I despaired of seeing a Poirot that fit–until I saw David Suchet as Poirot.  Now, Suchet first started as Inspector Japp (a Poirot regular), and he was fine in that role, too.  However, he is Hercule Poirot, no question about it.  In fact, when I got an audio tape of Suchet reading an Agatha Christie novel, I was crushed when he began reading in a British accent.  I mean, I know he’s not Belgian or French, but I didn’t realize how thoroughly I associate Suchet with Poirot until I heard his British accent.

Ahem.  That is neither here nor there.

This is the first Poirot movie I’m reviewing on my blog.  I have countless reviews in my personal archives because I have seen every movie and episode possible until the latest season–damn America for showing them a year later–but as this is the first for the blog, I’m going to state a few things you need to know.

First, I am going to review the movie assuming that you’ve read the book.  That means, no spoiler alerts.  If you haven’t read the book, and you want to be surprised watching the movie, then don’t read the review.  Really, though, if you’re not a big Poirot fan, I don’t see why you’d be watching this movie, anyway, except for David Suchet’s excellent performance.  Consider yourself warned.

Secondly, I will dispense with the fact that the music is overdrawn and imposing.  This is a given.  I find it ridiculous, but I am used to it.  I will also ignore the fact that the cast of characters has been drastically reduced.  This happens in every movie, and it’s not really avoidable.  In addition, I will overlook the attempts to spice up the movie with additional sexy scenes, words, implications, etc., and the use of swearing.  Oddly enough, there was very little sexing up of the movie, for which I am truly grateful.  One added sexy intrigue, but it’s of little note.  In addition, the movies always make it seem like everyone is a suspect when that’s clearly not the case in the books.

Finally, I will try to overlook how the writer tries to twist the ending because it’s as inevitable as it’s infuriating.  No matter how Christie ends a book, the writers of the movie feel the need to tweak it.  Usually, it’s to make the ending more exciting or suspenseful, but they always fall flat.  My biggest gripe about all the movies is that I wish they would just have faith in Dame Christie’s work to be as engaging now as it was when they were written.

With that out of the way, I begin.

Mrs. McGinty’s Dead is one of my least-favorite Poirot books.  This is an asset when I’m watching the movie because it means that I won’t be as nitpicky when the movie takes liberties with the plot, the characters, the ending, etc.  When I saw that this movie was going to be on PBS’s Masterpiece Mystery! mystery tonight, I was thrilled.

The movie starts out with Superintendent Spence (Richard Hope) seeing a man he arrested found guilty of murder.  Spence should be happy, but he’s not.  He doesn’t think the man, James Bentley (Joe Absolom) did it.  However, Spence is moved on to his next case, so he asks Poirot (the incomparable David Suchet) to re-investigate.  Poirot accepts.

The movie condenses quite a bit of the plot, so if you haven’t read the book, you’ll be a bit confused as to what’s happening.  The bottom line is, Mrs. McGinty, a charwoman (maid) is murdered.  It looks like her boarder, Bentley, did it.  Poirot goes to the village to investigate.  He runs into his old friend, Ariadne Oliver (Zoë Wanamaker, who is soo sexy, by the way), who is a wacky novelist with a firm belief in women’s intuition and a rabid hatred for her popular detective*.  Oliver is in the village to collaborate with the playwright, Robin Upward (Paul Rhys) on a stage adaptation of one of her novels.  Poirot instructs Ariadne to go around gabbing about him so he can start the gossip flowing.

The plot.  In the Sunday paper, there’s an article written about past female murderers and where are they now.  In the book, there are four.  In the movie, there are two.  The article includes pictures of the two murderers from back in the day.  Mrs. McGinty saw one of those photos in one of the houses for which she cleans.  She’s a bit down on her luck, so she approaches the person who has the photo, hoping for a small present to keep her tongue.  Instead, she is murdered.

One of the past female murderers was a governess who had an affair with the father of the girl she was governing.  Either she (the governess) or the hubby offed the wife, but he took the rap.  The governess fled while pregnant with her lover’s child.  The other murderer was a girl who was taken in by her aunt and then killed her aunt when her aunt wouldn’t let her go to the movies.

The newspaper mentions that the first murderer had a daughter, so of course, all the suspicion is on the women who are the same age as the daughter would be.

I watched this movie with enormous enjoyment.  It’s been about a year (or more) since I’ve seen a new Poirot movie, and David Suchet is exquisite as Hercule Poirot.  In addition, the annoying Hugh Fraser as Hastings is not in the movie, nor is Pauline Moran in the grotesque caricature of the efficient Miss Lemon, Poirot’s secretary.  Alas, Philip Jackson as the dour Inspector Japp is not in it, but as he is not in the book, either, I can accept it.

I love the period with the marcelled hair, heavily-applied makeup and long-stem cigarette holders.  Even though I would not want to dress that way, it is a sight to behold.  That’s one thing I appreciate about the Poirot movies–they try to get the feel of the story right.  Alas, if they would only adhere to the plots with the same rigor….

In this case, the movie sticks quite closely to the book.  I find the movie whizzing by to a breathtaking finale.  Well, ok, not breathtaking as most of Poirot’s finales consist of Poirot describing how he brilliant deduces who the culprit is.  Oddly enough, this is one book in which there is a bit of dramatic flair at the end, which the movie chooses to bypass.  Instead, it goes for a more wrenching denouement, and it is carried off with panache.

