it. To be honest, the best part for me and the person who watched the film with me was spotting actors from other TV series.

I really enjoyed the first 2/3 of this series. Strong echoes of "It's a Wonderful Life" with Angel Dan on his final mission to return to Paradise (ie earn his wings). All this time he's looked after animals not people, but he finds himself saving a wilful, beautiful blind ballerina who was supposed to die. There are some fine performances here on the part of the main actors, though the "ballerina" mostly moves her arms and lifts one leg; the real dancing is filmed far enough away she could be anybody--and probably is.

So far so good, but about halfway through the writers started adding lots of twists and turns, to the place that it started to take forever. All the intrigue and real action is packed into the final ten episodes or so, and The Deity (as He is called in the subtitles) seems to change its mind a lot. Archangel Hu is awfully clueless for a head of section! My question is, what kind of Archangel wouldn't recognise another angel the moment they made contact? I toughed it out to the end just to see how they resolved the whole tangled tale. The ending was okay...but somehow not satisfying. It was like they decided to throw in a bunch of possible resolutions and let the viewers take their pick. From "great" at episode 15, by episode 32 my reaction was "meh."

We really enjoyed this short series, and I picked up some excellent money-saving "green" cleaning tips, such as the use of citric acid powder for just about everything. (It's cheap, easy to store, and Amazon delivers.) A young woman needs to rentshare her house to avoid losing it, but as an intern in a big company she works all the hours God sends so there's no time to clean. Enter the House Helper, a young man with a troubled past who cleans houses and declutters people's lives. The girl finally ends up sharing with three previous classmates, and their lives are examined individually and collectively.

The writers deal with some serious issues: incest, loneliness, losses of many kinds, industrial harassment, especially lack of communication. Yet they manage to use a light touch--it's not heavy drama or cringe-making at any time. The person I watched it with wondered if they left the door open for a second season. We'll see, next year.

Oh, and by the way--heating flat beer in the microwave really does help in cleaning it, much more than the old water-and-vinegar formula I had been using, and it doesn't leave an unpleasant smell.

Our first foray into Korean soaps was a lot of fun. The scriptwriters balanced the drama with comedy, usually via parental antics. Kang Hanui is 26 and drifts from one minimum-wage job to another. An encounter with a rude customer at her barista job finds her unemployed yet again, so she decides to create her own fashion business based on a patent her father acquired before his death. We see social interaction on three levels: working-class, comfortable middle class, and CEO of a fashion design business. Unemployment, abandonment, and romance are all mixed into this light summer cocktail which deals with serious issues but leaves no bitter aftertaste. I'm not used to laughing heartily while watching a soap!! A few of the plot threads come loose and are never trimmed, but for the first time I experienced "end of series syndrome"--after 121 episodes, I felt slightly bereft.

While a relative newcomer to Korean TV drama, I know good acting when I see it, and there are some excellent performances here. The two daughters, particularly Miho, were able to say so much with a look, a gesture, body posture and movement. The main actor certainly earned his salary, particularly in the first half, and his hometown buddy sidekick was funny without being cringey.

The problem was twofold: the script writers obviously loved It's A Wonderful Life, and they managed to write themselves into a corner they couldn't get out of. The person who watched it with me wondered if we were seeing a parable of divorce. I replied wondering why the writers thought the Afterlife would be run like an incompetent company. The story just kept getting weirder and weirder, and I was getting so tired of all the emotional angst on the part of all the characters that I nearly walked away. The action takes place from March to May, but we are treated (subjected) to a Christmas carol at one point--a reference to It's A Wonderful Life--and an odd little moment of song and dance. However since it was only 18 episodes I hung tough, just to see what they could possibly do to redeem the mess. The last episode does redeem the tangle somewhat, but came dangerously close to a cop-out.

Pleased as I am to find that Rowan Atkinson can play straight roles, the Maigrets who have gone before(Cremer, Gabin, Gambon and co) have no competition in the new series. In spite of some excellent performances (Madame Maigret radiates decency and warmth while scarcely saying a word, whether she's serving drinks,comforting a widow or simply giving Maigret an extremely speaking look), "Maigret's Dead Man" never rises from the floor due to lackluster directing. All those distorted shots, lurid lighting and "artistic" camera angles gave me the impression that John East had seen Moulin Rouge far too often.

