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Rating: * Mediocre ** Reasonable
*** Very good **** Tremendous film
***** Compelling, outstanding, unmissable

Pauline en Paulette

Dora van der Groen .... Pauline
Ann Petersen .... Paulette
Rosemarie Bergmans .... Cecile
Julienne De Bruyn .... Martha
Camilia Blereau .... The Butcher's Wife
François Beukelaers .... Director of the Home
Nand Buyl .... Notary
Herman Coessens .... Butcher
Magda Cnudde .... Marie Jose
Jenny Tanghe .... Marcella
Jef Demedts .... Funeral Director
Michael Bauwens .... Stage Director
Christine Termonia .... Soprano
Koen Crucke .... Count
Bouli Lanners .... Taxi Driver

Also Known As:
Pauline & Paulette (2001) (France)
Pauline and Paulette (2000) (International: English title)

Rated PG for brief language.
Running time: 78
Country: Belgium / France / Netherlands

Language: Dutch

Pauline is a 'little girl' who happens to be 66 years old. Mentally retarded, she is being cared for by her sister Martha. When Martha dies, her two younger sisters, Paulette and Cecile have to make a decision on the best place for Pauline to be looked after, but neither of them is ready to take on the burden of responsibility.

Paulette has a shop to look after and Cecile, some distance away in Brussels, has her partner Albert. But according to Martha's last will, her fortune will only be divided in three equal parts if one of the sisters looks after Pauline. If they decide to take her to an institution, Pauline will be the only heir.

I never expected a great deal of this Belgian film although it had gained some reasonable success in its country of origin. I simply got what I thought I would get. "Pauline en Paulette" is not a bad movie, but it has its flaws. Primarily it doesn't provide any fresh material, being a mix of some of the better 'retard-movies' Hollywood has given us throughout the years: "Rain Man", "Awakenings" and "What's Eating Gilbert Grape". Especially the latter, with which this has some serious similarities. In both films, the retard is not always welcome and does not always get the needed care and attention she craves and requires.

Belgian films always being extremely poorly financed, invariably express their frugality onscreen but in this instance the bare-bones budget actually enhances the overall feel and texture.

The fact that three older women take the lead may not be the most attractive selling point but it's definitely the drama that rules this film. Dora van der Goen is very good in the lead role, and displays a lovely naive charm to her character. All-in-all, and despite the lack of real originality, not an entirely disappointing film.

DOGTOWN & THE Z-BOYS Rating: ***

THE OFFICERS' WARD Rating ***

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Charlotte Gray

CHARLOTTE GRAY Rating **

The Son's Room

The average, mainstream American feature deals with grief by employing a mixture of histrionics and melodramatic manipulation. In order to find a film that offers a sensitive, intelligent examination of grief and the guilt that often accompanies it, you have to look beyond the multiplexes, to the realm of foreign and independent movies. None more so than the Italian movie "The Son's Room", which depicts the emotional devastation that can be wrought by an accidental death.

The Son's Room, winner of the Palm D'Or at the 2001 Cannes Film Festival, is the latest film from celebrated Italian director Nanni Moretti, who, at one time during his career, was known at the "Italian Woody Allen". Although he finally shed that moniker early in the 1990s, Moretti still shares traits with Manhattan's best-known filmmaker. Like Allen, Moretti writes, produces, and stars in his movies, which often feature autobiographical threads and mix humor and pathos. The Son's Room is a departure for Moretti in many ways. It is a more straightforward drama than his other work, it is not filmed in Rome, and Moretti's character lacks the numerous neuroses that he has become known for.

The film introduces us to something very rare: a happy, well-balanced family without a hint of dysfunction. Giovanni (Moretti) is a psychiatrist who practices out of his home. He has a loving relationship with his wife, Paola (Laura Morante), and is liked and respected by his two teenage children: son Andrea (Giuseppe Sanfelice) and daughter Irene (Jasmine Trinca). For about 30 minutes, Moretti carefully develops a picture of familial bliss, keeping us uncertain where the film is going until the tragedy occurs. Once that happens, the movie moves along a more sombre trajectory. Andrea dies in a diving accident, and his grieving family is left trying to pick up the pieces.

When an older person dies, the emotions are predictable: sadness and perhaps regret. But, when someone young and vital suddenly and unexpectedly perishes, those emotions are blended with other, more volcanic ones: guilt and anger. Those who are close to the victim often feel that an action (or lack of action) on their part might have prevented the death. Such is the case with Giovanni, who believes that if he had not seen a patient on the Sunday morning when Andrea died, things might have turned out differently. From a neutral perspective, it's easy to see that such self-recrimination is ludicrous, but Moretti does an excellent job of getting us to understand Giovanni's mindset.

One of the most poignant experiences associated with the death of a loved one is confronting their empty "personal space" - a bedroom, a study, or a bathroom. Everything is as they left it - a still-damp toothbrush, dirty clothes in the hamper, a book half-finished. The Son's Room makes effective use of a parent's venture into the dead child's inner sanctum. At no time are the emotions stronger than when confronting the relics of someone who has just died. Moretti captures the heart-wrenching surge of emptiness that this experience begets.

For the most part, The Son's Room stands as a powerful portrait of what real (as opposed to Hollywood) families go through in the wake of the loss of one of their members. There's nothing out-of-the-ordinary about Giovanni, Paola, or Irene. The difficulties they have coping with Andrea's death are easy to empathise with. The storyline introduces one minor surprise after Andrea's death when a letter in the mail reveals that Andrea had a long-distance girlfriend his parents didn't know about. This, of course, reminds us that the dead have no secrets.

If the film has a minor weakness, it's that an outside presence is needed to bring about the necessary catharsis. It's not exactly a contrivance, but it feels less natural than all that precedes it. Moretti, perhaps aware of this flaw, provides enough of a justification in the script for us to accept things as they are. In all other areas, however, this is a superior film - an example of the pleasant surprise that can result when a skilled director departs from his usual style. By daring to be honest and unsparing, The Son's Room is meaningful, sublimely acted and evokes a real response in the human psyche.