The acting is better in this movie than in most Poirot movies.  That is to say, it is uniformly good.  Wanamaker and Suchet are a cut above the rest, but that is only to be expected.  I wasn’t at all bothered by the minor plot changes or the extra swear words that were tossed in just for the hell of it.  In fact, this is the best Poirot movie I have seen yet.  If you are a Poirot fan and/or a David Suchet fan, put this movie at the head of your Netflix Queue.  Hell, if you like genteel mysteries and/or period pieces, give it a whirl as well.  It comes out July 7th.

*Agatha Christie grew to loathe Hercule Poirot, so her way of dealing with it was to create Ariadne Oliver as an alter ego who is constantly griping about her detective, Sven Hjerson.

Donnie Darko. What can I say about it? It was recommended to me by someone who’s opinion I highly value. He is most likely the smartest person I know, and that’s saying a lot. He owns a copy of this movie and thought that I would enjoy it. It was with great anticipation that I fired up this DVD. Sadly to say, the enthusiasm was grievously misplaced.

From the first shot of the movie, I know I’m in trouble. There is the moody music and the moody kids and everything is just so moody. Now, those of you who read my review for Charlotte Sometimes will be understandably confused as that movie is all mood. What is the difference, you ask? Well, I’ll explain to you the difference. Watching Donnie Darko, I get the feeling that I’m supposed to be impressed with the movie. Impressed or shocked. There is a sense of ‘look at me’ and ‘see how clever I am’. This is a movie that chokes on its own importance from the heavy-handed score to the slowing down of action in that now-irritating Matrix fashion.

Jake Gyllenhaal (Donnie) may very well be a good actor, but I can’t tell that from this movie. He has basically two expressions. The sly, smirking ‘I know something you don’t know’ look and that panic-filled one. Oh, there is also the rage-distorting look, but that is similar to the second one except louder. He is a kid who may or may not be having a psychic breakdown encountering the usual teenage angst. There is the annoying sister who loves to goad her big brother (Elizabeth, played by Jake Gyllenhaal’s real-life sister, Maggie Gyllenhaal) and the other little sister who doesn’t do much more than sit around and look adorable. The parents are generic and instantly forgettable, which is a shame, especially in the case of the mother played by Mary McDonnell.

Once again, I find myself watching the clock as the movie limps forward. This is a case where the music is a detriment to the movie-I hate the single from this movie-and I wish there is a way I can mute the music while watching the movie. The portentous nature of it is grating, and I just want to scream, ‘I get it! Something really big is
happening here!’ I am gritting my teeth as I watch the movie, which is not a good sign.

Now, part of the problem is that I’m approximately twenty years too old to fully appreciate this movie, but I wouldn’t have liked it back when I was a teenager. Not just because I dislike movies for the most part, but because this movie is filled with pseudo-characters who don’t even act like teens act, especially in the eighties. Speaking of the eighties, I have no idea why this movie is set in the eighties, but it feels more like it belongs in the fifties. The dialogue is stiff and completely unbelievable. When Donnie asks the girl to go with him, I am surprised. It’s such a quaint term that I don’t even believe this kid would know the phrase let alone use it. A friend of mine suggests it is set in the eighties because that was the beginning of teenage angst films such as The Breakfast Club. I guess Donnie Darko is supposed to be John Hughes on crack.

An hour into the movie, I check to see how long it is. Over two hours long. I groan. We’ve had the requisite crazy old lady who might not be so crazy, the English teacher who means well but is a screw-up, and we have the incompetent therapist who would be banned from the APA in real life. It is the last character who puts the final kibosh on the movie for me. I am tired of portrayals of incompetent therapists, especially where they are there merely so plot points can be mentioned. She is so clearly a device to keep the film limping along that it’s insulting. When the parents come into the office to find out what’s going and the therapist starts to summarize what is wrong with Donnie, it sets my teeth on edge. When she reveals things that have been said in the office, I switch off the movie. It no longer holds any validity to me, and I’m pissed off to boot.

I don’t care what happens to these characters; I don’t care if the world is going to end; in fact, I’m rooting for the end of the world if only so that this damn movie will mercifully be over. None of the characters are sympathetic in any way, except for Donnie to the slightest extent, and I’m mad that I wasted even an hour of my life on it. Oh, I know, I’m in the minority on this movie. I see the ratings on IMDB.com and Netflix.com which indicate that I am off my rocker. I know that it’s a cult classic revered by adolescents in angst everywhere. So be it. Patrick Swayze already did a movie on the angst of isolated adolescents. It’s called The Outsiders, and it’s a superior movie to this one. This one has no place on the Netflix Queue, other than the trash can.

Follow up: a friend of mine told me Donnie dies in the end. If I had known that, I would have…still not watched the rest of it, but at least I would have been happy.

Movies with Minna is back, and this time up, I will do a very short review of Never Come Back starring the incomparably delicious Nathaniel Parker. This is one of his earlier works which wasn’t well-received on Netflix, but I have different tastes than the mainstream. Besides, if Nathaniel Parker is in it, it can’t be all bad, right? Right? Wrong.

Everything about this movie-made for television-is wrong. The pacing, the plot, the characters, the lighting. Everything. The fake-dead cat-it’s supposed to be dead, but it’s easy to tell it’s not a real cat that’s dead-the pseudo-noire look, the incessant whining by Parker’s character, the supposed insouciance of said character….It’s all trite and grates on the nerves. The fact that it’s supposed to be set during World War I-or is it World War II?-does nothing to alleviate the sheer mediocrity of this movie.

