Reviews

"Best Friends" is a nice film for a weekend afternoon. It is entertaining, has an easy-to-follow storyline, and shows some respect for the viewer. Burt Reynolds and Goldie Hawn are quite appealing in the leads, but so is the supporting cast, which includes Barnard Hughes, Jessica Tandy, Keenan Wynn, and Audra Lindley (best known as Mrs. Roper on "Three's Company").

Though a comedy, "Best Friends" has, alas, very few laugh-out-loud moments, and is almost too casual in pace for its own good. The near-classic wedding scene (with Richard Libertini) offers perhaps the most genuine laughs, although Reynolds, a very underrated comedic actor, adds some subtle bits of his own throughout the movie.

"Best Friends" is a competently-made and sometimes touching film that also lacks drive and usually fails to produce much more than an occasional smile. But it's worth a look, to be sure.

I'm glad to see that this movie has been defended by so many. I was never a regular viewer of the TV series, which seemed interesting enough, but many criticized the movie for not being properly dark and brooding and cynical. It seems that writer Joss Whedon had more that kind of atmosphere in mind when he began "Buffy," but I think the meddling that took place with his script is not without merit.

"Buffy the Vampire Slayer" is about a cute but vapid high school cheerleader who finds out that she is the one chosen to kill creatures from beyond the grave. This, I think is a pretty good premise for a comedy, and one that was successfully realized. It is a fun and funny movie that never takes itself seriously. Kristy Swanson is just right in the title role and Luke Perry is amusing as a wannabe hero who is also fine, it turns out, with being saved by his girlfriend.

This episode, written by Rod Serling, is essentially a Twilight Zone-d version of his film "Patterns," though the dialogue and the characters' motivation are nowhere near as interesting or as subtle as in that film. The ending is also somewhat predictable, unlike that of "Patterns," and the final speech is a tad obvious.

Comparisons to that film aside, however, the episode is not bad and certainly makes its point about dehumanization. It is also notable for having a black actor, Jack Crowder (the future Thalmus Rasulala), in a completely normal and important role, namely, that of a computer technician. Such casting was certainly a rarity for 1964, though at the same time it is not surprising for the series considering Serling's progressive views on race relations. Crowder's character even engages in some verbal sparing with Richard Deacon's character, Mr. Whipple.

All in all, the episode is worth a look, and is a must for "Zone" fans.

I certainly understand the appeal of this film, but I find elements of it, well, puzzling.

It might be unfair to comment on a now-common Hollywood convention, but does it really make sense to have a novice (e.g. a woman like the character Erin Brokovich) come into a job and be rewarded not only for telling her employer how to do his job properly but also to show repeated disrespect to her co-workers?

Early in the film, Brokovich disappears from her boring job for a couple of weeks to do investigative work, which she finds more diverting, and which means that the "unimportant" people in the office have to take up the slack. She is then shocked when she finds out she has been fired and yells incessantly until she gets her job back.

Her boss, played by Albert Finney, has been an attorney for years and has made a living fighting uphill battles on contingency, but he seems unable to deal with people or build a case or even conduct a meeting without the help of ignorant-yet-spunky Erin Brokovich.

Yes, it's a Hollywood film and certain shortcuts have to be made, but . . .

This film did have problems, but I felt I had to chime in if for no other reason than to offset some of the mean-spirited commentary.

Why must actors or performances that people dislike be described as terrible? Jennifer Love Hewitt is a talented actress. She may not have been in tip-top form in this film, but I think she deserves a lot better than some of the "reviewers" have given her.

Re the physical similarity or dissimilarity between Ms Hewitt and Ms Hepburn: Very few people in the world look like Audrey Hepburn. Of those, precious few are marketable in a nationally broadcast TV movie. Jennifer Love Hewitt wasn't perhaps the ideal choice, but she wasn't a senseless one either.

I suppose I could write an in-depth review, but instead I'll just say this: the writing is pretty funny, the show is fast-paced, and the ladies seem to be having a good time. Yes, they break the fourth wall a bit too often, but if you are able to just sit back and let yourself have fun with it, this show may be worth your while.