Even though we are treated to some background detail that those who have read the original novels will find pleasing (as for example Maigret's love of a hot coal fire to roast himself before in order to think a case through), too many things were ever so slightly wrong. I can't blame it on the fact that Hungary has to do duty for postwar Paris; the Bruno Cremer series was also shot in Central Europe, but at least they got the lighting and architecture right for Paris. The direction was slow and lackluster, the police officers supposedly masquerading as habitues in a local bistro stuck out a mile in their gabardines and hats, and the film went on for far too long. A judicious use of sound stages would have served the purpose much better.

A strange offering for Christmas Day, what with torture and mass murder, sociopaths and showgirls. With such a volatile mixture, how did it all turn out so very bland?

The British have long been known for top-notch period dramas: the lovely clothes, the palatial homes, every detail of food and drink and music spot-on. So far so good. But how did the director manage to turn a rattling good political/social story set at a time of great unrest in all of Europe and slow it down to a trudge through the sludge?

Perhaps part of it was the camera work, particularly all those shots through windows that "just happen" to blur the one thing the viewer needs to see? Or the terrible sound, which allows us hear every footstep and slurp of wine, but always blurs the dialogue at its most vital point? The needless implied lesbian sex scene? Or simply the wooden performances on the part of all the actors? Shoddy directing, shoddy writing--of course it got an Oscar.

To be honest, for a story where so much might have happened not a lot goes on.

Longest 98 minutes I've sat through in a long time.

A light-hearted rom com that combines elements of "You've Got Mail" (even some camera shots, such as the girl typing at her window) and "Amelie"....or at least tries to. The problem for me was, it tries a bit too hard. It can't decide whether it's your typical "their eyes met and from that day forward he was obsessed with finding her again" comedy, or a platform for social reform.

Solveig is a young cashier in a superstore. Her father was left in a coma after an accident (and that's all we hear, whether it was a traffic accident or he fell off Everest, we'll never know) and she was left with the care of her little brother. In spite of her degree in literature, cashing up is apparently the only job she can get. She's also a secret blogger whose posts inspire the underpaid employees of hypermarkets all over France to revolt. (yeah. because that's what happens.)

The person who watched the film with me said, "The little kid is the best actor in the film." He is, too. He doesn't try to be "cute" or winsome, he just acts like a normal 10 year old. Apparently he looks after himself after school and late into the evening, even preparing his own dinner if Big Sis is out. In contrast, the "rich kid" about his age was totally unbelievable in his own part, from his carefully highlighted blonde hair to his overacted scorn of everyone and everything. Even Solveig is a little too sweet, a little too understanding, a little too easy-going to be true--especially the way all her co-workers turn to her for advice and treat her like an authority of some kind. If that's what blogging does to you, I think I'll pass.

A pleasant enough way to pass 90 minutes, but not at all memorable, unless it was for the spray-on snow that decorated the cars, the digital snow "falling" from the night sky, and the obviously CGI exteriors. Not to mention that the animation accompanying the opening titles basically tells you the story of the film.

I really wanted to like this programme, and looked forward to it. I know it's basically a "reality" show with animals, and I know they are scripted, but this one is painfully obvious. Dr Blue is the funny guy, always coming up with some impossible idea that--gosh!--just happens to work out right on time, just the way he wants.

Maybe I'm strange, but personally I watch Animal Planet and animal documentaries to see the animals and learn about them. Yeah, okay, a little human interest is normal. Recently though, when it comes to animal programmes it's all about the presenters and/or the vets, the wannabe celebrities. The focus in Vet Life is on their families, their personal lives (at least as scripted for the show) and themselves, with a shot or two of the animals thrown in. They have this new, slick, modern clinic. "Your cat needs surgery right now." "I'm in your hands," smiles the client. Not one question about how much it's going to cost. You never see the receptionist mention billing, or money. In fact they manage to give the impression that it's all a public service; it might possibly all be free, if you didn't notice those lovely brand-new looking expensive homes...or are they sets for the show?

