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movies-digest        Saturday, November 2 2002        Volume 02 : Number 383



[MV] THE LAST KISS (L'ULTIMO BACIO)/ **
[MV] FRIDA / ***1/2 (R)
[MV] ROGER DODGER / *** (R)
[MV] ALL OR NOTHING / **** (R)
[MV] THE WEIGHT OF WATER / ** (R)
[MV] THE SANTA CLAUSE 2 / *** (G)
[MV] I SPY / ** (PG-13)
[MV] THE MAN FROM ELYSIAN FIELDS / **** (R)
[MV] SONGS FROM THE SECOND FLOOR / **** (Not rated)
[MV] I SPY / ** (PG-13)
[MV] I SPY / ** (PG-13)

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Date: 31 Oct 2002 22:12:56 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] THE LAST KISS (L'ULTIMO BACIO)/ **

THE LAST KISS (L'ULTIMO BACIO)/ **

August 30, 2002

Carlo: Stefano Accorsi
Giulia: Giovanna Mezzogiorno
Anna: Stefania Sandrelli
Francesca: Martina Stella
Alberto: Marco Cocci
Marco: Pierfrancesco Favino
Paolo: Claudio Santamaria
Think Films presents a film written and directed by Gabriele Muccino.
Running time: 114 minutes. In Italian with English subtitles. Rated R (for
language, sexuality and some drug use). Opening today at Landmark Century.

BY ROGER EBERT

"The Last Kiss" is a comedy, I guess, about male panic at the spectre of
adult responsibility. If you're a guy and want to figure out what side of
the question you're on, take this test. You're a young single man. Your
girlfriend announces at a family dinner that she is pregnant. You (a) accept
the joys and responsibilities of fatherhood; (b) climb up into a treehouse
at a wedding to begin a passionate affair with an 18-year-old; (c) join
three buddies in discussing their plan to buy a van and trek across Africa.

Carlo (Stefano Accorsi), the hero of the film, is torn between (b) and (c).
Marriage looms like a trap to him, and he complains to Francesca (Martina
Stella), the 18-year-old, that he fears "the passion is going" from his
life. When his girlfriend Giulia (Giovanna Mezzogiorno) takes him along to
look at a house they could buy, he complains that buying a house seems so
"final." Not encouraging words for a pregnant fiancee to hear. "If I catch
him cheating, I'll kill him," she says, in the ancient tradition of Italian
movie comedy.

But the movie isn't all comedy, and has fugitive ambitions, I fear, to say
something significant about romance and even life. Consider some of Carlo's
friends. Paolo (Claudio Santamaria) is expected to take over his father's
clothing store, has no interest in retail, but is wracked with guilt because
his father is dying and this is his last wish. Marco (Pierfrancesco Favino)
is a serial lover. Adriano (Giorgio Pasotti) is depressed because his
girlfriend has lost all interest in sex after giving birth. Their 30s and
indeed their 40s are breathing hot on the necks of these friends, who cling
to golden memories of adolescence.

There is also the case of Anna (Stefania Sandrelli), Carlo's mother, who is
married to a detached and indifferent psychiatrist, and seeks out a former
lover with hopes of, who knows, maybe now taking the path not chosen. The
lover is delighted to see her for a chat over lunch, but reveals that he has
recently married and is the proud father of a one-year-old. How cruelly age
discriminates against women (at least those prepared to consider it
discrimination and not freedom).

"The Last Kiss" specializes in dramatic exits and entrances. Anna bursts
into her husband's office when he is deep in consultation with a patient,
who seems alarmed that his own house is so clearly not in order. Carlo
awakens with dread after a night spent imprudently, and flees. Giulia makes
a dramatic appearance at a death bed after discovering Carlo lied to her.
And so on.

The problem is that the movie has no idea of it is serious or not. It
combines heartfelt self-analysis with scenes like the one where Carlo is
taken by his teenage squeeze to her friend's birthday, and tries to party
with the kids. This is either funny or sad, not both, but the movie doesn't
know which.

The message behind all of this is difficult to nail down. Mars and Venus?
Adults who haven't grown up? The last fling syndrome? Doing what you want
instead of doing what you must? I have just finished Without Stopping, the
autobiography of the novelist and composer Paul Bowles, who as nearly as I
can tell always did exactly what he wanted, and was married to Jane Bowles,
who did the same. The answer, obviously, is not to choose between marriage
and the van trip through Africa, but to dump the buddies and find a wife who
wants to come along.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:43 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] FRIDA / ***1/2 (R)

FRIDA / ***1/2 (R)

November 1, 2002

Frida Kahlo: Salma Hayek
Diego Rivera: Alfred Molina
Leon Trotsky: Geoffrey Rush
Tina Modotti: Ashley Judd
David Alfaro Siqueiros: Antonio     Banderas
Miramax Films presents a film directed by Julie Taymor. Written by Diane
Lake, Gregory Nava, Clancy Sigal and Anna Thomas. Based on the book Frida: A
Biography of Frida Kahlo by Hayden Herrera. Running time: 120 minutes. Rated
R (for sexuality/nudity and language).

MOVIES BY ROGER EBERT

Early in their marriage, Frida Kahlo tells Diego Rivera she expects him to
be "not faithful, but loyal." She holds herself to the same standard. Sexual
faithfulness is a bourgeois ideal that they reject as Marxist bohemians who
disdain the conventional. But passionate jealousy is not unknown to them,
and both have a double standard, permitting themselves freedoms they would
deny the other. During the course of "Frida," Kahlo has affairs with Leon
Trotsky and Josephine Baker (not a shabby dance card), and yet rages at
Diego for his infidelities.

Julie Taymor's biopic tells the story of an extraordinary life. Frida Kahlo
(Salma Hayek), born of a German Jewish father and a Mexican mother, grew up
in Mexico City at a time when it was a hotbed of exile and intrigue. As a
student, she goes to see the great muralist Diego Rivera at work, boldly
calls him "fat" and knows that he is the man for her.