I have always been extremely interested in the life of Richard Nixon, and, because I also enjoy Oliver Stone's work, I was very much looking forward to seeing his take on the 37th president.

Like "JFK," "Nixon" is a film that is long but never boring, always intriguing, and one that shows sides of people (particularly Pat Nixon) and events that for most of us have always been shrouded in mystery. (Nixon's strange upbringing is especially well-presented by Stone, even if it probably lacks some historical authority.)

Nevertheless, I cannot recommend "Nixon," mostly because the characterization of the President seemed to me to ring just a bit untrue. Much has been said about how Anthony Hopkins so skillfully portrayed Nixon as a deeply insecure man plagued by his own personal demons. This he surely was. He was also a man with not-terribly well-developed people skills, and was no stranger to occasional public humiliation.

But Hopkins's Nixon seemed so *constantly* nervous, jerky, sweaty, and generally terrified of everything around him that I could not imagine such a man gaining support from people who had actually had contact with him. As I watched scene after scene of Nixon interacting with people, I wondered whether, after he had left a room, the other characters considered sending for the paramedics to help the poor, unbalanced, and dangerously hypertense man who had just left their midst.

The real Nixon, one must remember, was well-versed in public debate and was the veteran of many a political campaign. Yes, there was the blatant hollowness of Checkers. Yes, there was the deeply embarrassing press conference of 1962. But if you see, for instance, his "comeback" appearance on the Jack Paar Show, you see a cool, confident Nixon, one who seemed ready to take on any challenge. He was also not so completely unappealing publicly that he could not gain over 49 percent of the vote in 1960. Moreover, his real-life aides were extremely loyal to him, mostly because they believed in him strongly, though in the film they nearly always seem to think they are in the presence of a ticking time bomb.

I suppose it would have been better to see a more well-rounded view of Nixon, both the deeply disturbed and paranoid fellow who pushed people and success away with equal energy, and the occasionally well-spoken, cleverly sinister Nixon with the big grin. The end of the first half does show a rousing speech given by Nixon at the 68 convention, but by that time, I think, the damage has already been done, and the point continues to be hammered in the second half.

No, I don`t think Stone could have made Nixon likeable, but he, and Hopkins, did make him into a frightening caricature rather than a frightening man.

A short preview of this film on television might suggest a zany comedy in which old age-jokes fly fast and furious, but "Going in Style" is in fact a serious film, with only bits of humor thrown in here and there.

George Burns is Joe, a man who suggests to his two roommates (Art Carney and Lee Strasberg) that they rob a bank in order to relieve the boredom of retirement. When they do, the find their lives do in fact change drastically, though in quite unexpected ways.

The characters are three-dimensional and complex, and it is apparent that they, just like real people, have issues in their lives -- sometimes very serious ones -- that have gone unresolved for many years. The dialogue is realistic, but relaxed, and includes a lot of repetition of lines (Joe, Willie, and Al are all starting to lose their faculties somewhat and occasionally need repetition from each other). This makes the pacing deceptively slow; when you think back on the film after watching it, though, you find that a whole lot happened in those 97 minutes.

"Going in Style" has no caricatures (except, perhaps, Joe`s attorney) and, though the problems of old age are presented in a matter-of-fact way, the film is never preachy. It should also be noted that it is gratifying to see a movie in which younger members of a family (Pete and Kathy) show such genuine respect and kindness to their elders.

All the leads are terrific, but Burns is perfection itself as Joe.

This film is very highly recommended.

Most everyone seemed to find this film charming.

Am I the only one who found the premise of this film rather disturbing? A teenage girl trying to pass her father off as her boyfriend... After seeing the trailer and the first five minutes on television, I immediately sought ways to repress the memory of this film.

Maybe I should have given it more of a chance. Maybe next time around.

This series concerned St. Eligius, a hospital in a less fashionable section of Boston, and the day-to-day lives of its staff and patients. The institution had acquired its unfortunate nickname from statements made by doctors at other institutions to the effect that, if patients could not afford treatment in a respectable hospital, they would have to go to "St. Elsewhere." Nevertheless, St. Eligius consistently showed itself to be a place full of concerned and highly skilled medical personnel.

