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Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone
Looking Closer rating: B
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

For the record, I'm not exactly a fan of the Harry Potter books.  So already I'm in the minority, and many will immediately disqualify my opinion of the film because of it. But Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone is a film now, and needs to be fairly treated as one. It should not be a prerequisite to have read, or be a fan of, the franchise.

So in this review I'll first say a few words about my response to the book, then review the film in detail, and then I'll close with some comments on the controversy over Harry's interest in wizardry.

THE BOOK

I did read and enjoy the first book, but a few things nagged at me. I couldn't help realizing that kids are enjoying these books immensely having not yet been exposed to so many great works of fantasy from which it borrows. Rowling is given so much credit for her imagination, and yes, she does fuse elements of traditional myths and fairy tales very inventively. But we mustn't overstate it and give her credit for creating these ideas she has borrowed.

It's painful to note that most kids' first encounter with unicorns, magic wands, flying broomsticks, spooky castle corridors, dark forests, trolls, and long-bearded wizards will come from the efficient commercial fiction of J.K. Rowling. They will forever connect their first impressions of all of these things with Harry Potter, rather than those who brought them to life before her. Writers stir up stews of past ideas all the time. I just find a lot of the hoopla over her work to stem from enthusiasm over mythical contexts that have existed for ages.

It is also difficult to hear critics claim her works will last as timeless classics beside the books of those who so strongly influenced her: T.H. White, J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Lewis Carroll, Roald Dahl, Shakespeare, Sir Thomas Malory, Hans Christian Anderson, and The Grimm Brothers, to name a few. (Of course, we can always hope kids will go on to read these works, now that their taste for literature has been whetted. And Potter's world is a better alternative than the cartoonized, sugar-coated, oversimplified treatments that Disney has given fairy tales.) She definitely has a talent for entertaining commercial fiction, but she lacks the poetry, the multiple paths of meaning that wind through the works of those great writers. Again, this isn't a criticism of her or her work, but of the praise lavished upon her.

I hear the series gets better as it goes. That's great. I'm thrilled kids are reading and using their imaginations. I just hope they will open their minds to heavier, deeper, more challenging stuff in the waiting periods between Potter releases.

THE MOVIE

The Harry Potter movie is here, and it more a success than a flop. That is, what's in the book is onscreen, bearing a remarkable resemblance to what readers probably imagined.

The environments are surprising, spooky, and inviting. The script never becomes dull; Steve Kloves' writing lets each character's particular wit shine.  And congratulations to the cast. It's harder work to portray these things effectively onscreen than just to write them down. (But then again, it's healthier for us to read and imagine them than just to be spoon-fed them by Hollywood, isn't it?)

It's the direction that kills my enthusiasm for the film. While most scenes are adequate but not sensational, I found myself longing for a DVD, so I could scan from scene to scene and get to the heart of the story faster.   The book gives us a more suspenseful buildup, while the movie just works its way through a series of introductions and tests.  I couldn't help but notice... The matinee began at 1:40pm.  I checked my watch, only to realize that the Stone named in the title was not even mentioned until 3:30!  This was a problem with the book as well, but perhaps the movie should be re-named.

How about calling it "The Many Expressions of Harry Potter"? The film introduces us to a vast cast of characters and important magical objects, and for each one the camera zooms in on Harry's reaction-puzzlement, happiness, semi-wicked glee, astonishment. Harry is so busy reacting that we don't get to know him. The film passes up many opportunities to let our focus shift from his surroundings to him. The only reason we root for him is because bad things happen TO him, instead of because we know what's on his mind or his heart.

At one point, we see him sitting in the window of his room at Hogwarts, and there's a great opportunity to sense longing or loneliness, like the moment when Luke Skywalker stares out at the two suns of Tatooine in Star Wars.  Because George Lucas paused and let the moment resonate, that image became the heart and soul of Star Wars, the moment when Luke became the true central character.  But Columbus rushes right on past it in Harry Potter. He's in too big a hurry to pack in every page of the book (with only a couple of exceptions, noticeable because everything else made it in.) That's too bad. In the books, Harry taps into our longings for identity and family. In the hands of a director with greater vision, Big Screen Harry could have done the same thing.  Instead, Harry is reduced to a wide-eyed cipher, looking about at characters far more interesting, witty, and surprising than he.

And what a colorful crew they are. My personal favorite is Hermione, the brainy girl who befriends Harry. Her cocksure attitude makes her a big screen cousin to Princess Leia. If this was real life, the story would degenerate into a romantic tug-of-war between Harry and Ron, and if I was one of their adolescent classmates you'd have to count me in as well. She's played by Emma Watson, only one of many talented young actors making their big screen debuts here, and it's not hard to imagine her growing up to be the next Kate Winslet or Helena Bonham Carter.

The entire cast is to be commended. Veteran actors John Hurt (Alien) and Alan Rickman (Die Hard, Galaxy Quest) almost steal the movie with their brief but vivid scenes and over-the-top line delivery. Richard Harris wisely plays the benevolent Professor Dumbledore with surprising and effective restraint. And it is uncanny how Robbie Coltrane brings Hagrid to life. He's burly, brusque, and prone to blunders, and whenever he's onscreen the film gains much-needed energy and personality. Being a lifelong fan of owls, I must say I became twice as alert whenever they graced the screen (thus, once scene in particular was like a dream come true.) Even in the company of such a distinguished cast, they were more dignified, interesting, and memorable than anyone.

Unfortunately, these fine performances are nearly wasted by Columbus's predictable direction and an overbearing, relentless soundtrack. There's nothing distinct about Columbus. He's happy to resemble other directors, Spielberg most of all, with innumerable slow-zooms of gaping youngsters, reminding us that this is the man responsible for those nagging memories of open-mouthed Macaulay Culkin. The camera just points and shoots, offering those who read the book no new surprises. It is, for the record, Columbus's most impressive work to date, and he pulls off some of the necessarily spooky scenes like the voyage into the archetypically "dark forest" or the energy of a Quidditch match (for which he obviously studied the Pod Race in The Phantom Menace.) But his high-action scenes are not nearly as coherent as Spielberg's; they're generally chaotic, noisy, and full of unconvincing digital effects. And the confrontation with  Shrek's big brother in a dank Hogwart's ladies' room only made me long for a troll that's actually scary (Just wait until The Fellowship of the Ring opens next month. There you'll see what a troll SHOULD be.)

And Potter brings out the worst in composer John Williams. His overdramatic and redundant themes sound like a parody of his earlier work, ripping off Schindler's List (the main theme is only a few notes different), Star Wars, Indiana Jones, and above all, Hook. At times the music drowns out action and even dialogue, getting emotional so you don't have to, telling you "THIS IS SCARY!" "THIS IS SAD!" "THIS IS HAPPY!"

Since Columbus can't offer us anything interesting to replace Rowling's peppy narrative, the movie ends up being a far inferior experience, a big moving-picture book with very little storytelling... just a bunch of introductions and tests to be passed.  The central plot of the book...Harry's predestined conflict with Voldemort... is shoved aside until the last few moments of a very very long movie.

