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 THE ENGLISH PATIENT. Against all probability, Canadian
novelist Michael Ondaantje's award-winning novel translates into
an impressive, sepia-toned love story of epic proportions (that
is, it clocks in at 162 minutes). Filmed on location in Italy
and North Africa, the screenplay sidesteps the magical realist
bent of the novel in favor of an historic drama spanning the conquest
of North Africa by the Brits and the horrors of war-torn Italy
in 1945. Ralph Fiennes stars as the title character, with strong
support from Kristin Scott Thomas (the object of his obsession)
and Juliet Binoche (his nurse after the accident which leaves
him, and his amazing story, charred and dying). Visually stunning
and, at times, painfully moving, The English Patient paradoxically
forges a new, invented story that nonetheless remains true to
the original novel. --Wadsworth
EVERYONE SAYS I LOVE YOU. This is it, folks. The long-awaited
Woody Allen musical. By long-awaited, we mean only that it seemed
to open everywhere between here and Hoboken before reaching our
humble, B-market burg. Clearly, the world would be a better place
without anymore Woody Allen musical cinema extravaganzas. Allen,
predictably, stars as a neurotic, love-troubled divorcé;
and Goldie Hawn (Allen's ex-wife) and Alan Alda (we'll call him
Allen's husband-in-law) fill in as the parents of the upper-crust
Jewish family at the heart of the action. Devining a plot summary
encompassing all the twisted relationships, cheesy special effects
and Broadway tunes escapes me: Weird stuff happens, and then the
characters begin to sing and dance. Some laughed uproariously,
others writhed in discomfort. That's Woody Allen for ya. --Wadsworth
EVITA. It is not a musical, okay? It's an opera. It's an
opera about a Fascist dictator of Argentina and his influential,
wildly popular wife, Eva Perón. Madonna is quite charming
as Eva, singing and dancing her way through pretty much every
single scene of this movie with her doe-colored contacts and perpetual
costume changes. The first half has the best numbers, but after
about an hour everything loses steam. Madonna has long since gone
blond, all of the best songs have been sung, and for the last
hour we're treated to reprise after reprise. The adaptation from
stage to screen seems to have gone a little less smoothly than
we would have hoped, too. The film falls prey to visual repetition
as well: In scene after scene, we see mobs of angry Argentineans,
or happy Argentineans, take to the street, carrying placards.
Over and over and over. Placard after placard. --Richter
FIERCE CREATURES. John Cleese and Michael Palin, refugees
from the Monty Python comedy troupe, try to reprise the success
of A Fish Called Wanda with mediocre results. Boob displays,
bedroom farces and jokes that are visible from miles away dominate
this fanciful plot about a zoo that must become profitable or
be closed. Too much of this movie seems to have been transported
from old Benny Hill re-runs--Jamie Lee Curtis does nothing but
stand around, looking stacked, while Kevin Kline seems to be in
another movie, one where everyone yells. The animals are cute
and there are some funny moments, but we expect more from the
people who once brought us the Confuse-a-Cat sketch. --Richter
GRIDLOCK'D. Actor Vondie Curtis-Hall directs an action/art
film hybrid about a pair of junkies desperately trying to score
drugs and get into rehab. The late Tupac Shakur is probably
the main draw for this film. He does a decent job playing Spoon,
a smooth, likable drug addict, but this film is a lost cause from
the start. Curtis-Hall can't decide if he wants to make an action
flick, complete with car chases and shoot outs, or an art film
that mocks the Kafka-esque workings of the bureaucratic welfare
system. He ends up combining the two in a schizophrenic, uneven
effort that left one viewer commenting: "That was weird."
--Richter
MOTHER. Albert Brook's latest film about a second-rate
writer suffering a midlife crisis leaves the impression of being...well...sadly
autobiographical. Following his second divorce, John (Brooks)
leaves L.A. to move back in with his hypercritical mother in order
to figure out why his relationships with women always end in disaster.
Equal parts amusing and excruciating to watch, this self-indulgent
sojourn in suburbia is certainly no Defending Your Life.
Although he strikes certain aspects of the mother-child relationship
with hilarious accuracy, the movie's attempts to take itself seriously
invariably end with dramatic scenes that are at best sophomoric
and at worst--like the last 10 minutes--flat-out embarrassing.
Debbie Reynolds is wonderful as Mother; but brothers Brooks and
Rob Morrow, and their annoying characters, should seek professional
help. Mother is an odd movie. My companion summed it up
best: You'll spend the better part of two hours laughing, then
leave the theater saying, "That sucked." --Wadsworth
THE PEOPLE VS. LARRY FLYNT. Milos Forman brings the infamous
publisher of Hustler magazine to the big screen in this
stylish, revisionist look at the life and times of the famously
offensive man. Woody Harrelson makes an impish, likable Flynt,
blending backwoods crudeness and little-boy charm with a crusader's
lust for adult entertainment; and Courtney Love is even better
as his overdressed, junkie wife. Together they take on Jerry Falwell,
the Supreme Court, and the good taste of millions of Americans
in this very funny, entertaining movie. --Richter
SHINE. A wonderful, uplifting movie about a child prodigy
who is damaged, then saved, by his art. Based on the true life
of pianist David Helfgott, Shine weaves together scenes
from his extremely lousy childhood and his very eccentric adulthood.
Geoffrey Rush is terrific as Helfgott, a man who's a mass of neurotic
habits and annoying tics, but who can create beautiful music as
well. Occasionally director Scott Hicks is a little too
direct in his method--you can see certain events coming miles
off, and he occasionally veers into the forbidden realm of sentimentality--but
on the whole Shine is visually unusual and fresh. --Richter
TURBULENCE. This movie does for scheming-serial-killer-on-airplane
flicks what Jaws IV did for scheming-shark-in-the-Bahamas
flicks, with at least as much panache. A tiresome Ray Liotta and
Lauren Holly showpiece, it gives its audience about a smidgen
more than they might have expected: glitzy special effects, perky
Holly in her skimpy airline-regulation negligée, suave
and cunning Liotta throwing out feeble one-liners, and many, many
plot holes. (For example, the flight is for about a dozen people,
yet the airline utilizes a 747; at a loss of, say, about
600 seats, it's no wonder so many of them are filing for Chapter
11). There are many wincing moments during the course of the
film, including Liotta's touching explanation of his craft: "First
I started with squirrels and birds, then I moved on to cats and
women." If you remain unsated after Turbulence, you
still have the soon-to-be-released Con Air to look forward
to. We lead a charmed life. --Marchant
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