Reviews

"OK, Pa, I will."

And he did. The rich visuals, intriguing plot, haunting soundtrack, European setting, and convincing characters add up to just that: a terrific movie. Yes, it's rife with absurdities, speculations and falsehoods, but they simply can't ruin the experience. Critics who won't allow fiction to be fictional will always be disappointed.

I'd bet that if he could, Andy would say: "You done good, boy! You done good."

You've heard of "suspension of disbelief;" now meet "suspension of plot." Wasn't Mothra supposed to declare war on mankind if Godzilla's bones (bones used in the construction of MechaGodzilla) weren't returned to the sea? Ah, forget that; it was only the purpose of Mothra making a personal appearance in the opening scenes and issuing that dire warning via the fairies. But, hey, who's going to remember that for more than a few minutes?

So, Mothra defends Tokyo, even as Mecha-G (full of G-bones) slugs it it out with the owner (or heir) of those bones in the streets. (If only the Army had used just one more tank, there's a chance that it could have defeated Godzilla, given the effectiveness of the other tanks. But, that's the military for you.) With a bit of larval assistance, Mecha-G flies off with Godzilla and deposits the poor (and apparently bone-challenged) guy back in the harbor.

See this movie: it really is a lot of fun. Just be sure to forget the plot (like the director did) and merely enjoy the wonders of Godzilla.

What a very cool idea for a movie: blending the physical with the metaphysical, science with faith! That's the intriguing basis of this film, and it is done well in so many ways.

What it could have been called, however, is "See...Screwed Again!" because of the ubiquity of scenes of Jodie Foster, the most stridently sincere and undervalued person on Earth, getting cigarettes put out on her forehead at cocktail parties, or having someone stuffing a sock in her mouth at a meeting. ("They're doing these things just because I'm a girl!" is written all over her face.) OK, that cigarette thing and all didn't really happen, but they virtually did: Jodie gets jazzed about S.E.T.I., so what occurs? She's pulled from the project. Her conveyed reaction: "See...screwed again!" When the funds for the antennas in South America dry up, JF's take: "See...screwed again!" She gets turned down for money by the bigwigs: "See..screwed again!" Her semi-priest boyfriend nixes her chance to go on the mystery trip: Take it, Jodie: "See...screwed again!" Right, right, right...she doesn't say those words, BUT that is the perpetual demeanor of this character! After a while you feel wrung out by virtue of witnessing all the injustice foisted upon her...just because she's a girl!

"Contact" is very engaging and heart-warming, provided you ignore the draining anxiety of Jodie. It would have received an 8 but for her. If she reads this, no doubt, even her neighbors will be able to hear: "See...screwed again!"

Mr. Bertino, you had me absolutely spellbound with "The Monster" in all its aspects, that is, until you showed the monster. Didn't 1963's "The Haunting" teach you anything? It's not what's seen; it's what you're afraid you'll see. The audience's imagination was creating something much more frightening than the typical Hollywood werewolf-like thing you used. (Points for not caving in to CGI...but not many.)

And here's something else: Why not make the monster a metaphor for the mother's addiction? (You certainly developed THAT aspect of her!) And the entire forest episode, a figment of daughter Lizzy's imagination? Lizzy's mother's self-sacrifice, the love that Lizzy yearned for? Lizzy's facing the horror, the inner strength that she's had to call on as a child forced to parent a parent? Why couldn't you do something along those lines? You obviously have the talent. What a powerful film THAT would have been.

Instead, you filmed a high school kid's urban legend. And you were doing so well....

Pay homage to a masterpiece, but do so very well.

Hitchcock notoriously flaunted incredulity with his plots, didn't care how implausible the story was. He got away with it because he used cinema as an instrument for emotionally impacting the audience.

APM, on the other hand, strives for credulity to obtain audience involvement. It tries hard to eliminate all plot holes but then leaves a gaping one: A spacious luxury apartment with only a kitchen telephone--no extension phones, no cell phone--just that lonely wall phone. The writer took liberties with all other aspects of this Dial M For Murder makeover, so why the strict adherence to replication of Grace Kelly's late-night phone-answering attack? In 1954, most homes had one phone but not so in 1998.