But the script and the sets make it all worthwhile. Steve Kloves' adaptation really moves, and it's full of good humor. The sets are distractingly gorgeous. The paintings on the walls in Hogwarts move, just as they do in the book, and some of them are hauntingly beautiful. The perfect DVD would allow you to enlarge and enjoy the drama in each of those museum-quality frames. The children have good chemistry, and I look forward to seeing them grow up in the sequels... which, by the way, are already being produced.

THE CONTROVERSY

A few words about the controversy, for those worried about the effect of the "magic" in Harry Potter's world upon children.  A lot of worried Christians are going around condemning the books, believing what they are told (sometimes by their church leaders). And they're being told that the Potter franchise is, and I quote, "a training manual for witchcraft." 

I HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT DISCERNING, MATURE ADULTS INVESTIGATE THE BOOK FOR THEMSELVES.  READ IT.  PRAY ABOUT IT. Your kids are going to be surrounded with this stuff, if they aren't already. You don't want to tell them things about Potter that you haven't confirmed.

I am not in any way convinced that there is any wicked agenda behind the Harry Potter books. I've heard the claims about Harry's lightning-bolt scar being shaped like a satanic symbol. I'm sorry, but a lightning bolt is a very common symbol; I once wrote a story where a character had the same scar as Harry, and that doesn't make me a Satanist.

As for the spells and Harry's education at a school for wizards, this is all based on whimsy, fairy tale, and stereotypes that have developed over decades of Halloween parties.  What does their "good magic" enable them to do?  All the stuff kids like to imagine. Fly. Become invisible. Lift things off the ground without touching them. They aren't cursing anyone's souls. They aren't using voodoo dolls.  They're not killing.  The villains of the story show us the truly fearsome behavior.  Evil is shown as evil.  Good is represented symbolically as good magic.

It's also worth noting that the characters in the book and in the movie celebrate Christmas, which strikes me as odd if the book wanted to turn kids against Christianity. 

Furthermore, Scripture has a lot more to say on the subject than protesters want to admit.

In Deuteronomy 18:10-12, we are indeed exhorted by God, "There shall not be found among you anyone that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination ... or an enchanter or a witch. Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard ... For all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord."

This verse admonishes us not to BECOME witches or sorcerers in the real world... and it's referring to attempts to connect with and harness the spirit world for one's own advancement, one's own power.  

It does NOT say we cannot use the fanciful idea of magic the way it has been used as a convention in literary traditions for ages. Since the stories of Arthur, and earlier, such "magic" has been a way of symbolizing mystery and intangible things like virtue, bravery, and the abuse of power.

Indeed, if you find your children pursuing a serious interest in the Occult, then you should challenge them with conversation and questions about how they perceive the difference between fairy tales and reality. Parents who read fairy tales to children and teach them how to interpret them will be a step ahead of those who let television and media do the babysitting. But I have yet to hear of any children who, after reading Harry, has done anything more unusual than START READING MORE BOOKS.

The Bible has more to say, though, something that you won't hear on the paranoia/hysteria-building video "Harry Potter: Witchcraft Repackaged".

David Bruce at HollywoodJesus.com suggests how the Apostle Paul might respond to such popular phenomena:

"Zeus was considered a demon by certain early Christians. They protested Zeus, destroying his images and statues. They burned books about Zeus and warned others to avoid Zeus. There are Christians today who want to do the same thing to Harry Potter images, books and movies and for the same reasons. Yet the Apostle Paul approach to Zeus was very different. Standing before the Council in Athens, Paul said. '...For in him we live and move and exist. As one of your own poets says, 'We are his offspring.'" (Acts 17:28) * So the approach Paul employed was to use Zeus, and not trash Zeus. However I fear there will be too many Christians will participate in a Harry Potter/Zeus Witch Hunt."

Bruce concludes with a passionate plea: "Please, let's end the Witch Hunts! Use Harry Potter for the glory of God, just like Paul used Zeus for the glory of God. Please! Let's end the insanity. Enough already."

Zeus was actually worshipped by people in Athens, celebrated as a real god. Harry Potter is perceived as a fiction. Surely, if Paul approached the cult of Zeus as a corrupt belief that could be discussed and used for God’s glory, then we can approach Rowling’s storybooks with the same patience and discernment. Rather than burn books, let’s open them and help young readers see what is true and false within them. Parents, lead by example.

To break down the distinction between active worldly witchcraft and the childlike imagination that can mature into great faith discredits the storytelling traditions that have influenced our understanding of good and evil for centuries. Good old Merlin is a wizard—should we burn The Sword and the Stone and the other Arthur legends? Wonderland is full of magic for curious Alice, but kids rarely climb down rabbit holes. Nobody in my neighborhood has jumped out a window believing that they’ll fly like Peter Pan if they "think of a wonderful thought." In South Carolina's The State newspaper, editorial writer John Monk suggests, "You might as well say Gone With The Wind teaches young readers to be slave owners, or Treasure Island entices children to be pirates."

By fourth or fifth grade, most children can distinguish between Shrek and the Real World, between Veggie-Tales and vegetables. While you read to your own child, you can make sure they understand the important thing in Harry Potter is not the way spells work, but what sets brave Harry apart from proud Malfoy and power-hungry Voldemort. Pay attention as Harry responds to the devil’s temptations. It is the Darth Vader-ish villain who snarls, "There is no good and evil; there is only power, and those too weak to seek it." Harry bravely disagrees.

The gulf between the religion of real witchcraft and the use of symbolic magic in storytelling is a vast one. Rowling’s fantasies, like The Chronicles of Narnia, A Wrinkle in Time, and The Lord of the Rings before them, give readers a whimsical language for discussing the forces at work inside them and around them. Harry’s magical gifts are symbols, metaphors for mysterious things in the real world, invisible powers like creativity, love, hate, humility, pride, generosity, and selfishness. Science Fiction does the same thing—just exchange magic wands with lightsabers or laser guns, magic brooms with the Starship Enterprise or pod racers, spells with secret codes in The Matrix.

Approach your movies and your storybooks the way you approach Thanksgiving dinner. There’s a lot on the table—you can stuff your face with some of it, but you’ve got to be careful with others. Sure, it’s conceivable that someone could choke on a bone if they’re not careful. Should we skip the turkey out of fear and settle for a plate of mashed potatoes?

Happy Thanksgiving. Chew your movies carefully.

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

Heist’s title is straightforward about the movie’s subject. Writer/director David Mamet (State and Main, Wag the Dog, Glenngarry Glen Ross) gives us burglars and crooks as they dodge police and try to escape with the goods. In the opening scene, a mastermind crook sets a plan in motion, and remarks in passing, "Gold. It's what makes the world go around." "His loyal friend and cohort says, "I thought that was love." "That's true too," says the master. "Love...of gold."

Gene Hackman and Rebecca Pidgeon play Joe and Fran Moore, an accomplished husband-wife team of thieves who find themselves getting a raw deal. The cons that hired them, led by a dastardly crook named Bergman (Danny Devito), are trying to take more than the deal had specified. Sounds like the beginning of a hundred movies... right? It is. But what sets Heist apart is the cast, who invest these stock characters with such energy, idiosyncracy, and surprise that we feel like we're seeing something new. I was quite surprised to realize I was seeing one of Gene Hackman's best performances. Who would have guessed the quirky Rebecca Pidgeon (State and Main, The Winslow Boy) could carry off a tough, trash-talking temptress so effectively? And what a joy to watch a director who realizes just how Devito can command our attention.

