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Each review features a general rating and addresses most of these questions: Is the film honorable? Is the it artfully made? How effective is the film at what it sets out to do? Is it worth our time, money, and effort to see it? Did the reviewer enjoy it?

Plus, a parental note is added to offer guidance regarding the appropriate audience for each film.

About Schmidt

Looking Closer rating: B-
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

Warren Schmidt (Jack Nicholson) has worked his whole life selling insurance. Now he is literally watching the clock tick down to his retirement. Why then is he sneaking away from the table at his own retirement party to furrow his brow at the bar and toss back a few stiff drinks?

In the first few minutes of About Schmidt... in fact, in the very first shot of the film... it becomes clear: Warren is realizing the emptiness of his life. His work has not given him fulfillment. His marriage is lifeless, stifling, and ugly. The only joy of his life, his daughter (Hope Davis), is off getting married to someone that he does not respect. Is it too late? Can he find meaning and fulfillment before it's too late?

About Schmidt has become one of the year's most acclaimed films, and for good reason. It features a solid performance by Jack Nicholson, and an array of good performances by a strong supporting cast. Writer/director Alexander Payne refrains from the easy sentimentality of many life-epiphany stories, making each of his characters believably flawed, and refusing to give his central character the typical Hollywood happy ending.

Payne may be restrained and skilled as a filmmaker, but the question remains: What is he telling us about the world?

Unfortunately, the film has nothing more to say about Warren than it says in that opening sequence. Warren's life is empty. He has failed to invest himself in meaningful things. And the world is cold, impersonal, lonely, and disappointing. He makes one concerted attempt at kindness: He begins sending donations to a child relief effort, hoping to help a boy named Ngudu. But that does not soften him toward others. It becomes instead an opportunity to vent his bitterness and frustrations, as he naively fills letters to the poor child with anger and ignorance.

Scenes at the end of the film will convince many viewers that  Warren has made some kind of breakthrough. As tears appeared on his face, many of my fellow moviegoers wept along with him, seemingly happy that he had finally made a connection.

But we would do well to ask if Warren really has made a meaningful connection. Do we come away hopeful that he has come to a point of understanding and change? Have we seen any evidence that he is questioning his relentlessly selfish behavior?

Personally, I struggled to see any convincing evidence that Warren is learning to love anybody.

I find the easiest way to explain my impression of this film is to contrast it with two other films about old men who try to do something meaningful at the end of their lives before it is too late The Straight Story and Ikiru. About Schmidt is like The Straight Story and Ikiru without the beauty, the warmth, the delightful discoveries along the way, and the hope.

1. About Schmidt lacks the beautiful cinematography of The Straight Story and Ikiru, which made them lyrical and full of visual poetry. In fact, the imagery in Schmidt is grey, green, and dull. This may represent Warren's tainted view of life, but it may also betray the filmmaker's own perspective on the world. And it makes for an unpleasant viewing experience. Outside of a few nice panoramic shots of the open road, my eyes were bored.
    

2. Take away the believably warm and interesting people that came out to meet Alvin Straight along the road in The Straight Story, and the inspiring coworker who changes Mr. Watanabe's life in Ikiru. Put in their place characters imprisoned by their own ugly flaws, operating on their own selfish agendas. (At least the exaggerated characters of the Coen Brothers' films are likeable and redeemable. Payne's are just foolish, empty, and even repulsive.) Only Dermot Mulroney's character seems to have good intentions, but he ends up looking like a buffoon.
    

3. Now, take away the silences of Straight Story, and the thoughtful, reflective passages of Ikiru, which gave us room to think about what Alvin Straight and Mr. Watanabe were feeling and thinking. Instead, we get Warren's voice-overs, which tell everything the film is failing to show. Each installment begins with a joke at Schmidt's expense: "Dear Ngudu..." This comical display of Warren's insensitivity and ignorance gets old fast, but it happens again and again....
    

4. Take away the main character's backstory. Alvin Straight offers us no voice-over narration. Out of a few sketchy conversations with others, we come to suspect things about his past. We hear echoes of his experience at war. But nothing is shoved in our faces. His exchanges with others are handled with great delicacy.
   
   In Ikiru, Mr. Wantanabe's story is given perfunctory narration, but there's plenty of room for us to interpret what is going on in his heart and in the world around him from suggestive imagery.
   
   Schmidt's character, on the other hand, is spelled out too clearly. And all the reasons we should pity him are shoved in our faces — not excepting his wife's smelly armpit, which goes right into the camera. (The armpit shot is a telling example of Payne's tactless way of introducing us to characters and their many unpleasantries.) In fact, Payne's way of filming people is just like his way of filming sides of beef: every time we see meat in this film, its the messiest, fattiest, most disgusting view imaginable.
    

5. The music is fumbling and unmemorable. While Alvin Straight's journey moves along with melody and whimsy and character, and Ikiru is given depth by the inclusion of revealing songs, Warren Schmidt's has one of those increasingly familiar, overly simple American Beauty-like motifs. The music swoons into sentimentality whenever Schmidt has a realization or an epiphany. (The privilege of epiphany is never granted to other characters. They're all bound by their flaws or their ignorance.)
    

6. The resolution is no resolution at all. Alvin Straight is clearly a changed man at the end. He has made his journey, made his connection. Ikiru ventures beyond the story of Mr. Watanabe to show how a few simple gestures made a profound impression upon all kinds of people. By contrast, Warren Schmidt returns home fuming about the people he's just had the misfortunate of spending time with. Thus, his whole speech at the wedding (which was making my fellow moviegoers tear up and sigh in deep emotion) is a lie. He's praising people that he still resents in his heart. Why? To spare his daughter's feelings. Okay, it's a good thing that he cares about his daughter's feelings, but it's still a lie.

Thankfully, there are a few moments of warmth and life in this film. I applaud Kathy Bates and Dermot Mulroney. Even though Payne's script directs us to laugh at the expense of their characters, exploiting their preoccupations and their simple-mindedness, the actors fill up those roles with warmth and humor. When they're onscreen, the movie is not half so unpleasant.

There was one moment in the film that that felt true to me. Warren's daughter Elaine confronts him at one point, saying "Oh, NOW you have an opinion?" This points out Schmidt's primary problem. He does not reach out. He does not get involved with others, except when it serves to scratch his itching conscience. I thought there was potential there for Schmidt to learn and grow. But the issue is not pursued further. All Warren manages to do is refrain from ruining the wedding. He actually retreats, using his moment in the spotlight not to tell the truth or get involved, but to hide and say crowd-pleasing things... just like Payne is doing.

And about that last scene: [MINOR SPOILERS AHEAD] How can it be uplifting, as so many claim it is? We see Warren receive a letter that supposedly confirms he has made a meaningful connection. But the letter looks, upon close examination, suspiciously like a form letter. There is no acknowledgment of the specific details of the letters he has sent. Warren has no way of knowing if he is the victim of another moneymaking scheme, like his dimwitted son-in-law, or if he has actually touched another human being.