The central character was Donald Westphall, the chief of medicine and also the one in charge of the new residents who came in every year (St. Eligius was, among other things, a noted teaching hospital). He was depicted primarily as a caring, understanding, and reserved (even repressed) individual, but he could also be seen slugging it out occasionally with the administration, his residents, and even his colleagues if the situation required it

The other two "old-timers" who were present throughout the run of the series were Daniel Auschlander, the chief of services, who had already been diagnosed with cancer in the first episode but wouldn't seem to die (though he certainly talked about dying enough) and Mark Craig, the brilliant and extremely pompous heart surgeon who always said exactly what was on his mind to everyone, regardless of the reaction it got. Craig`s favorite target by far was young Victor Ehrlich, a tall, blonde California surfer dude who also happened to be a skilled surgeon. Ehrlich, though, was content to good-naturedly absorb the barrage of insults as best he could and go on learning from the master. (Ehrlich, unfortunately, was only slightly more adept than his mentor in interpersonal relations, and his conversations with other residents frequently ended with them telling him, "You're a pig, Ehrlich," and walking off.)

Other main characters in the sizeable cast included people every part of the hospital, from the residents to the regulars at the nurse's stations to people in custodial services to patients to administrators. As in real life, doctors came and went every couple of years, with some making greater impact than others. Indeed, the "star" of the series, David Birney, was gone after a single season. (It should be noted that, though the bulk of the hospital staff consisted of men, there were also women in highly visible and well-thought out roles as well, or were at times anyway.)

"St. Elsewhere" was much more soap opera-like than "Hill Street Blues," and this effectively drew viewers in and kept them in year after year. In the last seasons, there were radical changes in plotline (the hospital was bought by a large corporation, which brought with it brand-new management styles), and the cast seemed to change more frequently. There were also more episodes that tried to stretch beyond the established formula of the series. One flashback episode, for example, showed the young resident Mark Craig sucking up to HIS mentor, which was a delight to watch. The final episode proved to be the most strange and surreal, and left most longtime viewers dumbfounded.

For me, the series was marred slightly by that fact that, as in previous series created by Bruce Paltrow ("Lou Grant" and "The White Shadow"), the producer's politics too often became an integral part of the series. In practically every episode, it seemed, there would be a conversation between a doctor and a patient`s relative in which the latter would inform the physician about the percentage of Americans affected by some unfair law, or the exact number of cases of such-and-such a societal problem that were reported in the previous four fiscal years. The intent was good; had it occurred less frequently, it would have been far less annoying.

When it appears in syndication, "St. Elsewhere" can easily become an addiction, even if you have seen episodes three or four times already. The writing was at a very high level, the characterizations were three-dimensional and complex, and the medical situations intriguing. One becomes very interested in how the characters deal with their problems, and what twists and turns their lives will take. There is sufficient comedy mixed in with the serious plots to allow the easing of your pain after serious conflicts have arisen, and there are even some inside TV jokes thrown in once in a while for those who can catch them. Yes, there is far too much melodrama sometimes, but even that can be fun.

("St. Elsewhere" is often mentioned in the same breath with "Hill Street Blues." They were both hour-long, big-cast dramas of the 1980s, both with several plots going on at the same time, both were made by the same production company, and both were part of the "revitalization" of NBC, which by the end of the decade was not at all the "joke" network it had been ten years before. "St. Elsewhere" and "Hill Street Blues" were fine programs, though "Hill Street" was easily the best drama of the decade.)

A fine film about a young lawyer (Robert Redford) running for the senate, encouraged by an old college-friend-turned-campaign-manager (Peter Boyle). Redford is assured by him that he will lose against the Republican incumbent and that he can therefore be as honest as he wants in the campaign. As his popularity increases, however, and it looks as though he may in fact win, his managers are far more careful about what they will and will not allow him to say on the issues of the day.

The Candidate is very well made, with an excellent screenplay and supporting cast (particularly Allen Garfield as Redford's ad man and Melvyn Douglas as Redford's dad, a former governor of the state), but, probably because of Redford's own political views, the film doesn't go as far as it could in showing the corruption rampant in party politics. There is one scene in which Redford has a run-in with a Teamster boss, but it remains unresolved, and in the next scene Redford is more or less back to his old idealism. We know something happened, but we have no idea what.