Then she is almost mortally injured in a trolley crash that shatters her
back and pierces her body with a steel rod. She was never to be free of pain
again in her life and for long periods had to wear a body cast. Taymor shows
a bluebird flying from Frida's hand at the moment of the crash, and later
gold leaf falls on the cast: She uses the materials of magic realism to
suggest how Frida was able to overcome pain with art and imagination.

Rivera was already a legend when she met him. Played by Alfred Molina in a
great bearlike performance of male entitlement, he was equally gifted at
art, carnal excess and self-promotion. The first time Frida sleeps with him,
they are discovered by his wife, Lupe (Valeria Golino), who is enraged, of
course, but such is Diego's power over women that after Frida and Diego are
wed, Lupe brings them breakfast in bed ("This is his favorite. If you are
here to stay, you'd better learn how to make it.")

Frida's paintings often show herself, alone or with Diego, and reflect her
pain and her ecstasy. They are on a smaller scale than his famous murals,
and her art is overshadowed by his. His fame leads to an infamous incident,
when he is hired by Nelson Rockefeller (Edward Norton) to create a mural for
Rockefeller Center, and boldly includes Lenin among the figures he paints.
Rockefeller commands the mural to be hammered down from the wall, thus
making himself the goat in this episode forevermore.

The director, Julie Taymor, became famous for her production of "The Lion
King" on Broadway, with its extraordinary merging of actors and the animals
they portrayed. Her film "Titus" (1999) was a brilliant re-imaging of the
Shakespeare tragedy, showing a gift for great daring visual inventions.
Here, too, she breaks out of realism to suggest the fanciful colors of
Frida's imagination. But real life itself is bizarre in this marriage, where
the partners build houses side by side and connect them by a bridge between
the top floors.

Artists talk about the "zone," that mental state when the mind, the eye, the
hand and the imagination are all in the same place and they are able to lose
track of time and linear thought. Frida Kahlo seems to have painted in order
to seek the zone and escape pain: When she was at work, she didn't so much
put the pain onto the canvas as channel it away from conscious thought and
into the passion of her work. She needs to paint, not simply to "express
herself" but to live at all, and this is her closest bond with Rivera.

Biopics of artists are always difficult, because the connections between
life and art always seem too easy and facile. The best ones lead us back to
the work itself and inspire us to sympathize with its maker. "Frida" is
jammed with incident and anecdote--this was a life that ended at 46 and yet
made longer lives seem underfurnished. Taymor obviously struggled with the
material, as did her many writers; the screenwriters listed range from the
veteran Clancy Sigal to the team of Gregory Nava and Anna Thomas, and much
of the final draft was reportedly written by Norton. Sometimes we feel as if
the film careens from one colorful event to another without respite, but
sometimes it must have seemed to Frida Kahlo as if her life did, too.

The film opens in 1953, on the date of Frida's only one-woman show in
Mexico. Her doctor tells her she is too sick to attend it, but she has her
bed lifted into a flat-bed truck and carried to the gallery. This opening
gesture provides Taymor with the set-up for the movie's extraordinary
closing scenes, in which death itself is seen as another work of art.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:46 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] ROGER DODGER / *** (R)

ROGER DODGER / *** (R)

November 1, 2002

Roger: Campbell Scott
Nick: Jesse Eisenberg
Joyce: Isabella Rossellini
Andrea: Elizabeth Berkley
Sophie: Jennifer Beals
Donovan: Ben Shenkman
Donna: Mina Badie
Chris: Chris Stack
Angus: Colin Fickes
Artisan Entertainment presents a film written and directed by Dylan Kidd.
Running time: 104 minutes. Rated R (for sexual content and language).

BY ROGER EBERT

Roger is an advertising executive who explains that his technique is to make
consumers feel miserable, so they can restore their happiness by buying the
sponsor's product. In his private life, Roger is the product, trying to make
women feel miserable about themselves and then offering himself as the cure.
Roger is an optimist who keeps on talking, just as if his approach works.

As "Roger Dodger" opens, Roger (Campbell Scott) has just been dumped by his
lover, Joyce (Isabella Rossellini), who is also his boss, and makes him feel
miserable with admirable economy of speech: "I am your boss. You work for
me. I have explained to you that I do not wish to see you socially any
longer. Find a way to deal with it." Roger can't quite believe her. Indeed,
he attends a party at her house that he has specifically not been invited
to. He's an optimist in the face of setbacks, a con man who has conned
himself.

Into his office and life one day walks his nephew Nick (Jesse Eisenberg),
who is 16. Roger isn't on speaking terms with Nick's mother, but Nick is
another matter, a young man who asks for guidance that Roger feels himself
uniquely equipped to provide. Nick knows little of women and wants advice,
and Roger starts with theory and then takes Nick nightclub-hopping so they
can work on the practice. During one incredibly lucky evening, they meet
Andrea and Sophie (Elizabeth Berkley and Jennifer Beals), who are intrigued
by Nick's innocence, charmed by his honesty, and delighted by his wit. The
kid's naivete acts like a mirror in which they can study their own
attitudes. Roger the coach finds himself on the sidelines.

The movie, written and directed by Dylan Kidd, depends on its dialogue, and
like a film by David Mamet or Neil LaBute has characters who use speech like
an instrument. The screenplay would be entertaining just to read, as so very
few are. Scott, who usually plays more conventional roles, emerges here as
acid and sardonic, with a Shavian turn to his observations, and although his
advice is not very useful, it is entertaining.