Thus, to me, it seems Warren's climactic breakdown is an outpouring of dismay and emptiness. That itself would be a fine and truthful way to end the film, if it hadn't been obvious that Schmidt is aware of that emptiness from the very first frame.

The way Payne emphasizes his characters' ugliness, he might make us wonder why we would want to connect with such unpleasant, self-absorbed people in the first place. He teases us with sentimental flourishes that give us hope of healing and joy. Thus, many viewers feel a sort of emotional inspiration at the conclusion. But others look closer and see that the characters relentlessly let each other down and fail to connect with each other. Warren is even more isolated at the end than he was at the beginning.

Ace Ventura 2: When Nature Calls

Looking Closer rating: C-
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

There are movies that are merely circus acts, frivolous silliness to pass the time, and there are those that reach for more. The Ace Ventura movies are frivolous silliness, and the super-hero’s powers consist of an ability to produce a gutter-humored joke or a sarcastic zinger for any situation. It’s a comedy that never pretends to be anything more than what it is...a sophomoric, crude, lewd, live-action cartoon about a maniac whose Daffy Duck-level hijinx are just ridiculous enough to be entertaining.

The rest of the cast and the props and the story are just prompts for Jim Carrey’s one-liners, rubber-face expressions, and over-the-top reactions. And as far as that goes, both Ace Ventura flicks are moderately successful; they earn a lot more wincing and groaning than they do laughs. Carrey proves he's willing to do anything for a laugh, no matter how humiliating. And that's what's made him a star. He's such a great physical comedian that Roger Ebert said "he makes Jerry Lewis look like a narcoleptic."

In this Ace episode, the famously foolish veterinarian and animal-defender journeys into the jungle to help a native tribe recapture the giant bat that they hold sacred; it has been "bat-napped" by some bad guys led by the distinguished British actor Simon Callow (A Room With a View, Four Weddings and a Funeral.)

Some might be offended by the politically incorrect portrayal of the natives, but the movie means to poke fun at the stereotypical natives of old adventure movies, not any existing tribe of the real world; protesters misunderstand the point, and surely have better things to protest. These films aren't intellectual enough to contribute to any kind of political or social agenda, unless it’s to satiate the appetites of adolescents for more irreverent jokes. There isn't a smidgen of subtlety in the whole affair. So, if you want to watch something brainless and immature, this isn't a total waste. And I happen to admire Carrey's inspired physical comedy--that's why I tune in. But I wouldn't spend more than a couple of bucks on Ace Ventura. And it's certainly not for children, unless you want them running around imitating the worst habits of this idiot for the next few weeks.

Parental note: Caution. The film contains sexual activity, harsh language, and violence, all of which are true to the circumstances and story, but which are unsuitable for younger viewers.

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

Looking Closer rating: A-
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

Why this film became a box-office disaster probably has more to do with problems in promotion than with problems of the film itself. It's a fantastic, imaginative accomplishment.

John Neville is a charming, magical, mythical hero who grows younger the more people believe in him, older the more they don't. He stumbles into war-torn Russia a battered, aging, bitter man, and finds that those for whom he fights are a deceived lot. The public is deluded by an excess of rationality. Jonathan Pryce is priceless (sorry!) as the modern rational governor who, even as his city crumbles around him, declares, "We can't start evacuating now! What would future generations think of us?!" Mocked and ignored, the legendary Baron despairs and lays down to die (ironically, he lies down in the bombed-out rubble of a play that would put on in honor of his famous character.)

Just in time, a little girl finds him, a girl who belives so passionately in the famous Baron Von Munchausen that perhaps he can find a reason to live on after all! Suddenly, he feels so much better that that he and his newfound friend (Sarah Polley) are off to battle the Turks!

Terry Gilliam shows more pure creativity in this film than in any of his others. He brings Monty Python wit to his interactions with the world's fastest man (Python's Eric Idle), the world's strongest man, the man with magnifying glasses, and the very little man with big ears and lungs that can huff and puff a wall down.

In an array of unforgettable characters, Robin Williams and Oliver Reed take turns stealing the show. Williams is the King of the Moon, whose head spins around in space philosophizing while his body runs around the earth engaging in, well, more carnal activities with his wife. Reed lumbers about as Vulcan — "The God", as he proudly boasts — who tries to keep the Baron from romancing Venus (Uma Thurman in her first significant movie role).

The many impressive visual effects carry the Baron to the moon, into the belly of a great (and ugly) fish, to the harem house of the Turkish Sultan (for a rousing performance of "The Torturer's Apprentice"), and skyward in a hot air balloon made entirely of women's underwear. Children, grownups, and all fans of Monty Python and other Gilliam ventures should have a wonderful time with this. The Baron would agree with Albert Einstein — "Imagination is more important than knowledge." And viewers of all ages will find it difficult to argue.

(Munchausen is rated PG for the bawdy bits and comic violence, like the beheading of a Turkish Eunuch where the severed head still smiles and winks at the ladies.)

The Age of Innocence

Looking Closer rating: A-
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What comes to mind when you hear the name Martin Scorsese? Movies about gangsters and thugs, most likely. Stories about the Mob. Stories about dangerous men learning to get what they want from life through the use of force. GoodFellas. Taxi Driver. Raging Bull.

So what is Scorsese doing as director of an Edith Wharton adaptation? What’s with the frilly dresses and the romance?

Actually, Scorsese's on more familiar territory with The Age of Innocence than it might seem. The 1870s in America were governed by a restrictive system of manners and order that valued modesty and formality over the messiness of being truthful and compassionate. Men engaged in careful duels while they put their feet up and smoked their cigars, concealing weapons of wordplay in their eloquence. Watch how Scorsese choreographs the hushed, harsh conversations in this film, how the clicking of a lighter at the end of a double-edged declaration is like the pop of a gun after a macho turn of phrase in a gangster flick.

Newland Archer (Daniel Day-Lewis) really isn’t that different from the walking time bomb that Robert DeNiro played in Taxi Driver. Oh, sure, Newland has money and position, but the social rules of the day keep him from what it is he truly desires, a gorgeous but politically-incorrect widow named Madame Ellen Olenska (Michelle Pfeiffer). He wants to break the rules, to upset this fragile house of cards that keeps Ellen isolated, friendless, and lonely. But he cannot without spoiling his reputation and risking his secure position in the community. Newland must choose between acting on his plan to marry the prim and proper May, or to act on desire and admiration for this exotic rebel who so clearly desires him. The community conspires to force him into the marriage, seeing full well that his heart is straying to the newcomer. Finding himself between a life of respect and honor and a life of shame, this gentleman must choose.

Daniel Day-Lewis is as brilliant as ever as Newland, a role that demanded he be passionate but restrained, and Michelle Pfeiffer is glorious and energetic as Ellen. Winona Ryder gives one of her best performances as the ultimate well-mannered lady, May Welland, who uses her social influence both to conspire and manipulate as well as to lend a note of much needed grace in the midst of chaos.