I hated it from the start. Besides being extremely easy on the eyes because of Parker, there isn’t anything to recommend about this movie. Desmond’s blathering about finding the perfect woman with whom to equally exchange sex with is tedious at best, nails-scratching-against the chalkboard at worst. The forced archness of the characters and the situations is excruciating to watch. I stopped and started more than once, trying to talk myself into watching the movie. After the third time of doing this after only twenty minutes, I realized that it wasn’t going to happen. A movie should be an enjoyable event, not something to be endure.

It didn’t help that I didn’t find the woman attractive in the least. There was nothing about her which would catch the eye of a rake like Desmond which is the first glaring error of this movie. Then the whole thing with her being so sure she wants to have sex with Desmond and nothing else, it doesn’t ring true. Especially not from a woman of that era. This whole movie screams, ‘You are watching an important drama unfold before your very eyes. Pay attention!’ When Desmond gets a threatening phone call in the middle of the night, well, that did it for me. I turned this off for good and vowed not to get a movie just because the lead is cute. Don’t put this movie anywhere near your Netflix Queue lest it infect your other choices. Enough said.

I hate romantic comedies. I really hate romantic comedies. I would go so far as to say I loathe them. Why am I bringing this up? Because I have recently watched two romantic comedies, and I need to remind myself that no matter who is in them, they are not worth renting. Let me check that. I watched the first ten minutes each of two romantic comedies-the first being Maybe Baby starring one of People’s Sexiest Men, Hugh Laurie. It’s a British comedy, so I hold out hope that it’ll be ok. Hope quickly fades.

We start out with Hugh in a work meeting situation. There’s a new boss at the station-I think he writes commercials or some such thing. I have no idea what Hugh’s name is in the movie. Sam? I think. Anyway, the new boss looks like a cross between Clive Owens and Peyton Manning, which is not a compliment. He sounds like he’s barking out orders on the football field as well as the obnoxious, over-the-top boss that everybody loves to hate. In actuality, he’s Matthew MacFadyen, the new Mr. Darcy, and presumably, no relation to the scrumptious Angus MacFadyen. His stereotypical character is wearisome, and it’s a welcomed break when Hugh’s mobile rings. It’s his wife, played by Joely Richardson, and she wants to screw because she’s ovulating.

Hugh hops on his motorcycle-so hot. He rides in real life-and hurries home to have sex with his wife before hurrying back to work. Oh, why do I bother explaining the plot? It’s easy. He and Joely are having trouble conceiving. His best friend at work just had a baby-well, his wife did. They go over to see baby, and the others chuff Hugh and Joely for not getting things done. Emma Thompson plays a screwball New Age woman who believes in the power of the vagina. She is irritating and annoying and not for a minute believable. Not because there aren’t women like her-there are-but because she is too stereotypical to be true.

The biggest problem? Besides not enough Hugh Laurie flesh? Joely Richardson doesn’t do a damn thing for me. Besides also being a stereotype-they all are-she’s annoying and whiney. Plus, there’s a hunk who signs up for the agency for which she works-actors-and heavy sparks fly. Never mind that he’s an ass or that Hugh Laurie is a million times sexier-you know that there’s going to be trouble. In fact, I predict that she messes around with actor boy before realizing that no matter what, Hugh is the one for her. I wouldn’t know as I stopped watching around this point. I also predict that she will get pregnant by the end of the film. I’m not as sure of that as I would be if it were an American film, but I’m pretty sure.

This movie is horrid. Not even Hugh Laurie can salvage it-though he’s definitely the best thing about it. Forget about this for your Netflix Queue and watch anything else he’s in-it’s got to be better than this.

                                                                                                                                             6:24 p.m.      11/18/05

Ok. I just waxed poetic about the fact that I hate romantic comedies. I need to reiterate that even having one of my favorite actors in a romantic comedy doesn’t make it much more palatable. It watched two recently-well, the first ten minutes of each-the second being Paperback Romance, starring Anthony LaPaglia. By the way, he’s so much better looking now than he was when he was younger. It’s the gravitas, I think. Plus, he gained some weight. How unfair is that? He looks better with weight gain!

Anyway, the movie starts out with a voiceover of Gia Carides, who’s writing something in the library. A romantic fantasy. Well, a sexual fantasy. She’s Anthony’s wife in real life-they met on the set. That’s sweet. The movie, not so much. First of all, the sex fantasy is boring and trite with every cliché imaginable. Manhood and such shit. It’s a threesome-and it’s quite a feat that I’m not the least bit interested. To make matters worse, she’s reading out loud as she writes. By pen. I suppose this is the days before laptops so I can forgive the pen and paper part, but not the murmuring out loud part. She’s reading out loud! This is patently absurd. More so that she doesn’t notice a young man-LaPaglia-sitting down in the carrel across from hers, and he’s listening to every word she says. Ridiculous! But no movie without the stupid premise. He invites her to coffee, she rejects him. Turns out she’s on crutches-seems like she has MS, ah, no, it’s polio, according to an IMDb reviewer. Suppose I would have found that out if I actually watched the movie-which is stupid, too. Then again, no movie without the premise. If she has no reason to say no, well, then they’d have their coffee, have sex and be done with it. Even if he is engaged. Even if he is a cat-burglar. Ok. I got those bits of information from the blurb.