Joe and Fran find a quick getaway, but the draw of major money lures them back into the territory of the bad boys. They agree to do that famous "one last job", and of course they're plotting to leave their collaborators in the dust. There are a few that they trust. Delroy Lindo turns in some of his strongest work as Blaine, a giant, quick-thinking, play-it-safe thief who reins in Joe when Joe gets hot and hasty. And Pinky (perhaps a nod to Tarantino's Mr. Pink) is the guy who's all brains and no brute strength. Pinky's the one who can distract the cops because no cop would ever think Pinky capable of conspiracy... he's just too sweet-looking.

As the conspiracy gets more and more elaborate, many viewers will get lost. But there's still pleasure in trying to keep up. There are so many plans within plans, sharp turns, getaway strategies, and surprises in this script that any realism disappears quickly. Some critics have complained that there were one too many reversals by the end. I didn't mind. The realism has disappeared long ago. The fun was in seeing how long Mamet could sustain the trick. This kind of cleverness is has been entertaining ever since David outwitted Saul not once but twice. As long as a viewer is discerning enough not to admire the motives, the priorities, and the values of these wicked men, there is some good brain exercise in trying to unravel these complicated plots.

Actually, what we hearing has as much to do with the pleasure of watching this film as what we see. Mamet, as usual, packs his script with memorable lines. (I won't spoil any. The commercials spoiled far too many.) There are so many zingers that Mamet is practically spoofing the genre. In the real world, brawn and brains don't usually come together, but in con films, every tough guy has a smart remark locked and loaded, ready to fire. This is a world not unlike superhero comics, only in this world the heroes have special powers of punchline and poetry. They have the superhuman ability to knock down buildings with a single split-second comeback line.

Sure, they're foul-mouthed, and you'll want to keep the kids away from such strong language. But their relentless cussing actually becomes rather humorous, like watching tough guy teens get into an awkward fight in which their dignity drains away. If you're easily offended by foul language, stay away. If you can pick through the meat and keep from swallowing the bones, then you'll enjoy a lot of good meat. This movie portrays a lot of evil. But it's not condoning evil. Watch carefully what happens to these criminals, and then tell me if you think crime really pays.

My main frustration with the film is that, like The Score earlier this year, the ending falls flat. It makes sense, but there's no "wham!" There's no impact. Just another twist and they ride off into the sunset. Mamet, in his close attention to dialogue, seems to have lost all interest in the plot by the end. These were interesting characters. They deserved a culmination and a twist as memorable and surprising and interesting as they were.

By the end, we have seen these criminals—bad, badder, and baddest—pay the price. Hearts are broken. Friends are lost or killed. Marriages are corrupted. The one who walks away with a smile reveals himself to be the most hard-hearted devil of all, a slave to the allure of gold. We admire his cleverness, but we can’t share in his gloating, because we have seen the price of his selfishness. Clearly, he who works to gain his life has truly lost it.

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

Waring Hudsucker is dead. In the most spectacular falling scene in Hollywood history, the head of Hudsucker Industries (Charles Durning) stood up on the table during a board meeting and threw himself out a window at the top of his company's skyscraper. The 1950's business world is rocked. Well… perhaps a trifle upset. The board's second-in-command, sinister scheming Sid Mussburger (Paul Newman in an unprecedented display of cigar-chomping arrogance), literally picks up the meeting where Hudsucker left off and finishes it without shedding a tear. His only eulogy is the acknowledgment that "Waring Hudsucker is abstract art on Madison Avenue." Already, Mussburger's figuring out how he can take control of the company and make millions. And he has a plan before the meeting's over. They'll hire "some jerk" — a puppet-head idiot to be the company president. Stocks will plummet. The board will buy up the stock at street-level prices, and own the company stock entirely so they can be millionaires when the company becomes respectable again.

The boob that they hire is Norville Barnes (Tim Robbins). And what Sid Mussburger doesn't expect is that Barnes has a plan of his own. When he becomes company president, by golly, he's going to develop his invention… it's fun, it's exciting, and it… you know… for kids! Yes, Norville's going to invent the hula hoop, which will become a sensation that will make the company millions, and Mussburger will have to devise an even nastier way to make himself rich.

Will Norville lose his innocence and become the next cruel and merciless Sid Mussburger? Even though the Coen's work through the Capra formula of warm-hearted goodness vs. the Establishment, there is no sincerity in the performances. It's all played for laughs, so the opportunity for a meaningful moment is, more often than not, lost. I would guess, however, that the Coens weren't trying to make something terribly meaningful. They're not interested in perpetuating the fairy-tale extremes of Capra-land so much as exaggerating them. They want to take what we're familiar with and inflate it to the point of bursting, a fairy-tale so outrageous we couldn't possibly believe in it. And yet, in spite of that, there are some moments of genuine warmth and emotion. And the ending sends us away with a smile on our faces. How do they do it?

And even though there are echoes of Capra all over it, this is still a Coen Brothers film through and through. Hudsucker's relentlessly inventive style and cinematography, not to mention the over-the-top performances from Robbins and Newman, make this a feast for the eyes and a barrel of laughs, closer to their early hit "Raising Arizona" than the sombre and bleak (but excellent) "Barton Fink".

The sequence demonstrating the hula-hoop's rise to popularity is among the finest comic scenes in the last decade. And even more impressively, the Coens got Jennifer Jason Leigh to play a role that we haven't seen from her before; she's not the self-destructive wretch of her last ten films. She's savors her chance to chew on a Coen Brothers' script (which Leigh said was her Hollywood dream come true), and she's absolutely marvelous as the investigative reporter out to discredit Barnes and expose the whole scandal. She and Robbins achieve a magical "big kiss" scene on the balcony of a skyscraper that glows with some serious romantic heat, and for a moment the movie reaches out and the characters are almost real. .

Much of the humor will fly right over the heads of the younger viewers, but if the whole family is there, there's enough color and light and laughs to keep everyone thoroughly entertained.

As ridiculous and fun as a hula-hoop.

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

Ice Age begins with a sequence as simple, straightforward, and outrageously funny as a Warner Brothers cartoon: a bug-eyed squirrel bounces across a snow white backdrop trying to find a place to bury his precious acorn. But of course, the ice is too solid. When the squirrel gets insistent, it starts a chain reaction that takes us pel-mel across the landscape, and smack into the middle of a story.

That squirrel nailed my funny bone pretty hard, but I've always had a soft spot for Warner Brothers' style humor. Once we stepped into the larger epic, though, I got nervous.

I've grown tired of the Disney formula. And I'm sick of kids movies that think their parents want pop-culture in-jokes, a cheezy pop soundtrack, and a politically-correct sermon. It's like they think kids' stories aren't good enough for grownups, so they stuff all the cracks with sexual innuendos and references to contemporary news events in order to keep the parents interested. Folks, IF THE STORY'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR THE GROWNUPS, IT SURE ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH FOR OUR KIDS!

