Reviews

I can't help it. English acting is my opium. It intoxicates me, it enslaves me. They do it better (acting) over there than anywhere else.

The cast is superb, starting with Jane Horrocks in the title role. Don't deny yourself the pleasure of seeing her, and Michael Caine, in the delightful "Little Voice".

I am most drawn to Mrs. Pritchard's chief aide, Catherine Walker, played by the astounding Janet Mcteer. This is a performance beyond mere acting. A woman who can seem mannish, frighteningly formidable, cruel, yet vulnerable, in desperate need of affection, and just when you think she would frighten most men, she goes to bed with a man old enough to be her son.

I reviewed Ms. Mcteer very favorably in the 2000, "Songcatcher", and forgot about it till I looked up her credits, in the wonderful IMDb. IMDb is surely one of the great venues of our time. I would like to thank Mr. IMDb, but this information doesn't seem to be available.

I've only seen the first three installments. No. 4 of 6 is on it's way, and I can't wait!!

Until I saw some of the user's negative comments, I thought I was a terrible person, cause I never liked this movie, and it seemed that everyone else did. Every time I mentioned it, people would go into raptures reserved for the culmination of a romantic interlude. (I think I cleaned THAT up, pretty well.) "The tango, how about the tango, they'ed shout at me." "You're nuts. Whaddya mean you didn't like Pacino?"

Well, folks, the first time I saw it I pushed "eject" after twenty minutes, and never regretted it. I thought it was an overacted, contrived production that for me didn't work.

A friend with secret ties to secret organizations threatened me recently with dire punishments if I failed to see the complete film.

I saw the whole overrated complete thing, AND I STILL DON'T LIKE IT.

The tango is not a real tango. This would be laughed off the stage in Argentina. However I thought that Pacino and the young lady did it well. I counted the length of the shots in the dance and the camera changed shots every six or seven seconds. This means that they did the dance in very short segments, or they did it complete, and it was edited in short clips. I don't know how it was shot, but if they did it in one take I applaud them.

If I heard correctly, Slade's blindness was due to juggling hand grenades. Well don't hand grenades that close tear your head off, or, at the very least, horribly disfigure one. Or maybe Col. Slade "ducked" just in time.

The best moments for me, were Bradley Whitford of "The West Wing" telling Slade what a bastard he was at the Thanksgiving dinner and, the then unknown Seymour Phillip Hoffman as the campus wise guy. Hoffman, as befits a great actor, got into the business, to meet a girl in his school drama club. From such mundane things does art rear it's ugly head.

A Pacino film that almost no one saw, "Panic In Needle Park", his first starring role, is highly recommended.

Patricia (Bosworth) I loved your "Montgomery Clift", and "Diane Arbus". You betrayed us by putting your name to this piece of unspeakable filth. Now I know why Diane's daughter Doon, wouldn't let you use any of Diane's pictures for your biog. Or refuse most art galleries the use of the photos for exhibition purposes. Why do do think Sinatra made a fist when he got within 20 feet of the jackals called journalists, or Brando regarded them as the lowest of the low.

June 24, 2007 will go down as the worst cinematic experience of my life. Other than that, I loved the film. Mr. IMDb has just told me I submitted a review without the required ten lines. I remember when IMDb started "user comments", there would be reviews that said, "I thought the movie was very good" AND WAS PRINTED HERE!

How can you hate a movie that has Kenneth Branagh, as a Catholic priest, who has given in to the weakness of the flesh, saying, "I began to know God thru Elenore...it was she who taught me about faith." Or Kenneth Branagh saying to William Hurt, "You know you needen't feel guilty about this, THE SUN SHINES HERE TOO."(italics, mine) All kidding aside, the cast could have sleepwalked thru this somewhat cliched drama of a wealthy, staid older millionaire, resorting to having a jerk impegnate his beautiful young wife to keep the family line going, having the jerk end up dead, and the beautiful wife meets a charming local priest,,,and then...you know ..and so forth. Get the idea? But what saves the movie, are the acting "chops" of this steller cast: Branagh, William Hurt, the beauteous Madeline Stowe, and Blythe Danner. You can see they're not taking this film lightly. Branagh gets better with every film. He will surely inherit Olivier's mantle very soon. William Hurt definitely has acting greatness in him. His career seems to be on hold. He should be doing big, serious films. Madeline Stowe's beauty is so far above the average anorexic, thong, Barbie Doll, MTV sexpot, as to make them the jokes they have become. She doesn't weigh 27 lbs., AND she can really act. Where is her presence in major filmaking? Blythe Danner works steadily on Broadway and surely deserves an award for a lifetime of top level acting, on the stage, and in the movie house. All in all I enjoyed this film and recommend it to fans of the above great performers. If you like movies based on Dad's boss making him take in the boss's chimp for the weekend, just when the hated insufferable in-laws are coming for a barbeque, and the kids decide to dress up the chimp as Ben Laden, and the fox terrier next door tries to mate with the chimp and start a REAL family, even if the local DA says chimp /terrier unions are heretical to the basic man/women setup, and... and. If you like that kind of movie, "The Proposition" is not for you.