She finds out his name from a librarian-talk about privacy leak-and the fact that he works at an art museum. Gia sees Anthony smooching up with an icy blond and is disappointed. Now, this should be the end of it, but oh, no. She spies on them, then comes back to spy on him again. She almost gets caught one day so she’s trying to get away on crutches and falls over the banister, breaking her leg. I’m fast-forwarding by this point, trying to find more scenes with Anthony in them. By the time I watch a party scene in which both Gia and Anthony end up, I give up.

This is not Netflix Queue material-far from it. Go watch Without a Trace, instead, even though this season is uneven at best. WAT at its worse is a hundred times better than this movie. Moral of the story-no romantic comedies for me!

                                                                                                                                        4:44 a.m.    6/3/4/04

I have a new favorite movie, and it’s called Charlotte Sometimes. Now, you may be saying to yourself, huh? That was my reaction, too, when I saw it in the local video store, on video, mind you. I will come clean and say the only reason I rented it was because it had three and a half Asian people (one is mixed) starring in it. One of them was Jacqueline Kim whom I had seen and loved in Xena: Warrior Princess. It’s a sad commentary that I jumped on this movie without even knowing what it’s about simply because the faces on it looked like mine and because I had a crush on Jacqueline. Well, the faces were prettier than mine, but you know what I’m saying. Since I’m on this kick of not reading blurbs to movies or books, I had no idea what to expect when I popped it in the VCR.

It starts out with music and moody lighting and no dialogue. I’m intrigued from the start because of the absence of talking and of action. Most movies these days have a plethora of either or, God forbid, both, but few had a complete absence of both. I am hooked. Now, I have a disclaimer before I continue. If you are the type of person who whines, ‘There’s nothing happening in this movie’, then skip this review and this movie because it will drive you to distraction. There is no big action or even all that much dialogue, and from the low ratings it received on IMDB.com, it’s abundantly clear that most people didn’t understand this movie or more to the point, didn’t want to understand it. So again, if you need action in your movie, then pass by this gem.

The first person we see is Michael (Michael Idemoto), and it’s immediately apparent that he is the strong silent type. He rents part of his house to a woman named Lori who he is in love with but who has a boyfriend, the mixed-blood womanizer, Justin. Oh, you don’t find out he’s a womanizer until nearly the end of the movie, but it is clear from the beginning that he is a player. I found him the least interesting character of the movie, but partly because he is the least defined. He is the foil for the other characters so he never feels completely whole in his own right, but he is a necessary piece of the puzzle.

The movie is about loneliness and what we will do to avoid it. Lori is with Justin, but she sneaks upstairs to be with Michael after having sex with Justin because she’s lonely. Michael is lonely even though he declares that he doesn’t mind being alone. It’s obvious that he does mind, but he won’t even allow himself to think about it. Justin is lonely because he is straddling the white world and the Asian world, never quite fitting in either. When he overhears a conversation Lori has in Chinese with her mother over the phone, it only emphasizes the rift as he cannot understand the language or the reason Lori has to answer the phone. As for Darcy, well, let’s save her for later as she needs a whole paragraph to herself.

Another underlying theme is sexuality and how we express it. Justin and Lori have rousing sex, but it doesn’t satisfy Lori. They play games as they have sex, and sometimes those games turn serious. There is one unsettling sex scene where it isn’t entirely clear that sex is what Lori wants to be doing at that moment. It’s evocative because of the understatement and because there is no moralizing-indeed, there is hardly anything spoken at all. It is a testament to Eugenia Yuan (Lori) and Matt Westmore (Justin) that they convey so many conflicting emotions through their actions and the way they move. It’s hot, sultry and uncomfortable at the same time.

Then again, nothing in this movie is easy. There are interminable pauses between lines that make me want to scream, ‘Say something! Do something!’ With exquisite timing, however, the next action or line is presented just as I am about ready to go over the edge. This doesn’t just happen once or twice throughout the movie-the very fabric of the movie is woven from this thread. Of course, there are those who would say the timing isn’t right and that everything is too slow, but to each her own. This is a delicate operation that can only be performed with the surest hand, and these actors are in firm control.

The tension between Lori and Michael is uncomfortable. So much so, Lori offers to set Michael up with someone. He declines, declaring that he’s not afraid to be alone. What he’s not saying is that he’s afraid to be with someone, so it’s easier to fantasize about the woman he can’t have than to actually date a flesh-and-blood woman-especially when the one he wants is not available. He doesn’t have to say it, however, because it’s so evident in his mien that it need not be spoken. Just the look in his soulful eyes is enough to be informed of the hurt that he is harboring. His independence is also his shield from the inevitable pain that love brings upon each person at some point in his or her life. The awkwardness after Michael quickly shoots down Lori’s tentative offer to set him up with someone is painful, but it’s refreshingly real.

This is where Darcy enters the picture and while it’s abundantly clear who she is-at least to me-the way her character plays out is intriguing, nonetheless. I spent a great deal of time during the Darcy scenes wondering how Michael would react to her once he found out the truth, but I’m getting ahead of myself. He meets her at the bar he hangs out in, and he strikes up the nerve to talk to her. It’s hesitant and banal as these things tend to be in real life, but it works. She allows him to walk with her, and they spend the night together-but don’t have sex. She is only in town for a few days, so whatever they have they know is going to end soon.