The "mobile clinic" trailer was laughable; you could see that the mud had been artistically placed, and the interior was brand new and sparkling clean, despite the half-dozen masks and pieces of paper tossed on the floor. I was pretty convinced that the "old paint job" was some kind of acrylic wrapping over the real trailer. And since when is a veterinary clinic "a brand"? Do they remember that oath that they took when they became vets, the one that starts, "Primum, non nocere"--first, do no harm? Well, I guess the show itself does no harm...but it does the profession no good, either.

Bridget Jones meets Meg Ryan in this fluffy, improbable romcom. The title character has serious body-image issues (unfounded of course) and serious sibling rivalry issues. Her sister's announcement of her engagement drives Jojo to claim a similar attachment, though at rising 30 she is living alone in her grandma's Paris apartment with her cat. Jojo's engagement is entirely imaginary, leading her into a maelstrom of deception and silliness worthy of Meg Ryan's worst.

The film is enormously derivative, and any fan of fluff will recognise the sources: the many, many "gotta have a boyfriend to show off at the party" films, the news story a few years back of the Japanese woman living in someone's apartment without the owner's knowledge; even the background music is strongly reminiscent of same in "You've Got Mail" (I was not the only person who noticed this when we watched it.) The individual actors do what they can, and their performances are good, but the script was weak and the end patched on. While watching this, we were all tempted more than once to just stop the film. I've seen many romcoms that manage to wrap up the silliness in a satisfying way, but this is not one of them. IMDb's board says that people who liked this film also liked "Vilaine" (which receives more than one nod in Josephine). Vilaine is a much better film.

The worst thing you can do with a French comedy is try to take it seriously. Pomposity gets you nowhere. Suspend disbelief, tuck your tongue firmly in your cheek and go along for the ride!

I've seen my share of outstandingly bad French comedy, just as there are bad British or American comedies out there. But this one, drawn from a comic of the same title, made me laugh out loud repeatedly on what had started as a very bad day (not to mention the night before). Part of the fun was seeing so many French actors I recognised from other films, comic as well as serious: Isabelle Nanty is hysterical as the English teacher (when did she work at my school?), Arnaud Ducret of "Parents: Mode D'Emploi" fame had me in stitches as the gym teacher (I swear I've had that guy in my class!) and who would have thought Phillipe Duclos, the "bad guy" from Spirale, could be so funny as the hapless principal?

Yes, it is silly. Yes, the ending is a bit "out there" (but no more so than say, "9 to 5"). I can cite more than a dozen or so big "comedy blockbusters" from American studios that didn't make me laugh once. Watching this film was like porking out on chocolate chip cookies and junk food; I wouldn't want to do it every day, but today it was just what I needed.

I first saw this episode of The American Experience when it was originally broadcast in 1987. It inspired me to explore the craft of quilt-making; as I live in Europe, I had to be a self-taught quilter, much like many of the women who worked in isolation on America's frontier. The stories of women's lives and creativity expressed through the medium of fabric scraps, making "something out of nothing", that is useful as well as decorative and fulfilling, have remained with me ever since.

I recently had the pleasure of finding it on DVD--you will have to look for it, but I found ordered it online from a quilt store in CA. I have a nearly eidetic memory for film and documentary, and having watched the original broadcast several times back in the days of VCRs, I was struck by the fact that the PBS broadcast had cut some scenes and that some of the voices were different. Perhaps in the remastering process, the original dialogue had to be re-recorded. The "voices of the past" overlap in this version as they did not in the original American Experience broadcast. There is a definite political agenda present in the wording of the narration, but if like me you are more interested in the craft itself, it's easy to ignore the rest.

For those who are interested, the writings of Lucy Larcom, Elizabeth Keckley (Mrs Lincoln's dressmaker), Harriet Tubman and Abigail Duniway are available online at Project Gutenberg.

Whenever I see Guillaume Cramoisan's name on the list of actors for a film or series, I know better than to sit through whatever it is. His usual bland "acting" is not reinforced by the spoiled-brat character he plays in this film, with the obligatory 3-day beard and expensively "sloppy" clothes. Once again, Cramoisan is playing the same petulant, delayed adolescent character that is all he knows how to portray.