Also, director Levinson asks (and gets) the audience to sympathize with the unfaithful Gwyneth Paltrow for much of the film, just as Hitchcock was able to have the audience side with the adulterous Grace Kelly in DMFM. Hitchcock managed to carry Kelly's vulnerability throughout; however, Levinson presents a Paltrow at the end who's cunning and perfectly capable of murdering her would-be murderous husband. Vulnerability was the one saving grace left to the wayward Paltrow. Without it, she became the equal of Viggo Mortensen and Michael Douglas, two morally bankrupt characters. (And Paltrow screaming at Douglas hardly enhanced her likability.) If the viewer was to grant Paltrow forgiveness, they needed to see her as deserving.

This film succeeded in casting and camera work. It's a shame that the director couldn't have paid closer attention to plausibility. Hitchcock didn't have to, but all others must.

Haunted mansions persist as mainstays of ghost stories to this day, as they should. They exude shadowy atmosphere and hold such promise of fright--only, however, when handled with subtlety. The Changeling, unfortunately, delivers an in-your-face presentation of a haunted house.

The mansion works visually, but Director Medak doesn't tease the audience. For example, Scott composes at the grand piano and discovers a broken key. He subsequently leaves the the room, and the camera slowly zooms in on the keyboard where the "broken" key suddenly plays, assisted by a phantom's hand (as so predicted by the lens' focus). Had the camera panned away from the piano, and--just before the change of scene--there floated the faintest possibility of that key mysteriously delivering a note, the viewer would have wondered: "Did I just hear that or not?" That ambiguity would have instilled a sense of disquiet, exactly what a well-made horror film should do.

Other missed fright opportunities abound. A wheelchair careens after Van Devere, ostensibly to drive home the proof of a spirit. Really? Wheelchairs have built-in negative connotations, but their ability to accelerate frantically hardly qualifies as one of them. Why couldn't the chair simply have moved a few feet from its last observed location, or perhaps have changed directional orientation toward the music box? At another time, the last fond memory of Scott's deceased daughter, a rubber ball (A rubber ball? Most young girls have favorite dolls or stuffed animals, don't they?) bounces down the staircase of its own accord. Scott takes this treasured memento, drives to a bridge, and throws it into the river, tired of the damn thing bouncing around the house and obviously disregarding its sentimental value. Low and behold, the screwy ball comes bouncing down again. Scary? No. A clumsy attempt at scariness? Yes.

The list of squandered opportunities goes on and on, but the loss falls short of totality. The genuinely haunting voice of disembodied Joseph remains as the one truly eerie element of this film. The rest of The Changeling simply fails to deliver.

Sad but true, the master had lost his touch with MARNIE. And that sentiment comes from a Hitchcock fan.

MARNIE doesn't even try hard to delve into pure cinema (with neurosis as its MacGuffin); the director simply "phoned it in." Hitchcock's call included directions for mixing the following ingredients: Mysterious blonde? Tippi. Charming leading man? Connery. Plot? Boy meets girl; boy loses girl to mental dysfunction; boy finds girl via amateur psychiatry. Cinema stuff: Make the screen awash in red to signify alarm. Move the lens in and out to highlight an object, e.g., money, to give the viewer a dizzying thrill (which proved more annoying than anything). For suspense, follow Marnie stealthily walking away from an unsuspecting washerwoman with one of her shoes inching its way out of her pocket.

No, Alfred gets an F for this one. He'd become the directorial shadow of himself, ironically, having foretold that eventuality with his hallmark profile that opened of his TV series. MARNIE is blarney.

Does the film draw and hold the viewer's attention?