Darcy-the beautiful Jacqueline Kim-is everything Lori is not. She is moody and quiet whereas Lori is chirpy and talkative. Lori, to me, is a girl whereas Darcy is a woman. She captures the attention merely by appearing on the screen. When she tells Michael that she is not his type, nor that she is anyone’s type, really, it connects to something I feel as well. What she means is that while guys like to look at her and presumably enjoy having sex with her, they don’t want to be with her in the long term because she is not everything a prototype Asian girl is supposed to be. She even predicts that Michael’s type is a small, typical type of Asian woman, and Michael is upset, mostly because she is right.

This scene cuts to the heart of so many issues between Asian women and men. I wanted to stand up and cheer because it’s true to life-to my life, anyway. White men want to date Asian women because we are exotic whereas many Asian men steer clear of American Asian women because we are too American. When Darcy says that she’s not any man’s type, really, I want to freeze-frame the moment and remember it forever. There is someone else who feels like me-even if it’s only a character in a movie. Even though this is not specifically a movie emphasizing ethnicity, small moments like that do underscore issues that Asians grapple with, but not in a preachy sort of way.

When Michael finds out about Darcy’s deception by going through Lori’s belongings when she’s not home, he is devastated. He doesn’t show it on the outside or talk about it, but it’s palpable. The scene where he meets up with Darcy after discovering her secret keeps me on the edge of my seat because I am waiting for him to explode. I don’t know how he’s going to confront Darcy, but I know it’s going to be painful. When it doesn’t happen and doesn’t happen, I begin to wonder if he’s not going to confront her and just keep the knowledge to himself. After all, she’s only going to be there a few more days, so why bring it up?

I am lulled into thinking that he won’t mention it when he does something completely out of character. Well, not out of character, but a surprise, nonetheless. He kisses Darcy then becomes insistent. When she asks if he wants to make love to her, he says he wants to fuck her so hard she screams, or something to that effect. As he had turned her down earlier for sex because he thought it was the easy way out, she is shocked when he says this and even more so when he doesn’t stop at first when she wants him to. He is so in control of himself that when he loses it, it’s more explosive than if he were the type of person to go off all the time. Darcy’s pain is my pain as she stares at him with such hurt in her eyes as he turns away from her.

She doesn’t leave, though, because he doesn’t want her to go. They spend the rest of the night sitting side by side and not talking. When she finally gets up to go, she wants to say something to him, but he cuts her off. His pain is so deep, he can’t bear to hear anything that might cause him to break completely. Or to hear something that might weaken his resolve. The shot of Darcy standing by the door before leaving is the most powerful in the movie. Most filmmakers would ruin it by having her say something pithy as she leaves but in this movie, she simply looks at Michael one more time before exiting. Perfect.

Warning: Spoilers ahead. This is where you should stop reading if you want to watch the end of the movie unaware of what happens. Consider yourself forewarned.

In my opinion, this is where the film should have ended. The last part of the movie doesn’t add much to it, though it doesn’t really detract from it, either. The scene where Darcy/Charlotte and Justin have sex in a motel room is perhaps the weakest of the movie. It’s the only time where there is a monologue explaining a theme of the movie and even though Jacqueline does a fine job with it, it’s out of place. I already discerned the themes of the movie, and I don’t need them underlined for me.

Likewise, the last scene leaves me ambivalent. I would have liked to have seen Michael end up with nobody because the movie is, indeed, about loneliness, but I can’t begrudge Eric Byler (director) his choice of allowing some hope at the end of the movie. It’s understandable that after all Michael’s suffered, there would be a ray of hope to end the movie, but I would have preferred that he ended up alone. Not because I am a sadistic person as some might suggest, but simply because it’s more consistent with the tone of the film. The unbearable loneliness that haunts each of us as we go through our days. The ending feels more like a Hollywood movie ending, but thankfully, it stops short of complete sap. For those of use who are more pessimistic, the ending allows the thought that things will not work out as planned whereas the optimists can believe that all will be well.

I have to mention something about the music which I think is brilliant. I am not someone who likes constant music to be played during a movie because I think it’s obtrusive and obnoxious (see Donnie Darko), but it only enhances this movie. It’s subtle, but it sets the mood for each scene. I can’t imagine this movie without the music which means that it’s a job well done. The other thing I have to say is that I normally don’t like the director’s commentary because I prefer to come up with my own reasons for things happening, but I liked this one. Or two. There are two, and I’ve been through all of the first one and some of the second. I will finish listening to the second one, which is truly remarkable as I usually don’t even listen to one.

In short, this movie is my current favorite movie. Some would say it’s because it’s about Asian characters, but that’s not true. While it doesn’t hurt that it’s about Asians, that’s not the main reason I like this movie. I like this movie because it’s a quiet, elegiac tribute to the desperate ways we live our lives. I like it because it takes the ethnicity of the characters for granted, never making a big deal out of it. I like it because so much is said through subtext and context rather than through words. It’s a gorgeous, moody, sensual movie that holds my interest from beginning to end. This definitely should be number one in your Netflix Queue, but only if you have the patience and tolerance to sit through a movie that doesn’t dazzle or titillate. If you’re that kind of person, you’re in for one hell of a good movie.

