Reviews

Was I the only person who thought the best things in this film were Samantha Mumba's breasts? What does this say about the film? For that matter, what does it say about Samantha Mumba, agreeing to wear what amounted to a transparent top without a bra beneath it? Shame on director Simon Wells for such tawdry exploitation but it would have been more tedious to sit through this movie had he had more moral integrity. Perhaps he knew his film was lacking in other areas! My goodness was I bored. I was almost falling asleep and thinking up all sorts of time machine jokes about racing to the end of the film! I seemed to have drifted into a time vortex, as 95 minutes warped into 300! This film is awful. In terms of its construction, it is so flawed that Simon Wells' experience as a storyteller must immediately come under scrutiny. What was all this nonsense of the fiancée dying? This whole fiasco could and should have been implied because it merely served to fill up the running time with an utterly predictable and clichéd reason for the invention; a reason that is neither plausible nor true to the book. People don't knock together time machines in their grief! When will directors making book adaptations learn to accept that the novelist is the better writer? This ‘first act' struck me as nothing more than a chance for the director to get some experience doing a period piece (and badly at that). Any fool should know that what the audience wants is the action, the meat of the story, and the longer the film takes to get them to this, the worse the film will be. We don't want to see the protagonist _going_ to the party; we want to come in at the point where the party is in full swing! Blimey, this is basic stuff folks! The special effects are cheap-looking, the time machine looks implausibly visually spectacular and shiny, there are mind-numbingly stupid things throughout like the remarkable chance that someone who speaks ancient English (and when I say ancient I really mean it!) just happens to be standing right next to our hero when he first arrives in the distant future. At this point we are given some crude expository dialogue explaining not only _this_ miracle but also that this linguist is the only person who speak the tongue yet at the end of the movie we see children speaking English and the hero telling them the story of his adventures! We have the admittedly well designed and fearsome morlocks inexplicably attacking with blow darts when they are obviously more than capable of overpowering their prey without them, notwithstanding that the darts themselves apparently had no effect. But to top the countless stupidities in the film, is the utterly incomprehensible plot. I have read the book and seen the original version of it, and seen numerous other time travel films and been an avid Dr. Who fan for years, but I failed to make neither head nor tail of this movie. I came to the IMDb to see if anyone else understood the plot but from the reviews I've read here it seems that other viewers were either too bored to bother trying to check the plot or so easily pleased that a consistent plot wasn't of any concern to them! Jeremy Irons role was utter rubbish; I see that some other ‘reviewers' have seen fit to sing his praises again like he is some sort of acting genius but the reality is that he has sunk to the role of old ‘has been' living on a reputation made decades ago, and taking pathetic token roles in dubious movies. It all played like the producers looked at the script, felt it needed a ‘name' to bolster it, went to the bargain basement for Jeremy (no disrespect intended - get yourself a new agent Mr. Irons) and then doctored the script to create a role for him with enough ‘gravitas' to get him to agree to be in it. On the plus side, there is competent cinematography and a nice location has been found for a tiny amount of shots to showcase this. Having said this, overall the movie feels like it was made indoors. There is some other competent work from the art department with the sets, costume (less impressive) and makeup/prosthetics. Best of all were the time lapse scenes generated on computer to show the changing landscape when the time machine hurtles into the future although obviously there was little of this.

So all in all, in was no wonder that I spent most of my time watching the beautiful Miss Mumba in that eye-popping costume of hers. So unless you are a movie scholar wanting to see fundamental errors in filmmaking or a salacious Mumba fan, save yourself some time (hehe) and money and give this a miss.