Granted, many of the criticisms have merit, and the fact that Pitt panned "The Devil's Own" before its release gives even more weight to them. Does plot integrity exist? No, the teller of the tale seems to have easily diverted to a "Serpico"-like subplot to justify one-too-many leading men. The film forces the audience to either keep its eyes open to avoid plot holes (and thus become cynics), or to close them and pretend that those holes really aren't that big (thereby suspending disbelief). Maybe too many Irish clichés? Yes, the "wearin' o' the green" theme never abates. Does plausibility take a backseat to expediency? Yes, in both plot and action.

Still, it held together as a drama. You root for the good guys and hiss at the villains. Pitt's ability to affect the audience speaks to his acting ability. Harrison Ford comes across as, well, Harrison Ford, but then he's not the true protagonist. Still, his presence gives gravity to the moral dilemma of "to rat, or not to rat."

So, in answer to the original question, the answer is yes.

Sunset Blvd. had to have influenced the Eagles classic hit, Hotel California. Parallels exist throughout, including the enchantment.

Consider:

1) A man compelled to stop for the night, as did Joe Gillis, whose face showed his puzzlement and hesitation upon viewing Norma Desmond's estate on Sunset Blvd: "This could be Heaven, or this could be Hell."

2) "Then she lit up a candle..." Norma lit many.

3) "Her mind is Tiffany-twisted," as was Norma's, and, "she got the Mercedes-Benz." Only in Norma's case, the Isotta-Fraschini.

4) "She's got lots of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends." Norma had gone through three husbands and lured Joe into an intimate friendship.

5) "How they danced in the courtyard..." Joe and Norma danced in the great room.

6) "Some danced to remember" (as did Norma); "some danced to forget" (as did Joe).

7) "So I called up the captain, 'Please bring me my wine.'" Max Von Mayerling served as butler/wine captain.

8) "Pink champagne on ice." Lots of champagne consumed in the film.

9) "We are all just prisoners here of our own device." That's the theme of the movie! Every character is trapped in his and her own way.

10) "Last thing I remember, I was running for the door." Joe did also to "find the passage back to place I (he) was before."

11) Finally, "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave." Precisely the fate of Joe.

If this fine film didn't inspire other artists, I'd be very surprised. It adroitly captured the mood and seductiveness of Hollywood and California of the early '50s.

A disquieting plot and convincing performances (by most characters) elevate "The Manchurian Candidate" to classic status; however, much like a Hitchcock film, when put to the credibility test, it leaves the viewer scratching his head.

For example, the idea of bashing a patrol of soldiers on their heads with rifle butts, rendering them unconscious but somehow unharmed, can only happen in Hollywood.

And just ignore the Sinatra/Leigh affair because nobody (including the writer, most likely) understands it. It exists because, well, because, if it didn't, it wouldn't exist. Case closed.

Then what about the drop-dead gorgeous Josie character instantly falling in love with the insecure, troubled, and tongue-tied Raymond? Happens all the time, right?

But forget those warts because the movie actually works in spades (diamonds?): the fight scene; Raymond's heart-wrenching assassination of Senator Jordan and his beloved, Josie; Raymond jumping in the lake; the political manipulation; (Heinz) 57 communists in the government; and the tragic finale. The Cold War defined the '50s and '60s, and to appreciate this film, the viewer need only allow that premise to enjoy "The Manuchurian Candidate."

This treasure nearly derailed at its finale. The confrontation of Miss Brodie with her former pupil, Sandy, equals the thrill of the sword fight between Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham in the original "Robin Hood"--up to a point (no pun). Had Robin somehow clocked the sheriff on the head with a frying pan at the end, it would have rivaled the break in continuity that Jean made when she rushed out to yell, "Assassin! Assassin!" to the departing Sandy. It didn't fit Jean's character. Add in the echo chamber effect, and the scene really annoys.

That said, the acting and writing more than compensate for that one stumble. Maggie Smith mesmerizes not only the heads on the young shoulders in her classroom but those on all shoulders in the audience. The dialog crackles with wit and poignancy, such that you don't want to miss a word.

It rates a 10. This may be some of the best time in front of the TV that you'll spend, as long as your appreciate the creme d' la creme of cinematic drama.