The Age of Innocence goes against the grain of Hollywood's tendency to champion the desires of the self. I think it demonstrates powerfully that no relationship is as simple as it appears, and sometimes a smile can conceal devilish motives. It also shows that while conformity can stifle honesty and love, acting in mere self-interest can be even more destructive

PARENTAL NOTE:  Caution.  While there the romance onscreen stays within standards suitable for younger viewers, the story deals with infidelity and acts of passion.

Alien Resurrection

Looking Closer rating: C+
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It's time they quit killing the aliens, and just killed the Alien series altogether. Perhaps a director will come along with enough originality to inject new life into the idea, but will anybody care anymore? Jean-Pierre Jeunet is one of the world's most inventive directors, but even he, with his brilliant camera maneuvering, can't find anything new to show us about these monsters in Alien: Resurrection.

PARENTAL NOTE: Caution. The film contains extreme gore, violence, and sexual references, as well as harsh language which are unsuitable for younger viewers.

All the Pretty Horses

Looking Closer rating: C
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What a shame.

Amadeus

Looking Closer rating: A+
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American Pie

American Pie is the latest in a long tradition of immature, self-indulgent comedies that celebrate the recklessness of adolescents. 

These comedies portray adolescent boys who, attempting to "score" with the girls of their dreams, consistently humiliate themselves. Their hormones lead them to more and more extreme antics.

In the end, though, whether or not the movie has stepped back far enough to acknowledge the foolishness of its own characters, it has more often than not celebrated the fantasies and, in fact, condoned them.

American Pie has already become one of the most commercially successful teen sex comedies.  So, undoubtedly, we have many more like it to look forward to. Or suffer through, depending on your perspective.

I suffered through this one.  Yes, I remember adolescence.  Yes, I remember being one of the boys who spent half his time trying to look cool in front of girls (and failing) and the other half ogling girls from afar. And while it is indeed a common experience, the attitudes of most young men at that stage of life are hardly admirable or worth celebrating.  They are, in every sense of the word, immature.  But American Pie appeals to an audience at that age, and that audience isn't interested in hearing how immature they are. They're interested in laughing off authority and getting what they want. So that's the tone the movie takes.

If we were led to look on these frantically lustful boys with compassion and affection, that would be one thing.  And American Pie does take a more compassionate tone than most teen comedies; at least it's not mean-spirited.  But the camera, the "point of view" of the film, objectifies the women in this movie almost as much as the boys do. So even though the story shows them learning that "relationship is important", the movie's key scenes are all about exploiting women, getting them to take their clothes off, getting them into bed. And the "happy ending" arrives when all of the boys do finally have one sexual escapade or another. The moral seems to be that boys should get to know a girl through a couple of conversations first, then sleep with her.  

Movies are portraying sixteen-year-old sex more and more as a normal and appropriate thing. It's shown as something that will make adults raise their eyebrows at first, but then they'll remember when they were kids and everybody will have a good laugh at their own paranoia. Nobody gets pregnant. No real life consequences are shown. It's a very damaging kind of fantasy. A thoroughly immature and indulgent comedy, with a couple of performances worth mentioning, but nothing else to recommend it.

If I could find anything admirable in American Pie, I'd recommend it.  Truth is, I didn't laugh once.  It's my desire to take movies that would usually get a knee-jerk negative reaction from a Christian critic and to bring out instead what is well-done, what is admirable about the film. I wish I could say I liked something about this movie... but I didn't.

PARENTAL NOTE: Caution. The film contains scenes of sexual activity, obscene humor, and harsh language, which are indulgent and out-of-place in a comedy for young people.

Antz

Looking Closer rating: A-
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

When Antz arrived, it ranked as one of the most innovative animated films yet made. By today's standards, it's not exactly cutting-edge. But it still boasts an engaging script, great voice performances, and a compelling, thoughtful adventure.

Woody Allen, voicing the central character - Zee -- is hilarious, sending up his own insecure mannerisms. He's better here than in any performance he's given in years; fresh, funny, invigorated.

Sharon Stone savors her chance to be the princess; she's something other than her usual sexpot character, and something more intelligent than most animated heroines.

Gene Hackman… brilliant. His brusque sinister General Mandible exudes a wicked intelligence and as much force as any fantasy villain since that nightmarish devil that stormed the dark castle in Ridley Scott's Legend.

Christopher Walken also fits his character perfectly, poking fun at his own spooky and hesitant speech. Perhaps best of all is the actor (I'll save him for a surprise) who offers an unforgettable dying-words speech on the battlefield.

And, clearly, the story is the heartbeat of the film. It's a classic tale of David and Goliath, the little guy with big ideas who rises to the top to change things, only to arrive just in time to find that the guys at the top are up to no good. Sure, there's rarely any doubt about who will win in the end, but the joy is watching the inspired tangents that zigzag him all the way to the final confrontation.

Antz is the first great work of Disney animation since Beauty and the Beast, proving that certain things they seem to consider essential can be tossed away. Consider the following surprises:

• There's no stupid sidekick. There is no adorable brainless sidekick following the heroes around begging to be turned into a toy that all good children will want for Christmas.
   

• There's no stupid formula top-40 songs sung by cheesy Barbie vocalists. All of the songs in "Antz" serve only as an enhancement to the action; they're strong songs we recognize, given new ironic interpretations in the context of the story.
   

• While every single frame of Antz is every bit as good as the best parts of Toy Story (and at times a vast improvement), there are no shots that slow down simply to make the viewer "ooh" and "aahhh". Things move right along to advance the story, which clearly is the heart of the film. Most Disney films these days get caught up in special effects and pop culture references and forget they're supposed to be telling a story; not so here.
   

• Heroines do not need to be huge-breasted babes who merely spout a few feminist catch-phrases to exhibit intelligence.
   

• Villains don't have to be giant repulsive Satans that bear no resemblance to the kind of people we encounter in our own world. The enemy in "Antz" looks like he might have been one of the heroes, had his choices not defined him as otherwise.
   

• Here's a story that teaches a lesson of responsibility rather than just individuality. A welcome alternative to the self-righteous morals of Titanic, which seemed to preach that authority is always wrong and your selfish lustful heart is always right, the message of Antz is this: Freedom of choice is important, but one should use their freedom to be decent, responsible, humble, and helpful.

For all of that Antz earns a place among the best films of 1998.
 

Apollo 13

Looking Closer rating: B
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Ron Howard’s Apollo 13 tells a gripping true story efficiently. It celebrates courage, excellence in science and construction, and the importance of teamwork. And it does so with finesse. With careful attention to detail and a resolution not to make things more melodramatic than they really were, Ron Howard has made his best film so far. It's well acted, well scripted, and well-paced. The special effects are outstanding. There are no unnecessary subplots. There are no tricks to try to manipulate the audience.

And yet, it still feels too packaged, too neat, too clean. Everyone looks so perfect, that I had trouble separating myself from the ‘movieness’ of it, patriotism driven by sentimentality, pride that swells when we see certain stock images we've been programmed to respond to.

