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There's so much to admire here: the wonderful performances, the captivating cinematography, the creative subverting of the standard biopic trope. And yet I came away somewhat disappointed.

Part of this is due to the nontraditional approach to a biopic. We don't see much of Bernstein's renowned highlights ("West Side Story" is barely mentioned), and for the biography of a famous musician there's surprisingly little music. All right, I'll go with that.

Call me a traditionalist, but I wanted more of a defined story arc. We see key moments in their lives but I never truly got a sense of what drove Bernstein (or his wife) other than their undeniable love for one another. Also, in many of the scenes I had a hard time following dialogue: lines were spoken on top of one another, rapidly. Yes, I know that's how people talk in real life, but this is a movie that we're supposed to understand.

I will watch this again (with subtitles) to see what I missed, and perhaps I will appreciate it more. Let me state that I mostly liked this (hence my rating) -- but whether it was due to heightened expectations or not, I wanted more.

The previous film version of this Agatha Christie classic was no masterpiece, but it was fun and diverting, the cast a hoot.

Alas, this one takes it several steps backward. Kenneth Branagh is a passable Poirot, but as a director he's a mess. Where is Agatha Christie's wit and humor? This version is way too dreary, very dark and grim. The changes to the story, although intended (I suppose) to simplify it for today's viewers, only make it worse.

The positives? Yes, there are some. The cast is uniformly good, particularly Sophie Okenedo. The production values and cinematography are dazzling, although the constantly moving camerawork is distracting.

The result is: Other than a quick buck, why did they bother? Advice to anyone wishing to remake a film: either do it better or give it up.

Elizabeth McGovern is the reason to see this. She brings to life what, in other hands, could be a cliched character. She has become a much more interesting actress as she's aged; you can't take your eyes off her (those eyes!). The Louise Brooks subplot serves its purpose but seems a bit strained. Blythe Danner, Miranda Otto, Campbell Scott and other familiar names essay their supporting roles well, and the period is recreated nicely. Overall, very entertaining and not nearly as predictable as you would think.

There's no question that Cuaron's brilliance as a film director is on full display in this amazing film--almost every take is flat-out gorgeous, and some are jaw-droppingly stunning. He uses symbolism masterfully: subtly, almost unobtrusively, yet effective in its intended impact. My complaint is an essential one: where's the story? We know almost nothing about the primary character, Cleo the nanny. We don't know anything of her family or her background, and practically nothing about her dreams, goals or aspirations. Yes, she's presented sympathetically, and we care about her to an extent, but she seems little changed through the course of the film, even after going through some challenging experiences. The upper-class family she works for also has their challenges, but nothing terribly unusual. Profound peripheral events (a forest fire, a street riot, a martial arts display) are riveting in their presentation, but they're only momentary digressions--they appear to have no lasting impact on the main characters. This was a beautiful film to watch (I wasn't bored in the slightest) yet when it was all over I wanted more than just memorable images.

I normally enjoy even Woody Allen's lesser films, but this one was painful. It was as if he scribbled the plot down on a napkin and let that serve as the shooting script. As a result we have absurdly one-dimensional characters, laughably self-conscious dialogue and scenes that go on for WAY too long.

What makes it doubly frustrating is that there are good actors in this one. Poor Kate Winslet tries her best to breathe some believability into her one-note character, but fails (anyone would). The last scene, in which she has something of a Blanche DuBois breakdown, is very hard to watch. Jim Belushi and Juno Temple are similarly impressive in doing the best they can with their cardboard-thin roles.

Justin Timberlake is probably the most irritating, playing a Woody Allen stand-in, a pseudo-intellectual who wants to write 'meaningful' plays. Why is he breaking the fourth wall and speaking directly to the audience? It makes no sense. Neither does the character of Winslet's son. Okay, he's a pyromaniac. Is that supposed to be funny?

I throw my hands up with this one. Woody, please make an effort next time.

This is one of my favorite episodes because it zeroes in on two classic "Twilight Zone" themes: identity and reality. Who are we, really? And what reality do we really occupy? Watching this again (for perhaps the fourth or fifth time) I was reminded of the Pixar "Toy Story" films, where inanimate toys become living, breathing entities when humans are not observing them. It's the same as this episode! Do man-made creations become "real" when not observed, if only because they are created by people? Does the David statue in Florence become real "after hours" when nobody is observing him? Wonderful food for thought!