The Son's Room Rating ****

Ocean's 11

Coralling a top team compiling Brad Pitt, Julia Roberts, George Clooney, Matt Damon, Andy Garcia together with a tough supporting cast - Don Cheadle, Elliot Gould, Carl Reiner, Casey Affleck, Scott Caan, Bernie Mac and Shaobo Qin takes some doing - but then, the reinvigrated clout of director Steven Soderbergh has the muscle to embrace their collective enthusiasm.

Soderbergh, the man who brought us the enthralling quartet of Traffic, Erin Brokovich, Out of Sight and Sex, Lies and Videotape has now added another outstanding flick to his portfolio with Ocean's Eleven. The brilliant direction of this movie, the slick dialogue and the suave acting take O11 from being just another run-of-the-mill heist movie to being a rather enjoyable run-of-the-mill heist movie.

This is the story of life-long con-artist and recent parolee, Danny Ocean (George Clooney) and his ingenious plan to pull off the biggest caper in Las Vegas casino history - the robbery of the shared vault of the three biggest casinos in Vegas - the Bellagio, the Mirage and the MGM Grand - all of which are owned by the same ruthless billionaire, Harry Benedict (Garcia) who just happens to be dating Ocean's ex-wife, Tess (Roberts). Still with me?

The night Ocean figures that he will pull this off is the night of the biggest prize fight of the year and a night that he figures the vault will be filled with about $150 million and as he puts it, "more security than most nuclear power plants". So Ocean, along with his ultra-smooth sidekick, Dusty Ryan (Pitt) and with the financial backing of one-time casino king-pin, Ruben Tischkoff (Gould), assemble a rather quirky cast of swindlers, con artists, bomb experts, computer geeks, circus sideshows and pickpockets to pull off this seemingly impossible plan.

It is slightly confusing - and not very suspenseful - and with not as many twists and turns as you would expect from a movie of this genre - and the plan is not as ingenious as it should be or other plans have been - and to top all this off, there is little to no character development. However, with Soderbergh's direction, the whole story comes together rather neatly and with just enough finesse to keep the audience interested. He does a great job of making sure that the focus of the movie is not Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts or George Clooney. They are simply a part of the whole.

Every performance and each character is important in keeping this movie rolling, and although there are a few performances that do come to the forefront (Brad Pitt, Andy Garcia, Elliot Gould, Carl Reiner and, the man who just gets better with each film - George Clooney) the movie avoids directing the audience to focus on one actor or actress. It moves at a pace that keeps you interested in every character's role and dialogue - a dialogue that is at times witty, at other times humorous and, most of the time, masterful in its delivery.

There will obviously be those of you who are total Clooney, Pitt and Roberts detractors, and who would be more than happy to see this movie fall flat on its face. But it wont. It is quite a joy to watch, and will no doubt be hyped as the epitomovie of cool ...hey, shall I ring the movie poster strapline dept on that one?

Ocean's 11 Rating: •••

Ali

Dir: Michael Mann. US 2001. 159mins.
Prods: Jon Peters, James Lassiter, Paul Ardaji, Mann
Scr: Eric Roth, Mann, based on a story by Gregory Allen Howard & Steven J Rivele and Christopher Wilkinson,
Cinematographer: Emmanuel Lubezki
Prod des: John Myhre
Eds: William Goldenberg, Stephen Rivkin, Lynzee Klingman
Music: Lisa Gerard, Pieter Bourke
Main cast: Will Smith, Jamie Foxx, Jon Voight, Mario Van Peebles, Ron Silver, Jeffrey Wright, Jada Pinkett Smith, LeVar Burton, Giancarlo Esposito

The challenge of how to present dramatically the life of Muhammad Ali, arguably the most recognisable and flamboyant celebrity of the 20th century, is only partially met in Michael Mann's Ali. An ambitious but not entirely great film, it narrowly focuses on one decade in the prizefighter's existence , from 1964 to 1974 - whilst gliding over his private life and neglecting other aspects of his turbulent, yet always fascinating, career. Physically transformed to match Ali's figure at his prime, Will Smith - who gained around 2st. 7lb. for the role - gives a commanding performance as a man who became extremely controversial due to his conversion to Islam and draft resistance during Vietnam, before winning the World Heavyweight Championship in the much publicised 'Rumble In The Jungle' fight in Zaire. Although this film will be wholeheartedly embraced by black patrons and sports fans, "Ali" is also likely to appeal to wider demographics, due to its big event nature, Ali's celebrity status and Smith's star power among both black and white moviegoers. However, with a production budget estimated at more than $100 million, and an extremely expensive marketing campaign, Ali the film may not be the box-office greatest everyone was hoping for - unless it garners major Oscar nominations and awards.

It's easier to respect than to like Ali, a film that is more noteworthy for its ambition and intent than execution and overall result. In various interviews, director Mann has said that Ali is "categorically not a biopic", and that what he and star Smith were trying to do was "something more extreme". Judging by what is onscreen, that "something more extreme" registers as notes or observations on the life of Ali as a great man, rather than a fully realised dramatisation of a unique figure who began as a product of his surroundings but quickly turned, as a result of talent and charisma - into a master of his fate, conquering in the process both the sport and media worlds.

There have been rumours of how the cut that Mann presented to Columbia was not only longer but also more substantial and dramatically involving. In a season in which most Hollywood films run for more than two hours (and Harry Potter, which is no more than a children's fantasy, boasts a 152-minute running time thats only six minutes shorter), Mann should have had the right to show a three-hour-picture, given the rich, dense and heroic life of his subject. Fortunately, fans of The Greatest - and of director Mann - will have a chance to see additional footage in the eventual DVD.

But the problem is not just length but also what the filmmakers have chosen to show - and not to show - about a man whose power and fame extended way beyond the boxing ring. The strategy of the screenplay, co-written by Rivele, Wilkinson, Roth and Mann, is to locate quintessential moments in Ali's life that are illuminating and emblematic of his whole existence. Indeed, Ali is a film of many great moments (and scenes), although, ultimately, it lacks the narrative coherence and political resonance of The Insider, Mann's previous, far superior, effort, which won critical acclaim but was a commercial failure.