But Ice Age turns out to be a tremendous surprise. And one that doesn't wear out its welcome. Sure, it's a familiar story, with elements of Bambi, The Lion King, and a dozen other children's classics. But it's not a rip-off. And the characters are original, likeable, and surprising.

Here's the setup: The clumsy and boneheaded Sid the Sloth (John Leguizamo), while running for his life from two rhinoceroses, finds a reluctant ally in Manfred, a temperamental wooly mammoth (Ray Romano). While they're working out their differences, they find a woman in dire straits, forced to leave behind her infant. It's clear that they should do the right thing, so they take the kid and try to reunite him with his parents. A long journey begins, which requires traversing a snowy landscape fraught with perils, not the least of which is a flock of the world's last dodo birds. (It becomes painfully clear why the dodos are now extinct.) They are joined by an unlikely villain, a gruff saber-tooth tiger who secretly plans to steal the baby away to fulfill the vengeful wishes of his pack's wicked leader.

The story doesn't have a lot of surprises, but I was especially impressed by the character of the tiger, who while menacing and plotting our heroes' destruction, shows flashes of decency and, at times, we even like him. Disney villains are always clearly evil through and through. Villains like this might make kids pause and wonder, could a bad guy perhaps be worth loving?

Also noteworthy: You can tell the animators really love kids, whereas many "cutting-edge" animated films seem far more interested in pleasing the adults. The baby is fun and, fortunately, not too concerned with looking like a real human being.

I was further impressed that, while the story's predictable, the teary-eyed conclusion actually earns its emotion. We aren't forced to feel sentimental by music and cliches.

You've got to hand it to John Leguizamo: the guy took the character of Sid the Sloth, who could have been as annoying as Jar Jar Binks, and instead made him likeable and, in the sheer relentlessness of his clumsiness, hilarious. At first, I thought the laughs were too easy, as Sid the Sloth starts running into anything in his path. But then it went on. And on. And after a while, like the squirrel trying to hammer the acorn into solid ice, Sid's lunacy cracked my skepticism, and my defenses fell.

I loved Ice Age. It's simple. It's not pretentious. It sticks to the business of the story, like Disney's best films. There aren't very many gross-out jokes. It's almost free of those pop-culture references that cluttered Shrek. There aren't any indulgent celebrity personalities trying to steal the show with their famous shtick. And there isn't a mean-spirited bone in its CGI body... it's just good, high-spirited, mostly funny comedy. The storytelling is simple, but steady and strong. The voice matches are excellent: Ray Romano was an inspired choice to play the Mammoth, and he never shows off. Neither does Dennis Leary, who makes this saber-toothed tiger one of the more remarkable villains in recent animation history by not playing him as a stereotypical tiger. The characters are capable of expressing a wide range of subtle emotions, and they're all likeable and consistently funny.

And I want a sequel just so we get more about the squirrel.

I was also pleased with its simple lesson. No preaching. The movie portrays its lesson and offers only one simple platitude. Sure, there's a loud-and-clear "moral to the story", but it's not trumpeted with any kind of obvious political agenda. Just simple common sense: It is good and decent to act selflessly in service of others, to "look out for the herd."

There are nice nods to other films too. While the storytelling hieroglyphics (or cave paintings, in this case) are almost too-much a rip-off from Prince of Egypt, there are other nice "borrowings". I especially liked the "borrowing" from The Empire Strikes Back. (Let me know if you catch it.) What's a "borrowing"? As opposed to plagiarism? It's merely a twist or a moment that betrays which films these moviemakers had in mind while making this one. I'd defend a "borrowing"... it shows some creativity, instead of the lack of it. There's even an echo of Fellowship of the Ring -- the travelers try to negotiate a stormy mountainous landscape and end up choosing a "shortcut" through icy underground caverns, only to run into a different sort of trouble.

Will Ice Age face any heavy competition in the Animated Feature category this year? I'm sure it will. Something with a huge pop soundtrack and a bigger fast-food marketing campaign will come along. Something full of slightly-dirty jokes for the grownups, something with a big preachy politically correct message. But if I like it better than Ice Age, I'll be surprised. In a category where there will be so few competitors over the course of the year, I'm already rooting for the under-squirrel.

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

Director Ang Lee confirmed a reputation for graceful, subtle, powerful moviemaking with 1995's extraordinary Austen adaptation Sense and Sensibility. Some had doubted he could shift from his detailed, nuanced cultural examinations of Taiwan to illustrate such a completely different world as Jane Austen's, but he astonished everyone by turning in what remains, arguably, the finest adaptation of Austen on film. 

Previously, Eat Drink, Man Woman gave us the brilliant story of a clash between traditional Asian life and new, American-style freedom. The Ice Storm, like Eat Drink and Sense and Sensibility, is concerned with the differences between the culture we profess and the lifestyles we actually indulge. It's about the tension between chaos and order, desire and responsibility. And even more, it's about the consequences of love's betrayal.

An all-American family. That's what Ben Hood (Kevin Kline) seems to have. A lovely wife, Elena (Joan Allen); a beautiful teenage daughter Wendy (The Addams Family's Christina Ricci); and a promising college-bound boy, Paul (Tobey Maguire).

The family may look fine at first glance… well, no, forget it. At first glance, there's trouble. Daddy's giving Mommy those hugs and kisses that are merely a formality, and he's acting stupid when she hints about him messing around.

And he is messing around, with another married woman, Janey Carver (Sigourney Weaver), who will take care of his sexual urges when his wife's not looking.

Meanwhile, Elena herself is losing her grip on responsibility; while fretting about her husband's unfaithfulness, she cheers herself up by shoplifting cosmetics.

And the children aren't clueless either. In fact, as Wendy becomes increasingly obsessed with Nixon's betrayal of the office of President, she tries to ignore the fact that her Daddy is forsaking the office of Father. Impressionable as she is, she learns by observation that rules about sex are not really to be followed, so she begins her own explorations with the neighbor boys, Mikey and Sandy (Elijah Wood and Adam Hann-Byrd).

The neighbor boys are, of course, Janey Carver's kids. And when Janey reprimands Wendy for messing with her underaged son, the ultimatum makes no sense at all, because Janey has no morality to fall back on for answers; the reasons she does offer are hilarious and hollow.

And so, everything is cracking as the weather turns cold. Viewers will see the secrets and lies coming to a head as a deep freeze hits the East Coast. The awful finale is played out at a couples' cocktail party, called "a key party," in which spouses drop their keys in a dish and, later, the husbands choose car keys and go home with the woman attached to them. This ritual is a byproduct of the free-lovin' 60's. It's a clumsy attempt to preserve the ideas that "sex is free for all" and "love's commitment has little or nothing to do with self-interest and freedom". The game leads to consequences strong enough to end a weak marriage. Or, perhaps, the shock of the result will kick some sense into these intelligent but self-centered individuals.

The Ice Storm's devastating finale sends the audience back to their cars with chills. As I left the theatre, a couple in front of me stepped out the front door and laughed… the cold had been so palpable, they actually expected to see ice on the roads.