I watched this film with great anticipation after hearing Jimmy's records on the Temple U. jazz and classical station. His rendition of "For Once In My Life" caught me off guard. It's been done to death as a "hip" , "swingin" "groove" tune, and I must say I had OD'd on the million renditions (including mine at bar mitzvahs, oy vey!) Here's Jimmy doing it in a patented Scott slow tempo, and I'm kvelling(digging it to the max), and I say, "Who the hell is this, and what the hell is he doing?" Everyone who has tried to sing, knows that singing this slow is like running the hundred yard dash in a pool of maple syrup...it's only for the bravest, and the toughest. Gradually I found out the story of Jimmy's life. A virtually fatherless family, with ten children. The mother killed by an auto, while taking one of the girls to school. Foster homes, the kids split up. Jimmy's body stopped growing before puberty. Jimmy finally getting a gig with Lionell Hampton. Jimmy having a big hit with "Everybody Is Somebody's Fool", and all the record label says is "Lionel Hampton's Orch." with, are you ready, "Vocalist". Making an incredible record with the supervision of Ray Charles, and having it suppressed, because some jerk in New York said he had Jimmy "under contract". Years of obscurity while rock reigned supreme. Diswasher, hotel clerk, geriatric home attendant. Four failed marriages.... Had enough?.. Even if this was fiction you wouldn't believe it. And then somebody calls a radio station in Newark, NJ, and says, "Why don't you play Jimmy Scott's records?" "Oh he's dead", the DJ says. "No he isn't", says Jimmy's friend, the caller. "Well you bring me the living Jimmy Scott, and I'll put him on this station". Jimmy was on the phone for I think 24 hours with the phone lines having nervous breakdowns. The career restarts, and the incredible voice is back in action. Hollywood stars and rock mavens are taken aback and wiped out by this voice. Nowhere in this film did I hear the words heroin, addiction, breakdown, rehab. Amazing. I did hear of Jimmy's drinking, but I ask you, ISN'T HE ENTITLED? One thing puzzled me about the film. During the lean years, producer Joel Dorn, a major, major jazz force, recorded Jimmy in an album called "The Source". It was mentioned on the film, as was Joel, but where was Joel? I heard him do an entire evening on a Judy Garland album, and the man is most engaging, and delightful. I missed his input. David Ritz, Jimmy's biographer, was most informative, and added a lot. Two things completely blew my mind on the film. The opening lines to the tunes, "Home", and "If You Only Knew", the title song of the film. We've heard the line, "When shadows fall", so many times by so many corny singers and so many corny bands, the tune had become a joke, like "A Pretty Girl Is Like a Melody" became a joke, because it accompanied strippers. But when Jimmy sang it, he reaches into your guts with a longing that will break your heart. And the way he cuts off the words, "If.. you...on...ly..knew". This is art,high art. I've watched the film about four times, hoping that some of Jimmy's musicality, and strength will rub off on me. Kudos to filmaker Matthew Buzzell, and THE MAN, THE MAIN MAN, MR. JIMMY SCOTT.

If I couldn't stand this man before seeing this film, this is the coup de grace to my revulsion of the "Miles Industry", and the man(this is a "man"?) it represents. Miles Davis was a good bebop trumpet player in the 50's, when he played with Charley Parker. Although he knew that technically he couldn't handle Parker's blistering tempi, and tried to quit the band, Parker spurred him on and Miles sounded beautiful, especially on "Bird Gets the Worm", which was based on "Lover Come Back To Me". Then, I guess Miles started reading the critics about his "genius", and creativity. What followed from the 70's on, was the "fusion", rock influenced, synthisized, no chords, modal mishmash that almost killed jazz. The chief cuplrits and abbetors were Keith Jarret, and Chick Corea. I'll say they were young, and maybe they were in awe of Miles, but those endless concerts of "noodling" around their instruments are there on record for you to make up you own mind. The film is very watchable because it puts many people we've read about for years to tell their own "Miles" stories. And the women!! THE POOR SUFFERING WOMEN!! I'm going to be a good boy and softly say, to conclude, this was not a nice man.