In the early episodes, after an overlong montage of images accompanied by Sam Cooke's music, Cassius Clay (Ali's name before he converted) is depicted as a young and aggressive fighter who wrests the heavyweight championship from Sonny Liston at the age of 22 in 1964.

Arguably the most intriguing chapters are those which deal with Ali's problematic approach to religion and politics, covering the same territory and controversial figures - albeit from a different angle - as films like Spike Lee's intriguing Malcolm X and the simplistic Panther, directed by Mario Van Peebles (he also plays Malcolm X in Ali). America is shocked when the newly named Ali declares his conversion to Islam and, later, finds himself torn between black separatist leaders Elijah Muhammad and Malcolm X, when the latter is suspended from the Nation of Islam. Interesting segments show the wrathful reaction of Ali's father (Esposito) to his son's religious change of heart, as well as the vicious murder of Martin Luther King Jr (Burton) and its impact on the still politically evolving Ali. According to Mann's fair, balanced view, Ali emerges as a man who, despite a rebellious streak, was not too militant in his attitudes toward dominant white America (whose support and love he sought) or other ethnic minorities, such as Jews.

Ali's refusal to enlist during the height of the Vietnam war - and the stripping of his title due to his draft evasion - offer the film's most dramatically involving chapters, framed as the battle of one conscientious individual against the US Army. It's around this time that Ali became famous for his one-liners (such as "ain't no Vietcong ever called me nigger"), and began to assume heroic stature due to his stamina during a tough three-year court battle that resulted in a unanimous acquittal by the Supreme Court.

For sheer entertainment, the feature offers half-a-dozen priceless scenes that chronicle Ali's relationship with Howard Cosell, a TV sports announcer. Playing the story's flashiest character, the unrecognisable Jon Voight does a pitch-perfect impersonation of the sportscaster, whose career was greatly assisted by Ali granting him exclusive interviews, replete with bombastic statements and personal revelations.

The films most dissatisfying omissions concern Ali's private and family life. Since Ali is still alive, Mann and his team have possibly been too restrained or apprehensive about dealing with Ali's relationship to women; as is known, Ali has been married four times and is the father of nine children. The feature acknowledges Ali's first marriage to Sonji (played by Smith's wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith) and his inexperience in the bedroom in several soft and romantic moments. However, Ali barely throws a glancing look at its hero's courtship of other women, black and white, and his next couple of marriages. Rarely showing any of his kids, Ali the movie neglects its protagonist's parental roles and values.

An extremely complex and complicated man, Ali cultivated various, often contradictory persona, for different audiences: champion, troublemaker, loudmouth braggart, original rapper, shrewd diplomat, womaniser, family man and above all else, a man whose gusto for life and the limelight was boundless. But Ali the movie vividly captures only some of these facets. At its weakest moments, the picture comes across as the triumphant story of a man who, after winning the heavyweight championship, loses the title and begins a long arduous struggle to regain his crown, discovering in the process that time has taken its toll and robbed him of his prowess as he's about to contest George Foreman, his younger, stronger foe.

The boxing scenes are impressively shot by Emmanuel Lubezki; considering there have been many prizefighting features, from Rocky to Scorsese's Raging Bull, the film shows in minute detail the moves and countermoves as planned and executed by the rivals and the tense pauses between rounds. But once again, what the film lacks is a distinctive perspective on Ali's talents as a fighter, what made him a champion and how different his boxing methods were from those of his opponents. Hence, one of the storys most obscure figures is Angelo Dundee (Silver), Ali's trainer from his youth but of the entire supporting cast it is the part that feels most truncated.

Mann must have been aware of the script's problems, for he ends his saga with what is easily the most exuberant sequence, namely Ali's trip to Africa and his preparations to reclaim his crown from Foreman. The scenes describing Ali's mysterious, transcendental rapport with Zaire's masses are ponderous and overdone. Nevertheless, visually speaking there's nothing in the film like the scene in which Ali enters the huge arena like a blood-seeking gladiator. It's in these moments that Ali achieves epic grandeur, supplementing rather than duplicating the images seen in Leon Gast's utterly outstanding 1996 Oscar-winning documentary "When We Were Kings", which chronicled the fight.

As expected of every picture by Mann, a visionary stylist known for his hip and ironic poise, Ali boasts craftsmanship of the first order, with jazzy yet consequential images and sounds. Auteurist critics and viewers will marvel at the consistent perspective of what can best be described as an angst-ridden urban fatalism that runs through most of Mann's films, including Thief, Manhunter, Heat and now Ali.

Holding the entire picture on his broad shoulders with consummate skill and undeniable charm, Smith rises to the occasion without ever succumbing to sheer imitation, which, impressive as it is, is the choice of Jon Voight. It is almost impossible to imagine any other actor in a demanding role that calls for physical skills, macho prowess in and out of the ring, outrageous borderline crazy humour and affable rapport with just about any person, man or woman, black or white, elite or rank-and-file. Smith may be one of the few Hollywood stars who can exhibit gaudy narcissism without the unbearable obnoxiousness that usually goes with it.

Ali rating: ***

Iris

Director: Richard Eyre
Exec prods: Anthony Minghella, Sydney Pollack, Guy East, David M. Thompson, Tom Hedley
Prods: Robert Fox, Scott Rudin
Scr: Richard Eyre and Charles Wood, based on John Bayley's books
Editor: Martin Walsh
Music: James Horner

Main cast: Judi Dench, Jim Broadbent, Kate Winslet, Hugh Bonneville

Filmgoers expecting illuminating insights into the life of literary genius, eccentric philosopher and complex sexuality of writer Iris Murdoch, who died in 1999, will be disappointed with Richard Eyre's "Iris". This worthy, but rambling film, is almost made-to-order for the dictates of the small screen. As co-written by Eyre and Charles Wood, the film begins ambitiously with a chronicle of the young, vibrant Iris (splendidly played by Kate Winslet, pictured above), but then rapidly escalates into an affecting but ultimately only mildly engaging story of the older Iris (Judi Dench) and her painful struggle with Alzheimer's Disease in the final years of her life. A solid cast of two sets of players, Winslet and Hugh Bonneville, and Dench and Jim Broadbent, who embody the characters in different phases of their lives, elevates this small-scale British product only a notch or two above a BBC2 Sunday night movie.