Rarely does a film portray more effectively how parents' actions affect their children, how irresponsibility begets irresponsibility, how a lie is not isolated but only the beginning of destruction, and how love through commitment and family provides order in the chaos of a downward-spiraling culture. When Paul gets off the train and sees his family waiting, is it dread, despair, or hope in his eyes? It depends on the dependability and integrity of the family to which he is returning.

Ang Lee's direction is perfect. He does not clobber the viewer with a moral. He merely tells the truth… Affairs are not glamorous. Marriage is difficult. Children are extremely fragile. And those we love will not go unaffected by what one thinks is a personal, private sin.

With excellent performances by all of the actors (especially Allen and Ricci), a minimalist soundtrack, and camerawork that makes the most of the gorgeous icy landscapes of Connecticut in deep winter, Lee has done for the Rick Moody's novel the same favors he did Jane Austen's classic. Chock full of immorality on display, The Ice Storm is the 1997's most morally-responsible film, and also one of the most profound.

(The Ice Storm is rated R for sexual themes, but refrains from indulging them. There is no nudity, sparse profanity, and no violence.)

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

Jim Sheridan's gutsy retelling of the story of the Guildford Four does fiddle with the historical details. But this is a film based on a true story, meant to bring to life the conflict between England and Ireland, to show the destructive power of hate on both sides of the fence, and to show how love, a listening ear, and compassion can bridge the gap.

Daniel Day-Lewis, as the reckless Irish lad Jerry Conlon whose mischief makes him the prime candidate for accusation, gives one of his greatest performances (he's never unimpressive), disappearing into the character the way he did in "My Left Foot" and "A Room With a View". He and three friends are arrested after a bomb goes off in a British pub, and the intense, painful torture scenes have us desiring a Mission:Impossible! escape scene. There is no escape, except, perhaps, through false confession. They confess. And things get worse.

Conlon's father (Pete Postlethwaite, in his finest role), unsure of his son's innocence, is loving nonetheless. As the British concoct a bizarre conspiracy theory, real IRA terrorists get caught up in the drama. Soon, father and son are jailed together (one of Sheridan's fictions for the sake of the story). Emma Thompson is just right as the nosy, passionate lawyer that listens to Jerry and believes his story, but Sheridan has a lot more on his mind than evidence and courtroom drama. It's the relationship between father and son that remains the film's heart. The boy Conlon has a lot of growing up to do, and the father needs to learn something about communication and love as well.

The rest of the film is a story of Conlon's transformation from an unthinking thief into a banner-man for justice. Unfortunately, Sheridan's simplification of the story makes one British officer the focus of the villainy, and in doing so the man takes on a Hollywood-villain quality that seems something of a cop-out; like the warden in Frank Darabont's fine film The Shawshank Redemption  he's a stock-character bad guy who stumbled into a movie about real people. Still, it's great to see his case crumbling as Thompson follows the evidence, and the ending rings true powerfully.

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

You hear a lot of talk these days about "awakening your inner child."

This can be misleading. Insofar as "your inner child" is your capacity for wonder, faith, and delight in imagination, it would be better to speak of these characteristics as fundamental human qualities. Sadly, these qualities are suppressed and stifled in many of us grownups, leaving us less human, less healthy, less hopeful. Well-written children stories -- from Milne to Seuss to Tolkien, and even George Lucas -- still appeal to adults because they "reawaken" the humanness we have lost through cynicism, selfish ambition, pride, and other trappings of "maturity." But moviemakers usually focus on entertaining instead of storytelling. Thus, very few "family movies" strike those chords of basic human longing and fear that resonate in the hearts of child and grownup alike.

The Iron Giant is a perfect exception. It's an instant classic, if there is such a thing, belonging on the shelf with E.T., The Black Stallion, Beauty and the Beast, and Star Wars. The story of the boy Hogarth and his discovery of an enormous wayward robot speaks to every human being's desire for friendship, fear of being alone, fear of being different, desire to overcome a bully, and longing to be trusted, loved, and believed.

Starting with a powerful, seemingly simple storyline from a Ted Hughes story, director and animator Brad Bird built The Iron Giant with perfect voice-casting, bright bold animation, and a powerful Michael Kamen soundtrack. By placing the story cleverly in the 1950s era of paranoia and post-war idealism, and by evoking our nostalgia for comic books, Norman Rockwell images, and a time when life was less complicated and full of dreams, Bird is able to speak to anyone at any time without compromising his story's historical setting. Yet, there's a highly-caffeinated energy to this movie that will hold the attention-deficit-disorder generation that's filling the theatre. This is, after all, a Warner Brothers cartoon. Bird doesn't need to push the envelope of animation technique to wow the audience (even though the animation is indeed impressive); he holds our attention by making the characters interesting and setting up some elaborately funny, frightening, and beautiful scenes.

Hogarth Hughes is as believable and authentic as an animated child character can get. His imagination runs like a hyperactive squirrel through his environment--which makes for an especially hysterical scene when the boy discovers espresso for the first time. Without exaggerating Hogarth's loneliness, Bird lets the audience figure out that the boy's father is gone. (Is he dead? Did he leave? There's a hint in a photograph, but we don't know for sure. We don't need to know.) Just the fact that he only has his mother makes it entirely believable that he would be preoccupied with finding a friend. A pet just won't do the trick.

The new friend that comes along is lonely too. The Iron Giant (voiced by the appropriately named Vin Diesel) is a massive robot who falls to earth and lands in the woods outside of Rockwell (as in Norman?), Maine. A bump on his head disorients him, and he lumbers about like an overgrown toddler with one thing on his mind...food. In his case, food is metal, so when he stumbles onto a power generator, he begins munching away delightedly, until he bites into the wrong thing. Hogarth, who has heard rumors of something alien in the woods, discovers the giant just in time to save his life. A powerful bond is formed between the two, and Hogarth comes to realize he has won a powerful and dangerous friend. His efforts to communicate with this enormous, soft-spoken brute are comical and endearing, and the robot's simple language and childlike curiosity make him loveable. The animators that designed the giant give him a tangible weight, a world of wonderful machinery sounds, and a torso that's full of transformational surprises; he's every little boy's dream toy, and he's got an expressive steamshovel face that can make you laugh and cry.

The masterstroke in this film is Hogarth's affection for comic books, and how the Iron Giant's emotional response to a comic leads us to the film's fantastic finale. When Hogarth brings out a classic Superman comic book, it is more than just childhood nostalgia that goes to work; it's the simple appeal of a world where one man can make a difference in the struggle against evil. (Take note: It's also a story about how art can influence behavior.) You see, the Giant is a loaded weapon walking around, oblivious to his own destructive power. In a move that's almost too preachy, there's a blatant allusion to the death of Bambi's mother, which leads Hogarth to teach the robot that killing is always a bad thing, that guns are bad, and that no matter what, the robot needs to give up the use of his built-in weaponry. Slowly, the Giant learns to deny his own programming and be a gentle do-gooder.

Of course, as in all stories of simple-minded kind-hearted Frankensteins, the rest of the world does not understand. Hogarth, like Elliott in "E.T.", has a hard enough time finding a friend who will believe him and help him keep his secret. Dean the Beatnik (voice by Harry Connik, Jr.) is a likeable but reluctant pal, a scrap metal artist-in-residence at a junkyard who can provide the giant with a hiding place AND a buffet. Hogarth's mother (voice by Jennifer Aniston) isn't quite prepared for the truth, but we trust she won't be the one to turn Hogarth in to the authorities.