It's great to see an acting ensemble work so well together: Hanks, Sinise, and Bacon are three of our best, and they're all in fine form here. I found it somewhat entertaining and informative, but never became enthralled. It is definitely suspenseful, and it does give you the experience of working in a manmade environment where something could go wrong at any time and leave you at the mercy of a much more cruel environment outside. But these characters aren’t developed enough to become interesting, three-dimensional human beings, so it’s not as engaging as it might have been.
 

As Good As It Gets

Looking Closer rating: B
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

It's quite a dog that can steal a movie from Jack Nicholson, especially when Nicholson is at his very best! That's what happens in "As Good As It Gets".

Jack is Melvin Udall, an obsessive-compulsive Scrooge in need of a better attitude. In spite of the fact that Udall is a successful writer of harlequin novels, he can't get close to anybody, much less succeed in romance. When asked how he writes good women characters, he sneers, "I think of a man... and I take away reason and accountability.''

His mean-spirited mouth hurts with sexism, racism and "intolerance". He harasses those who sit at his favorite table at the diner, and he's ready to kill the little dog running loose in his apartment building. Simon (Greg Kinnear), the gay artist nextdoor, is subject to ridicule and hatred, and that neighbor's black friend (the typically-enthusiastic Cuba Gooding Jr.) is the butt of a lot of black-hating jokes. No one has entered Udall's apartment for years. Loneliness is souring and ruining him, and even his medication only helps so much.

But circumstances conspire to transform Udall into a more sensitive guy. This process is coaxed by Carol (Helen Hunt in a funny, endearing, heartbreaking performance), a charming waitress who has a soft spot in her heart for the old codger. The more effort she makes to be decent to the curmudgeon, the more she sees the handsome guy under the damage and the dust. Her own experience with loneliness and heartbreak gives her special insight into Udall; she's a struggling single mom who longs for companionship and is learning that her dream of Prince Charming is an illusion. If she wants love, she'll have to take risks and use "tough love" tactics.

Simon plays a big part in saving Melvin Udall as well. Kinnear gives another winning performance as the homosexual who falls victim to a terrible beating. (Wow! That's the best "massive head wound" makeup I've ever seen!) When Simon finds there is no one but Udall he can go to for help, he demonstrates patience, courage, and humility in approaching this man who so obviously despises him. As Udall slowly sees and admits the commonalities in their lives, the similar alienation and loneliness, they both begin to grow a little more.

But, yes, it's true... most of the credit for Udall's improvements must be credited to the film's finest performer... that little dog. Simon's pooch finds a reluctant babysitter in Udall and slowly charms the first glimmer of love from the old man's heart. He's enough to make anybody want to walk around with strips of bacon in their pockets.

Director James Brooks keeps us guessing all the way through the film. And even when the story slouches awkwardly toward an implausible Hollywood-romance ending, he throws in enough surprises to keep us from being too upset. For example, when Udall tries to shape up and charm the waitress over a romantic dinner, and the scenes warm to their increasing understanding of each other, suddenly the conversation takes a drastic turn, leaving them on separate ends of town, backsliding from the progress they've both made. Moments like this ring true.

The finale, though, doesn't. There's no satisfaction in watching these two walk off hand-in-hand when they seemed destined to destroy each other. A better movie would have aspired to an ending other than an unbelievable romantic happy-ending. Udall may be able to improve his attitude in order to win the love of the girl, but should that be his motivation to be a better person? At one point, Carol shouts, "I can't be the answer for you!" I wish Udall had said, "You're right!" There's got to be a better motivation. Otherwise, if the relationship doesn't work out, Udall will believe he's failed one too many times, and give up. But, unfortunately, Udall out-talks her with sentimental adoration, the music swells, and we end up in a disappointingly Hollywood moment.

Like the bittersweet early-90's romance "Frankie and Johnny", "As Good As It Gets" is strong because of its performances and its intentions. Any story that teaches us to be more open to each other, more compassionate, and more loving is, in my book, a good thing. But the title of the movie is its biggest lie. I daresay, this is NOT as good as it gets.

("As Good As It Gets" is rated R for the mean-spirited remarks of Mr. Udall; for foul language; for brief nudity; violence; and for the inappropriately slutty behavior of a single mother with a boyfriend, right there in her home in front of her mother and son. That poor kid's gonna grow up confused.)

Barton Fink

Looking Closer rating: A+
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

The Coen Brothers, who brought us the zany Raising Arizona and the delightful dark comedy Fargo, won the Palme D’Or at Cannes for this weird and disturbing picture. They deserved it.

Viewers may likely find the film inaccessible, overly violent, and even sickening. But one might guess that the filmmakers themselves got a little sick working through this story. Barton Fink is a courageous and horrific glimpse through the ego and courage of the human spirit into the frailties, the sins, the emptiness of even the kindest human being’s heart. For Christian viewers, perhaps the film illustrates just how little we have to say, how empty are our hearts, when we forsake love for self-centeredness.

John Turturro delivers a nervous, hysterical performance as Fink, a playwright sensation who is brought to Hollywood to write for "the pictures". His drive to create a "new theater for the common man" is stifled when he is assigned his first script — a formula B-movie wrestling picture. His frustration with writer’s block is only agitated by the visits of a noisy, overfriendly neighbor (John Goodman) who seems to be a "common man" with needs of his own. Is Barton really interested in understanding the common man? Or is he really only interested in writing about his own pain and delusions? Is there any such thing as "art for the common man", or are artists just tooting their own maddening horns?

Everybody and everything in this film is rotten underneath, from heads with ear infections to wallpaper that’s sagging as its sticky glue melts in the heat. A famous writer, Barton’s hero, comes into the picture, and Barton realizes further the corruption underneath the surface of one he admires. A mysterious box wrapped in brown paper appears, and a sense of dread builds as we wonder what’s in the box; yet, whatever the box contains, it comes to symbolize the mystery of each character, of each isolated world in the film. We are all mysteries to each other, and the deeper we dig in our relationships, the more nightmares we will unearth. The only character who dares to show compassion suffers terrible consequences, and remains nevertheless a shining symbol of grace in a world of monsters.

Barton Fink is about the risks involved in looking inside the "box," listening to our hearts and the hearts of our fellow human beings, and dealing with the pain and the yukky stuff inside. You’ll need to see it more than once to appreciate all it has to offer. See it if only to see just how great an actor John Goodman really is; his work on TV’s "Roseanne" only scratched the surface of this marvelous actor’s abilities.

Parental Note: Barton Fink is rated R for language, one implied sexual encounter, brief but harsh violence, and a nasty ear infection.

Blade Runner

The most intelligent and terrifying vision of the future ever conceived for the screen, Blade Runner is based on Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, the Philip K. Dick novel about the essence of what it is to be human, and the urge to confront one’s creator with questions about our imperfections and the inevitability of death.

Proceed with caution: this is a very violent picture. And appropriately so... it serves as a parable of the miserable plight of humankind separated from God, angry about the existence of evil, and using all kinds of evil to strike back at God.