* out of *****

I feel compelled to add certain comments to those that have already been contributed here because it seems some people wonder why this film is considered so great. It has been said that the story is flimsy and time-worn, the acting wooden and the dialogue hokey. The 'Beauty and the Beast' storyline *is* time-worn, but this is only in terms of *contemporary films* that have gone over this ground so often since King Kong was released. Two reasons for this are firstly, that the theme of unrequited love is such a *classic* storyline that many people can identify with, and secondly, that King Kong itself, as a hugely popular film in its day (it single-handedly saved R.K.O. from bankruptcy during the height of the Great Depression), influenced the type of films that got made subsequently. To cite this as a criticism of King Kong is to judge the film without thought for its historical context; I remember the first time I saw the hitchhiking Claudette Colbert stop the truck by showing her leg in It Happened One Night and I groaned at this awful cliché. Then it occurred to me that this could well have been the first time this gag was ever used on screen, and that for me to criticize the movie for *seeming* clichéd fifty-odd years after it was first released, is grossly unfair. So it is with King Kong. Another thing that I think many modern movie-goers commonly overlook when critiquing King Kong, is that actors today are very conversant with the concept of acting/reacting 'to nothing', where the special visual effects will be added later, in post production. This was all very new in 1933; the special effects were practically revolutionary (as far as I know, only O'Brian's work in the little seen The Lost World had previously showcased the stop-motion animation technique in this way i.e. having 'realistic' monsters interacting with real characters - in fact, as I recall, The Lost World had no human characters in it at all). Furthermore, King Kong was never intended to be an 'actor's' film. It was made during the production line era of movie-making where films were made in weeks rather than the years that is typical today. It isn't uncommon to see fluffed lines or accidents in films made in this way and in this period - e.g. Groucho Marx getting hit on the head by a falling chair in the fracás towards the end of Duck Soup; as long as the shot served its purpose, it was considered in the can and the crew would hurry on to the next scene. Again, this is the result of the historical context in which the film was made, and to criticize King Kong for being made when it was, is nonsensical. The film is clearly a monster film and not a work of Shakespear; the actors are all expected to play second fiddle to the technical wizardry on show.

Now to the wonders of King Kong. The attention to detail in O'Brian's animation is tremendous and well documented. There is so much more to the majesty of King Kong than this though. One scene I particularly admire is Kong's cave, with its very subtle pool of bubbling mud and rising steam. There is a marvelous depth to the shots that was entirely artificial, created using 'layers' of glass paintings and real foreground foliage. The sound effects are not often mentioned but they deserve to be; Kong's roar and chest beating thump is forever etched in my mind. Also the screams - King Kong is a horror film and I think the screams and shrieks of Kong's victims are remarkably (and perhaps unusually) realistic. Finally, (and I have saved the best for last) is the absolutely peerless shot composition. When we first see Kong as he pushes the trees apart, is fantastic beyond words - in fact, I would say this film has more 'must see' shots than any other film ever e.g. the reverse shot of Fay Wray as she struggles to escape her bonds and the breathtaking shot of Kong driving open the mighty doors before the fleeing natives. Another is the terrific idea of having Kong leave Anne helpless in the tree (not only for safekeeping but to prevent her escape) and then positing the camera (and thus the audience) *behind* her so that we are enabled to fully realise the perilous nature of her predicament, but in a way that illustrates that no one is around to help her. The director avoided to use of the point-of-view shot, making the viewer feel not only fear for Anne, but also helplessness; had POV shots been used, the audience would 'only' feel fear for Anne *and themselves* as one; as if they too were in the tree. I think the shot of Kong falling backwards into this tree is thus particularly stunning because it makes me feel as if I am right behind Anne and thus in danger myself (from the falling tree). In fact, this particular fight is a high point of the entire film. The wrestling and boxing tactics that Kong employs, quickly, yet subtly, humanize him in a way that makes us want him to win, particularly since Anne's life now depends on his victory (this is a key factor in the emotive power of the film's climax). The manoeuvre where Kong grabs the rex's leg and then does a somersault over it, is awesome! Who could possibly have expected it? This *illusion* of spontaneity makes it all the more possible to suspend one's disbelief - something that is essential with fantasy films. The animation is so cleverly executed that I for one find it easy to forget that all the Kong shots were photographed one frame at a time. Who can forget the tree bridge scene? Notice the superb illusion of weight to that tree when Kong 'apehandles' it. Who can't help but feel for the poor sailors on that log; some make more valiant efforts to hang on than others, but all are doomed nonetheless. Then there is the wonderful moment when the restraining cuff breaks at Kong's wrist; to me, this is one of the defining moments of the horror of the whole film. Again, the real world audience is cleverly drawn into the action: we are just an extension of the audience that is actually in Kong's presence. When it becomes clear that Kong is going to break loose, we too feel like it is time to head for the exit! What this must have felt like to those who first saw King Kong in an actual theatre, I can hardly imagine! Another such moment is the expression of the train driver when he realises that he's *not* seeing things - and boy, does Kong do a job on that train carriage. Yet another utterly striking shot is when Kong pulls the 'not Anne' woman from the warmth of her bed, out into the cold night air, hundreds of feet above the lights and crowds below; examines her momentarily and then just discards her to fall to her death. This is, in my opinion, one of the most enduring horror moments of cinema; accompanied by a superbly realistic scream that melds into the sound of sirens in a way reminiscent of Hitchcock's sound bridges. Finally, we come to the tragic ending scene which is again, incredibly memorable. I think it is because we all understand so clearly what we have seen - a mighty beast, a king in his own world, facing a foe he cannot comprehend or ever defeat - man and his technology. This is the power of the expression that Willis O'Brian painstakingly imbued into what was actually nothing more than an 18" model. Through these means he communicated to the audience Kong's emotions in a way that no man in a monkey suit ever could; the simple curiosity, the anger, the frustration, the triumph and pride; so that at the end, when we see his pitiful confusion at his wounds and his own blood, drawn in a way incomprehensible to him, we cannot but feel for him. To me, this is one of the great wonders of cinema; that it can be used to induce people to feel, in a profound way, for mere puppets.