Despite this, The Candidate is highly recommended.

Watch for familiar faces, including Senator Hubert Humphrey.

Often hailed as one of the worst attempts at entertainment ever made, The Star Wars Holiday Special is indeed one of the worst attempts at entertainment ever made. Hard-core Star Wars fans will be bored stupid, others may require medical attention. Approximately seventeen minutes of material are stretched to a full two hours, and the problems only begin there.

Appallingly lit and shot uninspiringly on video, this grave insult to the viewer features endless scenes with no noticeable advancement of plot, comedy sketches that would receive only polite applause from parents at an eighth-grade talent show, musical numbers with no connection at all to, well, anything, and many other items to vex and confuse all who can stand to watch them.

Most of the Star Wars people have cameos. Carrie Fisher, for example, is there, and apparently shot her scenes while testing the merits of various chemicals. James Earl Jones records some Darth Vader lines, which are played over "appropriate" footage from the movie. Mark Hamill and Artoo appear together in a scene that will leave you saying "Huh??" for a good long while. Only Harrison Ford comes off pretty well as Han Solo, who is trying to get Chewbacca back to the latter's blockaded home planet in time for "Life Day."

Several others fulfill the late 70s "variety show" requirement for guest star appearances. Bea Arthur (!) is most admirable as the woman who runs the Cantina and sings a sad and sweet song about her life there. Harvey Korman appears in three "comedy" sketches, but I find it difficult to discuss them. Art Carney is one of Chewbacca's family's closest humanoid friends and a member of the rebel alliance, which comes in handy when imperial soldiers stage an interminable search of Chewbacca's house. The talented Dihann Carroll sings beautifully, but her musical number would be far more impressive if it weren't the center of Chewbacca's father's virtual erotic fantasy.

I so very much wish I had just made that up.

There is a cartoon segment about Chewbacca and friends that is by far the best thing in the special, but don't expect to be uplifted, even if it does mark the first appearance ever of Boba Fett. (Yay.) The presence of the cartoon is justified as being something viewed by young Lumpy (Chewie's son) to pass the time while his house is being ransacked. Classicists may see this as a clumsy allusion to, among other things, Vergil's "Aeneid," in which characters see depictions of themselves in travels they have just undertaken. But the real reason the cartoon is shown at this particular point in the program is that hardly anyone involved in this production bothered to put any thought into anything they did, so that one part was just as good as another for a cartoon.

It goes on and on and on, with a finale that will convince you that God just doesn't like you or else He never would have permitted you to watch it.

I suppose it is my duty to inform the reader that George Lucas did not direct this slow-motion car wreck, and also that this special has practically no redeeming characteristics whatsoever. The Star Wars Holiday Special is not laughably bad, it's depressingly bad.

On the other hand, you may want to see it for yourself, provided you can find a copy.

You've been warned.

Star Wars is a very good movie.

This is often a dangerous thing to say, as there are very few admirers of Star Wars who -- well, I suppose it must be said -- do not go off the deep end with respect to this film. And so I will proceed with caution, but also with honesty.

For those three people who have been lost on an Antarctic expedition since 1977, Star Wars is the story of how young Luke Skywalker is recruited to help fight the evil Galactic Empire and its humanoid incarnation of evil, Darth Vader.

The excitement begins within the first few seconds of the movie and almost never lets up. The characters are fun and easily accessible: a naive young boy with a talent for flying speeders and shooting, a princess, a smuggler, a friendly giant from a strange planet, a wise old man, an evil knight, and a couple of robots thrown in for comic relief. There are spaceships and shoot-outs and gigantic space stations and even a Tarzan-like move or two. The plot is clearly laid out and the ending leaves little room for confusion.