This film could very well have flown under my radar. I saw it during a one-week engagement at our town's small art house theater, and I don't always keep up with what they're showing. Similarly, Harold and Lillian Michelson flew largely under the radar of Hollywood. Most film buffs probably have never heard of them (I certainly hadn't); Harold was a storyboard artist and a production designer, and Lillian a researcher. But someone decided they would make a good subject for a film, and indeed they do. Harold had passed by the time the filmmaking began, but there was a large amount of archival footage on him. Lillian (age 87) is still alive and sharp as a tack. Both are charming, eloquent and endearing. I was greatly entertained by this film. The couple are great storytellers, and they have great stories to tell! I was amazed at the impact they have made on many films I have seen. Harold made indelible contributions to such films as 'The Birds,' 'Spartacus' and 'The Graduate'. Lillian, similarly, has had a hand in many iconic films. This is warm, fascinating documentary that will leave you with a big smile on your face (and a tug at your heart).

There's certainly food for thought in this bizarre film. A dystopian present (not future, as some suggest), in which being solitary is a crime punishable by death (or being turned into an animal, as citizens are led to believe). Why? People are celebrated for coupling, even though their relationship is based on superficial commonalities like bleeding noses or short-sightedness. Why? Those who rebel and seek salvation through being solitary are punished when they seek connection with someone else. Why? There are no clues to the answers to these questions. It's a disturbing world, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out what the filmmakers were trying to tell me. Watch out for those who tell you how to live, and with whom? There are far better ways to convey this message than this mystifying film. I enjoyed its cryptic nature, and the performances, but that can only take you so far. Style is not art.

Let me just say that I loved James Cameron's "Titanic," which took a huge historic disaster and turned it into a compelling film that went beyond the sensational. Yes, it was a populist film (who can argue with its record-setting box office?), but a damn good one. That being said, I enjoyed "A Night to Remember" immensely. It doesn't have the lover's story contrived for the Cameron film as its anchor, but I was still captivated by the ticking bomb of the "unsinkable" ship approaching its demise, with some rising to a heroic level and others resigning themselves to fate, or simply refusing to admit reality. And I was blown away by the special effects, expecting them to be primitive in an old-school kind of way. Yes, there were models, but their impact was every bit (if not more) of that of the Cameron film. This was truly a remarkable accomplishment.

I've been amazed at some of the slams this movie has taken. No story? Boring? Slow? You've got to be kidding. This was a fascinating character study of an "honorable man" trying to retain his honor in a corrupt business and political environment. From the title, I was expecting more of a traditional Martin Scorcese gangster flick, so I was surprised (pleasantly) that "violence" of the film was primarily about two codes of life clashing against one another. I can certainly understand a viewer attracted to the film because of the word "violence" ibeing disappointed at seeing so little on the screen. But I found the film riveting: excellent plotting, great writing and superb performances.

I was expecting a standard gay film and was quite surprised. This film is primarily about dance. The four performers are all superb dancers, and their dances are the main focus of the film, reflecting (to a degree) their relationships with one another and others in their lives (who are never seen). The main character is Chip, a somewhat naive 18-year-old Kansan, trying to cope in New York City without appearing too vulnerable. I did find it strange that these four dancers (and their choreographer) had very little personal or verbal interaction for most of the film; indeed, it wasn't until toward the end that they seemed to actually know one another. Chip's intimate relationship with the other male dancer is handled tenderly and realistically, but their story is secondary to the love and dedication all the characters have for their art.

I knew the back story to "Queen of Versailles" before I saw it, but I wasn't prepared for the extreme revulsion I felt for these characters, particularly David Segal. These folks are poster children for the worst extremes of our materialistic, narcissistic culture. Their values are money, ostentation, self-aggrandizement, acquisition and mindless hedonism. They are venomous leeches on society.

Yet I felt pity for them as well, particularly Jackie. She's something of an enigma. She boasts about getting an engineering degree so she wouldn't have to work as someone's assistant, yet she mostly devotes herself to keeping young-looking and voluptuous (those breasts of hers deserve some sort of special effects award) so she can snag and keep a rich hubby. As her world starts to fall apart around her, she begins to have some insights about what life is really about (not building the world's biggest house), yet still can't abandon her out-of-control shopping sprees or torturous visits to the beauty clinic.

The children, also, seem to be far more aware than their parents of the emptiness and ridiculousness of their lifestyle.

Fortunately, I saw very little of myself in this abhorrent couple, but I did see some similarities to friends and family. Everyone is susceptible to greed and an inflated sense of self. This film shows what happens when that proceeds unchecked and fueled by obscene wealth.