Ken Russell made several films for the BBC on artists and musicians like Fredrick Delius, the composer, and Dante Gabriel Rossetti, the painter and poet, and one of the founders of the Pre Raphaelite movement. The Rossetti film features the late Oliver Reed in an engrossing performance. This Mahler film is quite good. I feared watching it because I thought Ken Russell would make a circus of Mahler's tempestuous life, but it's a fairly controlled foray, except for the aforementioned sequence with Wagner's widow, BUT she was well acquainted with Hitler, and she never met a Nazi she didn't like, so the scene with her was founded on fact.

Robert Powell, and the lovely Georgina Hale, give beautiful performances. I looked in their credits and see THEY ARE BARELY WORKING TODAY. Maybe their own choice or a preference of stage work. I can't believe they would pass up today's movie money. They have not appeared as far as I can see in any major movie project for years. I don't get it. Russell, if he worked with the editor fitting the music to the film, shows a real feeling for the music. Even today Mahler's music is a specially acquired taste, and if much of it sounds bizzaire today, think what it sounded like to listners in 1906. A special kudo must go to David Collings as the insane composer Hugo Wolf. An acting gem. Also no current acting credits. David where are you? We need guys like you, Robert Powell, and Georgina Hale.

First of all, the man was an intimate of Orson Welles, and he gets the incredibly beautiful Anouk Aimee, Maximilian Schell, Ron Silver, and Greta Scacchi, all big stars to work, probably for scale, so he can't be a total idiot. (Let's pray on that!) But after years of hoping Henry will eventually "say something" in one of his films, it looks like Henry has nothing to say. The best thing I can say about this film is that it's the best looking film he's ever made. He's finally out of the home movie look, and it looks like a professional movie, but a creepy feeling is coming over me that this is an overindulged little boy playing with a movie camera, AND WE LOYAL FANS LET HIM GET AWAY WITH IT! His brother said so much about Henry as a kid and now I believe it. If Zack Norman is portraying an oily, unctous, creep, he won me over. I cringed evey time he came on screen. Max Schell is surely on of the most charming men that ever lived. But the real question is, DOES HENRY JAGLOM HAVE ANTHING TO SAY? I REALLY DOUBT IT.

What can I say? After the explosion of "8 1/2", which knocked me for a loop, I became a devout Fellinian, even though I was dissapointed in other offerings by him ("City Of Women", and "Julett Of The Spirits"). I will return to them after this film. Along with Welles and Bergman, he completes the "Holy Trinity" of filmakers in my life span.. The day before viewing this film, I was depressed by watching an hour of the wretched "Lost In Translation" which has received bravos from the major critics, that almost made me question my sanity. I was brought back to reality by many imdb user reviews who agreed with me and were incredulous at the praise of the "pros". Fellini sits in a chair and talks quietly of his life's work. He is everything the guys in the professional holy business like priests, bishops, rabbis et al, try to be, and never are... truly loving, kind, gentle, and if he is a phoney, this is one of the greatest cons of all time. One of the funniest parts of the movie is where he had to shoot a scene on the beach showing the ocean. He looked at the sea and said, "I never liked the way oceans look", so 200 sq. yards of vinyl became the ocean, and we never knew the differance The wonderful Fellini narration is aided by Donald Sutherland, Terrance Stamp, cameramen, writers, technicians, and of course clips from the films. If you consider yourself a film buff (and a human being) NOT TO BE MISSED!