In this vision of the future (Earth, the year 2019), there has been a war when manmade androids, employed as slaves, became so intelligent that they organized a revolt. The androids — called Replicants — lost the war. But a few got away, and they’ve returned to earth to try and find a way to recharge their batteries, so to speak. Replicants have expirations dates on their lives, and this does not make them happy campers.

But there’s something standing between them and their maker.

Deckard (Harrison Ford) is a "blade runner", a cop whose specialty it is to "retire" replicants. He's sick of his job, but must complete an assignment to "retire" six of the renegade androids that have returned to the dark, chaotic Los Angeles.

Under the direction of Ridley Scott, Ford gives one of his best performances as this smart, sullen, and resilient agent. And his gutsy turn holds up well against the impressive intensity of supporting players like Rutger Hauer and Daryl Hannah, who play the desperate, cruel, but charming androids. William Sanderson gives a remarkably winning supporting performance as a childlike toymaker that developed technology for the androids’ eyes. And the romance that develops between Deckard and the mysterious Rachel, played by Sean Young, gives Young opportunity to do her best work as a frightened, lost woman plagued with questions about her identity.

Scott's director’s cut of Blade Runner is far superior to the original release. It removes an annoying and unnecessary narration by Ford, includes a few fleeting moments that make a difference in the meaning of images and symbols throughout the film, and loudly asks the question only slightly suggested by the original… how exactly is Deckard connected to the Replicant conflict? These riddles are tangled and intriguing, making Blade Runner one of those classics worth visiting many times over.

("Blade Runner" is rated R for extreme violence and language, and the director’s cut includes a very messy onscreen death that will make you skip dinner. This one is not for the squeamish.)

Looking Closer rating: A+
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

Bounce

Looking Closer rating: B-
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

Comparisons are being made right and left between the new Don Roos romance Bounce and this year's other star-driven romances like Random Hearts and Return to Me.  Like Random Hearts, Bounce concerns two people who fall in love in the aftermath of a tragic plane crash.  Like Return to Me, one of the lovers is carrying around a secret so shocking that he or she cannot risk telling the truth for fear of losing the romance altogether. And, like both films, Bounce preoccupies itself with making us accept a rather preposterous plot. 

Fortunately for audiences Bounce is the best of the three implausible love stories. Return to Me was a simple pleasure, a delightful fairy tale too adorable to be true. Random Hearts was as disastrous as the plane crash in the plot.  Bounce has an advantage in that it is directed by Don Roos, who brought us one of 1999's most unconventional and surprising comedies, The Opposite of Sex.  That film had sharply drawn, intelligent, deeply flawed, believable characters caught in a complicated web of relationships. And that's about the only similarity between it and Roos' new film.  What makes Bounce worth seeing is the smartly-written dialogue between the two lead characters, which makes them interesting, engaging, funny, and sympathetic. And the performances that Ben Affleck and Gwyneth Paltrow turn in here are nearly flawless. They are so easy to watch together that it is hard not to think about the fact that they have been "an item" before, that romantic situations are not unfamiliar to them.

Ben Affleck plays Buddy, a hotshot L.A. ad executive who is rich, persuasive, and a self-centered jerk. He uses and abuses people around him as effortlessly as he persuades a new client to sign a contract with his firm. This dark side comes to monstrous life when he drinks. We're not quite sure if he drinks because he's unhappy, or if he's unhappy because he drinks. Whatever the case, Buddy needs something to humble him and show him the importance of caring for others' feelings. 

Affleck could have played Buddy like a Kevin Spacey character, a nasty sarcastic villainous scrooge just crying out to be scolded, punished, or redeemed.  But no, he strikes a much more sympathetic tone. Buddy's outbursts are insensitive, but in a way that might seem uncomfortably familiar to viewers, like mild road rage. He's not a villain...he's just weak, like anybody. When at an airport he gives his airplane ticket to another delayed passenger, it's not an act of kindness; it's an excuse for him to stay and have a date with his latest female target. When that plane then goes down, he's shocked to his senses. If you look at it one way, his selfishness has just done irreparable damage.

Now it is rather unfair to blame Buddy for the death.  Clearly, the passenger wanted to get on that plane, in order to get home to his wife Abby and his two sons. Yet we understand why Buddy blames himself. He's haunted by the fact that if he hadn't tried to stay for a meaningless liaison with a woman, he would have been the one to die, and that good husband and father would be alive. So it makes sense that he would try and do something to appease his guilt, and to make the load lighter for Abby and her sons. This being a Hollywood romance, it's inevitable that he will fall in love with Abby the widow practically at first sight. And he does.

It is to Gwyneth Paltrow's credit that we feel so much concern and care for Abby through this. Only hard-hearted snobs wouldn't feel bad for a plane-crash widow. But Paltrow plays Abby with so much intelligence and feeling that we care for her as though she's a friend of ours, not just a sentimental victim. I was made incredibly uncomfortable watching her desperately hope that the bad news was a mistake, as though I was being let in on someone's most private grief.  Wiser and more mature than the cinema-sadist Lars von Trier ("Breaking the Waves"), Don Roos isn't hell-bent on shoving Abby's grief in our face.  He holds the camera at a distance, cuts off the sound, so we have a visual impression of the breakdown even as he respectfully keeps his distance, allowing the character room to grieve. The result is just as heartbreaking, but far more intelligently so. Audiences do have hearts that can feel; they don't need to be hit over the head with screaming agony in order to feel a characters' pain.

I was also pleased to see the movie make a mother of two seem so attractive, intelligent, and believable. The fact that his love interest has two sons demands more responsibility and maturity from Buddy than he's used to, and it's wonderful to see him rise to the occasion. He treats the children with respect; the movie doesn't brush them aside as insignificant. Also a plus: the two boys aren't overly-cute, Hollywood cherubs. They act like real kids. As Buddy grows closer to them, something resembling a real family emerges, a rarity in a Hollywood movie. Will audiences run the risk of learning the importance of parental responsibility, and the weight of their behavior on the lives of their children?  One can hope so.

On the other hand, I was disappointed to see that, as in most Hollywood flicks, sex is portrayed as just another way to make out, not a meaningful exchange that implies faithfulness and responsibility. The movie doesn't glorify the sex, and in this day and age these two probably would jump in the sack too early, but it's too bad that the significance of the act is just about equal to the two of them enjoying milkshakes at the diner.

Buddy's problems aren't over. It's not a matter of "if", but "when" the hammer will drop. Abby thinks that Buddy is the only person who's been nice to her since the tragedy who wasn't feeling sorry for her. She doesn't know about his part in the loss of her husband. And he's terrified of what will happen if she learns. Usually lying comes easy.  Now, he's faced with a true test, where he will most likely lose his best opportunity at love if he dares to tell the truth.