Yet, despite my admiration, I can still think of a couple dozen movies I would rather see. Many people have been lost to the brainwashing that Star Wars is the greatest film ever made and that its "mythology" is unsurpassed in all of world literature. Neither is true. Star Wars is a good fantasy and a fine film, but somehow celebrating that, for many, isn't enough. It does what it is supposed to do and does it very well, but a tremendous burden has been placed on George Lucas's shoulders by salivating fans. I will admit that I am not as well-read as I'd like to be, but I can still boldly state that, for great mythology, thousands of other works (including films) are at fans' disposal which are more intriguing, yet just as much fun as Star Wars.

Come back into the light, my children, come back into the light.

The Blair Witch Project may not be the scariest ever made, but it happens to be the scariest movie I myself have ever seen. It is a truly original work that awakens frightening memories most of us have about being lost and disoriented, while at the same time resurrecting our childhood fears that supernatural forces out there in the wilderness can destroy us if we are not more careful.

Though the film's many strengths lend themselves well to praise and discussion, I would prefer instead to address some criticisms of "The Blair Witch Project" that have appeared in these very pages.

Dialogue:

The film has "bad" dialogue because the dialogue here is a representation of the way people actually talk, which is not always clever or made up of well-formed sentences. Indeed, since there was no script as such, the dialogue in "The Blair Witch Project" *was* the way people actually talked. The exchanges among the players were almost always exactly what you would hear from people of their age group and background.

Sense of reality:

Even in a film like The Blair Witch Project, which tried for as much realism as possible, some compromises must still be made. Those who think it is silly that the characters keep filming each other even in desperate situations, or during heated arguments, are probably missing some fundamental characteristics of the world of film, namely, that during each scene someone must be around to hold the camera. If this had not happened in The Blair Witch Project, that is, if no one had filmed any of the dramatic parts, we probably would not have witnessed the various scenes which make up the movie. As it stands, the air of "naturalness" of the actors while in front of the camera is impressive indeed.

Critics on this point, incidentally, are advised to view the Monty Python sketch in which a small group of explorers is fated to die in the jungle. They note pathetically how, at the end of their lives, they have only each other and a bit of film that will record the last minutes of their existence. They then suddenly realize that if they are on film, there must be a crew filming them, and that they are therefore not alone. The crew, which has been a few feet away the whole time, is then shown onscreen, and the explorers rejoice at seeing friendly faces in such a remote location. But then it occurs to them: if this is the crew that was filming them before, who's filming them now?

Kicking the map into the river:

This disturbed me too, at first, but you can easily take a map, get angry at it, crumple it up into a ball, and kick it into the river.

The things the filmmakers find:

As frustrating as it is to accidentally return to a place from which you started out, the element of fear quickly enters into it when you have no suggestions at all on how to proceed and it is also becoming dark. In such a situation, where one is already disoriented and feels the power of nature closing in, the finding of strange objects hanging from trees or of piles of rocks which seem to have appeared out of nowhere (indicating that someone is tracking you!) would be utterly terrifying. I would wager that most people have in their lives been scared by far less.

Hype:

It's true, this film was hyped practically to death. On the other hand, since it was made for about $30,000, hype was what was needed to sell the movie. Fortunately, I was lucky enough to avoid most of the hype, but even for those who were exposed to so much of it, I think it must have been gratifying to know that the film delivered.

And I thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen.

One of the greatest action films ever made, "The Fugitive" tells the story of Dr. Richard Kimble, a surgeon falsely convicted of killing his wife, and how he is pursued by the relentless Deputy Sam Gerard after his escape from police custody. As exciting as the film's action scenes are (especially the one showing the bus-train crash that allows Kimball to escape), they do nothing tp eclipse the sheer power of the two main actors, Harrison Ford and Tommy Lee Jones. Jones especially is so intriguing, and his character so interesting, that you constantly ask yourself when he will re-emerge when he is not on screen (though Ford is wonderful as well in a somewhat more conventional role).

The film wisely asks you to see a manhunt from two very different perspectives. Ford is the escapee fighting for his very life, and he rushes almost nonstop in and around Chicago in an attempt to prove his innocence of the crime of which he has been convicted. Jones, a U.S. Marshall, is concerned only with bringing his fugitive back to justice, as is revealed in the now-famous exchange, made when Jones confronts Ford for the first time (and at gunpoint):

Kimble: I didn't kill my wife!

Gerard: I don't care.