The problem of Nick's young age is one that several other movies, notably
"Tadpole," have negotiated lately. Apparently when it comes to the age of
consent for sex, in the movies young males don't count. If an innocent
16-year-old girl were taken to a nightclub by his aunt and set up with a
couple of 30-something guys, the MPAA would be outraged and Hollywood
terrified. But turn the tables and somehow the glint in Nick's eye takes
care of everything.

"Roger Dodger" effectively deflects criticism in this area by making Roger
the victim and the subject. While Nick is funny and earnest, and generates
many laughs, the movie is really about Roger--about his attempts to tutor
his nephew in a lifestyle that has left the older man lonely and single. The
film is not just a lot of one-liners but has a buried agenda, as the funny
early dialogue slides down into confusion and sadness. There is a lesson
here for Nick, but not the one Roger is teaching.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:41 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] ALL OR NOTHING / **** (R)

ALL OR NOTHING / **** (R)

November 1, 2002

Phil: Timothy Spall
Penny: Lesley Manville
Rachel: Alison Garland
Rory: James Corden
Maureen: Ruth Sheen
Donna: Helen Coker
United Artists presents a film written and directed by Mike Leigh. Running
time: 128 minutes. Rated R (for pervasive language and some sexuality).

MOVIES BY ROGER EBERT

Mike Leigh's "All or Nothing" looks behind three doors in a South London
public housing estate and finds loneliness, desperation and a stubborn
streak of spunky humor. His characters try to remember a time when they were
light-hearted and had hope. But there is little to cheer them now, except
for food and sleep, the telly, the pub on Saturday night and, for the young,
thoughtless sex to hurry them along into raising thankless kids of their
own.

Phil Bassett, played by the sad-faced and wounded Timothy Spall, is a
minicab driver who stares straight ahead as dramas unfold in his back seat.
His common-law wife, Penny (Lesley Manville), is a checkout clerk at the
Safeway. They have two fat, unattractive children: Rachel (Alison Garland),
who is a cleaner at an old-folks' home and buries herself in romance novels;
and Rory (James Cordon), who lurches from the table to the sofa, his eyes
hypnotically fixed on the television, his voice wavering between anger and
martyrdom.

Their flat is on an outside corridor of an anonymous housing project, but it
has a wooden door with a knocker--a reminder of when they had hopes for it
as a home. Now it's a place where they barely meet. Phil sleeps late, his
wife goes to work early, Rachel is in a world of her own and Rory vibrates
with hostility. For Penny, there is at least the companionship of neighbors
along the corridor; she hangs out with Carol (Marion Bailey) and Maureen
(Ruth Sheen), and they go to karaoke night at the pub. Maureen is a single
mom whose daughter Donna (Helen Coker) is abused by a boyfriend. Carol,
whose husband, Ron, also drives a minicab, is a drunk sliding off into
walking hallucinations.

This sounds grim and is grim, but it is not depressing because Leigh, who in
his earlier films might have found a few laughs at the expense of his
characters, clearly loves these people and cares for them. They are, we
realize, utterly without resources; they lack the skills to enjoy life and
are trapped on an economic treadmill. Phil has the makings of a philosopher,
and observes sadly that you work all day and sleep all night and then you
die. When a fellow driver complains of a car crash, Phil looks on the bright
side: "You might have driven around the corner and killed a little girl."

The film pays attention to the neighbors, but its main attention is on the
Bassetts, and one day something unforeseen happens--I will not reveal what
it is--and it acts as a catalyst to jolt them out of their depression and
lethargy. It is the kind of bad thing that good things come from. Watch
carefully how it happens, and who reacts to it, and how, and you will see
that Leigh has made all of the neighbors into characters whose troubles help
to define their response.

There are moments in "All or Nothing" of such acute observation that we nod
in understanding. Consider the way Maureen learns that Donna is pregnant,
and how she deals with the news (at first and then later), and how she
treats the boyfriend. Watch joy and beauty flash briefly in the pub when the
women are singing. And observe how Timothy Spall goes through an entire life
crisis while scarcely saying a word and tells us all we need to know with
his eyes.

There is a scene that establishes the Bassett family as well as any scene
possibly could. Phil needs to put together a sum of money, and he visits his
wife and children separately. He searches for a coin under Rory's sofa
cushion, but Rory finds it and piggishly snatches it. Rachel lends him money
as if money is the least of her worries. Penny tries to find out what he is
thinking. He keeps repeating that he will pay her back tomorrow. This is his
companion of 20 years and he treats her loan like one he would get in a pub.

Mike Leigh is now the leading British director--ironic, since after his
brilliant "Bleak Moments" (1971) he spent long years making TV films because
no one would finance his features. He and his actors improvise their scripts
during long periods of living as the characters. His subject is usually
working and middle-class life in Britain, although his jolly "Topsy-Turvy"
(1999) entered the backstage world of Gilbert and Sullivan. In "All or
Nothing," he returns to more familiar material, in one of his very best
films.

The closing scenes of the movie are just about perfect. Rory is the center
of attention, and notice when, and how, he suddenly speaks in the middle of
a conversation about him. When a director gets a laugh of recognition from
the audience, showing that it knows his characters and recognizes typical
behavior, he has done his job. These people are real as few movie characters
ever are. At the end, it looks as if they will be able to admit a little
sunshine into their lives and talk to each other a little more. We are
relieved.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:51 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] THE WEIGHT OF WATER / ** (R)

THE WEIGHT OF WATER / ** (R)

November 1, 2002

Jean Janes: Catherine     McCormack
Maren Hontvedt: Sarah Polley
Thomas Janes: Sean Penn
Rich Janes: Josh Lucas
Adaline: Elizabeth Hurley
Lions Gate Films presents a film directed by Kathryn Bigelow. Written by
Alice Arlen and Christopher Kyle. Based on the novel by Anita Shreve.
Running time: 114 minutes. Rated R (for violence, sexuality/nudity and brief
language).