                                                                                                                                        3:48 a.m.    7/3/4/05

I am Batman. No, I’m not, but I did see Batman Begins last night, and in a movie theater, to boot. My favorite movie theater with its faux theatre look and organ player. I even bought a thing of popcorn, though I smuggled in my own water. I am not paying three dollars for twenty ounces of water-no way. Anyway, I went with a friend who’d already seen it but wanted to see it again. I settled in, not expecting much. Why? First of all, I knew Batman wasn’t going to die-nor anyone close to him save for his parents early on-which takes a lot of tension out of the movie. I mean, it’s hard to get too worked up when he’s in trouble knowing that he’ll make it out of there alive.

The other great thing about this theater-The Heights-is that they had two previews, no commercials, then the movie. How great is that? Unfortunately, some idiot took his daughter to the movie-eight or nine, I would say-and she wouldn’t stop talking during the movie. Most of it was asking what the hell was going on, and it got on my nerves. This isn’t a children’s movie, and it would have been better if he rented it when it came out on DVD if he wanted to show it to her. I’m one of those people who can’t block out external stimuli, so I had a hard time concentrating on the movie. I tried to block them out, but I couldn’t. What kind of example is that for a father to allow his daughter to talk during a movie? Sheesh.

Anyway, first we have THE BATS! When they fly at Bruce Wayne, the woman on the right of me nearly jumped into her man’s lap. Her jump is the best part of the movie experience, bar none. I love bats so I’m glad to see them make more than one or two appearances in the movie. Follow my thoughts during the movie.

What the hell? I didn’t know this was a HK action flick! Oh, sure, the white man beats the Asians in kung fu, AGAIN! Why does this always happen? What is that thing on Christian Bale’s face on the side of his nose? A huge mole. It’s distracting. Oh, it’s Liam Neeson. He looks good. I’m glad he’s a bad guy for once. How did he get in Bruce Wayne’s (Christian Bale) cell? Here we go!

Oh, Ken Watanabe. What’s up with the bad makeup and the bad acting? Ooooh, ninjas. I like ninjas. Lots of fighting. Nice body, Christian Bale. Not as excited about the face, but that’s ok. More fighting, a few laughs, then Bruce betrays the brotherhood because he’s not a killer. He flees back to America to resume his role as rightful heir to the Wayne fortune, but with the added bonus of wearing all black at night and getting to play with some really cool gadgets, dreamed up by Fox (Morgan Freeman), a forgotten man in the Wayne corporation.

Katie Holmes’ eyes are weird. Her lips are too big. Would an assistant DA really wear that kind of outfit? Who plays her boss? He looks familiar. Well, let me look it up on IMDb.com….Give me a sec….Damn dial-up….It would help if I remembered his name in the movie. Ok. Seems to be a guy by the name of Larry Holden (Irish!) as Finch. He was in Memento, which is probably where I saw him. Anyway, back to the program. Who is Rachel Dawes (Holmes) to tell off Bruce when he plans on killing the man (Richard Brake) who killed his parents? Dang, she slapped him! Twice! Bitch. Isn’t she too young to be an assistant DA? Hm.

Overacting, overacting, ah, Michael Caine as Alfred. Lord, is he good. He is the backbone of this movie, really. I love that most of this movie is done at night and the sepulchral overtones. It’s gorgeously done. Ew! Dr. Crane (Cillian Murphy) is so freaky looking! No, not as the Scarecrow, but as himself. He looks kind of like the guy in Smallville-you know, the one who plays Superman-but exaggerated. His lips are too girly, his eyes are too something. Everything about him is just a bit off. Looks-wise, I mean. His acting is great. Supercilious and spooky. Perfect combination.

What’s up with the voice, Batman? It’s highly irritating. Bale is convincing as both the moody Dark Knight and the fluffy playboy. The scene where he shows up at some function with a sports’ car and two babes is hilarious. I wasn’t expecting this movie to be so funny, but I’m glad it is. Humor and darkness entwine together so beautifully. More bats. They are majestic as they fly. Oh! Batman just gave something to a little boy. I bet that’ll be important later on. When does Liam come back? I can’t believe Gary Oldman (Jim Gordan) in this movie! He’s usually the bad guy or the freak, but he’s the good guy in this one. He does a great job as a solid, morally-upright man who is pained by the decay of his city. His New York accent is pretty good, too. The fact that most of the main characters are from the U.K. is pretty negligible here as they all do a bang-up job of imitating Americans.

Carmine Falcone (Tom Wilkinson) is so damn ugly. Hey, wait, how can he be thrown behind bars so soon? The movie isn’t even half-over yet! I like the way Batman drapes Falcone on the spotlight, making the outline of a bat in the sky. Cool. Why doesn’t anyone suspect that Bruce is Batman? Especially Rachel? That’s not very believable. Oh well. Munch, munch, munch. Whew! I’m glad Morgan is playing a role a bit outside the ‘wise old Negro giving sage advice to young white man’. Instead, he’s giving him toys! Lots and lots of toys! See, the Dark Knight is James Bond but in a mask. Fox (Freeman) is his Q. I only know it’s Q because I read it in another review, though I thought of the James Bond thing while watching the movie.