Two minor faults: the scene in which the reason for Kimble's framing is revealed is just a tad confusing, or was to me at any rate. Also, "The Fugitive" takes the all-too-familiar route of having a final chase scene that takes up a significant percentage of the movie's running time. I realize that this is the way action movies are "supposed" to end, but I always find the protracted expenditure of energy on the characters' part personally draining rather than invigorating. Sometimes less is more, even in this genre.

That aside, a fantastic film with surprises at every turn, and bonuses of the kind ya can't hardly find no more.

This film, though sometimes funny, is somewhat of a cheat.

This is not because it was taken from a TV series ("Police Squad"), or that the name of the series was changed for the big screen. Rather, it is because Leslie Nielsen's character is turned around with respect to what he was on television. The world of "Police Squad" (all six episodes of it) is like that of "Airplane," one in which, for example, a female witness can ask detectives to wait while she "changes" and come back a completely different person, or where the scientist down at Police Squad headquarters can demonstrate ballistics by showing how far a bullet can penetrate through a row of Barbara Walters interview tapes. Nothing quite make sense to us, but it does to them, which is one reason why the series was so hilarious.

On "Police Squad," the occasional exception to this state of affairs was Lt. Frank Drebin (Nielsen), who seemed to be the only one who could perceive that a statement was too ludicrous even for his universe (which he would indicate by pausing, grinning slightly and saying "Well . . ." and then moving on).

In the movie, however, Frank becomes something of an Inspector Clouseau: clumsy, accident-prone, annoying to his superiors. This is not at all what he was in "Police Squad." There he was the ultimate good cop: loyal, smooth-talking, respected by his colleagues and bosses downtown. The viewer must judge for himself which version he likes better. I, of course, preferred the old version, mostly because I am just old enough to remember why Nielsen was chosen to be in "Airplane," namely, because the straightness of most of his roles up to that point only served to emphasize the zaniness of the script.

Yes, this is probably too much analysis for a simple comedy. I just miss the television series.

In brief: "Naked Gun" is entertaining fare, though it is certainly no "Airplane" or even "Police Squad." Too much slapstick, not quite enough wit.

But excellent opening credits.

"Will and Grace" is a lot going for it, particularly fine comedic actors with wonderful timing. It does, however, have its very irritating side. The caricatures that are the supporting roles, though played well, can wear one down quickly. How many times in thirty minutes can we hear Karen chuckle slightly and use the word "honey" in mocking fashion? Theoretically dozens, provided one stays tuned that long. How much time does Jack spend thinking about the fact that he's gay? Apparently, all of it. Every second of the day. One is reminded of Judd Hirsch's character in "Independence Day" whose every line had to be uttered with a Yiddish lilt. We know he's Jewish, we know Jack is gay, and we know that Karen's favorite word is "honey." Time for us to see more.

"Will and Grace" has lots of talent working for it, both onscreen and behind it. Let's hope that better things are ahead.

An exceptional documentary on the life of Abraham Lincoln, told through narration, letters, speeches, and diaries.

I don't know if I quite agreed with the choice of Jason Robards as Lincoln, but this is just a matter of taste (although I have read descriptions of how Lincoln actually sounded).

You should, however, ignore this minor quibble. If you have any interest at all in one of history's most fascinating people, or even if you are already an expert on Lincoln, you should see this film.

Ah, Gilligan's island. What is it that draws us to it? Maybe one day geneticists will discover the mysterious strand of DNA that makes Americans, like me, watch this program.

The set-up is told to us at the beginning of each half-hour (in song). The S.S. Minnow is lost at sea during a terrible storm. Aboard are the skipper (Jonas Grumby), his first mate (Gilligan), the billionaire Thurston Howell III, his wife Lovey, movie star Ginger Grant, professor Roy Hinckley, and country girl Mary Ann Summers. A microcosm of American society, producer Sherwood Schwartz would tell us. Marooned on an "uncharted desert isle," they are constantly searching for a way back to civilization.