BY ROGER EBERT

"The Weight of Water" tells two stories of family jealousy, separated by
more than a century and heightened by lurid melodrama, bloody murder, incest
and storms at sea. While either one of the stories could make a plausible
thriller, the movie's structure undercuts them both.

Unlike "Possession" or "The French Lieutenant's Woman," in which modern and
historical stories are linked in an intriguing way, "The Weight of Water"
seems more like an exercise. We don't feel the connection, and every jump in
time is a distraction.

The older story is the more absorbing. In 1873, on an island off the coast
of New Hampshire, two Norwegian immigrant women are found murdered with an
ax. A hapless man named Wagner (Ciaran Hinds) is convicted of the crime
after a surviving eyewitness named Maren (Sarah Polley) testifies against
him.

By the end of the movie, we will have a deeper understanding of the
emotional undertow on the island, and we will know that Maren's love for her
brother Evan (Anders W. Berthelsen) is at the center of the intrigue.

Maren is married to John Hontvedt (Ulrich Thomsen) but does not love him;
her brother arrives on the island with his new bride Anethe (Vinessa Shaw),
and there is also her sister Karen (Katrin Cartlidge, whose performance is a
reminder of how much we lost when she died at such an early age).

The modern story takes place mostly on a luxury yacht chartered by two
brothers, Thomas and Rich Janes (Sean Penn and Josh Lucas). Thomas' wife,
Jean (Catherine McCormack), is a famous photographer who is working on a
book about the famous crime, which still inspires controversy and
revisionist theories. The others are along for the ride, including Rich's
girlfriend, Adaline (Elizabeth Hurley). We learn, by indirection, tones of
voice and body language, that the Penn character is jealous of his brother,
indifferent to his wife, interested in the girlfriend.

The screenplay, by Alice Arlen and Christopher Kyle, doesn't try to force
awkward parallels between the two stories, but they are there to be found:
hidden and forbidden passion, sibling jealousy, the possibility of violence.
The movie tells the two stories so separately, indeed, that each one acts as
a distraction from the other. The fact that there are nine major characters
and many lines of intrigue doesn't help; "Possession" and "The French
Lieutenant's Woman" only had to deal with parallels between a 19th century
couple and a 20th century couple.

Another problem is that psychological conflicts get upstaged by
old-fashioned melodrama. The storm at the end, which I will not describe in
detail, involves violence and action which would be right at home in a
seafaring thriller, but seems hauled into this material only to provide an
exciting action climax. It is not necessary to the material. And the
revelations in the historical story would have more depth and resonance if
we'd spent more time with the characters--if all of their scenes were not
essentially part of the set-up.

The movie was directed by Kathryn Bigelow, whose "Strange Days" (1995) was a
smart futuristic thriller, inexplicably overlooked by audiences. Her credits
also include the effective "K-19: The Widowmaker," the submarine thriller
from earlier this year. I like her work, but with "The Weight of Water" I
think her problems began with the very decision to tell these two stories
alternately. The actors are splendid, especially Sarah Polley and Sean Penn,
but we never feel confident that these two plots fit together, belong
together, or work together.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:50 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] THE SANTA CLAUSE 2 / *** (G)

THE SANTA CLAUSE 2 / *** (G)

November 1, 2002

Scott/Santa:     Tim Allen
Carol Newman :    Elizabeth Mitchell
Charlie Calvin:     Eric Lloyd
Bernard:    David Krumholtz
Curtis:     Spencer Breslin
Laura Miller:     Wendy Crewson
Neil Miller:     Judge Reinhold

Walt Disney Pictures presents a film directed by Michael Lembeck. Written by
Don Rhymer, Ken Daurio, Ed Decter, Cinco Paul and John J. Strauss. Story by
Leo Benvenuti and Steve Rudnick. Running time: 95 minutes. Rated G.

MOVIES BY ROGER EBERT

"There ain't no sanity clause!"

- -- Chico Marx

True, but there is a Santa Clause No. 2, which requires that Santa get
married, or else. This information is revealed at the North Pole at the
worst possible time, during the pre-Christmas manufacturing rush, when Air
Force listening planes hear what sounds like "tiny hammers" from beneath the
snow. The current occupant of the Santa suit is happy supervising his elves
and perfecting his chimney-craft, when he's informed of a loophole in his
contract: If he doesn't produce a Mrs. Claus in 28 days, he'll stop being
Santa and (I'm not real sure about this) the office may even entirely
disappear, casting the world's children into gloom.

Already, Santa is thinner, the red suit looks baggy and the white beard
seems to be shedding. The outlook is grim. We recognize Santa from "The
Santa Clause," the 1994 movie that explained how he got the job in the first
place. As you may (or very likely may not) recall, Scott Calvin (Tim Allen)
was a divorced man who, in attempting to join in the holiday spirit,
accidentally ... well, killed Santa Claus. And then found a card informing
him that now he was Santa Claus.

In the years that have passed, Scott's ex-wife, Laura (Wendy Crewson), and
her nice new husband, Neil (Judge Reinhold), have continued to raise Scott's
son, Charlie, but now the kid is involved in a high school graffiti prank
and the elves have to break the news to Santa: Charlie has switched lists,
from "nice" to "naughty." In a panic, Scott/Santa flies back home, to
counsel his son and perhaps find a wife, while the North Pole is put under
the command of a cloned Santa who soon uses toy soldiers to stage a military
coup and establish a dictatorship.

"The Santa Clause 2" is more of the same tinsel-draped malarkey that made
the original film into a big hit, but it's more engaging, assured and funny,
and I liked it more. The first movie seemed too desperately cheery; this one
has a nice acerbic undertone, even though there is indeed a romance in the
works for Santa and Principal Newman (Elizabeth Mitchell), whose experience
with corridor passes may come in handy if she has to supervise millions of
elves.