No, the real threat here comes from a fast-talking, mean-spirited, suspicious government agent patrolling the area in response to rumors of a mechanical menace. Kent Mansley is a fantastic villain, a slick trenchcoated guy with a glamorous grin. He wants to know what's chewing up automobiles and knocking out power generators. Suspecting that it's something cooked up by the Russians, he's determined to squeeze the truth out of Hogarth. Mansley doesn't need fiery red eyes or the sinister voice of a celebrity to make him scary. It's his relentlessness and his tendency to overreact that makes this loose cannon a genuine threat. Again, Bird is careful to develop a strong character instead of re-cycling the typical Disney stock villain. Mansley is pathetic and mean-spirited not because he is an agent of the military, but because he's consumed by fear.

From Aladdin to Tarzan, Disney has perfected their strategy for marketing their all-ages animated movies. The company thrives on what critic Jeffrey Wells calls the "but" factor -- they make their money on movies that cause people to say "It wasn't that great, BUT... the animation was good" or "BUT... Robin Williams was great as the genie."

The Iron Giant has no "but" factor; there's nothing substandard about it. In fact, if Warner Brothers had believed in this movie enough, they might have set the standard for years to come. Tragically, there was very little promotion, and the movie is floundering at the box office. This is a tragic miscalculation.

The Iron Giant has things that no animated movie has had for years -- genre-specific integrity, a rock-solid uncompromising script, and a classic story. But best of all, it's built on the principle that never gets old -- that it's important to reach out and love those different from yourself, even if you have to risk all you have. It may not be the most sophisticated or artful movie of the year, but it's definitely the most solidly built, funny, and entertaining movie for kids of all ages that I've seen in a decade.

And because of that, it's this 29 year-old kid's favorite movie of 1999 so far.

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

You need to find a good date movie. But you're sick of those cheesy chick-flick romances. You don't want another sappy Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan valentine. No, you want something really good, something you can talk about later. You want a movie that makes you fall in love with each other — and with movies — all over again.

Try this tasty Danish confection: Italian for Beginners.

Italian for Beginners is a romantic comedy without the usual sappy enhancements. It's filmed with handheld cameras and captured in natural light. The actors aren't familiar, and they aren't wearing any glamorous makeup. And the music doesn't try to squeeze tears from your tear ducts. You might think you're watching a documentary.
Like a Shakespeare comedy, Beginners follows a community of men and women, each one longing for true love, each one lonely and wounded. And, as in Shakespeare, their dilemmas are far from trivial. There are real dramas, real tragedies, and real misunderstandings happening here.

There's a handsome restaurant manager with a fiery temper and a foul mouth; a young baker who's dangerously clumsy; an attractive hairdresser harried by her mother; and a sexy Italian waitress whose love knows no language barrier. One lost his wife, one lost his faith, and one is scarred by fetal alcohol syndrome. The film could be viewed as a comedy which stumbles into drama, or the other way around.

Like I said, this isn't your typical romantic comedy.

All of these disparate lives collide in an Italian-language class near Copenhagen. And right away, the sparks begin to fly. But when the teacher makes an early exit, they face a tough decision — abandon the class, or find a new teacher? Just in time, an unlikely substitute steps in, enabling these enthusiastic students another chance to learn and to love.

There's even hope for the local pastor.

There aren't any big twists, shocking revelations, or audacious stylistic endeavors. But the film is a rare delight anyway: a joyous comedy that is at the same time grounded in real life with characters whose company is a pleasure. If we're lucky, writer/director Lone Scherfig will make more movies like this one and kick more life into a genre that is currently on life support.

Jackie Brown
Looking Closer rating: C+
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

Whatever you think of director Quentin Tarantino, Jackie Brown is both good news and bad news.

The film follows a few days in the life of a determined woman. Jackie Brown (Pam Grier) has gotten tangled in a nasty mess. She's an airline stewardess with a job on the side — she's delivering money for a wicked gunrunner (Samuel L. Jackson) named Ordell. Her criminal act lands her in jail, and when she's bailed out by Ordell she knows she'll suffer the fate of any of Ordell's cohorts that get caught... Ordell's coming over and he doesn't plan to throw a party. He's going to silence her once and for all, ensuring the safety of himself and his operation.

Well, Jackie's a smart cookie, smarter than Ordell thinks. And the real pleasure of the film is watching this woman think her way out of the mess. She's got to get out alive, and make sure Ordell will never be able to catch up with her. But Jackie wants to aim even higher — she wants get out with a good chunk of Ordell's money.

How does she do it? Well, that would be telling.

The good news is that Pam Grier deserved to be back in the movies. She's an actress with potential that has never been tapped, as this film clearly demonstrates. Tarantino took several casting risks, and in my humble opinion, all of them work. Robert DeNiro wins a lot of laughs as a half-stoned, aging bank robber who has to think hard before opening his mouth. Bridget Fonda does fine as a blonde pot-smokin' surfer girl.

But Robert Forster is the most impressive presence in the film. His bored-but-affable bounty hunter Max Cherry has a great face for the big screen. He can be funny, ponderous, relaxed, and scared-silly without hamming it up or saying a word. His "Ho-hum, whatever..." attitude as he is drawn into Jackie's dilemma tells us he's seen plenty of L.A.'s underbelly in his time. It's exciting to see a human being waking up and taking risks after years of merely doing what the job demanded.

Unfortunately, and unlike the more shocking and daring Pulp Fiction, what Max and Jackie do end up doing together has nothing to do with redemption or good vs. evil. It's merely greed. They're close to the enemy, they see their chance to take the money and run, and they go for it. Even the songs running in the background speak of more honorable causes than theirs. (Tarantino's typically inspired soundtrack includes 70s hits about escaping the ghetto and about love at first sight.) Reservoir Dogs, while an assaulting and excessively violent film, at least told a story of good versus evil, and how one cop and one villain learn lessons about trust the hard way. Pulp Fiction showed several characters making unselfish decisions for the first time and taking the first steps toward more honorable lives. Jackie Brown shows a lot of criminals committing criminal acts; they either get shot or get away with it.

As an exercise in style, Jackie Brown is a refinement of the innovative elements Tarantino employed in the gritty Dogs and the flashy Fiction. He has settled down now; he knows he has our attention. At last, he is resisting the tempation to knock the audience senseless with graphic violence. This is, in comparison to his other films, the first almost-non-violent Tarantino movie.

Unfortunately, it's also the first pointless Tarantino movie. At the end of the film, we are supposed to be excited by Jackie's chance to escape her life-threatening circumstances. Instead, we're left with the hollow feeling that all this intrigue and entertainment was really just to show how one person managed to steal enough money to set up a retirement plan. Money, Mr. Tarantino, does not change everything. Jackie's gonna need a whole lot more than cash to stay out of trouble.

(Jackie Brown is rated R, and for good reason. There are there are some startling shootings, truckloads of foul language, depictions of a lot of pot smoking, and some graphic sexual content (but no nudity).)