Neither Winslet nor Dench look like the real-life Iris, who died at the age of 80, and hence was older by over a decade than Dench. However, a more successful effort has been made to match the two actresses' physical appearance, speech, and behavioural mannerisms, which helps a lot since the strategy chosen by director Eyre is an excessively tiresome cross-cutting between the women in two distinct periods of her life.

What Eyre and Wood's script, based on John Bayley's two volumes of memoirs (Iris: A Memoir and Elegy for Iris), has not succeeded in doing is capture the vibrant spirit of the rebellious novelist, whose bohemian lifestyle was way ahead of the times (1940s and 1950s), in which she developed as a woman, artist, and philosopher. Indeed, the filmmakers have disappointingly opted for a sentimental portrait of a sacrificial love story and shallow anatomy of what must have been a problematic if rewarding marriage between Iris and husband-literary critic Bayley for half a century.

In the press notes, Eyre expresses his hope "that people can appreciate this film without bringing special baggage on board." But is it possible? After all, Iris was a successful novelist and distinguished philosopher who wrote and lectured on the nature of good and evil, freedom of expression, propagating unbridled individualism as well as less restrictive matrimony, particularly in the areas of creativity and sexuality.

The film opens well, by introducing the two Irises, the younger one biking around Oxford's all-women Somerville College, and the older as an accomplished literary figure and media celebrity. However, not much is made of the facts that Iris later worked as a civil servant in WWII, and that she embarked on a literary career at a rather mature age, 35, with her first novel, Under the Net, which was unconventional (for a female writer) in its first-person male narration.

In broad strokes, that are constantly interrupted by images of the declining health of the ageing femme, viewers follow Iris's awkward courtship with Bayley, then a university lecturer and aspiring literary critic, a romance that culminated in marriage in 1956. In an interesting gender reversal, it's Iris who's the free spirit, caught by Bayley in compromising positions with other men. Aroused by curiosity and slight jealousy, Bayley's screen hero can hardly bring himself to confront his beloved Iris with questions about her idiosyncratic "lifestyle", not to speak of her bi-sexuality, an orientation of which most of Iris's colleagues and friends knew about. 

What inspired Iris's literary muse? And, what accounted for her prolific output, estimated at 25 novels, including the high-regarded The Bell, A Severed Head, The Unicorn, A Word Child, novels that on the surface conform to the psychological detective format, but boast fascinating subtexts with complex and sophisticated sexual relationships, bizarre incidents, macabre moments, and whimsical humour (some of her journal entries were notorious for their droll observations)? To answer those questions, viewers are urged to read one of several biographies about Iris.

The film acknowledges Iris's last novel, Jackson's Dilemma, published in 1996, less than a year before she was diagnosed with the painful Alzheimer, and three years before her death. But no real clues are provided as to how the marriage survived all those years, other than the notion of a grand, enduring, and selfless love that knew no boundaries.

By necessity, momentous events from Iris's life have been compressed or transposed and very minor characters conflated - with the end result being far from satisfying. The last reel, however, comes across as a touching chronicle of a woman who falls victim of a nasty disease that not only affects her, but also, and mostly, her beloved Bayley. 

Furthermore, the film barely touches on the greatest irony of Iris's rapidly diminishing health, namely, the crucial shift in her relationship with Bayley, from being the dominant partner, looked up to and deferred to, to an utterly dependent and hapless woman.

This Iris falls in between the two genres: neither a biography nor fiction, it contains dialogue that's lifted verbatim out of Bayley's subjective accounts, but also text that's invented to solicit the viewers' sympathy and tears. As much as one might have resented the sentimentalism and facile manipulation of On Golden Pond, in which Henry Fonda portrayed a retired professor scared of losing his faculties, it was still more heart-breaking than Iris. Regrettably, Iris's own observation, "Real life is so much odder than any book," can easily be applied to Iris the movie.

Dench renders a dignified, solid performance, though the two shining turns are by Winslet and particularly Jim Broadbent, winner of the Golden Globe for Best Actor, and who is spellbindingly sublime in all he has to do here. An Oscar would be no less than he deserves. Also hoping to gain 'golden chap' nominations are Judi Dench and Kate Winslet. All will be revealed soon.

IRIS Rating ***

Gosford Park

Cast:
Mrs. Croft: Eileen Atkins
Morris Weissman: Bob Balaban
Jennings: Alan Bates
Lord Stockbridge: Charles Dance
Inspector Thompson: Stephen Fry
Sir William McCordle: Michael Gambon
George: Richard E. Grant
Probert: Derek Jacobi
Mary Maceachran: Kelly Macdonald
Mrs. Wilson: Helen Mirren
Ivor Novello: Jeremy Northam
Robert Parks: Clive Owen
Henry Denton: Ryan Phillippe
Constance, Countess of Trentham: Maggie Smith
Lady Sylvia McCordle: Kristin Scott Thomas
Elsie: Emily Watson
Directed by Robert Altman.

Robert Altman's "Gosford Park" is a elebration of styles - the distinct behaviour of the British class system, the personal styles of a rich gallery of actors, and his own style of introducing a lot of characters and letting them weave their way through a complex plot.

Whilst this film features a hugely accomplished cast, there is no dominant star - a deliberate and hugely refreshing achievement.