There is no question that King Kong is the grandaddy of monster films. One fun thing for movie fans to try to do is imagine being Steven Spielberg making Jurassic Park and deciding how best to introduce the T-rex, bearing in mind that the special effects are going to be seen in the same revolutionary light as King Kong's were in it's day, and that as a result, it will be compared to King Kong. Given the reference to it, it is certain that Spielberg was well aware of the special place that many people have in their hearts for this beloved movie.

Having heard about how disturbing this film was said to be, I was loath to pay to see it myself, since the best way to make a stand against gratuitous and/or gory films is to boycott them. I had, however, travelled to stay the weekend with a friend, and he really wanted to go. We both came out of the cinema wishing we hadn't bothered. The film is very flawed, with little of director Scott's talent on show except his willingness to take chances with shocking material. Having read the book, I can say that Hannibal is a very mundane and unimaginative adaptation. Neither Hannibal's nor Starling's characters are developed to any depth,leaving me wondering what the film was really all about. What has Clarice been up to during the last ten years? She appears to still be single - why? Surely this is intriguing? Why this huge self-sacrifice to her career? We are told that not a day passes when Lector doesn't cross her mind; so how has this affected her? In what ways has Lector's freedom manifested itself in her psyche? And what of Lector himself? We are given no insight into his personality or actions, either those of his past or those seen in the film. Clearly he is a man of brilliant intellect and extraordinary sensibility, yet we are given nothing of what he wants out of life, what he cares for, beyond superficial details like his love of fine foods and art. If this is meant to engender a sense of mystique to him, it is misguided since without any understanding of a character's motivations, an audience cannot hope to empathise with them. I was left feeling no involvement, watching a chain of events occur, and nothing more. What part had Clarice played in Lector's life over the ten years past? Had he grown to love her? Had he been following her career, following *her*? The details are scant indeed, coming along sporadically and even then only in the form of mere hints. The mystery of Hannibal had already been set up in The Silence of the Lambs - a sequel *demands* a payoff. There were such details in the book, such as what had made Lector the monster he is, Clarice Starling's life and 'loves' etc. but the screenplay simply omitted these.