I kept hearing Lee Srassberg's voice all through this film. The guru of the Actors Studio would scream at his fledgling actors, "Stop acting", when they got carried away. Would that Barbett Schroeder the director, gave the same advice to Rourke, Dunaway et al. Rourke does a funny walk as Cinaski/Bukowski, and a funny way of talking that almost reduces his role to slapstick. This scenario that takes place mainly in a low class bar, is supposed to be Bukowski's life, when everybody knows HE WORKED IN THE US POST OFFICE FOR MANY YEARS, untill he started to make money writing. Yes he was a boozer and a brawler in dives like this, but he was also a 9 to 5 prole like you and me. One has to wonder what Brando would do with this part. Lots of us thought Rourke was on his way in the Brando tradition, His carrer seems to be on hold. And does anyone think for one minute, that a magnificent speciman like Rocky's bro Frank, could lose a barroom brawl to the pathetic, broken down, out of shape, booze stoned wreck like Rourke? Well yes it does happen. IN HOLLYWOOD MOVIES. Alice Krige as the publisher fan of Rourke's is the vision of lovliness our mothers told us to marry. I hope someone gave her my number.

Although I have been critical and somewhat dissmissive of this film, I must say I own it, and have watched it more than once. Rourke does hold your interest in some ways. I hope he gets back on track.

We have to be grateful to Bruce Weber for giving us this film. Monetary gain could not have figured in on it, as jazz, in spite of the great artists it produces, could never attract the amount of people to make a venture like this profitable. The big bands of the thirties and forties had jazz musicians as members, and did incorporate some jazz solos in their arrangements, but could not be considered a jazz venue. They generated millions of dollars, because the dancing public was so vast, there was no TV, and the leaders were groomed to be lionised like movie stars. (See "The Trouble With Cinderella", Artie Shaw's autobiography on his disenchatment with stardom. Jazz was played in small clubs seating at the most two hundred people, while dance halls could accommodate as much as fifteen hundred dancers. Any footage of an important icon like Chet is welcome, but some scenes are not what they seem. The recording session is a staged event to simulate a record date. The opening scene on the beach sans Chet is gatutitous. Maybe Weber wanted to show the local Southern California beach scene that Chet loved. The scene in an amusement park with a stoned Chet on the "Dodgem" cars is puzzling. "Chet's women" add a great deal of interest to the film. His mother describes how the toddler Chet was transfixed by the sound of the big bands on the radio. Ruth Young daughter of a wealthy Hollywood producer, smitten with Chet and jazz, describes with an unusual lack of bitterness, the insane life of loving a junky, who was really in love with her inheritance and heroin, and made short shrift of her money to finance his drug taking. She sings briefly in the film and I thought showed great promise, but she failed to seek a career in music. Diane Vavra had no money for Chet to squander, but she filled in as someone knowledgable about music to help Chet. Carol Baker, "the long suffering wife" (and how she suffered) gave Chet three beautiful children, who Chet barely noticed, or provided for in his chaotic race to the grave. With all that said, what about the music? Well I can tell you that in an era of great heroic trumpet superstars, like Dizzy Gillespie, Roy Eldridge, Maynard Ferguson, and many others, who could dazzle you with notes in the highest register of the trumpet, and improvise incredible melodies in the upper register, and "scream" above a roaring fifteen piece band, Chet was not in that mode at all. He rarely practiced, had no high register, but wove a soft filagree of delightful improvisations on standard popular songs. In my opinion he reinvented trumpet playing in the fifties. His playing said, "Dizzy's great, but I do it this way." His movie star looks did not hurt his appeal one bit, and his singing which has many detracters, I think will prove to be more appreciated in years to come. I loved every note he played and sang when I first heard him in the fifties, and my appreciation and love for this man, grows every year.

Like "Prince Of The City", this is another great drug movie, with the greatest set ever built for a movie, New York City. Very few people saw "Prince", and I'll wager fewer saw this one. It has a cast of New York stage actors, who make the usual run of Hollywood anorexic barbie dolls, and Sunset Strip would be tough guys, look exactly like what they are, refugees from some "hysterical" wise cracking sit-com. I have to mention each one of these artists because they're so incredibly good. Willem Dafoe, Susan Sarandon, Dana Delany (what a performance), David Clennon, Mary Beth Hurt, Jane Adams(the looney sister from "Happiness"), David Spade, and last, but certainly not least Victor Garber. Paul Schrader wrote and directed, and if he never does another production, his mother can know that she gave birth to a major cinematic artist. The story can impress people as very hokey. Dafoe is a coke pusher. But he's very sensitive and loving, and is looking for a "better life". He's so guilt ridden as a pusher, he can hardly sleep. Oh, give me a break. But wait. With Dafoe I bought it completely. I was even rooting for him to get back with his former junkie lover Dana Delany. Delany and Susan Sarandon give major performances, Sarandon as a major supplier also looking to go straight as a cosmetic maven. This is a major manual on acting....look, learn, and enjoy.