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back
Looking Closer rating: D
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

AN OPEN LETTER TO WRITER/DIRECTOR KEVIN SMITH:

To Kevin Smith:

I'm a fan.  I should say that first.  I will be there to buy a ticket for your movies.  So let me begin with some thanks:

Chasing Amy and Dogma, the first with its startling realism and the second by its effective satire, continue to speak to today's young audiences about things they need to hear. And by portraying youth culture with honesty--the lifestyles, language, behavior, and struggles of today's young people--you get their attention and show them the relevance of the issues you address.  And you do so in an entertaining, witty, and insightful fashion.  

Chasing Amy would offend most religious folks I know, and most of my elders... but then again they would be similarly offended if they sat down in a group of today's typical teenagers.  The language and frankness of these kids can be a jolt if you haven't encountered it before.  But I hear this kind of talk all the time among folks my age and younger.  I know you're just telling the truth.  You walk into the mess and you turn your spotlight on what is important and what is true. I applaud the way that you recognized the basic need for love in each of Chasing Amy's characters, and went on to portray the importance of honesty, compassion, and forgiveness.  

With Dogma, you brought important spiritual questions to the attention of a spirituality-wary generation.  You didn't preach or condescend.  After the movie, I heard kids conversing about the difference between runaway religious dogma and the true teachings of Jesus, about the way the Church CAN be the instrument of love on the earth but more often falls into pulpit-pounding moralism. For the first time, these kids had a vocabulary and a context in which to consider that maybe it's not worth throwing the Baby Jesus out with the bathwater.  Some say we shouldn't laugh at anything related to religion; but I agree with you..."God has a sense of humor."  Dogma, like Monty Python's The Life of Brian, upholds respect for what is sacred and directs us to laugh at the flawed and often foolish ways human beings respond to God.  It challenges the hypocrisy that comes from religious zeal, yet it reaffirms the presence of God in our lives, and the amazing grace of how God could love even a foul-mouthed simpleton like Jay.

Thus I have some affection for poor stupid Jay and his quieter, wiser cohort Silent Bob. When I walk down University Avenue in Seattle, I see dozens of Jays and Silent Bobs. Your characters may offend some viewers, but they are a true representation of many troubled young people, as comical and goofy as they sometimes are.  You do not portray them through a lens of judgement, but of kinship and compassion. While some religious critics miss the point, accusing you of "spreading the cancer" of bad behavior, I recognize that you want us to laugh at folly of Jay and Bob's behavior rather than embrace it.  And sometimes, Jay and Bob are indeed funny.

So it was with great anticipation that I bought a ticket to Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back...to see where you were taking us next.  

I know you are sincere and earnest man, about faith, relationships, and social issues.  And I take you seriously as a filmmaker.  (I cheered when I read your thoughts in The New York Times on A Man for All Seasons...a film full of challenging ideas and brilliant dialogue.) 

But I came away from Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back feeling troubled. 

I know full well you did not mean to make something profound...you said as much in interviews.  (I imagine that, after the flak the church gave you for Dogma, you weren't eager to return to serious, courageous exploration.)  And Jay and Silent Bob reminds me of the comical, zany, meandering "buddy" road movies of the past.  Audiences should indeed be cautioned: Jay and Bob deal drugs, they objectify and lust after women, they speak streams of profanity (well, Jay does anyway), and they miss almost every opportunity to be wise and loving. 

I also enjoyed the references--some subtle and some not so subtle--to other movies.   (The Reservoir Dogs moment was very well done; I'll bet a lot of people missed it entirely.)  And who won't laugh heartily to see Ben Affleck and Matt Damon humble enough to spoof themselves and laugh at their own rollercoaster careers? 

These things, and others, are very well done in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. 

But I think that this film crosses a line.  Satire spoofs human nature; it exaggerates the truth enough so we can laugh at it.  But J&SB seems to positively REVEL in their foolishness.  Think of that great buddy movie Midnight Run, in which we see two men of differing misbehaviors learn a little something from each other while on the road together.  Or Pulp Fiction: Quentin Tarantino wants us to see the folly of violent men, and yet he is careful not to bombard us with too much violence.  The Monty Python films are fraught with sharp humor about sexuality and religion, but they do not pound us over the head with the characters' obscenities and fantasies.

Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back indulges so grossly in Jay and Bob's preoccupations with sex and profanity that we are too busy absorbing the shocks to ever stop and think about whether or not these characters have anything to show us.  Good satire challenges us to think about why we are laughing.  J&SB is more likely to inspire another wave of irreverent and amoral comedies than it is likely to make us think about right and wrong.

In an environment starved for intelligent and challenging work, why give young audiences another 90 minutes of locker-room level sex jokes without much to make this mud-trudging worthwhile?  Sure, laughter is the best medicine...but only the right kind of laughter. Some laughter is unhealthy, in that it has us mocking things that deserve better.  Jay and Bob may not have a healthy view of sex, but in Chasing Amy all of the misbehavior served to point the way to the right behavior. 

You and your more perceptive viewers know that you don't condone the behavior of dope addicts and sex-crazed chauvinists. But this movie, for its flood of clever sex jokes and foul language, is going to be a cult hit among kids who revel in that stuff.  You know full well it is going to end up in the VCRs of young kids who aren't mature 1enough to know how to process this humor.  They can't tell a satire from Sesame Street.  Most of them are on the same intellectual plane as the Internet talkbackers you ridicule in the film. That's like making a movie that occasionally pokes fun at the folly of pornography, and then DELIVERS a great deal of porno footage to satiate the audience's baser appetites. 

There are moments of comic genius here. The Planet of the Apes spoof is hilarious, as is the jab at Good Will Hunting. Chris Rock had me on the floor.  And there were moments of moral insight, however simple: Jay is challenged to think of a less-derogatory term of affection for his girlfriend. And yes, that opening scene makes us think about why Jay has become what he has become.  But the rest of the movie leads us to enjoy and even admire the cleverness of Jay's rude and vulgar speech, and the camera itself lingers on the women in a way that reinforces sexual stereotypes and keeps us focused on women as sex objects. 

Please do not misunderstand.  This is not hate mail.  I am not one of those bad guys in the movie that uses the Internet to anonymously slander you. As I said, I am an admirer of your work. I just think this work is misdirected and irresponsible, and I am asking you an honest question: Why did you need to bring this movie to a large audience?  There are other artists out there who long to have the resources and the opportunity to share something meaningful with the world.  Is this how you want to use the privilege and opportunity...producing slightly satirical, sophomoric comedies?  If you have to make the movie to "vent" some frustrations or just to have some fun, sure, make the movie for you and those you know can handle it. But don't hand it over to an audience that probably isn't able to read the instructions.  Don't hand this satiric rifle to a kid who doesn't know what a gun is for.  The Scriptures do indeed say that "all things are lawful" for those who love God, but it also cautions us that not all things are profitable.  You say Jay and Silent Bob make sick jokes at their own expense, but you know as well as I do that kids eat this stuff up, think it's cool, and go out and imitate it.  Please, at least make some kind of statement that cautions parents about the need for discernment with this film.