I noticed a couple of technical flaws i.e. an unjustifiable jump cut and a shot that went out, and then back into, focus, which are, frankly, unforgivable in major studio productions; given that this is a film that will inevitably get nominated for Academy Awards, such faults mustn't be glossed over. Finally, and most importantly, I must comment on the justifiably controversial aspect of this film, its graphic horror. I knew what was in store, yet I was still deeply disturbed at actually seeing the brain-eating scene. I felt I *ought* to walk out on it, not because I couldn't stomach it (though some may not be so hardened) but because *it seemed wrong* to be sat watching such images. The power of film is unquestionable - think advertising, think wartime properganda - so it would be insane to ignore the possible effects of everyday people sitting down to such images as graphic as those in Hannibal, in the name of entertainment. *This scene was unjustified in the book*, but *no one's* imagination is good enough to deliver the impact that actually witnessing something, with one's own eyes, can. I contend that *in a book*, such horrors, while having some power, are generally harmless, but to enable such things to be *seen* can actually endanger society. I am not saying that seeing horror films can make a person kill (though even that can be persuasively argued) but I *am* saying that society will grow increasingly desensitized, which will make us increasing less able to empathise with the suffering of others *in the real world*. Moreover, children *will* get to see Hannibal on video - don't be under any illusions about this. With the murder of poor Jamie Bulger, *by children*, so much in our minds again recently, isn't it time society made a stand of some kind against such films getting made, if they are certain to get seen by children once they are released onto video? Another point is that of where horror films are heading? Alien was shocking in '79, Starship Troopers in '97(?) - rated 15 in the U.K.- with its casual decapitations and limb-rending, already old hat, and now the slicing, frying and eating of a living man's brain? To conclude, I would say that Hannibal is a very poor adaptation of an enjoyable, quite clever, horror story; there are several plot holes (how did Starling free herself from the fridge, how did she fix the telephone, et al) and some technical flaws. Characterisations are wafer thin, the style and art direction, score, and even the acting are no more than competant; the final horror scene is gross, utterly gratuitous and morally reprehensible. I would seriously urge everyone to do themselves a favour and go see something else. If you do, you may also be doing the *decent* thing.

I have just watched this film for the second time, this time on TV (unfortunately I paid to see it at the cinema originally). Firstly, many reviewers here have criticized Spielberg for not remaining faithful to Crighton's book. The reason for this is because Spielberg knows that movies *aren't* books; books adapted to the screen must be done so with an understanding that *movies* are about movement and colour and sound and many things that a book isn't and can never be. To reproduce a book exactly as a film would usually be impossible simply for reasons of film running time alone. To remain faithful to a book is always extremely difficult with the *best* of adaptations (*and* the best of books). Since Crighton's Lost World was not a classic literary work to start with, I think Spielberg was perfectly entitled to have changed it in any way he felt necessary. I say this merely to enlighten anyone out there who reads a book and then goes to see a film adaptation of it, and not because I want to excuse Spielberg. One must try to understand the differences between the two mediums and not set themselves up for a big fall by expecting the film to remain exactly faithful to the work it is 'based' on. However inaccurate to the book it was based on, The Lost World is shockingly sub-Spielberg. It is a good film if we are to compare it to average Hollywood fare but by Spielberg's own high standards this is awful. In the run up to its release, I had given a great deal of thought to how I would make this film (had I the chance) and I had envisioned so much more than was actually delivered. For example, I felt sure we would get to see a dinosaur fight (which was staple fare in the dinosaur films I grew up watching), but one that would be so much better for the amazing reality of the new effects that were available; the classic triceratops versus T-Rex rumble! Sadly, there was very little such fun to this film. It felt like what it was; a trite, contrived, cash-in on the success of the original, right down to including the original's name in the title (in case anyone was in any doubt about what it was they had gone to see). As has been said in other reviews here, the links to the first film were almost entirely pointless, especially showing Lex and Tim for ten seconds. Then there is the cover-up exposition to get around the fact that Laura Dern and Co. had had the wisdom to steer clear of any sequel, and the introduction of a totally unnecessary daughter for Ian Malcolm. His relationship with his daughter was a cliche, as was Julianne Moore's 'strong ', 'independent', modern woman. The clumsy plants in the early dialogue about the 'lucky backpack' or revealing that Malcolm's daughter is a gymnast, were examples of 'screenwriting by numbers'. There was so much in this film that went way beyond my ability to suspend disbelief e.g. the scene with Ian, Sarah and Kelly running around evading the raptors. These are dinosaurs that can run in excess of 60 m.p.h.! In the first film (and earlier in this one) we saw the raptors leaping great distances, and killing with deadly swiftness and efficiency. In this scene however they become all 'stalky' and decide to walk around. We are even treated to one scene where Sarah races to dig under a cabin wall before a raptor can do the same to get to her and Kelly; what a joke! The raptor has a huge six inch ripping claw, those powerful legs, etc. versus her fingernails!? A Jack Russel dog would have out-dug her, let alone a veloceraptor! Why didn't Ian berate Sarah after all he had predicted, had come to pass? It might not be something the audience would have wanted to hear (debatable) but realistically he would definitely have given her a piece of his mind! People *died* because she and 'Mr Green' brought the baby T-Rex into the truck. What mindless stupidity! I immediately thought that Malcolm should quickly put a bullet in the baby's head (because to try to argue them into taking it back outside and leaving it would take too long). He would have blown his top (even more so after what ensued)! Sure, they have a right to endanger themselves if they wish, but him and his daughter? The *transposition* (for this was all it amounted to) of the action from the island to San Diego was to be expected but wasted; too much movie time had already been spent *getting there* for there to be any time to do the scenario justice. We were 'treated to' the time-worn gag of the kid telling his parents about what he has seen; the dino ran around a bit, lots of people ran as well; they screamed, cars crashed, the dino returned to the boat. The T-Rex was an *animal*; it had no character, and until Ian brought the baby into the scene, no objective. All it could do was wonder about aimlessly. Thus, what should have been a thrilling build up to the climax, was simply mundane. No amount of technical wizardry can make up for lack of narrative drive and character involvement. I also shouldn't fail to mention the now infamous plot hole of the arrival of the boat that brought the beast to San Diego in the first place. What a shambles! Neither was there enough blood and horror to do the subject matter justice; this was meant to be a film about the most successful predators ever to have walked the Earth, terrorizing humans. Big Predators! Twenty feet high, forty feet long, *eight ton* predators! When the guy got stomped, he was trodden on *three times* and yet he looked to me as if he was still alive, let alone intact!