The movie is not a special effects extravaganza like "The Grinch," but in a
way that's a relief. It's more about charm and silliness than about great
hulking multimillion-dollar high-tech effects. The North Pole looks only a
little more elaborate than a department store window, the Clone Santa's
troops look like refugees from "The March of the Wooden Soldiers," and
Santa's mode of transportation is a reindeer named Comet who is not the
epitome of grace.

One new touch this time is the Board Meeting of Legendary Characters, which
Santa chairs, with members including the Sandman, the Tooth Fairy, Mother
Nature, the Easter Bunny, etc., many of them played by well-known actors I
will leave you to discover for yourself. I suppose it makes sense that all
of these characters would exist in the same universe, and when the Tooth
Fairy saves the day, it is through the film's profound understanding of the
rules of Tooth Fairydom.

I almost liked the original "Santa Clause" but wrote that "despite its
charms, the movie didn't push over the top into true inspiration." Now here
is "Santa Clause 2," which kind of does push over the top, especially with
the Clone Santa subplot, and is all-around a better film, although I believe
that any universe that includes the Tooth Fairy and the Sandman could easily
accommodate, and benefit from, Groucho Marx.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:44 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] I SPY / ** (PG-13)

I SPY / ** (PG-13)

November 1, 2002

Kelly Robinson: Eddie Murphy
Alexander Scott: Owen Wilson
Rachel: Famke Janssen
Gundars: Malcolm McDowell
Carlos: Gary Cole
Columbia Pictures presents a film directed by Betty Thomas. Written by
Marianne Wibberley, Cormac Wibberley, David Ronn and Jay Scherick. Running
time: 96 minutes. Rated PG-13 (for action violence, some sexual content and
language).

BY ROGER EBERT

The thing about old TV shows is, they have established brand names. People
have heard of them, and maybe enjoyed them once. So when Hollywood recycles
them into movies, they have instant name recognition, and if the casting is
plausible, audiences are intrigued. Some shows, like "Mission: Impossible,"
get the A-list treatment, but "I Spy" is more of a throwaway, an attempt (as
Variety might put it) to rake in quick coin during a hasty playoff.

Having written that, I turned to the Variety review to see if my hunch was
correct. I was close. Variety writes: "Snoops should sneak out of the B.O.
with a nifty opening sum, but expect steep dropoffs in the ensuing weeks..."
Yes. But it's a shame that Eddie Murphy and Owen Wilson should be wasted on
a ho-hum project like this. Why not either (1) save them for something worth
doing, or (2) have the nerve to remake "I Spy" into an offbeat, contemporary
project that slices and dices the old cliches?

Not a chance. This is a remake by the numbers, linking a halfwit plot to a
series of standup routines in which Wilson and Murphy show how funny they
could have been in a more ambitious movie. When they riff with each other,
there's an energy that makes us smile. When they slog through the plot, we
despair. Does anyone other than a Hollywood producer believe that in an
Eddie Murphy movie the audience cares about special effects, action
sequences and desperate struggles to save the world? That kind of material
is played out; it can brought briefly back to life in a James Bond movie or
an all-out thriller, but in a comedy, what we want to do is, we want to
laugh.

Murphy and Wilson play Kelly Robinson and Alexander Scott. Students of the
1960s TV series will note that the roles have switched their races; Murphy
is playing the Robert Culp character, and Wilson is in the Bill Cosby role.
This makes not the slightest difference, since nothing in this movie refers
to the TV series in a way that matters. There is a little color-coding going
on, I think, in the decision to change the Culp occupation (tennis player)
into a prize-fighter for Eddie Murphy to play, the filmmakers apparently not
having heard that there are black tennis stars.

The plot: Kelly Robinson (who always refers to himself as "Kelly Robinson")
is recruited by spy Alexander Scott. Robinson is about to fight a title bout
in Budapest, and an evildoer named Gundars (Malcolm McDowell) will be there.
Robinson will provide entre for Scott, who is trying to get back an
invisible spy plane, named the Switch Blade, which Gundars has stolen and
plans to use for, I dunno, world domination or something.

Murphy and Wilson are very funny men, and occasionally one of their lines
swims up from out of the murk of the screenplay and winks at us. I like
Wilson looking at his new spy gear and observing, "My stuff looks like you
could get it from Radio Shack in 1972." And later, in a briefing, they learn
that the Switch Blade is, "in the hands of the evil doers, a delivery system
for weapons of mass destruction." One of the signs that the White House
announced its anti-Saddam policy prematurely is when key catch phrases are
recycled in movie comedies and the invasion is still in the talking stage.
That's too much lead time.

The spy plane shimmers in and out of sight thanks to special effects, while
the loyalties of a beautiful spy named Rachel (Famke Janssen) also shimmer
in and out of sight, as does the Hispanic accent of the enigmatic spy Carlos
(Gary Cole). The movie comes to life when Murphy and Wilson are trading
one-liners, and then puts itself on hold for spy and action sequences of
stunning banality. Don't moviemakers know that action scenes without context
have got to be really, really good, or our eyes glaze over? We've seen it
all. We don't need one more boring fight on a rooftop with the future of the
world hanging in the balance. If the characters are interesting, the story
is involving, or the effects are really special, that's another story. "I
Spy," alas, is the same old story.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:49 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] THE MAN FROM ELYSIAN FIELDS / **** (R)

THE MAN FROM ELYSIAN FIELDS / **** (R)

November 1, 2002

Byron Tiller: Andy Garcia
Luther Fox: Mick Jagger
Dena Tiller: Julianna Margulies
Andrea Allcott: Olivia Williams
Tobias Allcott: James Coburn
Jennifer Adler: Anjelica Huston
Greg: Michael Des Barres
Samuel Goldwyn Films and Fireworks Pictures present a film directed by
George Hickenlooper. Written by Phillip Jayson Lasker. Running time: 106
minutes. Rated R (for language and sexual content).