"Gosford Park" is a joyous and audacious achievement which deserves comparison with his very best movies, such as "MASH," "McCabe and Mrs. Miller," "Nashville," "The Player," "Short Cuts" and "Cookie's Fortune." It employs the genre of the classic British murder mystery, as defined by Agatha Christie: Guests and servants crowd a great country house, and one of them is murdered. But "Gosford Park" is a Dame Agatha story in the same sense that "MASH" is a war movie, "McCabe" is a Western and "Nashville" is a musical: Altman uses the setting, but surpasses the limitations and redefines the goal. This is no less than a comedy about selfishness, greed, snobbery, eccentricity and class exploitation.

The time is November 1932. Sir William McCordle (Michael Gambon) and Lady Sylvia McCordle (Kristin Scott Thomas) have invited a houseful of guests for a shooting party. They include Sir William's sister Constance, the Countess of Trentham (Maggie Smith), who depends on an allowance he is constantly threatening to withdraw. And Lady Sylvia's sister Louisa (Geraldine Somerville), who like Sylvia had to marry for money (they cut cards to decide who would bag Sir William). And Louisa's husband, Commander Anthony Meredith (Tom Hollander). Their sister Lavinia (Natasha Wightman), is married to Raymond, Lord Stockbridge (Charles Dance). And the Hollywood star Ivor Novello (Jeremy Northam). Morris Weissman (Bob Balaban), plays a gay Hollywood producer who has brought along his "valet" Henry Denton (Ryan Phillippe).

Below stairs we meet the butler Jennings (Alan Bates), the housekeeper Mrs. Wilson (Helen Mirren), the cook Mrs. Croft (Eileen Atkins), the footman George (Richard E. Grant) and assorted other valets, maids, grooms and servers.

When the American Henry comes to take his place at the servant's table and says his name is Denton, Jennings sternly informs him that servants are addressed below stairs by the names of their masters, and he will be "Mr. Weissman" at their table, where servants are seated according to the ranks of their employers.

It has been said that the most enjoyable lifestyle in history was British country house life in the years between the wars. That is true for some of the people upstairs in this movie, less true of most of those downstairs. Altman observes exceptions - some of the aristocrats, like Lady Constance, are threatened with financial ruin, and others, like Novello, have to sing for their supper; while below stairs, a man like Jennings is obviously supremely happy to head the staff of a great house ("I am the perfect servant. I have no life").

The classic country house murder story begins with perfect order, in which everyone up and down the class ladder fits securely into his or her place--until murder disrupts that order, and discloses unexpected connections between the classes. That's what happens here, when one of the characters is poisoned and then stabbed, suggesting there are two murderers to be apprehended by Inspector Thompson (Stephen Fry).

Half of those in the house have a motive for the murder, but the investigation isn't the point, and Altman has fun by letting Thompson and his assistant Constable Dexter (Ron Webster) mirror the relative competence of the upper and lower classes in the house. Thompson, like the aristocrats, sets great store by his title and dress (he puffs a pipe that will be recognized by anyone who knows the name Monsieur Hulot). Dexter, like the servants, just gets on with it, doggedly pointing out clues (footprints, fingerprints on a tea cup, a secret door) that Thompson ignores.

The cast of "Gosford Park" is like a reunion of fine and familiar actors (I have not yet even mentioned Derek Jacobi, Kelly Macdonald, Clive Owen, Emily Watson and James Wilby). This is like an invitation for scene-stealing, and Maggie Smith effortlessly places first, with brittle comments that cut straight to the quick. When Novello entertains after dinner with one song, and then another, and then another, and shows no sign of stopping, Smith crisply asks, "Do you think he'll be as long as he usually is?" and then stage-whispers, "Don't encourage him."

Altman has a keen eye and ear for snobbery. Note the way that when Mr. Weissman introduces himself, Lady Sylvia asks him to repeat his name, and then she repeats it herself. Just that, but she is subtly underlining his ethnicity. And the way Constance puts Novello in his place by mentioning his most recent film and observing, ostensibly with sympathy, "It must be rather disappointing when something flops like that."

The screenplay by Julian Fellowes, based on an idea by Altman and Balaban, is masterful in introducing all of the characters and gradually making it clear who they are, what they've done, and what it means. Like guests at a big party, we are confused when we first arrive: Who are all these people? By the end, we know.

No director has ever been better than Altman at providing the audience with bearings to find its way through a large cast. The sense of place is also palpable in this film; the downstairs and attic floors were entirely constructed on sound stages by production designer Steven Altman, Altman's son, who also supervised the real country house used for the main floors.

Andrew Dunn's photography is sumptuous upstairs, while making the downstairs look creamy and institutional. The editor, Tim Squyres, must have been crucial in keeping the characters in play.

"Gosford Park" is the kind of generous, sardonic, deeply layered movie that Altman has made his own. As a director he has never been willing to settle for plot; he is much more interested in character and situation, and likes to assemble unusual people in peculiar situations and stir the pot. Here he is, like Prospero, serenely the master of his art.

GOSFORD PARK Rating ****

Monsters, Inc.

Distributed by Disney
Directed by Pete Docter, David Silverman and Lee Unkrich
Starring the vocal talents of Billy Crystal as Mike Wazowski; John Goodman as James P. 'Sulley' Sullivan; James Coburn as Henry J. Waternoose; Jennifer Tilly as Celia; Bonnie Hunt as Flint; Mary Gibbs as Boo; Steve Buscemi as Randall Boggs
reviewed by Steven Isaac

At 9:00 p.m. each night, your wardrobe door ceases to function as a wardrobe door. It becomes instead a gateway to the netherworld. A porthole to the land of monsters. But then, if youre under the age of eight, you already knew that. The rest of this is for your parents.

On the other side of that door lies a huge city filled with monsters of every colour, stripe and shape. A one-eyed head bobs on pencil-thin legs (Mike). A giant purple and green fur-covered beast (Sulley) rattles the walls. A Raptor-style lizard (Randall) lurks and snarls. Cleverly enough, electricity for "Monstropolis" is generated by capturing and processing the screams of scared little children. So a great number of the monsters work for the power company - Monsters, Inc. They sneak through those wardrobe doors, scaring not-quite-asleep little boys and girls. "We scare because we care," reads the slogan above the factory doors.