You can probably guess how it all comes out. When I realized climactic scenes were going to take place with emotional speeches in a courtroom, I winced.  Bounce is, disappointingly, another Hollywood product, a movie that seems so excited to have two big stars onscreen together that it doesn't bother to create an unpredictable or compelling story.  (Why... WHY WHY WHY... must every romantic comedy end with the girl repeating a punch line from earlier in the movie?!) The fact that it remains watchable and enjoyable is a credit to its actors and its writer, who make Buddy and Abby's encounters a delicate dance of humor, affection, tension, and fear.  Just as X-Men followed the formula for a Hollywood summer action movie with enough quality and smarts to be memorable, Bounce is as good as Hollywood date-movie product gets.  My hope is that it will raise the standard somewhat, so we get more romances that are about men and women like those you and I might actually meet in the real world. 

Parental Note: This film is rated PG-13. The lovers learn some things about honesty and honor, and yet follow the typical Hollywood model of love, in which sex is as casual as a kiss.  I would not recommend this film for children, and teenagers should be encouraged to question the wisdom of these characters' behavior. An off-screen plane crash may also be troubling to young viewers. 

Bowfinger

Looking Closer rating: B-
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

Bowfinger (Steve Martin) is a film producer who doesn't just want a hit... he NEEDS a hit. Running his whole operation out of his little house on the edge of Hollywood, he's always on the outside looking in. He's sure he's got the Big Chance when he finds a sci-fi script called Chubby Rain, so he goes after a big-name action star. Unfortunately, the star says no. So Bowfinger sets out with a cast of wanna-be-stars to try and film the movie anyway, tricking the action star into playing the role without even knowing he's on film, in what may be history's most elaborate scheme of candid camera. Along for the ride is a lookalike of the actor who has no acting ability whatsoever... or social graces for that matter.

This all has the potential to become a sidesplitting caper, the stuff Steve Martin was born to deliver. The movie celebrates the can-do spirit of Hollywood dreamers who want to make it big, but it also laughs at how low many will stoop in order to achieve success. Martin is one of the few comics left writing stuff that isn't mean-spirited. Everyone here indulges their reckless and lustful impulses shamelessly, as though that's just normal life, but Martin portrays his characters with pity and compassion.

Still, this has been done better before, especially in Robert Altman's The Player, but for a light-hearted, high-spirited comedy, you could do worse. A few flashes of comedy genius are scattered through a lot of writing that seems first-draft. And aside from the great chemistry of Martin and Murphy, the cast looks like they got stranded by networks that cancelled their sitcoms. Only a few of the manic scenes work, and the conversations and relationships that fill the gaps fall flat.

To tell you the truth, most of the funny stuff in Bowfinger is stuff you've already seen in the commercials and previews that promised it would be the comedy hit of the summer. Better luck next time, Steve. You're still my favorite Amigo.
 

Bruce Almighty

Several people have written asking for my review of this film. Unfortunately, time and circumstances have kept me from seeing it yet. Here are some reviews from sources I trust:

Steven Greydanus

Michael Elliott

David DiCerto

Anna Waterhouse

Jamey Bennett

Bullets Over Broadway

Looking Closer rating: A
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

This is the best of Woody Allen's movies in which he didn't give himself a role (although it's clear that Cusack is basically playing a younger Woody Allen part.)   John Cusack plays a playwright tempted to compromise his long-held standards of artistic integrity when an egotistical actress (Dianne Wiest) seduces him and wants to alter his script to give herself a better spotlight.  It is hilariously entertaining, brings several complicated characters vividly to life, and makes us think about artistic integrity.

Dianne Wiest, Jim Broadbent, and John Cusack are just three of the performers who make this such a strong ensemble piece.  Wiest deserved her Oscar.

It's a hilarious comedy and a wise and witty portrayal of some of the most dangerous temptations waiting for artists when they have opportunity for fame and fortune. Its view of human nature is not very flattering, and there isn't much to suggest honorable alternatives to the mistakes these characters make. But the characters are endearing all the same, in spite of their hang-ups. Allen has a way of drawing figures worth knowing for their humor, their passion, and their distinct voices.

The Butcher Boy

Looking Closer rating: A
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

As the comic-horror style title The Butcher Boy appears on the screen, "Mack the Knife" plays while the camera glides over a slow pastiche of childhood images. This beginning is reminiscent of the opening moments of The Crying Game which had "Under the Boardwalk" playing as the camera panned across the scene of an Irish countryside circus. And, like The Crying Game, The Butcher Boy unfolds a tale of human nature.

But these two Neil Jordan films have very different things to say. While The Crying Game asserted the fundamental choices each human being faces to exhibit what kind of soul they are at heart, The Butcher Boy reveals how a soul's future, in the early stages of development, is highly influenced by the love—or lack of love—shown to it.

In the case of Francie Brady, love is too much lacking.

Francie is a young boy who spends his days "running to stand still", if you will. He runs through beautiful sprawling vistas of Ireland with his friend Joe, acting out the heroics of violent heroes like those he sees on television and reads about in comic books. It's the mid 60's, and the world is glorifying heroes with guns in their hands. JFK quietly promises the use of atomic force in the name of goodness. The Lone Ranger is riding across the boob tube. Francie's youthful energy, his constant running, reminded me of young Jamie, the hero of Spielberg's Empire of the Sun.

It would be interesting to watch Empire of the Sun and Butcher Boy back-to-back. J. G. Ballard's Empire is a story of childhood idealism overcoming wartime chaos — a boy separated from his parents yearns for love and guidance. Patrick McCabe's "Butcher Boy" is about a child growing up in adverse circumstances who reaches in all directions for affirmation as his parents fail him, his friends betray him, and all other authorities confuse him. Francie's mind is cracking for lack of a good example, a soul starving for a role model of love, hope, and caring. When Francie's beloved mother is taken to the hospital after a nervous breakdown, brought on by the drunken ravings of his abusive father, Francie watches her go and asks, "What's a breakdown?" His father, too busy accompanying TV's Lone Ranger with his own trumpet playing, doesn't take time to explain or comfort, except to help himself to another whiskey.

The entire film gives us the world through Francie's immature eyes. Thus, not all perceptions are to be trusted. What the viewer beholds is either the truth, the exaggerated truth, a daydream, or a nightmare… and we're not always clear which it is we're seeing. Like Baz Luhrman's bizarre camera stylings in Strictly Ballroom, Francie's views of the adults are all views of leering, twisted, misshapen faces lunging down into his face to tell him things that don't make sense. Adults at his parents' party spend time exaggerating the glory of the good ol' days, represented by faded photographs. Nobody takes an interest in Francie. The grownups' glorified history is attractive to Francie, a dream-time which he regards as a sort of unreachable heaven. His naďve imaginings of his parents' glory days makes him love Ma and Pa more, and so he's ripe for a 'breakdown" of his own when he discovers that there never were such glorious times.