Sylvain and his wife Marylin return to her family home in the mountains for her brother's funeral. The unloved daughter/sister/aunt of harsh working people who was shuffled off to boarding school at twelve--is it any surprise that her first husband Eric beat her and traumatised her? The homecoming is less than welcoming, and Marylin becomes convinced that her late husband is out there somewhere, watching her every move--while Hubby Number Two and her dysfunctional relatives treat her like she is definitely losing it. Fonfon, her childhood friend, knows something-- but since he's a mute, he won't tell her anything. What is going on here? Anything? And are you willing to sit through it long enough to find out?

The ingredients might make for a good suspense film in the best French noir tradition, if it weren't for the fact that the director tries much too hard to telegraph "this is a scary movie, this is a scary movie".The French television viewer's guide was +10, meaning children ten years and up. Nothing to fear here except perhaps dying of terminal boredom. The film is poorly put together in a patchwork of flashbacks, distorted camera work, repeated "faints" whenever Marylou gets to the top of a staircase, and rabbity acting on the part of all characters. The best performance was put in by the mute! An hour into the film, the story was just getting started. The person who watched it with me agreed that far from generating suspense or anxiety, what we felt was mostly impatience for it to end.

I have read Jane Eyre many, many times and was stunned to see the images from my own mind projected on screen. I've never been to Yorkshire, but the director captures the essence of the story as I myself have mentally lived it time and time again. It was unusual to have the narration begin in the middle of the book, but it works. The story is told in a masterly fashion, without unnecessary emphasis on the "Gothic horror" aspect so beloved of many filmmakers. Mrs Rochester gets about a minute of screen- time, because in this version her hidden presence is not the point. This is a film about Jane herself, about how she goes from unwanted orphan to governess to "freeborn independent human being" who learns to make her own way in the world. Having seen several screen adaptations of this novel, I can inequivocally say this is, in my opinion, the best of the lot. No facile emotionalism, no cheap effects--just excellent cinematography. I was struck again and again by the attention to detail that made the film a well-crafted jewel that will bear watching again and again. There's even a closeup of Jane in her simple grey dress and tucker, looking much like the famous Richmond portrait of Charlotte Bronte. The director and scriptwriter have done a sterling job in selecting the truly important plot points, events and dialogue from the novel to bring it alive for the viewer. One of the few films that will not disappoint fans of the original book, and will make the book attractive for those who haven't read it yet.

French-language comedy abounds with the sort of film that makes perfect sense while you're watching it, but cannot be recounted to anyone who hasn't seen it without realising that...um...it's totally mad. "La Fée" is one of these. Part of its success is the fact that while the situations are farcical in the extreme, the actors carry them out totally deadpan, in the style of Buster Keaton. It's "normal" in their world, so you accept it as normal. Once you can accept the basic premise (sad little night clerk encounters a fairy who offers him three wishes), you are drawn into their version of reality, and no matter how mad it gets you just keep going, wondering where it will all end up. The actors are excellent, sending up silent films, musical comedies and rom-coms in the most ludicrous way without telegraphing (as so many American and English actors would), "Okay, get ready to laugh, funny bit coming up!" No, they just do what they do, and you find yourself giggling with astonishment. The hospital system comes in for its share of sendups (from the "smoking area" to the staff-of-one who manages to keep everything under control...to a point), the national obsession with rugby, etc. You do have to be aware or many of the more obscure bits of "business" will be lost. I think Keaton and Lloyd would have enjoyed this film very much. If it had a weakness, it was in the non-end; the director simply stopped filming when he was done, without attempting to tie it all up in a nice, bland little package.

"La Fée" reminded me strongly of "L'Iceberg". When I checked IMDb I realised it was made by the same people.

For decades, BBC nature documentaries have been the best in the business. Photography, research, and overall quality were always top- class. But at the turn of the millennium, something happened with programmes like Springwatch and its siblings. Suddenly the camera spent more time on the presenters chatting than on the animals. All those special real-time cameras hooked up to nest boxes and special posts filming away 24/7 were wasted because it was all about Kate and Ben and Bill and Co, nattering needlessly away.