More stuff, more stuff, more stuff. Mmmm, Liam’s back. He looks so fucking hot in that suit. Why aren’t there Asians in the Brotherhood? Besides the main guy-Watanabe-who dies early on. How can an inoculation work so quickly and after the fact? Hm. Shouldn’t the boy be seeing things, too, since he doesn’t have the antidote? Why doesn’t he use the thing Batman gave him to get out of the bad situation? Why doesn’t Rachel now realize that Bruce is Batman without him having to give her a big fat clue? Oh, earlier, how do the cops stick to Batman’s tail? Why isn’t he using the hyperdrive? You telling me that his car can’t ditch a few cops? To add insult to injury, I’m supposed to believe that no one died? Yeah, right.

Back to the end of the movie. Wait, I don’t get this whole main pipe pressure thing. Oh, and the microwave thing? That just makes me laugh. They should have given it a different name. Ohhh, Rachel’s nipples again! I read a review that posited the director saying, ‘Turn down the heat. Katie’s nipples aren’t showing through her shirt.’ I thought that was funny, but it’s pretty much true, especially if you’re looking for it. Oh, will Batman survive? Will Liam die? Need I ask? Whoosh! We’re home free. Rachel kisses Bruce before dumping him-of a sorts-which is fine because she’s not strong enough to be with him. She should be able to kick some ass, not just use her Taser thing. I heard they’re not using her in the second movie because they want a stronger actor as Batman’s girlfriend. Yay! I thought Liam had a chance of making it out of the train alive until it exploded.

So, do I recommend it for your Netflix Queue? Yeah, sure, when it comes out. It’s entertaining and mostly taut pacing. Sure, there’s nothing unpredictable about it, but it’s darker than most other Batman stuff, which is appreciated. Batman has always been a favorite of mine because he’s the only superhero with no powers, and he wears black. Throw in the fact that he has a nice bod and is broody as well, and that takes him to a whole ‘nother level. I don’t recommend you spend the nine bucks to see it in the theater, however, except that the action is so much better in a theater than on a television screen. Either way, go ahead and watch the Dark Knight the way he is meant to be.

Ok. I like musicals. I am able to suspend my critical eye when it comes to plot, characters, etc. I don’t expect as much, narratively, as long as there is kick-ass music. Oh, some dancing is nice, too, but not required. I had read good things about Godspell, so I decided to give it a whirl.

First of all, I’m laughing at the 70s look. So ridiculous! I know, the current look will be mocked in thirty years, but really! The plaid bell-bottoms and white-afros. It’s enough to…wait, who’s that? Ah, reading the linear notes, I see that it’s John the Baptist (David Haskell) dressed as a clown and pulling a cart behind him, singing, as he heads for a fountain in what I presume to be downtown New York. He pops up in different vignettes, only appearing to certain people. Oh, one of them is Lynne Thigpen, whom I know-one of the few cast members who’s recognizable-and she’s pretty funny. The song is really, really lame, however, as eight or nine people end up at the fountain, being baptized by, uh, John the Baptist. At first I think he’s Jesus, but then I see him looking at this other clown in the distance. Ok, I have to say, I hate clowns. Hate them with a passion. I think they are creepy motherfuckers, and whomever thought they were a good thing should be shot. So Sydney Bristow’s father (Victor Garber) as clown Jesus is just beyond bizarre. I’m still willing to give it a shot, though, if the music gets better.

What is this? Jesus leads the people-suddenly all turned into clowns/hippies/same thing-around the city, dancing and singing. Parables. Really. They are supposed to be lovably goofy, I suppose, but they’re just pretentious and annoying in my mind. I grit my teeth, assuming it has to get better, but it doesn’t. At the half hour mark, I give up. I cannot watch this tripe-it’s not even bad enough to be good. The cheese factor is high, the campy factor is not enough, and the songs are crap. I rated this a one star on Netflix, and I wish they had a zero star-it was that bad. Don’t put this anywhere near your Netflix Queue, not even if you love musicals. I guarantee that this one causes indigestion and nightmares.

I have long since established that two things make any movie better.  Cello music and Alan Rickman.  Truly Madly Deeply have both, which makes it one of my favorite movies.  No, those aren’t the only reasons I like this movie so much, but it’s a good start.  In fact, Alan Rickman is a cello player in this movie which is my idea of nirvana.  Granted, he’s a dead cello player, but a grrl can’t have everything, can she? 

There’s one other thing I have to say about this movie, however.  It reinforces my belief that Brits cannot do romantic comedies.  I put this movie on my Netflix Queue—well, first of all, because it’s Alan!  Playing the cello!—because I thought it was going to be like Ghost, but without that annoying Whoopie Goldberg role.  You know, a dead man gently haunting his lover who can’t get over him.  I thought there would be laughs abound since he invites his dead friends to chill with them in her flat.  It was supposed to be funny! 

To be fair to the movie, it has its funny bits.  Many, to be sure, but…well, let’s just say I bawled during this movie as well.  Perhaps it’s the mood I was in while watching it, but I still cry every time I watch certain scenes.  So, I would say it’s got its comedic moments but it’s not a comedy overall.  There are too many truly touching moments to cast it into that category.  There is also Alan Rickman’s porn mustache which is good for a laugh, but that’s another thing altogether.

It’s easy to see that Nina (Juliet Stevenson) and Jamie (Rickman) have a rapport that isn’t faked.  When I learned that they have worked together in the past, it made sense to me.  The grief Nina shows long after her beloved dies is heart wrenching.  Stevenson sometimes heads for over the top, but she usually manages to rein it in before toppling over the edge.  I also like the fact that’s she’s not stunningly attractive, which she would be if this were an American film.  It’s odd, though, because there’s a scene where every male on screen comments about how beautiful she is.  I don’t get it as she’s not that good-looking.