I would encourage you, out of gratefulness for your enviable position and platform in the public eye, and out of respect for the power of the tools God has given you, to make something that is excellent next time.  There are a thousand comedians who can provoke us to easy, locker-room laughs, but you...you've got a gift for so much more.  Like the Force of your beloved Star Wars, you can use your freedom and your talents to lead us on to something good, or merely be a self-interested exhibitionist. Until this movie, I would have said you've been aspiring to be quite a Jedi.  This time, though, I feel a strange disturbance in the Force. 

Perhaps I am merely missing the point. I would love to hear your thoughts on what has troubled me about your latest film. I'm at joverstreet@gmail.com.

Eager to see what you do next,

Jeffrey Overstreet

Jesus’ Son
Looking Closer rating: C
(Click here for an explanation of ratings.)

FH is a really nice guy who smiles a lot. And he can't say "no" to drugs.

Set in the early 70's, Alison Maclean's "Jesus' Son", based on a book by Denis Johnson, is a long, meandering journey alongside this drug-troubled young man as he drifts smiling into the lives of other junkies, drunkards and lost souls, befriends them, and then moves on, smiling, as they all plunge to their inevitable fates.

He is afflicted, at least in his own eyes, by a curse that dooms everything and everyone he touches. In one funny and disturbing episode, he and his friend run over a rabbit on the road, and FH rescues the pink, hairless, vulnerable babies from the mother's broken carcass, only to have them suffer a worse fate later on. "FH" is an abbreviation for a derogatory nickname he has earned for his curse, which, unfortunately, his friends use against him frequently and violently when he messes things up.

Throughout the film, we want FH to work things out, to be free of his curse. We also want to see him escape the downward spiral of his drug habit. The two things exist apart from each other; his bad luck follows him no matter where he is with his habit, and he indulges in drugs even when things seem to be going his way. Perhaps the drugs started as a reaction to his fears, but this is not explored in the story. It would have been an interesting thing to explore.

In fact, I was frustrated throughout the film because it refused to explore much of anything. It just gave us this lackadaisical tour through aimless lives. Dennis Leary plays Wayne, an alcoholic who is selling his belongings just for the chance to "go to bed drunk tonight". Like the other characters, he has strange unexplained pieces of his life that are initially arresting, but ultimately don't enrich the story at all. Like the moment we see a naked woman parasailing over the town and discover she is Wayne's ex-wife. Why is she naked and parasailing? Or is she just a drug hallucination? It's a memorable moment, but the episode is held up as a curiosity and nothing more. Soon, the drunkard is a piece of FH's history, and we're on to the next strange environment, the next group of junkies.

The movie seems more interested in showing us the hero's chaos, nightmares, and failures than it is interested in what's wrong, what he might need, or what wisdom and responsibility are like once he learns to pursue them. We see the possibility for hope, for healing, throughout the film, especially when FH considers the simple routines of a Mennonite couple. But, as in all the other episodes, we come to find out they are unhappy and desperate too. While the movie seems to strike a tone of optimism, these chapters do little to give us much hope.

Billy Crudup is pleasant company throughout, playing FH's disarmingly cheerful ignorance that never quite goes over-the-top, whereas many actors would have milked every scene for its pathos or its darkness. Samantha Morton gives a memorable, sad performance as his on-again/off-again girlfriend Michelle, careening between drug lows and romance highs. There are good turns as well from Jack Black, Dennis Hopper, and Holly Hunter.

The cinematography is leisurely and generous with its scenery. Only a couple of times does the film give in to the temptation of showing us the characters' hallucination, a move that more often than not glorifies drugs rather than scaring anyone off. Fortunately, there's also a good deal of honesty about the dark side of drugs as well, so I doubt anybody will be influenced to run out and try to be like FH.

But when all is said and done, and the film finds a note of bittersweet conclusion, I wonder why the movie needed to go on so long, why all these colorful threads remained so loose when they might have woven into an interesting story. That's what's missing... story.

Terry Gilliams' Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas made its drug-abuse story a larger exploration of the political climate of its time. Trainspotting challenged us to see how a culture alienates and disenfranchises its youth, making drugs such an appealing escape, while at the same time depicting its terrible consequences. Jesus' Son is a series of episodes that become almost as trivial and temporarily amusing as Saturday Night Live sketches, except that it's hard to know whether to laugh at the absurdity of the developments or to grimace at the recklessness and illness that has brought them about.

Roger Ebert argues in defense of Jesus' Son, saying that junkies live episodic lives, devoid of coherent arc and flow. Perhaps that's how a junkie experiences life, but that doesn't mean the audience can't be given a larger perspective that makes this viewing a fruitful one. I want to know that the artist is exploring a theme, not just rambling on about highs and lows. I don't think that means we need to watch movies that are devoid of coherent arc and flow.

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

PARENTAL NOTE: Caution. "JFK" is rated R for violence, repeated playback of the graphic assassination footage, language, and Joe Pesci’s spooky hairpiece.

Is the film honorable?
People will argue forever about the accuracy of historical detail in this film. They will also bicker about the merits of the work of Oliver Stone. The attacks resemble the attacks brought on Martin Scorcese for The Last Temptation of Christ, and the general misunderstanding in the minds of protesters is the same. They perceive the film is meant to be a historical testament.

It is not. It is a work of art, one man's exploration of events, themes, personal speculation, some of his own opinions, and his questions. And even if Stone is quick to tell you he believes his theories (whereas Scorsese will always affirm that his film is a fiction), the purpose is still to encourage us to question, to understand for ourselves, and not allow ourselves to be spoon-fed what the government wants us to swallow.

This is one person’s exploration of the problem of a government that can conceal the truth, if it wants to. Whether or not it actually did in the case of J.F.K. is an important question for our nation, but not the final judgment on whether or not this film achieves its goals.

All of the expert supporting actors (and there are so many!) give memorable performances, especially Donald Sutherland, Gary Oldman, Kevin Bacon, Tommy Lee Jones, Joe Pesci, and Joe Pesci’s hairpiece (Watch it move all over his head!) The cinematography is a skillful mix of styles, effectively taking us backward and forward through time to piece together the mystery.

In my opinion, Stone’s made great movies, good movies, and a couple of stinkers. As for the debate over his historical accuracy, I think much needs to be made of the intentions of the filmmakers. Stone wants to share his opinion, and I’m sure it’s not wise to just swallow everything he says without some serious research. But more importantly, we need to listen to why exactly he made this film. Is it to spread a scandal? Or does he want to challenge us to be thinking citizens?

There may or may not be holes in his history book, but the lessons we can learn are profound either way. Like Shakespeare’s plays based on historical event, this is a powerful story, and should be treated as such.

From this film, we are shown that a nation that refuses to hold authority accountable will fall victim to the corrupting nature of power. Governments are made of human beings after all, and all human beings are vulnerable to the Enemy’s seductions. Even if only 10% of Stone’s facts are true, that 10% should be enough to send shivers up every American spine.

JFK holds up Jim Garrison, played with passion by Kevin Costner, as the hero of responsible citizenship trapped in a labyrinth built and ruled by a corrupt government. In a sense, JFK is the political equivalent of another Costner suspense classic — No Way Out. With Hitchkockian suspense, our hero finds he is surrounded, and there is no authority to which he can appeal, save that of the public themselves. You will be persuaded, if not to believe