What no one knows in human-land is that the monsters are as scared of little children as little children are of monsters. The monsters have been taught since they were wee tiny things that humans are toxic. So the second a child makes a move, the monsters retreat. Imagine the panic in Monstropolis, then, when a little girl (Boo) sneaks through her door and attaches herself to Sulley.

The bottom line here is simple. Children needn't fear the dark. They needn't stare wide-eyed and sleepless at their wardrobe doors, anxiously waiting for what might emerge. Imagination is fun, but it shouldnt make you scared. I should present this caution, though. Depending on how wee ones process fantasy cartoons, Monsters, Inc. will either cure them of fright forever or give their trembling brains more fearful fodder. The ultimate message is one of safety, kindness, love and friendship, but the path there is occasionally troubled by scary turns.

What else sends good vibrations? 1) Good oral hygiene. Even monsters brush their teeth ("good monsters dont have plaque"). 2) Friendship. Mike and Sulley are great pals, and Sulleys growing affection for Boo is sweet and touching. 3) Doing the right thing even if its costly. Sulley and Mike squabble, but end up doing the right thing. Along the way, they expose an evil plot that would harm children if it werent stopped. 4) Romance. Mike sees love in his future (the girl of his affections has one eye, too). His intentions are nothing short of noble and his actions always honorable.

This film however, could prove to be rather scary for a 4-year-old. Silly in the eyes of a slightly older ones. One scene in particular that will alarm some children has one monster battering down a door to attack Sulley and Mike. Additionally, a nightmarish machine built to "extract screams" is tried out in a couple of scenes. The monsters are prone to fighting each other from time to time. Sometimes for fun. Other times in the grip of an evil rage. Invisible when he chooses to be, Randall attacks Sulley. Sulley fights back. Randall slams Mike against a wall and twists his arms into a painful position. In turn, Mike slams a door on Randall, yelling, "I hope that hurt, lizard-boy." Sulley slides, tumbles and crashes down a snow-packed mountain. And the whole gang goes for a wild ride on fast-moving conveyer belts strung high in the air. Even Boo gets in on the action and beats Randall over the head with a toy baseball bat.

Pretending to be a stand-up comic, Mike swallows a microphone and burps ferociously. One monster is known as Mr. Bile ("my friends call me Phlegm"). Hiding from the bad monsters in a bathroom, Mike sticks his foot in the toilet and then walks out of the room dragging toilet paper behind him.

On a more psychological plane, Sulley goes though a few moments when he thinks Boo has been killed in a mammoth trash compactor. He faints from the shock. Filmgoers know shes fine, but watching his anguish and contemplating the idea that she might have been brutalized in such a manner will sober more than a few mums and dads.

In conclusion, fantasy violence is really the only thing thats scary about Monsters, Inc. But that may be significant for families since the films storytelling is aimed at a younger audience than Toy Storys was. Beyond that, the adorable Boo will win over every parents heart the moment they meet her. John Goodman is about as comfortable and cuddly as you could ever want a monster to be. And nowhere to be seen are the fiends of sexual content, profane language and substance abuse. Still, there's that nagging thing about monsters producing fuel from innocent childrens screams. A plot twist near the end resolves that in a more-than-satisfactory way. Far be it from me to ruin the surprise.

Monsters Inc rating: ****

Vanilla Sky

Cameron Crowe's "Vanilla Sky" tells the story of a man who has just about everything, thinks he can have it all, is given a means to have whatever he wants, and loses it all. Or maybe not. Maybe just because life stinks. Or maybe he only thinks it does. Certainly this labyrinthian film is entertaining as it rolls along, and there is a definite chemistry between Tom Cruise and Penelope Cruz which, as we all now realise, has collided into reality.

"Vanilla Sky," like "Memento" and "Mulholland Drive" before it, requires the audience to do some brain exercise. The plot at times climbs into its own rear end...you get along splendidly one step at a time, but then, when you get to the top floor, you find yourself back on the bottom landing. If it's any consolation, its hero is as baffled as the cinema audience. It's not that he has memory loss, like the hero of "Memento," but that in a certain sense he may have no real memory at all.

Cruise stars as David Aames, a 33-year-old tycoon million-heir who lacadaisically runs a publishing empire, passed on to him when his parents were killed in a car crash. His pad is groovy in the ultra sense, with recreational featurettes including an astonishing (that is to us mere mortals from working class Glasgow) life size moving/3-D/audible holograph of Charlie Parker blowing his sax.

He has a sex buddy named Julie (Cameron Diaz) and thinks they can sleep together and remain just friends. However, as she eventually has to explain, "When you sleep with someone, your body makes a promise whether you do or not."

At a party, he locks eyes with Sofia Serrano (Penelope Cruz), who arrives as the date of his writer-friend Brian (Jason Lee) but ends up spending the night with him. Even though they don't have sex, their bodies are making promises to each other.

At this point the movie starts unveiling surprises. A lot of surprises. Surprises on top of surprises. The movie is about these surprises, however, so for those of you who dont want to know the result ... look away now!

OK, for the nosey parkers still reading on, and without revealing too much: Julie drives up just as David is leaving after his night with Sofia, offers him a lift, drives off a bridge in Central Park, kills herself, and lands him in front of "the best plastic surgeon in New York" with a horribly scarred face.

This timeframe is intercut with another one in which a psychiatrist (Kurt Russell) is interrogating him about a murder. He insists there was no murder. Maybe there was and maybe there wasn't, and maybe the victim was who we think it is, and maybe not.

"Vanilla Sky" has started as if it is about David's life and loves. It reveals an entirely different orientation and, to be fair, there is a full explanation. The only problem with the explanation is that it explains the mechanism of our confusion, rather than telling what actually happened.

The first words in the movie ("open your eyes") are unmistakably said in the voice of Sofia, the Penelope Cruz character. If the movie's explanation of this voice is correct, at that point in the movie David has not met Sofia, or heard her voice.

