Greedorr

I almost let "Ronin" pass me by. It was nearly out of theatres by the time I saw it. I like De Niro. I wanted to like it. But this movie, despite a strong cast, and an excellent car chase, is pure silliness and poor plotting. At first it seemed appealingly like "Reservoir Dogs" elevated to a theatre of international mercenarism. But it ended like Van Damme's "Maximum Impact." Significant characters disappear without a whisper, the score is overbearing, DeNiro and Reno cast meaningful (almost homoerotic) glances at each other, doublecrosses are affected without a measure of intent, romantic longings rear their heads only at convenient moments, passersby casually react (and die) in public gunfights, and the long scene in which an old French man redundantly tries to make sense of the movie's title is purely dispensable. The end is drippily sentimental. It starts like "Reservoir Dogs" and ends like "A League of Their Own." Worst of all, DeNiro, while solid, seems uneasily crammed into a part which seems to have been written for Bruce Willis. Imagine DeNiro in "Die Hard With a Vengeance." Not worth the (raised) price of admission.

This is a masterpiece. Sondhiem and Patinkin: American theatre's greatest talents in their fields, join forces in a show of tremendous complexity and humanity. For the uninitiated this can be a hard one to warm up to; but stick with it. It's a play about how disjointed pieces of life and art, some of which are individually unappealing, can come together with such beauty, if the eye arranges them in a certain way. Patinkin is, as usual, amazing, Peters is heartbreaking, and Sondheim's score and lyrics take musical theatre to a new level. "Finishing the Hat" is the best marriage of song and singer in the history of the stage. What a wonderful meditation on art and life!

This is the most straight-forward film I've seen by the surrealist master Bunuel, and despite its cryptic turn in the final moments, is funny, chilling, and a bit nasty. The story follows an urbane chambermaid from Paris who comes to work at the country estate of a repressed bourgeosie family. She weathers passes from every man in sight and deflects them, but for morally ambiguous reasons. Moral ambiguity is rampant, as it is so often in Bunuel's films, and spread liberally amongst all classes. It's subtly a film about selling out, except that nobody seemed to have any principles to begin with. Good fun. Now tell me what the ending was all about.

Although Todd Browning starts out this sordid tale with an overly long placard about how circus freaks are people too, this infamous movie is really only notable for its exploitive, leering use of real circus freaks in many of the major roles. It's a simple, rather poorly acted, melodrama. And it's totally fascinating. See the German midget court a trapeze beauty! See the Pinheads dance and sing! See The Human Torso crawl through the mud with a knife in his mouth! See the Bearded Woman give birth! It's only an hour long, which is all the interest it can really muster, but has several chilling scenes tossed in amongst the tripe. A classic, of a sort.

I was lucky enough to see this beautiful movie on the big screen, in a gorgeous print, accompanied by the Oregon Symphony a few days before Halloween. It was a terrific experience, save for the lack of sophistication shown by the rest of the audience. They laughed -- LOUDLY -- at every bit of dated melodrama, which means they laughed a lot, and during moments I think are some top-rate filmmaking. Sure, it doesn't hold up in many respects to today's standards, but it was made almost 80 years ago. And it's still, I think, quite scary at times. Max Schreck is THE MOST FRIGHTENEING MOVIE GHOUL EVER (unfortunately he was meant to represent the Jewish plague destroying Germany at the time, but let's ignore this unflattering social context). The film's main drawback, however, is how its poor delineation between daytime and night-time clouds the resolution in confusion. With Murnau's "Sunrise," however, this is visually the best of the silent era. And the music was quite good.

Full disclosure: I was drinking beer when I watched this movie, so perhaps my defenses were weakened. I went to appease my girlfriend, whom I frequently drag to "guy movies." But I really, really liked this movie. It's Cinderella, as you know, but without the magic. In place of the fairy godmother, there's Leonardo DaVinci. Barrymore's heroine is the best role model for girls I think I've ever seen in a movie. She does things for herself. She saves the day. She finds true love through being smart. It's a bright, funny, realistic twist on the old story, and it's about time someone came up with it. If I were a 13 year old girl, I'd think this was the greatest movie ever made. I'm twice that age, and I'm a guy, and I still think it was pretty darn good.

It's hard to tell from watching "2010" if writer/director/producer Peter Hyams loved "2001" or really hated it. This sequel is a sort of low-brow answer to the 1968 classic; surprisingly, it's almost great despite that, until it stutters into an embarrassingly sentimental final five minutes worthy of James Cameron's worst moments. It's a beautifully designed film that tries to counter Kubrick's unnerving visual symmetry by keeping every shot just off balance. Its cast is truly terrific, with underrated Roy Scheider giving one of his very best performances. Its fault lies in its ending; perhaps all along it was fighting a losing battle by trying to make sense of Kubrick's mystery. Still, it's much better than the pure sap of "Contact." One would only wish that Hyams at least could have held Kubrick's same respect for the silence of space. This is a sequel, after all; the properties of space should stay consistent. Compelling, but ultimately fails to make contact. If HAL2000 had read the end of the script, maybe Hyams never would've made it to production.

A film of brilliant moments, if not the masterpiece it's often called. The moments that work, work like the score: brash, haunting, and jazzy. Too bad the first half-hour (tense, masterful opening shot aside) is filled mostly with talky exposition, the bizarre character antics of Janet Leigh, and Charlton Heston in one of his very worst performances. On the flip side, the last half-hour is one of the most chilling ever filmed. A classic of seediness, but still a cry short of Sam Fuller's "The Naked Kiss."

It's obvious watching Luna that Bernard Bertolucci has a visual gift. The movie's opening scenes are lyrical and arresting. Unfortunately, what follows is a ridiculous story about an opera singer (Clayburg) who tries to hold onto her 14-year-old junkie son by trying to have sex with him. Despite touches of humor and candor (like the scene where Clayburg visits her son's Muslim dealer), the overall effect made me sad for the actors, who took a great risk, I think, in agreeing to appear in this. By the time I reached the sappy, "magical" operatic finale, my finger was firmly pressed against the Fast-Forward button.