MOVIES BY ROGER EBERT

"Elysian Fields is an escort service. We tend to the wounds of lonely women
in need of emotional as well as spiritual solace."

"Only women?"

"Call me oldfashioned."

It's not just the reply, it's the way Mick Jagger delivers it. The way only
Mick Jagger could deliver it. There is a brave insouciance to it, and George
Hickenlooper's "The Man from Elysian Fields" finds that tone and holds it.
This is a rare comedy of manners, witty, wicked and worldly, and one of the
best movies of the year. It has seven principal characters, and every one of
them is seen sharply as an individual with faults, quirks and feelings.

With the craftsmanship of a sophisticated film from Hollywood's golden age,
with the care for dialogue and the attention to supporting characters that
have been misplaced by the star system, the movie is about what people want
and need, which are not always the same thing. It contains moments of tender
romance but is not deceived that love can solve anything.

Byron Tiller (Andy Garcia), the hero, is the author of a good first novel
and now has written a bad second one. He is afraid to tell his wife Dena
(Julianna Margulies) that his new novel has been rejected and that they
desperately need money. In a bar, he meets a man with the obscurely satanic
name Luther Fox (Jagger). Fox runs Elysian Fields, an escort service for
wealthy women. Byron agrees to take an assignment, and he finds himself with
the lovely Andrea Allcott (Olivia Williams). Why would she need to pay for
companionship? It is a form of loyalty to her husband, who is old and
diabetic, and who she loves. It would be cheating to go out with an
available man.

Her husband is Tobias Allcott (James Coburn), who has won Pulitzer Prizes
for his novels. He knows about his wife's arrangement, treats Byron in a
dry, civilized manner, and enlists the younger writer's help with his
current novel. Soon Byron is providing solace, of different kinds to be
sure, to both of the Allcotts. He's a little dazzled by their qualities. And
then there are two other characters, who add depth to the peculiar emotional
complexity of the escort business: Jennifer Adler (Anjelica Huston), who
pays for Luther Fox's services but doesn't want them for free; and Greg
(rock star Michael Des Barres), a successful escort who gives Byron helpful
tips on the clients.

The literate, sophisticated screenplay by Phillip Jayson Lasker understands
that what happens to one character affects how another one feels; there's an
emotional domino effect. By working for Elysian Fields, Byron supports his
family, but it loses his attention. By risking everything in telling
Jennifer that he loves her, Luther discovers his own self-deception. By
accepting Byron's help with his novel, Tobias loses stature in his own eyes.
Andrea fiercely tells Byron of the old man: "The only thing he has left is
his reputation, and when he dies I want him holding onto it." Yes, but she
saves it in public by destroying it in private. She isn't very sensitive
that way.

This is a grown-up movie, in its humor and in its wisdom about life. You
need to have lived a little to understand the complexities of Tobias
Allcott, who is played by James Coburn with a pitch-perfect balance between
sadness and sardonic wit. Listen to his timing and his word choices in the
scene where he opens his wife's bedroom door and finds Byron, not without
his permission, in his wife's bed. You can believe he is a great novelist.
The scene is an example of the dialogue's grace and irony. Another example:
"This business you're in," Byron asks Luther. "Does it ever make you
ashamed?" Luther replies: "No. Poverty does that."

Julianna Margulies, as Byron's wife, has what could have been the standard
role of the wronged woman, but the screenplay doesn't dismiss her with
pathos and sympathy. Dena stands up and fights, holds her ground, is
correctly unforgiving. Olivia Williams, as Andrea, has a hint of
selfishness: Her concern for Tobias' reputation is connected to the way it
reflects on her. There is a scene between Luther and Byron on the beach,
where the older man shares a lesson he has just learned; it makes exactly
the point it needs to make and stops. The movie is confident enough it
doesn't need to underline everything. It makes its point about the Michael
Des Barres character even more economically; for him, the song "Just a
Gigolo" is sad or jolly, depending on his mood.

Andy Garcia's performance took some courage, because his Byron is not a very
strong man. Not strong enough to tell his wife the novel didn't sell. Not
strong enough to resist the temptations of Elysian Fields, or the flattery
of Tobias' attention. By the time the ending comes around, we observe that
it is happy, but we also observe that the movie has earned it: Most movies
are too eager to wrap things up by providing forgiveness before it has been
deserved. Not this one.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 01 Nov 2002 17:42:47 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] SONGS FROM THE SECOND FLOOR / **** (Not rated)

SONGS FROM THE SECOND FLOOR / **** (Not rated)

November 1, 2002

Kalle: Lars Nordh
Stefan: Stefan Larsson
Pelle: Torbjorn Fahlstrom
Lasse: Sten Andersson
Magician: Lucio Vucino
Mia: Hanna Eriksson
Tomas: Peter Roth
Uffe: Tommy Johansson
New Yorker Films presents a film written and directed by Roy Andersson.
Running time: 98 minutes. No MPAA rating. In Swedish with English subtitles.

MOVIES BY ROGER EBERT

In a sour, gray city, filled with pale drunken salarymen and parading
flagellants, everything goes wrong, pain is laughed at, businesses fail,
traffic seizes up and a girl is made into a human sacrifice to save a
corporation. Roy Andersson's "Songs From the Second Floor" is a collision at
the intersection of farce and tragedy--the apocalypse as a joke on us.

You have never seen a film like this before. You may not enjoy it but you
will not forget it. Andersson is a deadpan Swedish surrealist who has spent
the last 25 years making "the best TV commercials in the world" (Ingmar
Bergman) and now bites off the hand that fed him, chews it thoughtfully,
spits it out and tramples on it. His movie regards modern capitalist society
with the detached hilarity of a fanatic saint squatting on his pillar in the
desert.