How can we account for her voice appearing before she does? There is a character in the movie who refers to a "splice." We are told where the splice takes place. But consider the source of this information not the person supplying it, but the underlying source. Is the information reliable? Or does the splice take place, so to speak, before the movie begins? And in that case ... och...away and see the movie and ask the question for yourself!

Note: Early in the film, there's an astonishing shot of Tom Cruise absolutely alone in Times Square. You might assume, as I did initially, that c.g.i. was involved. Cameron Crowe explained recently that the scene is not faked; the film got city permission to block off Times Square for three hours early on a Sunday morning. Just outside of camera range there are cops and barricades to hold back the traffic.

Summation: Tom Cruise - a real star turn, dominates the 130 minutes, to great effect. Penelople Cruz - beguiling and delicious performance, she played the same part in the Spanish original (check it out), Cameron Diaz - terrific role shows her immense versatility as the lover spurned, Kurt Russell - solid, reliable and worthy characterisation Timothy Spall - utterly tremendous, as always.

Cameron Crowe - ace helmwork, loved the 'iconography' visual references...look out for them! Soundtrack - terrific mix, scored by Crowe's wife Nancy Wilson, with assured use of tracks by such as Paul McCartney (new specially-written title track), Radiohead, REM, Sigur Ros, Leftfield, Monkees, Jeff Buckley, Bob Dylan and others. All in all, well worth a look-see, maybe twice!

VANILLA SKY Rating ***

Black Hawk Down

Dir Ridley Scott. US 2001. 148mins.

Although visually awesome in its gritty, ultra-realistic portrait of men in combat, Ridley Scott's Black Hawk Down highlights what's wrong with most Hollywood pictures even when they're superbly realised. Too many films suffer from a lack of coherent narrative and an absence of emotionally engaging or distinguishable characters to anchor a story, whether its simple or more complex.

Admittedly, it was a near impossible task for screenwriters Ken Nolan and Steve Zaillian to adapt journalist Mark Bowden's personal account of the failed military action in Mogadishu, Somalia in 1993. Recounting how 18 Americans died, Bowden basically says that war is a messy, senseless act, particularly when it concerns a foreign country of which Americans soldiers knew little.

Playing his second consecutive military role this year (after Pearl Harbor), Josh Hartnett is nominally the film's star, but the script falters in establishing him as a distinctive hero by not separating him from the other soldiers.

However, what producer Jerry Bruckheimer and Revolution head Joe Roth underestimate is the lukewarm word-of-mouth that their film has so far generated, due to its relentless, emotionally exhausting nature. For at least half of the film's excessive running time of 148 minutes, the audience are placed in the midst of chaotic, deafening warfare! That the film contains no home-front or civilian scenes, nor female roles, also presents further commercial problems.

Black Hawk Down owes its entire existence to Spielberg's 1998 Saving Private Ryan. The affinity between Spielberg's work and the new film is not accidental: producer Lustig also supervised Schindler's List, for which screenwriter Steven Zaillian won an Oscar. Shot through Janusz Kaminsky's piercing camera, the first 23 minutes of Spielberg's WWII epic presented the most revelatory battle ever recorded on-screen, a breathtakingly graphic portrayal of the violent combat at Omaha Beach on D-Day.

As far as the war film genre and its conventions are concerned, Scott's work here pushes even further, easily surpassing such recent conventional features as Enemy At The Gates, in which the 1942-3 siege of Stalingrad was reduced to a two-character cat-and-mouse game, or even the recent acclaimed TV series, Band Of Brothers.

However, Black Hawk Down also shows the limits of visceral and sensory cinema in that it is based on a thin premise and asks the audience to sit through a gruelling experience without knowing much about the politics of this particular region. That this vital information is conveyed by title cards at the beginning and end of the story further confirms the screenwriters muddled effort to construct individual characters, ones who are far more interestingly and fully realised in Bowden's well-researched book.

Less than a year after President Clinton assumed office he had to make a quick decision regarding Somalia, an East African country that, like Vietnam decades earlier, American intelligence knew little about. In October 1993, a band of elite American soldiers were sent to its capital Mogadishu as part of a UN peacekeeping operation. At first, the mission, which centred on abducting two top lieutenants of Somalian warlord Mohamed Farrah Aidid, sounded simple and manageable. There was no doubt that the effort was "well-intentioned" and even humanistic, for the US saw the mission as an integral part of its strategy to quell the civil war and horrendous famine that was ravaging the country.

In the first reel, the screenwriters establish with broad strokes some basic characters, the most prominent of who is Staff Sgt. Matt Eversmann (Hartnett), an idealistic young Ranger who is very much in the manner of Tom Hanks' hero in Saving Private Ryan. Almost positioned on the other pole of the spectrum is Ranger Spec Grimes (McGregor), a likeable office clerk whose main job is as a top coffee brewer. Other fighters include Ranger Lt Col Danny McKnight (Sizemore), a tough, cool-under-fire soldier; and Sgt. First Class "Hoot" Gibson (Bana), a Delta soldier who is a legend even to his comrades in the elite Special Forces. We quickly learn that the young Rangers and veteran Delta Force soldiers fight side by side against overwhelming odds, although no tensions exist between the two units.

Once in Somalia, the US troops become increasingly mired in the incomprehensible, senseless and feudal politics of a region torn by centuries-long battles between one clan and the other. For the duration of 18 long and harrowing hours, the soldiers remain trapped and wounded in the most hostile district of Mogadishu until a rescue convoy is mounted to retrieve them. Outnumbered and surrounded by an unknown, mass enemy, conflicts begin to flare within the group, dear friends lose their lives and new alliances are formed. In short, the soldiers learn the true nature of war, heroism and manhood.

The combat was considered by some experts as the US military's single biggest firelight since Vietnam, although that may change after Afghanistan. Almost by necessity, the battle is depicted as a step-by-step, minute-by-minute battle on the ground, in the air and at Joint Operations Centre, where Maj Gen William F. Garrison (Shepard), a two-star commander, who observes the action.