I was looking forward to The Burrowers, as it deals with some of my favourite animals, but it has the same problem. The audience isn't ignorant, we can handle watching the animals with a little off-camera narration. In spite of the beautiful footage that was obviously shot (and of which we are given tantalising tastes here and there), the audience is mostly subjected to blurry, overlighted second-hand images shown to camera on the presenters' tablet, laptop or other screen, often slightly out of shot as Chris and the "specialists" chat about how amazing it is to see what has never been seen before...and what the audience isn't permitted to see up close for more than a few seconds at a time. Obviously we could,if allowed, as the few close up clips that actually make it into the programme demonstrate. That footage has to be available in the memory of one of the many digital cameras. But for some reason, it's all about the people and their amazement at themselves for being able to make the programme at all. Again and again a self-congratulatory tone is adopted, to tell the viewers how this has "never been done before"...and yet curiously it is exactly what we've seen time and time again: artificial nests and burrows filmed in "re-creations" underground. I have watched many nature documentaries in the past 45 years or so that prove it. The first artificial badger's sett to allow for underground filming that I am acquainted with, was built in the 1960s. Or visit any of the new-style zoos that have proliferated in the last 10 years and you will be able to see the animals from their own perspectives, by entering specially-built enclosures.

Another thing that got under my skin was the repeated references to the concrete-filled rabbit warren as "abandoned", when in the first episode it was clearly stated that the warren had been "managed" because there were too many rabbits on the property. Being translated, this means that the resident rabbits were eliminated--probably killed. But an "abandoned" warren implies that the rabbits somehow decided to leave it, perhaps voluntarily. Perhaps the makers felt that softened things for the viewers?

The best way to watch this documentary, if your interest lies with the animals themselves, is with the sound off. That way the constant wittering from the presenter won't detract so much.

I first caught this film on French satellite TV about 20 min in. It drew me into its world in a few moments. I watched about half an hour more, and then was called away. Knowing that the particular channel that aired it repeats the same film in different timeslots over a month, I asked my other half to record it for me if they showed it again. "Is it good?" My response was more important than I realised at the time: "I don't know. I need to see it again." Since then I have learned that for me at least, that is the mark of a good film. A film that makes me think, that bears seeing again and again.

Claire,checkout girl at a hypermarket, discovers she is pregnant by a one-night stand (the butcher in the store). Like many young girls her age the world over, she does nothing, perhaps hoping the problem will "go away" or resolve itself, until it's too late to do much more than have the baby. She rejects the man's offer of help or money. "I'm not angry with you," she says, "just go away. I don't want to see you again."

She lives alone in a room in her small rural town; her parents live nearby, but in this film nobody seems to get along with their relations- -not Claire's family, not her wealthier best friend with her own brother (whose parents employ Claire's). Claire fears that her bid for independence will come crashing down, so she tries to follow her heart by seeking a job with Madame Melikian, a professional embroiderer whose son has just died in a crash. Madame M. is locked into her private grief and pain, but seeing Claire's need,takes her under her wing. The film deals with their friendship that blossoms as Claire's mind expands along with her womb. Claire in turn has the chance to bring Madame M. back among the living, helping her to heal the breach with her friend's brother who was also hurt in the crash. The two women end up working together to finish an important project that will weave their lives together inextricably.

The film doesn't resolve every issue, because life isn't like that. The moment you get a handle on one problem, another pops up--if not for you, then for someone you care about. It is beautifully filmed and we feel that however these people's lives play out, the results will be positive. I remember seeing a very young Lola Naymark as Kicup in "Les Nouvelles Tribus". That flaming red hair really is natural...and she is a natural actress who plays the truculent, lonely, frightened adolescent hiding her fear behind a facade of sullenness and "dumb insolence" to perfection. Her opposite, Ariane Ascaride, gives a wonderful performance as an adult who is just as frightened, and just as determined not to let her fears, loneliness and pain show.

The only weak point in this film is the soundtrack. The scratchy violin is just noise, adding nothing but an irritating distraction to the "creativity" scenes. And I hope that the only reason they included the horrendous rock song that accompanies Claire on her scooter is that they didn't have to pay royalties on it. If they did, it was money wasted.

This film feels like a pilot episode for what the makers hope will become a series. French TV has a long tradition of 90 min crime drama series, some edgier than others, but most with a light touch of comedy to relieve tensions. Le Passage du Desir seems to want to join that tradition, but I'd be very surprised if the option is picked up.