In contrast to Francie's misunderstandings of "goodness", his grasp of evil is quite unnerving. Francie associates evil with anybody who gets in his way. After all, America and television teach that he is the master of his own destiny, the hero of his own life, and any obstacles are bad. So, he sees the neighbor Philip Nugent, a boy who is obedient, studious, and disciplined, as a "freak", and Philip's mother, who punishes Francie for taunting Philip, as "the enemy". The aliens of the B-movies playing at the town theatre have monstrous heads that suddenly appear on the shoulders of anyone like Mrs. Nugent who reprimands Francie. In these hallucinatory tangents, the film becomes a sort of sordid "Calvin and Hobbes" strip, with Francie hurling bold and obnoxious retorts to authority figures that look like monsters. (Francie's enemies are intermittently equated with movie villains and "communists".) And in Francie's poorly guided mind, what does a hero do to monsters? One shoots them down, drops bombs on them.

When, inevitably, tragedy befalls Francie's little family, his father blames him for it, and Francie begins accelerating downhill to a sort of madness. His narration becomes erratic and entirely self-centered. Too terrified to cope with the idea that he might not be the hero, but indeed, a villain, he feels the world falling away from him and he sets himself up as, indeed, a "lone" ranger. When all his trusted relationships have, to his sensibility, betrayed him, the only path he understands to take is violence. When a priest teaches that good souls were once visited by the virgin Mary, Francie imagines the Virgin appears to him, deigning him to be the chosen hero in a mad world. Of course, this Virgin Mary is Francie's own conception, a Mary that looks just like the paintings, but who cusses with the best of them and affirms Francie's self-congratulations. (Who better to play this warped mis-imagined Mary than Sinead O'Connor? And she's great, in a tongue-in-cheek role that still exudes hope and warmth to a boy in need.)

But Virgin Mary also assures Francie that God loves him. Somehow, that truth sank in, even though uttered by the lips of depraved men in priestly robes. And that is the one hope Francie has, even as he spins out of control and wreaks a terrible punishment on the world around him.

Eamonn Owens, the young actor Neil Jordan discovered to play Francie, is perfect. He finds the sad, broken heart under the audacious, obnoxious rebel. I'm not sure I've ever seen a film that makes such a shocking and criminal character so human, so understandable, so central. Likewise Stephen Rea delivers another fully-realized character, the alcoholic father who is at times funny, sad, and violent. Rea avoids the typical portrayal of the always-maniacal drunk, showing his own imprisonment in unrealized dreams and failed potential. And Fiona Shaw is perfect as the prudish and insensitive Mrs. Nugent, who comes to symbolize to Francie all that is wrong in the world.

The gift of The Butcher Boy to audiences is that is offers us a way of finding the shred of God's image, the scrap of goodness, in the heart of the murderer. It gives us a glimpse of where such violence and hatred can come from. We might then believe better that God's love extends even to the most hardened criminals, and that we should exercise compassion and be grieved by the tragedy of such souls. Further, The Butcher Boy should encourage all parents, all people, to be loving, compassionate, merciful, and gentle with children, for in Francie we see all the fruit born from the sins of the father. The Butcher Boy is the best film I've seen in 1998 thus far (but it's only May); it has followed me around since I saw it a week ago.

At one point, a group of gossiping ladies watch Francie pass and they mutter, "What chance did he have, the poor child?" Of course, they could have given Francie a "chance" themselves, but they did not. As Frank Sinatra sings "Where are you?" in the background, Francie is looking for someone to love him when all else fails. The hope for Francie, and for the world, is finally this… Does God indeed love him? Did Francie's Virgin Mary at least get that part right?

(The Butcher Boy is rated R for a scene of graphic violence, gore, and constant profanity in the language of all but the priests, who themselves are either abusive or sexually perverted. Not a family-friendly picture, but to the strong of stomach, a revealing, haunting, and sad one.)

Cafe Lumiere

Looking Closer rating: A
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

Tonight, you can turn on television and watch stories that won’t demand anything of your brain. Or you can test your powers of observation and try something mysterious and secretive, like Hou Hsiao-Hsien’s Cafe Lumiere. This subtle, intriguing film invites you to peer like a ghost into the life of a meandering young woman named Yoko (played by pop star Yo Hitoto). What’s her story? That’s your challenge, should you choose to accept it.

Through this story about time and change, Hou pays tribute to Yasujiro Ozu, one of the world’s most revered filmmakers, adopting a similarly meditative style and considering some of Ozu’s favorite themes. As Yoko’s parents travel to visit her in Tokyo, we see a clash of generations and the fading of a different world.

Yoko’s mother isn’t happy about her abandonment of traditional values and a sense of propriety, and her father seems troubled as well, sinking into silence. Yoko is scraping the bottom of her bank account, borrowing frequently from her landlord, eating on the run, and spending more time writing about her favorite composer than thinking about here future. She just dreams and hangs out at a bookshop where she fancies the softspoken shopkeeper Hajime (played by Tadanobu Asano of Last Life in the Universe). She also has a boyfriend in Taiwan, and that has complicated things in more ways than one.

It would take about three or four more lines to list the major events of the film. But the story is just a simple track for the slow-moving train of this movie. You don’t take this journey for the bends in the road, but the fleeting sights along the way make it memorably rewarding. Trains do figure heavily in the film, signifying, perhaps, the way lives pass each other rapidly and with very little chance of any meaningful connection between them. When someone does form a meaningful bond, it’s a beautiful thing.

Hou’s film is only for the patient, wide-eyed moviegoer. Its joys are subtle and hard to describe... but that's what makes them special. Because Hou does not tell you what is important in the frame, but lets you explore and decide for yourself, it's likely that you'll see a different movie every time.
 

The Cell

Looking Closer rating: D
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

There's no denying that The Cell offers some of the most amazing, otherworldy imagery we've yet seen on the big screen. It definitely shows just what special effects artists can achieve these days.

Unfortunately, it uses that influence to offer us visions of destruction, perversion, and the grotesque. And beyond that, its storytelling is flimsy, its performances utterly forgettable, and its meaning... well... what does it mean?

There's a common theme in so many great adventures, from Star Wars to The Lord of the Rings: Power brings out the worst in almost everyone. And I'm afraid we're seeing evidence of that in regard to the power of digital animation. No sooner does a new technology fall into the hands of filmmakers than they set to work illustrating horrors more intense than anything we have yet seen. A moviegoer must dedicate themselves to vigorous searching to find those who are exploring the medium's potential for beauty, or more effective storytelling.

Thus, it's no surprise to see groundbreaking animation in this, the latest entry in the ongoing competition of Hollywood thrillers. Each movie's serial killer must be more terrifying and cruel than the next. The Cell offers a new champion. His name is Carl Stargher, and he has an appetite for victims that are drowned, bleached white, and then laid out on a slab for even more disgusting activities.

I got the feeling, though, as the movie went on and on, that it wasn't the villain who was most interested in these grisly spectacles. It was the director who was really delighting in them. He was certainly uninterested in his characters, who remain one-dimensional placeholders. This first feature from director Tarsem Singh shows that he definitely has a taste for cruel and unusual punishments.