The pacing of the movie feels real.  There is nothing big in this movie, only small, realistic touches.  The therapist scenes don’t feel quite authentic, but I’ve given up on expecting accurate depictions of therapy on screen.  The way Nina struggles to accept her lover’s death is very real, and I can’t help but be touched by it.  One small misstep in this movie is the Polish man who’s wooing Nina.  He’s so over the top, it’s hard to take him seriously.  Fortunately, he doesn’t show up very often, so I don’t have to be too bothered by him.

The subplot with Nina’s tutee—she tutors Spanish-speakers in English—is lovely, but it’s clearly a plot device.  I can accept that however, as most the scenes with the two of them feel right.  Ditto with the new guy in Nina’s life.  He’s more a symbol than anything else, but it doesn’t detract from the main story—which is the relationship between Nina and Jamie.  I don’t care if he’s returned from the dead—it’s wonderful to behold the love they have for each other—especially he for she—and to see how joyful she becomes when she accepts that she’s not hallucinating.  The scene in which the two of them warble their way through a song as he plays the cello then she plays the piano is one of my favorites.

There are many nit-picky things wrong with this movie which don’t bother me in the least.  Normally, I am one of those people who rolls her eyes at plot devices or any other kind of contrivances while watching a movie.  In this one, I am so caught up in the two main characters and the unfolding story that I don’t care at the other stuff.  It’s just background noise to the symphony which Nina and Jamie are playing. 

I strongly recommend this movie for your Netflix Queue with a caveat:  Keep your heart open and your inner critic at bay.  This is not a movie to analyze and dissect while you’re watching it, or even when it’s over.  This is a movie to watch and savor for what it is—a paean to the wondrous, messy, painful thing we call love.

The first time I saw Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, I had more important business to take care of-such as watching someone’s ass as he lay on the floor before me.  That’s why when I watched it the second time, a few years later, I couldn’t remember seeing it before.  In fact, I was convinced for the first ten minutes that I hadn’t seen the movie before.  Only when I saw Hagrid (Robbie Coltrane) bursting into the Dursley’s home away from home to fetch Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) did I recognize what the hell is going on.  That’s my main criticism of the Harry Potter books and to some extent the movies themselves.  They’re good while reading/watching them, but they’re instantly forgettable.

I know Potter fans will get in a dither or a lather over those fighting words, but I call them like I see them.  And what I see in this movie is how young the stars all look.  You have to understand that I watched the third and second movie before I saw the first one again, so it’s quite startling to look at them in the first where they’re just babies.  Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint), especially, is so cute.  Then there’s Draco (Tom Felton) with his baby face.  How can anybody think he’s a villain?  He’s way too damn cute for that.  I have a hard time taking him seriously when he looks like a blond chipmunk.  It’s stunning how much he grows from first movie to third.

I think it’s better to read the books first before watching the movies, otherwise you miss a lot of what’s going on.  They zip along at a fast pace, and you’ll have a hard time catching your breath if you don’t know the background.  This movie is good at establishing in broad strokes Harry Potter, the character in the first ten minutes.  Once we know a little about him, we’re off to the races. 

Harry Potter finds out he’s a wizard and attends Hogswarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the first time.  He meets Ron on the train, as well as Hermione (Emma Watson).  This is the trio who dominates most of the books, and it’s nice to see their first interactions.  It’s also nice to watch them grow, but I’ll deal with that in a later review.  Suffice to say, Hermione is a little know-it-all; Ron is a wisecracker; and Harry is confused.  Hey, it’s a lot to digest that you’re a wizard and that your parents didn’t die of a car crash like you’ve been told all your life.  It’s bound to take time to adjust.

The one thing about this series that bothers me is how dumb the adults seem to be.  I understand that the kids are the focus, but Albus Dumbledore (the late, great Sir Richard Harris) is supposed to be the greatest wizard of all time, and yet, he can be amazingly thick at times.  The same with Professor McGonagall (Dame Maggie Smith).  She is a sharp witch, but she inexplicitly refuses to listen to Harry and company when they try to tell her there’s trouble afoot.  This screams of plot device to me, and it’s irksome.  Not enough to put me off my feed, but just enough to make me complain about it.

The action is plenty, and I’m sure the booger jokes amuse the kids.  Personally, I find myself more drawn to Snape (Alan Rickman) watching, but that’s just my personal bias.  He is the Potions master and head of Slytherin House, from whence all the bad witches come, but he wants to be the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts.  Rickman commands the stage every time he strides onto the set, and it’s clear that he relishes the role.  Who wouldn’t, getting to wear all-black and snarl all the time?  It’s sounds like a great role to me.  I jest, but he’s actually the most intriguing adult because he’s complex.  I’m never quite sure if he’s good or bad or somewhere in between.  He does a great job of keeping you guessing as well. 

This is a popcorn movie, to be sure, but one on a magnificent scale.  The chess scene is my favorite and my only gripe about it is that it’s not long enough.  Yes, I like the destruction, so sue me.  It’s also a scene in which Ron gets to shine.  The last scene at the school bothers me, but I won’t ruin it for the two people who haven’t seen the movie and say why.  If you really want to know, check out the in-depth review where I go on about it at length.  Put this on your Netflix Queue if you want a light, enjoyable movie which you won’t remember for long.  Perfect for a chilly Minnesota night.