It's understandable that one reviewer called the show scenes in the movie,"musicals", and Hollywood did make screen musicals of them. But they are excerpts from the genre of operetta. This was a pre 1940 style of "light comic" music drama, originating in Europe, at the turn of the century. Among the leading composers were Franz Lehar, and Victor Herbert. The cast had to have operatic voices, and sing, not talk the song a la Rex Harrison in "My Fair Lady". Of course in direct rebutal, to what I just said, Frank Langella, a non singing actor, sings "Someday", in a sotto voce (soft) style a la Perry Como. If someone says, "Summerstock, and operetta", and you go, "Huh?", this is not the movie for you, which is why about seven people saw it. This was summer live musical theatre, where youngsters with stars in their eyes, and pros who were never superstars, performed operetta classics in local theatres all over the country, like "The Merry Widow", "Rose Marie", and "The Desert Song". The plots are corny and ludicrous....but the songs...."Someday", "One Alone", "One Kiss", make me cry, because I remember how long ago it was when I first heard them and their beauty captures me more and more. Frank Langella is wonderful, as the romantic male lead in all the shows, who you know is not going to make it to stardom. Glynnis O'Connor, as the ingenue who breaks Tom Hulce's heart is impressive, and to show what an unstable field showbiz is, imdb has no credits for her from 98 to 02. I think Tom Hulce is a highly underrated actor. There's something so endearing about him, but the great roles don't seem to be offered to him today. I own this film and I've watched it over and over. As the pros say, "highly recommended".

OK, I'm predjudiced. I love English cinema. This might not be the best, but I"ve watched it a few times, and I like it better each time.

Hanif Kureishi the chronicler of Indians, Pakistanis, and their love/hate relationship with England, can't be blamed for all the confusion. Stephen Frears and his editor come in for some of the blame. And I wonder how the actors go about their jobs? I mean, we see the final print, and get some sense of what the writing and directorial team had in mind, But sometimes the actors get only their scene to learn; some later scenes are filmed first, probably to save money on certain location shots, and some of the actors are doing theatre gigs and are only available certain times. You think you have problems? This is basically your average bleeding heart liberal 60's/90's epic. The poor are pushed to violent revolution by an uncaring conservative government that sends them checks every week, so they can dress in garish costumes, march in parades, playing instruments they never bothered to learn... why trouble a child with lessons and practicing when all these hippy darlings want to experience, is the pure joy of a child the first time it is given an instrument? The cast is peopled with the great actors from India who would be better known if they had Anglicised names. I've seen these guys a lot and I apoligise to them, but there's no way my attention deficit mind can remember their names. Anyway, it's a beautiful mess that begins to make sense after two or three viewings.

I can think of no other show to match this "Perfect Storm" of a performance, other than maybe "Liza Minnelli At Radio City", shown on PBS. Ms. Streisand can be exasperating for her over the top, nervous breakdown renditions, but I must say as a musician, this cocnert is beyond reviewing. I mean, do you review Heifitz, or Horowitz, or a Jan van Eyck alterpiece? The patter, which can be very over done Brooklyn Jewish, was held to a minimun and quite enjoyable. You know, for people we idolize, many stars find it difficut to talk about what they do, or express themselves verbally. Fred Astaire on the "Tonight" show simply could not discuss what he does on the screen. I've seen Sinatra, who did have a sense of humor, try to ad lib remarks to the audience, with less than successful results. Even Brando, who went on the Joey Bishop show to talk about the assassination of Martin Luther King, had trouble getting his point across. Incidentally I just peeked, and "Liza at Radio City" got 3.8. Not too bad, FOR THE GREATEST PERFORMANCE I HAVE EVER SEEN BY A LIVE HUMAN BEING, up till this show. And I've seen, in person, Sinatra, Anthony Newley, Sammy Davis Jr., Lenny Bruce, and Dame May Whitty. Ms. Streisand's cohorts included conductor, composer Marvin Hamlish, who by some lucky fluke composed the score to "Chorus Line", and repeated the lucky fluke by composing "The Way We Were". The lead trumpet was Lew Soloff who to trumpet players is a Mount Everest of contemporary horn players. Add a dash of Hank Waldman's delicious piano on "For All We Know", plus what looked like a thousand strings with oboes and French horns and you wouldn't even miss the ten thousandth rerun of "Celebrity Bowling".