Okay -- terrible movie, horrible concept, inept concept, blah blah blah -- but this piece of garbage does have at least one raison d'etre for those of us who are into the masculine form. Leading man Brad Harris indulges in a blatantly homoerotic river bath about halfway through the flick, with the camera lovingly gliding over his sculptured body. His post-gladiator movies (mostly pathetic German 007 rip-offs) always featured an excuse for him to strip down, and this turkey is no exception. For lovers of softcore beefcake porn, this is almost (but not quite) worth the price of admission! But you can stop watching after that point.

I went into "Catch Us If You Can" expecting a pallid DC5 rip-off of "A Hard Days Night." Well, it is that all right, but director John Boorman also reaches for something more by abruptly separating the two main stars (Dave Clark – inexplicably named 'Steve' -- and sunny Barbara Ferris) from the madcap Swinging London antics and plunging them into a existential search for meaning in a superficial world obsessed with celebrity. So there are lots of brooding looks on the part of 'Steve' and shallow ruminations on the pressures of fame from Ferris. On their journey they meet a pack of drugged-out hippies squatting in a military bombing site, a disaffected upper-class couple who adopt the pair as a sort of kinky project, and a man who operates a Western dude ranch in southern Devon.

To satisfy what few remaining DC5 fans were coerced into seeing this film, the rest of the rock group is brought in at intervals to dance and leap about. But their presence is never really explained. They're not portrayed as a rock group (their songs are heard on the soundtrack but no musical instruments are in evidence) but as 'stunt boys' who all live together in what appears to be a refurbished church/gym. There's a definite homoerotic tone as they shower and work out and eat breakfast together.

Oh, and there's also a subplot on the cynical nature of advertising involving Ferris' managers and his ad agency cohorts. The whole thing comes off as something of a mess, albeit a watchable one, with bleak shots of the wintry English countryside and 1960s London. A definite curiosity.

Whoever enticed Doris Day to squander her talents in this unbelievable bilge should be burned at the stake -- or, perhaps, forced to watch this film endlessly. Not only is our Doris asked to play a goofy airhead 20 years younger than her actual age, but she has to utter the worst dialog ever written in between achingly unfunny slapstick scenes. I knew going into this that it would be a bad 60s comedy, but I had no idea what I was in for. Even seeing Paul Lynde in drag was a sad case of too little too late. The only worthwhile moment comes in the film's first three minutes, when Rod Taylor -- in his hunky prime -- fishes shirtless on his boat. Yum! They should have ended the film right there.

I finally caught up with this. . .ummm, "film". . .not realizing it occupied the Number One spot on the IMDb Bottom 100. Subsequently discovering that fact did not surprise me in the least. This movie is not just bad, it's astoundingly bad. Everything about it, and I mean everything, from the wholly inappropriate soundtrack and pathetic sets to the leaden-paced direction and bizarre "plot", is about as inept as could be. Yet somehow it actually seems to be a sincere attempt at making a serious thriller! Equally surprising is that this appears to have been created by (apparently) functioning adults and not a group of 10-year-olds who have been given a camera and some cheesy costumes. The tired phrase, "What could they have been thinking?" only begins to express one's incredulity. Most people view this in its MST3K version, which is probably the only way to view it without sustaining serious injury from having your jaw drop onto the floor.

To have to award this "film" even 1 star is giving it WAY too much credit. Even the most boring family's camcorder footage of their last vacation to the Poconos would put this to shame.

This documentary about a gay porn star's quest to embark on a singing career has surprisingly more depth than I was expecting. Actually, I'm not sure what I was expecting other than a few gratuitous shots of star Colton Ford's body (check) and some insights into the "private" life of a male porn star (check). I was not expecting to have much sympathy for a forty-ish gay man, who has enjoyed fame on what has to be one of the lowest rungs of the celebrity ladder, believing he has any chance of success in the youth-obsessed, very heterosexual world of pop music. Yet Ford's naiveté, at first sad, ultimately comes across as somewhat charming as he chooses dance music as his genre. Never mind that the only "stars" in that field are black female divas, and even they only enjoy a level of fame just a notch above that of a gay male porn star. Ford would have been much better off choosing to be a rock or cabaret singer. But he soldiers on, supported by an apparently devoted partner (fellow porn star Blake Harper) and amazingly understanding parents, and despite the pale efforts of his pathetic "manager". As a documentary, "Naked Fame" won't make Errol Morris shake in his boots, but it's certainly an interesting glimpse of ordinary people trying to cope in a surreal profession.

Films such as "Dear Frankie" -- a touching and achingly real portrait of the overwhelming need for family connections and love -- are much too rare in these days of homogenized, formulaic pap. Nearly every element is perfect. The direction is sure-footed and nearly poetic in its choices, and the performances are unilaterally brilliant. It left me with a strange combination of sadness and happiness, much like life itself usually does. The ending might be a bit too tidy for some, given the unusual course of most of the film up to that point, but it all works. See this film if you need an reminder of the miracles and tragedies people can bestow on one another.