I think that if you are going to make a film with this subject matter, it *demands* blood and guts. A bit of blood in the river is simply not frightening enough; and the guy getting ripped in two had no blood whatsoever. Look at the fear-inducing power of the torture scene in Reservoir Dogs; we actually see very little blood in that but the fear was palpable. There was plenty of blood in Jaws. Why not in this?

I was so disappointed with this film that I recall thinking how hard it was to believe that Spielberg had actually directed it. Then I saw a documentary in which Spielberg said something that I thought was very revealing. The interviewer asked him if those he worked with were so much in awe of him that they felt unable to tell him whenever they disagreed with him creatively. Spielberg said 'no way' - lots of people would criticize him. The interviewer pressed him to reveal *who* exactly, and how they might do it. Spielberg at first seemed reluctant to answer, and then said that one woman (I forget who he said she was) had said 'I wouldn't want *my* children to see that'; Spielberg then seemed to bite his tongue as if he said something he shouldn't have. I think this is a clear sign that during the making of Lost World, he allowed others to influence him, when obviously he alone was the creative leader of the production team. As the man whose filmmaking acumen and instincts have made him the most successful director of all time, he should never have allowed himself to listen to some 'Mrs no-talent' and allow it to affect his judgement. Of course, he cannot blame such people; he *does* know better than to listen to comments from others less talented than himself, as his past successes prove.

It is only fair to mention that the dinosaur effects are sensational; but then we already knew they would be. However, the only improvements that *could* have been made to the original, sensational dinosaur effects, were very subtle ones, that made too little a difference for them to carry this otherwise weak film; besides which, special effects alone do not a movie make.

I certainly do not relish another film in this series. 'JP3' brings to my mind a cinema rule of thumb: few films with a sequel number in the title ever do any box office. Spielberg won't be directing it and it will inevitably be a botch up without even the quality of effects of The Lost World. Computer generated effects have already become so overused (and most often misused) that most cinema-goers are jaded to them. Only a top-notch director and a great, *original* story would have any chance of significant box office success with this storyline. Believe me, this is not going to happen.