Just thinking of the "bits" in this masterpiece, sends me into hysterics. The dead hawk on Gene Wilder's arm; (before or after M. Python's dead parrot bit?), the "it's a pleasure doing business with you" bit; when they open a dungeon door to release a prisoner who has been chained to a wall for twenty years, and his first words to the jailer is, "That's a nice suit. Did you just buy it?" (It's eighteenth century France). All done in low key, straight faced, English style. It looks like the only advice Bud Yorkin the director gave this great cast was, "Forget this is a comedy. Act like it's a regular Louis VXI historical presentation. It worked like a charm. The Duke d'Escargot is played by Victor Spinetti, one of my favorite comedians, who for some reason did not reach the international fame I think he deserved. I start laughing even before he says something, and you know when he does say something it will be a piece of nonsense that you'll end up believing, because he says it with such sincerity you just gotta believe the guy. And the rest of the cast.Gene Wilder, Donald Sutherland, Billie Whitelaw, Hugh Griffith, Murray Melvin. Even I could be a Fellini with these "heavy hitters".

I've contacted the proper authorities, and everyone connected with this "project", down to the kid that delivered coffee to the set, will be apprehended, prosecuted, persecuted, and sentenced to the full extent of the law. This film makes Andy Warhol's twelve hour film of the Empire State building, eight hour one of a man sleeping, and his "Trash" starring Holly Woodlawn seem like Oscar contenders. Mr. Kristofferson, whom I've enjoyed on other occassions, extends his acting range from A to B. His "prep" for a scene seems to be awakened in the middle of the night, thrown before the camera trying to figure out where he is and what it is he is supposed to be doing. Vincent D'Onofrio, whom I believe has it in him to be in the Brando/ Pacino class, once again finds himself in another project that makes us ask, "You needed the money this bad?". This sort of thing was started by John Cassavetes, who thought if you throw actors in front of a camera, and have them improvise, THE TRUTH will emerge. The result was something called "Shadows". He learned nothing from this. Then he took his wife, Gena Rowlands, one of the most beautiful, and talented actresses in Hollywood, and had her "star" in several improvised diasters when she should have been doing real movies, and in my opinion wrecked a great career. Mr. Skinny Bones is played by the great singer Jimmie Scott. A memorable film could be made from his life story, but no one would believe it. If you ever faced adversity, and thought you were dealt a lousy hand in life, check out Jimmie's life and career. Still performing in his seventies, he is a man who could write the ultimate book on survival.

This group of English pros are a pleasure to watch. The supporting cast could form a series of their own. It's a seen before love tiangle between the head of surgery, his wife, and a new pretty boy surgery resident. Only the superior acting skills of Francesca Annis, Michael Kitchen, and the sexy Robson Greene lift this from the trash category to a very enjoyable "romp". The only quibble is that it's hard to accept that the smoldering Francesca Annis would fall in love and actually marry Michael Kitchen, who like me, is hardly an international, or even a British sex symbol. You can readily understand why Robson Green would light her fire, with apologies to the "Doors". The guy who almost steals the show with a great "laid back" performance is Owen's father David Bradley. Watch him in "The Way We Live Now", in a completely different performance, to get an idea of his range. Daniela Nardini as Kitchen's secretary, sometime sex toy, is hard to forget as the spurned mistress who makes Kitchen sorry he ever looked at her great body. Conor Mullen, and Julian Rhind-Tutt, as Green's sidekick surgery buddies as I've said could have their own series. They are that good. The whole thing is a great deal of fun, and I heartily recommend it, and thank you imdbman for letting the paying customers have their say in this fascinating venue.