Two young women find their neighbour's door ajar, step in to check on her and find her brutally murdered. There are similarities with an unsolved crime from a decade ago, and one of the girls takes it upon herself to involve Lola, an ex-cop living in the neighbourhood who opted for early retirement in favour of jigsaw puzzles and jazz music. Miss Diesel, the girl who ropes her into an investigation (because she dislikes the officer who takes the case, forsooth) is a part-time masseuse who claims to be half- French, half American.

The plot twists and turns and meshes with another crime, false accusations fly and red herrings abound; we're even treated to the obligatory police-officers-attend-the-funeral scene. But it just isn't good enough. The actors do what they can with the roles they were given; it's not their fault that the characters aren't sympathetic or believable, and the backstory owes far too much to previous series ("Soeur Therese.com" sprang to mind both for myself and the person watching with me). "Miss Diesel", spouting thickly-accented English profanity every time she opens her mouth, whether it fits or not, is amusing for about five minutes and then becomes annoying. (She is obviously, painfully, not American and never was). Christian Hecht (known to fans of French crime dramas as Frankenstein, the forensic scientist from "Crimes en Series")manages to infuse his small, flat part with inimitable comic touches just by his facial expressions, proving that there are only small actors. But the plot devices are transparent, the red herrings stink to high heaven, and the facile, unbelievable end feels rushed and patched-on, as if the production team were running out of time, money or patience.

It was a harmless enough way to spend 90 min on a Sunday afternoon, but it's not Crimes en Series. Zut--it's not even Maigret. Dommage, les filles.

(I'd like to apologise to all French speaking people who read this review. IMDb's spellcheck does not speak French or understand adverbials in that language are not plural, hence the mistake in the title of a series that I cannot correct.)

If your taste runs to action blockbusters, this film is not for you. The Scent of Green Papaya is the sort of film that repays patient observation, and lends itself to repeated viewings. I'm not an "intellectual"--I will admit I had to take a couple of runs at this film before I understood what I was seeing. The first time, I turned it off 20 min. into it, saying, "Nothing's happening here!" That's true, if you're used to Western films that are driven by action and dialog. Like many Asian films, TSOGP is instead driven by inter-action between characters and observation. The camera functions as an "eye" to show us life from the character's point of view. After seeing the entire film, I became aware that it had become a part of my mental furnishings; I realised I was spending quite a lot of time thinking about it in the following days. I'm told by those who live with me that the highest compliment I can give a film are the words, "I need to see it again." And I do--I need to buy a copy and see it several more times.

Ten year old Miu is sent from her home village to Saigon to work as a servant in a cloth merchant's household. She is fascinated by their beautiful home and its furnishings, the papaya tree in the courtyard, and how very different their lifestyle is to what she has known. The youngest son of the family sees her arrival as a golden opportunity--at last someone is lower on the family totem-pole than himself, and he tries to bully Miu in various ways. However, his attempts fall flat as he never gets much of a reaction; in her innocence, Miu accepts events as they come, never trying to assign blame or "tell" on him. If a jar gets broken, she accepts it is her fault; if a pail of dirty water gets upended or "someone" pees all over a clean floor, she cleans it up without a word. Her employer's wife soon sees her as a surrogate daughter, someone to fill the void of her own daughter's death and her own loveless marriage to a spendthrift husband who abandons the family for weeks at a time and comes home empty handed.

Ten years later, Miu is sent to work for a family friend, a young man she has long admired. His relationship with a spoiled girl of his own class flickers out as he becomes more aware of Miu's quiet presence in his life. All of the "action" of the film is crammed into the last 30 min, as we see the results of his growing awareness and its transforming effect.

The film is stunning to look at, as usual in much of Asian cinema. If I had one complaint, it was the soundtrack; not the traditional Vietnamese music played by father and son at the beginning of the story, but the tortuous "contemporary" Western music in the second half, including a dreadful rendition of Debussy's Claire de Lune--as if an alley cat were trying to play the violin on its own cat-guts. The caterwauling added nothing to the film, and only served as an irritating distraction. This is what caused me to lower my rating of this otherwise fine film.