Having read the other comments on this film, I feel it important to make some comments on the notorious ending, in particular, one that no one else has mentioned thus far. When I watched Birdy I was thrilled by the sheer audacity of the ending; yet while it is undoubtedly funny, it is quite possibly too clever for its own good. I laughed, but at the same time I at once felt suspicious about the motive of the director, as if the entire film had been revealed as nothing more than an elaborate overture to a punch-line. The reason the scene works as a joke is because we have grown to take the events of these characters' lives seriously. From a point of view that is in keeping with the dramatic tone *of the rest of the *entire* movie*, one can ask how the film might (indeed, one may say *should*) have ended. The answer is *obviously* not the ending we are given, since the joke works because of its surprise factor. Thus, I must question the wisdom of Parker's decision here, my mischievous delight at a chance for a great 'gag' notwithstanding. Should the integrity and sincerity of the careful artistry that had gone into the previous 119 minutes *really* be risked on a 'gag' in this way?

As one might say Beautiful Girls is only worth watching for Natalie Portman, one might equally say that Birdy is (largely)worth watching for the ending; and that is an indictment of the film.

Badly written with a weak narrative structure that leaves one wondering if anything is actually going to happen, this could have been a decent film to cuddle up to a loved one with. But I was positively *cringing* at some scenes, especially the sing-song bit in the bar, where everyone joined in as if it had been a tradition of theirs for years, with everyone knowing the words and everyone loving it oh so much; an awful piece of directing and acting (Mo going off key so obviously). This film was full of stupid things that no one would do or say and things that weren't said that would have been, etc. What woman wouldn't take offence if a friend told her she reminded her of Kathy Bates from Misery? Check out the dialogue of Willie's father following the dinner with Tracey. In places this film is unbearable. If I hadn't been waiting for the appearance of Annabeth Gish I might have turned off in disgust long before the end. But there are a few redeeming features; Michael Rapaport as Paul giving his reasons for not removing his pictures of models from his wall becomes almost poetic (we'll ignore the fact that this was totally out of character). He was carrying more than his fair share of this movie single-handedly, with Matt Dillon and Rosie O'Donnell sleepwalking through familiar territory, and the other supporting roles so numerous that they could only be thinly written. But this is undoubtedly Natalie Portman's film. She is a triumph, even if her character does stretch credibility to breaking point. The doomed romance is played so perfectly I fell for her myself, and the penultimate exchange between her character Marty, and Willie, moved me to tears. Although Portman's performance is so good I would go so far as to say one should watch it just for that, this isn't great filmmaking. A final sour note is that Beautiful Girls also has a distinctly unsavory, female-chauvanistic tone. Summary:Has redeeming features but not enough. Rating:Low Average, 4/10 (raised from 2 by Portman and Rapaport).

I was led to expect something really good from all the reviews I had read and heard and as a fan of Sigourney Weaver there was an added incentive for watching The Ice Storm. I wish I had remembered my experience of Alien Resurrection which also had rave reviews. I am reminded of Sturgeon's Law that 90% of everything is crap, which pertains so much to cinema (at least contemporary cinema). This film offered not one frame that was original. I was astounded that so lauded a movie could be so hackneyed - and so utterly dull. Sure, the characters were realistic and beautifully acted; but I don't want to pay to people-watch - I can stand around town and see more entertaining people. These lives were ORDINARY. They were ordinary, shallow, self-obsessed, self-opinionated everyday folks who interested me not one jot. Talk about a film that sagged in the middle - this one was on its belly from the beginning. It's a sad indictment that the only part that even remotely raised interest was Christina Ricci un-doing her jeans; and there was no pay-off then! Fabulous title; how clever! How ironic! NOT! Wasn't it beautifully filmed!? Perhaps (I say hesitantly), but to what end? If the viewer doesn't care for the characters, no amount of atmospheric cinematography is going to save the film. I was silently cheering that irritating weird kid that we were 'supposed to sympathise with' towards his oh so protracted and telegraphed demise. I knew that the sooner he was gone, I could go too. An obscenely pretentious, unoriginal waste of money. To think an average movie in America costs $40 million+ nowadays... yet I just wish I could get *my* money back.