It's gratifying that this movie has so many fans. As I remember it, it was a critical and financial disaster, but is still worth seeing. It has one of the greatest sets ever constructed for a movie......New York City. There's something about NY.that always adds to my enjoyment of a film shot there. It would make a good trivia party game to name all the films shot there. I'll start, "Prince of the City," "Raging Bull," "Malcolm X," "Mean Streets." Your turn. Paul Sorvino is always on the verge of super stardom but can't come up with the right vehicle, like Brando in "Streetcar", or Al Pacino in "Dog Day Afternoon, but he's incapable of giving a bad performance. Several things about the film annoy me. Sorvino's character with his non stop manic babbling and joking can be a real turn off. But he did the role as written or directed, and I'm surprised this wasn't noticed during filming. Anita Dangler as the cloying Franny, is a bit too cloying, but she gives a good performance as the waitress who shares Sorvino's bed only when he needs a body there, and knows there is no hope for a future relationship. She also has a steady stream of meaningless babble that she knows will further alieanate him, but she can't help herself. He's probably the first man she's had that didn't use her for a punching bag, and spoken with a semblance of kindness to her. Anita Ditchburn who I'm told is a ballet star in Canada is a strange young lady. She plays the role with almost one expression...a constant pout. The plot is as phony as Hollywood can get. A reporter who wouldn't be caught dead at the ballet, falls in love with a dying ballerina. Are you kidding me!? An adorable little Puerto Rican kid is also in there somewhere. But guess what. I've seen it a few times and I still love the movie. Give it a viewing. You'll enjoy.

I'm shocked at the 7+ rating, the highest, I think ever awarded a contemporary motion picture on this venue. I could not rate it that high because of the "shocking conclusion" that ends this drama. Now I know that life is unscripted, and that anything can happen to us, and a man can be motivated to do what the father did at the end of the movie. It's not unknown. But to me it was a "Hollywood" surprise ending that didn't work. I felt it was inconsistant with the character presented to us by Andre Dubus the author of the short story on which the film is based. Another inconsistancy, was the behavior of the separated husband, beautifully played by William Mapother. In the beginng of the film he's an out of control, ignorant lout. When he's barginning for his life with Tom Wilkinsin, he's almost charming with insight and rationality. Now people will do anything to stay alive, but his gentility seemed wrong for the creep we were presented with at the start of the movie.I would have to blame the very capable director, Todd Field for not catching this misstep. The cast of course was wonderful. Tom Wilkinson is a top English pro. The only reason he isn't a major star, is he's not "adorable and sexy" like Tom Cruise or Robert Redford, AND he didn't make one lapse in his American accent. Usually these guys will say "cahn't" for can't, it's in their blood, but he didn't fluff once. And didn't you keep thinking he was going to have an affair with his nurse? What better time to have an affair, than when you're having World War 3, with your wife. Sissy Spacek, who quit movies for a few years, to raise her family, reaches a level of maturity that can only be called amazing and truly mesmerizing. Along with Marisa Tomei, and Nick Stahl this was ensemble acting on the highest level. I still feel the tempo of the movie was a bit too slow. I was tempted to tune out a few times, and I know people who also found this disturbing.

This intriguing series scripted by "Prime Suspect" creator Paula Milne has a lot going for it. It's about a housewife, and a recent divorcee, looking for something to do with their lives. They decide to become private detectives. This requires them to be familiar with the state of the art bugging devices. Peter Capaldi is the supplier of all this gear and has to explain everything to them as if they were eight year olds, which they are, when it comes to electronics. They barely know how to push the "Play" button on a tape recorder. Capaldi's exasperation is priceless. This is a more than capable actor, who I've yet to see in a major film production. Why? One of the ladies is so beautiful and sexy, it's a wonder why we don't see more of her in major British films. The acting and direction are superb with a great suppoting cast. The interplay of the two protagonists with each other and Capaldi keeps things at a most enjoyable level, and is head and shoulders above the overated, plodding, drawn out "Inspector Morse".

You know the gag, "Behind the tinsel and glitter of Hollywood, there's a lot more tinsel and glitter." Well behind the filth and corruption of the so called "War On Drugs", there's a lot more filth and corruption. When I was a young and naive budding trumpet player, I idolized a trumpet player by the name of Red Rodney. He played with Charley Parker. That's like starting for the Yankees. Like Parker he became addicted to heroin. To me he was royalty. The drug life for him was one of incarceration and constant police surveillance. One day he said a common occurance during an arrest was for the police to take and keep any money he had, and take AND SELL THE DRUGS THEY CONFISCATED! After seeing this movie do you have any doubts? I saw Sidney Lumet give a talk about his career. After the talk was over, I went up and asked him how could the Ciello character even dream about talking to the Feds, knowing that his entire operation was mired in illegal hanky panky. Lumet says he asked Bob Leucci, the real life Danny Ciello, and he told Lumet to this day he still can't truly explain it. Where did Treat Williams, a competant actor up till this movie summon the greatness he reaches. The disintegration from a cocky cop who thinks he owns New York City, to a weasel who causes suicide and ruin for his closest buddies and their families is heartbreaking. The virtuoso cast and Williams probably said after seeing the film, "How the hell can we top this?" You want to know something? THEY NEVER HAVE! An American classic, not to be missed!