In the tradition of The Silence of the Lambs and Seven, The Cell wants to be a smart, unpredictable, and horrifying thriller. The story follows Catharine Dean (Jennifer Lopez) in her use of a new therapeutic technology that allows her to walk into the minds of her patients as though those minds were countries of their own. These landscapes are heavily symbolic, fantastical worlds, and she must use her powers of interpretation and compassion to help the "thinker" dialogue and confront whatever problems are harming him. The film opens with Catharine riding a black horse through a vivid desert, in search of an isolated "inner child" who is wrestling with a demon called "the bogey man." It's a stunning scene.

This promising introduction sets us up for Catharine's biggest challenge. She will enter the mind of an apprehended serial killer, Stargher (Vincent D'Onofrino), and ask him where his latest victim is trapped.

So we have several elements of different thrillers woven into one. There's the race against time, there's the search for some kind of explanation as to why this man would do these things, and there's the series of revelations that demonstrate just how twisted this particular villian can be.

Unfortunately, the script only comes to life when we're trapped in Stargher's sick and twisted world. When Catharine is awake and talking with her peers, it's dullsville. Thus, the only impacting, interesting scenes in the film are these gut-wrenching images of torture, dead bodies, and dismemberment. By the half-way point in this movie, I felt as though I had been beat senseless by images of violence, and I didn't care anymore about the half-baked "real-world" characters trying to reach this villain.

Some may argue that this film has value in that there's something Christ-like about Catharine's willingness to risk her own sanity and venture into this macabre landscape. But we don't walk away impressed with Catharine's courage. Her character is a mystery to us. We know very little about her at all; we don't understand her personal motivation for the job, or why she's good at it. The spotlight here is on sickness, nothing more.

Sometimes there is value in examining and exploring the "intelligence" of evil, to find out what might bring healing. But here the sickness doesn't even make much sense. We are shown that Stargher is a creep because he was abused and then suffered a traumatic forced-baptism. This fails to explain much of what is in his head. At one point, the heroine finds herself in a room that she recognizes, but which isn't real. It's the room at the clinic, where Stargher is in a coma. This isn't possible. The villain has never seen the room. He's been blindfolded since he entered it.

The rest of the movie might have focused on an intelligent discussion of what all this symbolism means. Instead, it capitalizes on the sex appeal of Jennifer Lopez, hanging out at home in her underwear, and on Vince Vaughn, the obligatory errand boy investigator, who gets to run around looking for the victims and connecting stereotypically obvious clues.

When we finally get into the mind of the heroine, it's not very interesting at all, until the bad guy shows up bringing his visually brilliant wickedness with him. It reminds me of Rick Moranis in Spaceballs saying, "Evil will always triumph because good is dumb." Good, in this movie, is very dumb, and evil gets all the best lines, the best costumes, the best lighting, the best music...and on and on and on.

Last year's hit Being John Malkovich had a similar problem, using its alternate-reality story to show us only the baser lusts of its characters. In fact, it proved its own point; that our voyeuristic tendencies seize any opportunity to live out our wicked fantasies, not our healthy dreams. The Cell is the clearest example of this yet. In The Silence of the Lambs, there was still a balance of good and evil onscreen, and we sympathized with the heroine as she suffered for the sake of the criminal's victims. In Seven, there was a conversation going on between the homicide detectives about hope and despair. In The Cell, we are treated only to the idea that child abuse leads to a mixed up mind. Just look how mixed up this guy is! And look at this! And look at this!

Obviously, Tarsem Singh wants to etch his name into the wall of film history with shocking and breathtaking visions that will provoke rave reviews for originality. But actually, there's not much original about it. The soundtrack is quite creative. And Vincent D'Onofrino is effectively creepy, even if he is echoing various villains played by John Malkovich. But everything else smacks of The Matrix, What Dreams May Come, and even the devil's lair from Ridley Scott's Legend. The rest of the cast, including Marianne Jean-Baptiste, that powerfully talented actress from Secrets and Lies, are given absolutely nothing to do. What a waste of talent.

In the end, it seems that The Cell provides the perfect opposite of 1998's dreadful What Dreams May Come" In Dreams, a very very very bad script took Robin Williams to a lot of beautiful landscapes, and then to a really lousy version of hell, to save his wife. The Cell takes Jennifer Lopez to a lot of nightmarish landscapes, and then a really lousy vision of heaven, to foil a serial killer.

I'd also compare the experience to watching two excruciating hours of Nine Inch Nails music videos. Funny thing. The director previously directed... uh... Nine Inch Nails music videos.

Changing Lanes

Looking Closer rating: B+
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

The theatrical trailer for Changing Lanes promised an intense drama about how a fender-bender escalates beyond road rage into revenge vendettas. Surprise — the preview only scratched the surface of a complex and challenging motion picture.

It's a simple premise: Two men meet on the freeway—in a car accident. Gavin Banek (Ben Affleck) and Doyle Gipsen (Samuel Jackson) were both on their way to important court cases. The accident leaves them sorely delayed and desperate. Doyle tries to handle the accident with patience and goodwill, but Gavin ignores the rules and rushes off to court, abandoning Doyle and his wrecked vehicle in the pouring rain.

Bad move.

The file Gavin needs to win his case is no longer in his briefcase. He accidentally handed it to Doyle. And Doyle is angry. Left alone and infuriated, Doyle is pondering what this delay has cost him. He is supposed to be in court, right now, trying to make up with his wife so that he does not lose her and lose custody of the children as well. When he finally does stagger into the courtroom, he has lost the sympathy of the court and his only chance at reconciliation. His wife has nothing but condemnation and contempt for him. And he is left in a rage, looking for someone upon whom he can unleash his anger. When he discovers the importance of the file Gavin has left with him, he finds his target.

A game of moral disintegration begins, with both characters forced to learn something from the chaos of their urban combat. They will lash out at each other in drastic and violent ways. And as they do, they will be driven to question the meaning of life. They will wonder whether they can turn these cars around, even as they are headed full-speed into a brick wall.

One Christian press critic scolded the filmmakers for not making it clear that what these men need is Jesus Christ. This is a ridiculous idea -- we are not at church looking for a sermon; we are at the movie theatre, expecting the mindless entertainment we usually get, but instead we're being treated to the rare challenge of art. Christian film critics frequently forget the difference between art and sermons: sermons deliver a message, while art issues an invitation to explore and interpret these events as if they were a parable or a dreeam. Jesus preached, yes, but he also told confounding stories and refused to explain them, saying "For those with ears to hear, let them hear."

Director Roger Michell is willing to explore a drama that has no heroes, just broken men trying to find some hope in the darkness, some meaning in the madness. One of them even goes to a cathedral, instinctively drawn to the house of God as he tries to find an anchor for his aimless and angry existence.

Hopefully, all of us who see Changing Lanes will stop to see ourselves reflected in its mirror and consider its implications. We are living in increasingly insulated worlds. We have everything we need delivered to our doorstep or available in our car. We can accomplish so much, thanks to technology. But as a result, we are too hurried and self-centered to show our neighbors any civility or kindness. Road rage becomes the most familiar human interaction of the day. How many times have we shouted, "Get out of my way, idiot! I have to be somewhere