I saw it at the 2000 Cannes Film Festival. Understandably, it did not
immediately find a distributor. Predictably, audiences did not flock to it.
When I screened it at my 2001 Overlooked Film Festival, there were times
when the audience laughed out loud, times when it squinted in dismay, times
when it watched in disbelief. When two of the actors came out onstage
afterward, it was somehow completely appropriate that one of them never said
a word.

I love this film because it is completely new, starting from a place no
other film has started from, proceeding implacably to demonstrate the logic
of its despair, arriving at a place of no hope. One rummages for the names
of artists to evoke: Bosch, Tati, Kafka, Beckett, Dali. It is "slapstick
Ingmar Bergman," says J. Hoberman in the Village Voice. Yes, and tragic
Groucho Marx.

The film opens ironically with a man in a tanning machine--ironic, because
all of the other characters will look like they've spent years in sunless
caves. It proceeds with a series of set-pieces in which the camera, rarely
moving, gazes impassively at scenes of absurdity and despair. A man is fired
and clings to the leg of his boss, who marches down a corridor dragging him
behind. A magician saws a volunteer in two. Yes. A man with the wrong accent
is attacked by a gang. A man burns down his own store and then assures
insurance inspectors it was arson, but as they talk we lose interest because
outside on the street a parade of flagellants marches past, whipping
themselves in time to their march.

There is the most slender of threads connecting the scenes--the arsonist is
a continuing character--but Andersson is not telling a conventional story.
He is planting his camera here and there in a city that has simply stopped
working, has broken down and is cannibalizing itself. It is a 20th century
city, but Andersson sees it as an appropriate backdrop for the plague or any
other medieval visitation. And its citizens have fallen back on ancient
fearful superstition to protect themselves.

Consider the scene where clerics and businessmen, all robed for their
offices, gather in a desolate landscape as a young woman walks the plank to
her death below. Perhaps the sacrifice of her life will placate the gods who
are angry with the corporation. We watch this scene and we are forced to
admit that corporations are capable of such behavior: That a tobacco
company, for example, expects its customers to walk the plank every day.

Is there no hope in this devastation? A man who corners the market in
crucifixes now bitterly tosses out his excess inventory. "I staked
everything on a loser," he complains. Does that make the movie
anti-Christian? No. It is not anti- anything. It is about the loss of hope,
about the breakdown of all systems of hope. Its characters are piggish,
ignorant, clueless salarymen who, without salaries, have no way to be men.
The movie argues that in an economic collapse our modern civilization would
fall from us and we would be left wandering our cities like the plague
victims of old, seeking relief in drunkenness, superstition, sacrifice, sex
and self-mockery.

Oh, but yes, the film is often very funny about this bleak view. I have
probably not convinced you of that. It's funny because it stands back and
films its scenes in long shot, the camera not moving, so that we can
distance ourselves from the action--and we remember the old rule from the
silent days: comedy in long shot, tragedy in closeup. Close shots cause us
to identify with the characters, to weep and fear along with them. Long
shots allow us to view them objectively, within their environment. "Songs
From the Second Floor" is a parade of fools marching blindly to their ruin,
and for the moment we are still spectators and have not been required to
join the march. The laughter inspired by the movie is sometimes at the
absurd, sometimes simply from relief.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 02 Nov 2002 07:23:55 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] I SPY / ** (PG-13)

I SPY / ** (PG-13)

November 1, 2002

Kelly Robinson: Eddie Murphy
Alexander Scott: Owen Wilson
Rachel: Famke Janssen
Gundars: Malcolm McDowell
Carlos: Gary Cole
Columbia Pictures presents a film directed by Betty Thomas. Written by
Marianne Wibberley, Cormac Wibberley, David Ronn and Jay Scherick. Running
time: 96 minutes. Rated PG-13 (for action violence, some sexual content and
language).

BY ROGER EBERT

The thing about old TV shows is, they have established brand names. People
have heard of them, and maybe enjoyed them once. So when Hollywood recycles
them into movies, they have instant name recognition, and if the casting is
plausible, audiences are intrigued. Some shows, like "Mission: Impossible,"
get the A-list treatment, but "I Spy" is more of a throwaway, an attempt (as
Variety might put it) to rake in quick coin during a hasty playoff.

Having written that, I turned to the Variety review to see if my hunch was
correct. I was close. Variety writes: "Snoops should sneak out of the B.O.
with a nifty opening sum, but expect steep dropoffs in the ensuing weeks..."
Yes. But it's a shame that Eddie Murphy and Owen Wilson should be wasted on
a ho-hum project like this. Why not either (1) save them for something worth
doing, or (2) have the nerve to remake "I Spy" into an offbeat, contemporary
project that slices and dices the old cliches?

Not a chance. This is a remake by the numbers, linking a halfwit plot to a
series of standup routines in which Wilson and Murphy show how funny they
could have been in a more ambitious movie. When they riff with each other,
there's an energy that makes us smile. When they slog through the plot, we
despair. Does anyone other than a Hollywood producer believe that in an
Eddie Murphy movie the audience cares about special effects, action
sequences and desperate struggles to save the world? That kind of material
is played out; it can brought briefly back to life in a James Bond movie or
an all-out thriller, but in a comedy, what we want to do is, we want to
laugh.

Murphy and Wilson play Kelly Robinson and Alexander Scott. Students of the
1960s TV series will note that the roles have switched their races; Murphy
is playing the Robert Culp character, and Wilson is in the Bill Cosby role.
This makes not the slightest difference, since nothing in this movie refers
to the TV series in a way that matters. There is a little color-coding going
on, I think, in the decision to change the Culp occupation (tennis player)
into a prize-fighter for Eddie Murphy to play, the filmmakers apparently not
having heard that there are black tennis stars.