When I turned 16 or so and began to develop a mature sense of aesthetics, the films of Jerry Lewis became anathema to me. Suddenly I couldn't stand him, and that culturally elitist attitude has persisted to the present day. Yet when asked which of the films I've ever seen are the funniest, I have to mention this one. I don't remember much about it -- I saw it in a drive-in on a misty night in 1963 when I was 12 -- but I still recall the scene in the appliance department of the store, with the vacuum cleaner sucking up everything in sight. I don't think I have laughed that hard since -- it's amazing I survived to see the age of 13!

"Crash" examines the racism in our society that is always there beneath the surface, yet boils to the top in moments of stress and pressure. It has an at times too-clever interlocking- stories structure that, while showing our interconnectedness as individuals, does occasionally come across as too contrived and pat. Yet so much about this film is wonderful. The performances are superb -- Don Cheadle, Matt Dillon, Thandie Newton and Ryan Phillippe (of all people) stand out, yet really everyone is good. And the "message" of the film, which some may say is a bit heavy-handed, is valid and uplifting: that ultimately our salvation lies in our humanity and getting to know one another beyond just the surface stereotypes.

Often it helps to let some time pass before truly assessing a film (or any work of art, for that matter). I viewed "Contact" again recently after 7 years, and was both impressed (as I was before) but more frustrated this time. The film does a great job raising issues regarding extraterrestrial contact, all enveloped within a very engrossing story. But the ending left me cold. Ellie had been set up to be a strong, articulate, bright scientist -- clearly vastly superior to the Tom Skerritt character. Yet after her interstellar journey, she's not only mercilessly grilled by a huge Congressional committee (the James Woods character was way over the top) but reacts like a spoiled schoolgirl. ("What? Are you saying you don't believe me?!"). I would have expected a much different assessment of her experience than that from the government, and a much more articulate defense from her. Nevertheless, "Contact" is an extremely well-made, thought-provoking film.

Camp is a tough quality to bring off intentionally, regardless of the art form. Charles Busch succeeds probably better than most in "Die, Mommie, Die!" but it still falls short most of the time. The tone varies from dead-on literal to over-the- top exaggeration continuously -- the inconsistency proves too distracting. I loved Busch's line readings, and also appreciated that he looks way too much like a man in drag who wouldn't fool anybody for a second in the "real" world. But

ultimately this film proves to be only a minor curiosity. If Bush were able to sustain the surreal, crazed tone of some of the scenes (such as the reading of the will) throughout the film, this could have been a true classic.

What can you say about "Written on the Wind," other than this is where the

genre of overproduced, inane Hollywood melodramas teeters into the realm of

genuine art. Every aspect of this highly artificial concoction is fully realized, an amazing example of the whole becoming far more than the sum of its parts.

Elements that are, considered separately, laughable (the abundance of

Freudian symbols, the hyperrealistic colors, the over-the-top acting, the gushy soundtrack) all strangely combine into a hypnotically watchable masterpiece. Clearly there's a genuine artist (director Douglas Sirk) at work here -- someone who can take all the usually misused contents of the 1950s Hollywood big

studio toolbox and create an astonishing work of art.

This film is very typical of gay cinema these days -- borderline amateurish, at times painfully awkward, but with its heart in the right place (and a decent movie somewhere in there trying to claw its way out). It's hard to pinpoint any major reason why "Gone But Not Forgotten" is unsatisfying; it's a bunch of little flaws that add up. The writing and acting were ok and passable but ultimately

lackluster and ordinary. The production values were skimpy (at times I felt I was watching a porn film without the porn) but that in itself is no sin. The plot was completely predictable with no surprises at all. All in all, I just didn't buy any of it -- even though the basic plot is credible, none of the characters or their

situations seemed real or believable. Unfortunately, I'll forget this one pretty quick.

I just revisited this movie after 25 years and was surprised how well it held up, even given the rather absurd plot and advances in medical technology in the interim. Genevieve Bujold has forever been underused and underrated, and she is simply superb here. And while I wouldn't tarnish Hitchock's reputation by comparing Coma too closely to any of his work, Crichton does a good job of maintaining suspense. I love the scene where Richard Widmark explains the crazy rationale behind it all, and we see it through Bujold's drug-addled eyes, which somehow makes it more palatable than if we were watching it straight.

And I love all the cameos -- Lois Chiles! Tom Selleck! Ed Harris! Many other recognizable faces. Elizabeth Ashley is so over-the-top she's camp. All in all, a fun movie.