In an interview, Terence Davis has stated that he had to tone down the reality of the story because as depressing as the film is, the "real thing" would be unendurable for audiences. We have all seen rage on the screen. Brando, De Niro, and Pesci, have had their moments, but the two actors who truly frightened me, and left me literally trembling, were Temuera Morrison, as the Maori father in "Once Were Warriors", a film from New Zealand, and Peter Postlethwaite, as the father in "Distant Voices". These actors hit something visceral in me, that my therapists never even guessed at. Fear of the father? Living with a man (my dad, so consumed with anger at a world that never had a truly happy day for him) who could only vent his rage at his family? Who knows, and at the age of 68, who the hell cares. Besides, Postlethwaites (I'm sure this name kept him out of the "bigtime" for many years, a little shobiz humor folks) acting honors go to the mother, Freda Dowie. She's on Masterpiece Theatre a lot and she's either mentally ill, or like this woman, a battered housewife trying to keep her kids and herself alive. Happiness or even a nice day is not on her agenda. Just trying to get through poverty, and not having her jaw broken by her husband is a happy day to her. If you like exploding autos, and thong draped anorexic Barbie dolls, this movie is not for you. But if you want to see a work of art carved out of Davis' agony, see this movie. Oh yes, I remember he said in an interview on NPR, that he couldn't remember his father ever touching him, or saying a kind word to him.

I have no idea how I came to see this movie, but what a delightful surprise! I'm at the stage of life (68, and counting) that the first punch thrown, or the first car that explodes, results in my finger depressing the STOP button on the remote. But something made me stick with this great movie. The film is about the Maori people of New Zealand. They cannot or will not join the twentieth century. Like the native Americans, and many African Americans,they face discrimination and find themselves at the bottom of the social and economic ladder. The Heke family's struggle to stay afloat, is basically the plot of the film. The father, Temuera Morrison, is a sometime employed baroom brawler, who I think, can take on the entire Green Bay Packers, and if not desrtroy the entire team, at least hold his own. Even when not engaged in bashing someone's head in, he smolders with rage. and yet you can also see that he loves his wife and kids, and part of his rage is his inability to be a good provider. Beth Hecke, played by the truly beautiful Rena Owens, is so captivating, that I actually traced her down, wrote to her, and received a delightful reply. She is the real earth mother, nurturing the kids and Jake, screaming at them,and being driven to distraction by them, with a charm that I found irresistable. Do not deny yourself the pleasure of seeing this great movie.

The picture opens with a rather "Casablanca" like WW2 waterfront dive, where everyone looks like they're auditioning to become Nazi spies, or British Intelligence. So far okay. Then we see a man clad only in a diaperlike wrap around, ninety per cent nude. He is covered from head to toe with horrible sores. I knew something different was about to happen, because even in standard TV disease movies they don't shock the viewers with scenes this repulsive. The man turns out to be a mystery writer, afflicted with a fiedish type of psoriasis, and the opening spy scene is a chapter from a book he is writing. This is autobiographical, as Dennis Potter suffered, and died from this disease. There are so many plots and subplots going on that I'm not sure I could map it out. It's about Potter's childhood, the every day day nitty gritty of writing, a husband/wife can't live with, can't live without'em (Gambon/Suzman) infidelity(Malahide/ Suzman) and something I will not forgive Potter for, the hackneyed scene that never happens in therapy, where the psychiatrist says, "That's it! You've been suppressing it for years." And the paralyzed patient gets up and walks. Balderdash. Never has happened, never will. Okay. Except for the standard shrink nonsense, I'm compelled to call this the greatest production of this kind I have ever seen. To me, it's only rivals are Ken Finkleman's "Newsroom", and "More Tears". The entire production is woven with Potter's trademark. At certain intervals the characters break out and lip sync to the hit records of the forties. I'm not ashamed to say I found myself sobbing over the pop tunes of my childhood.(Crying for my lost youth?) The performances? Can you have bad performnces with Michael Gabon, Janet Suzman, Patrick Malahide, Jim Carter, Joanne Whalley, Allison Steadman, and Bill Paterson? No. They are the elite of the British stage. When not doing a movie, they're acting every night in the theatre. Miss this masterpiece at your own peril.