The plot: Kelly Robinson (who always refers to himself as "Kelly Robinson")
is recruited by spy Alexander Scott. Robinson is about to fight a title bout
in Budapest, and an evildoer named Gundars (Malcolm McDowell) will be there.
Robinson will provide entre for Scott, who is trying to get back an
invisible spy plane, named the Switch Blade, which Gundars has stolen and
plans to use for, I dunno, world domination or something.

Murphy and Wilson are very funny men, and occasionally one of their lines
swims up from out of the murk of the screenplay and winks at us. I like
Wilson looking at his new spy gear and observing, "My stuff looks like you
could get it from Radio Shack in 1972." And later, in a briefing, they learn
that the Switch Blade is, "in the hands of the evil doers, a delivery system
for weapons of mass destruction." One of the signs that the White House
announced its anti-Saddam policy prematurely is when key catch phrases are
recycled in movie comedies and the invasion is still in the talking stage.
That's too much lead time.

The spy plane shimmers in and out of sight thanks to special effects, while
the loyalties of a beautiful spy named Rachel (Famke Janssen) also shimmer
in and out of sight, as does the Hispanic accent of the enigmatic spy Carlos
(Gary Cole). The movie comes to life when Murphy and Wilson are trading
one-liners, and then puts itself on hold for spy and action sequences of
stunning banality. Don't moviemakers know that action scenes without context
have got to be really, really good, or our eyes glaze over? We've seen it
all. We don't need one more boring fight on a rooftop with the future of the
world hanging in the balance. If the characters are interesting, the story
is involving, or the effects are really special, that's another story. "I
Spy," alas, is the same old story.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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------------------------------

Date: 02 Nov 2002 07:24:00 GMT
From: [e-mail]
Subject: [MV] I SPY / ** (PG-13)

I SPY / ** (PG-13)

November 1, 2002

Kelly Robinson: Eddie Murphy
Alexander Scott: Owen Wilson
Rachel: Famke Janssen
Gundars: Malcolm McDowell
Carlos: Gary Cole
Columbia Pictures presents a film directed by Betty Thomas. Written by
Marianne Wibberley, Cormac Wibberley, David Ronn and Jay Scherick. Running
time: 96 minutes. Rated PG-13 (for action violence, some sexual content and
language).

BY ROGER EBERT

The thing about old TV shows is, they have established brand names. People
have heard of them, and maybe enjoyed them once. So when Hollywood recycles
them into movies, they have instant name recognition, and if the casting is
plausible, audiences are intrigued. Some shows, like "Mission: Impossible,"
get the A-list treatment, but "I Spy" is more of a throwaway, an attempt (as
Variety might put it) to rake in quick coin during a hasty playoff.

Having written that, I turned to the Variety review to see if my hunch was
correct. I was close. Variety writes: "Snoops should sneak out of the B.O.
with a nifty opening sum, but expect steep dropoffs in the ensuing weeks..."
Yes. But it's a shame that Eddie Murphy and Owen Wilson should be wasted on
a ho-hum project like this. Why not either (1) save them for something worth
doing, or (2) have the nerve to remake "I Spy" into an offbeat, contemporary
project that slices and dices the old cliches?

Not a chance. This is a remake by the numbers, linking a halfwit plot to a
series of standup routines in which Wilson and Murphy show how funny they
could have been in a more ambitious movie. When they riff with each other,
there's an energy that makes us smile. When they slog through the plot, we
despair. Does anyone other than a Hollywood producer believe that in an
Eddie Murphy movie the audience cares about special effects, action
sequences and desperate struggles to save the world? That kind of material
is played out; it can brought briefly back to life in a James Bond movie or
an all-out thriller, but in a comedy, what we want to do is, we want to
laugh.

Murphy and Wilson play Kelly Robinson and Alexander Scott. Students of the
1960s TV series will note that the roles have switched their races; Murphy
is playing the Robert Culp character, and Wilson is in the Bill Cosby role.
This makes not the slightest difference, since nothing in this movie refers
to the TV series in a way that matters. There is a little color-coding going
on, I think, in the decision to change the Culp occupation (tennis player)
into a prize-fighter for Eddie Murphy to play, the filmmakers apparently not
having heard that there are black tennis stars.

The plot: Kelly Robinson (who always refers to himself as "Kelly Robinson")
is recruited by spy Alexander Scott. Robinson is about to fight a title bout
in Budapest, and an evildoer named Gundars (Malcolm McDowell) will be there.
Robinson will provide entre for Scott, who is trying to get back an
invisible spy plane, named the Switch Blade, which Gundars has stolen and
plans to use for, I dunno, world domination or something.

Murphy and Wilson are very funny men, and occasionally one of their lines
swims up from out of the murk of the screenplay and winks at us. I like
Wilson looking at his new spy gear and observing, "My stuff looks like you
could get it from Radio Shack in 1972." And later, in a briefing, they learn
that the Switch Blade is, "in the hands of the evil doers, a delivery system
for weapons of mass destruction." One of the signs that the White House
announced its anti-Saddam policy prematurely is when key catch phrases are
recycled in movie comedies and the invasion is still in the talking stage.
That's too much lead time.

The spy plane shimmers in and out of sight thanks to special effects, while
the loyalties of a beautiful spy named Rachel (Famke Janssen) also shimmer
in and out of sight, as does the Hispanic accent of the enigmatic spy Carlos
(Gary Cole). The movie comes to life when Murphy and Wilson are trading
one-liners, and then puts itself on hold for spy and action sequences of
stunning banality. Don't moviemakers know that action scenes without context
have got to be really, really good, or our eyes glaze over? We've seen it
all. We don't need one more boring fight on a rooftop with the future of the
world hanging in the balance. If the characters are interesting, the story
is involving, or the effects are really special, that's another story. "I
Spy," alas, is the same old story.

Copyright ⌐ Chicago Sun-Times Inc.

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[ movies" (without the quotes) to [e-mail]          ]

------------------------------

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