Unlike Saving Private Ryan, in which the band was small and comprised of soldiers who were easily distinguishable in terms of their physique, motivation and personality, the cast of Black Hawk Down is larger and its men more anonymous and interchangeable. Since not much is known about each individual before he goes into combat, it is hard to understand - and feel for - the transformation that he undergoes. Aspiring to be a combat chronicle at once epic and intimate, Black Hawk Down succeeds as the former but fails as the latter.

Much of the story is experienced through the eyes of Eversmann, whose mettle is sorely tested when he is unexpectedly handed command of one of the four "chalks" (units of men) assigned to secure the target building. Ranger Grimes also has some revelatory, if ironic, experiences: his long-held desire for "adventure" is finally answered in the streets of Mogadishu, far away from the safety of his typewriter and desk. Moments of relief from the relentlessly bloody combat are offered by Maj Gen Garrison, who watches helplessly as two Black Hawk combat helicopters go down in flames (hence the title) and the mission takes on painfully unexpected dimensions.

In addition to narrative and dramatic issues, Black Hawk Down also faces the political problems. The question is how to portray heroically a mission that was ultimately a fiasco where US soldiers died in a battle that many considered unnecessary and far from being well-planned? Since September 11 is likely to change US foreign policy, as well as their reaction to war features, it's indicative that two title cards were inserted at the end of the saga. One claims that the US learned a lesson about engaging in foreign conflicts, the other states that, under certain conditions, the US should still get involved in the politics of foreign territories.

With three back-to-back features within the past 18 months - Gladiator, Hannibal, and now Black Hawk Down - each of which flaunts a different feel and look, gifted British director Scott has established himself as one of the most versatile filmmakers working today in mainstream Hollywood. Next to the stunning production design of his brother Tony's film, Spy Game, it's hard to think of another Hollywood feature this year, including AI and The Lord Of the Rings, that captures so specifically and vividly the milieu and logistics of a particular action. Indeed, shot in Sale, Morocco, Black Hawk Down achieves epic scale due to the prodigious work of Polish cinematographer Slawomir Idziak (who began his career with Kieslowski and also shot Gattaca and Proof Of Life) and production designer Arthur Max.

In every single respect, Black Hawk Down represents a major leap forward for producer Jerry Bruckheimer, better known until now for such tacky, overblown popcorn features such as Top Gun, The Rock, and Armageddon.

BLACK HAWK DOWN Rating ***

Last Orders

Michael Caine, Tom Courtney (above),
Bob Hoskins, Helen Mirren,
David Hemmings, Ray Winstone
Writer/Director: Fred Schepisi

Its a joy to encounter a film as civilised as this, with a cast that enthralls and delights. Hoskins and Helen Mirren are united by the Thames for the first time since The Long Good Friday. Hoskins and Caine share long-overdue screen time 15 years after Mona Lisa.

Rather than going for the recent mediocre Britflick gangster flash, Last Orders allows its cast to shine as both individuals and as a collective, mirroring the vicissitudes of tension between secret, inner desires and outward friendship and loyalty.

Graham Swifts Booker Prize-winning novel alternates chapters from several characters viewpoints, so that certain people and events are seen in entirely different lights. This works on the page but wouldnt be practical on the screen. Therefore, writer-director Fred Schepisi opts for a more complex story structure: within the two main strands (the men take Jacks ashes to Margate; Ray and Amy remember their brief affair), were treated to flashback after flashback, some only a few seconds long.

Schepisi underlines how past events define the present - how these people are created by decisions taken or avoided earlier in their lives, resulting in a story that has a a staggered flow, just like the human memory principle.

The film captures the sense of a specific English, working-class generation people in family businesses (butchers, undertakers, fruit n veg stalls), people with solid names (Jack, Vic, Larry), people for whom a house in Margate is nirvana itself. This subject matter will ring a few bells with the more mature audience but everyone wise enough to buy a ticket will take immense satisfaction from this movie. Special mention for the exceptional performances, especially from the always impeccable (now Sir) Tom Courtney and the constantly bourgeoning talent of the mighty Ray Winstone.

LAST ORDERS Rating: ***

Made

Cast: Jon Favreau (Bobby), Vince Vaughn (Ricky), Sean "Puffy" Combs (Ruiz), Peter Falk (Max Reuben), Famke Janssen (Jess), Faizon Love (Horrace), Vincent Pastore (Jimmy), Jonathan Silverman, Jennifer Bransford, Jenteal, Tom Morello, David O'Hara, Mackenzie Vega

Director: Jon Favreau (feature film debut)

Screenwriter: Jon Favreau (Swingers; also co-wrote The First $20 Million is Always the Hardest)

Premise: Two aspiring mobsters (Favreau, Vaughn) from Los Angeles travel to New York to become "made men", getting involved with a money-laundering scheme and thus possibly inducted into a low-level crime syndicate. (Combs plays their "guide" once they get to New York)

Boxing Note: One of the elements in the film is boxing, as the leads are also described as being boxers. Favreau must have a thing for boxing... he recently starred in a cable movie about Rocky Marciano.

Jon Favreau made a guest appearance in an episode of The Sopranos as himself. The premise was that he was filming his debut film in the area, and he got to know Christopher, a young mobster (Michael Imperioli) who had written a script about the mob lifestyle. It was a funny story, with Favreau eventually "borrowing" one of Christopher's stories for his own script. The reason this is relevant to this movie in that the goal of being "made" is what Christopher on The Sopranos is all about too.

Anyway, this is a film that many will probably anticipate if they were fans of Swingers, because really, the only element that's missing is director Doug Liman. That film was also written by Favreau and starred Vaughn and Favreau. Swingers' script was a big part of its popularity, with its jivey post-hip lingo ("money" as an adjective).

Peter Falk, as always, is great value as a semi-Don figure, whilst Vaughn sets the screen alight as the jerk who almost becomes hero in the conclusion. An extremely amusing movie with a delightul cameo featuring a Glasgow ned whose choice "bevvy" language clashes hilariously with the yanks' own bemusing street patois.

MADE Rating: ***