During their tenure on the island, the seven stranded castaways encounter volcanoes, typhoons, Pacific island cannibals, Japanese submarine pilots, errant space satellites, seeds that allow you to read others' minds, Tarzan-like jungle boys, Russian astronauts, and, of course, the requisite gorilla. Anything they come across, however, is usually just a plot device to introduce a potential way off the island, which Gilligan inevitably spoils through his dim-wittedness.

The series was amazingly inane, but has become wildly popular in reruns. Though primarily aimed at kids with no ability to handle even the slightest bit of complexity, this show has nevertheless developed a following even among the thinking.

Maybe it is the charisma of Thurston Howell III or our concern for the flighty Lovey Howell. Maybe it is our yearnings for Mary Ann or Ginger or our curiosity about what was under the Professor's calm exterior. Perhaps it is or our love for the skipper's teddy-bear-like qualities. Or perhaps we just want to see how Gilligan will screw up again. For some reason, millions tune in to "Gilligan's Island" day after day, and they probably always will.

The first filming of how Fletcher Christian cast off the yoke of the oppressive Capt. Bligh is a joy to watch. Method actors may be a bit confused by the unashamedly hammy acting styles, dialectologists may wonder what part of England Christian and several of the Bounty's crew are actually from, and cultural historians may find more than a bit that doesn't belong. Everyone else, though, should sit back and enjoy the ride.

Charles Laughton is wonderful as Bligh, the personification of pure evil, and a naval officer so fond of punishment that he continues flogging a criminal even after he's dead. Clark Gable plays, as always, Clark Gable, and this is quite sufficient for any film, though he is also much more than adequate as Mr. Christian. Franchot Tone is the new and amusingly smug midshipman Roger Byam, appointed by the influential Sir Joseph to write a dictionary of the Tahitian language, who gets caught in-between the battle between Bligh and Christian. Dudley Digges chews up as much scenery as he is able as the ship's doctor ("Bacchus") who is fond of tall tales about himself, though he is even more fond of drinking. (Note for TV fans: the always-old Ian Wolfe, who plays Maggs, was later Mrs. Carlson's "houseboy" on "WKRP in Cincinnati.")

Long but never dull, this is an old-fashioned movie that delivers: action, intrigue, adventure, costumes, a trial, and even a love story. Pop some popcorn and have a good time.

Capt. William Bligh, we find out in "The Bounty," is not really an awful person, he just wants to get his work done quickly and efficiently. He has two goals: to complete his mission for the Royal Navy (delivering breadfruit from Tahiti to Jamaica) and to circumnavigate the globe. If these things had gone his way, the good captain would probably have been remembered by his crew as just one of the many cold and impersonal officers of the British Navy, though if they scratched their brains enough, they might also have recalled that he was not wholly without heart or concern for his men.

Unfortunately, little goes his way. Rounding the tip of South America proves to be an impossibility (though the ambitious Bligh attempts it for 31 days straight), the journey to Tahiti is thus lengthened considerably, the Bounty therefore arrives in Tahiti late, and the breadfruit they plant out doesn't grow fast enough to get the mission completed in time. After having spent so much extra time in Tahiti, the crew, and most of the officers as well, become used the life of leisure in their tropical paradise, and Bligh's authority over them is called into question. Even his second-in-command, Fletcher Christian, finds it am imposition to leave his hut (and his Tahitian hut-mate) and attend dinner with the captain on board the ship.

When they do finally leave Tahiti, Bligh explains very clearly to his officers that they have failed in their duty of maintaining authority, and that he has failed for putting faith in them. But the "cure" for what ails the ship, he tells them, is discipline. Bligh decides to whip the crew back into shape, mostly by whipping Fletcher Christian (figuratively) back into shape. The message to the crew seems to be, if the captain can treat his second-in-command (and friend) in this way, how might he treat THEM if they fall out of line?

The plan backfires, of course, and leads to one of the most famous rebellions in naval history. Bligh and his loyal followers are set adrift in a small boat, though it is here that we see why the very able officer was given a command in the first place.

True, the story is supposed to be about the conflict between Bligh and Christian, but Anthony Hopkins is so very strong as William Bligh that it is mostly he that you remember (though Christian is played very well by Mel Gibson).

Bligh is very much a three-dimensional character. He is by nature distant with his colleagues, but is also passionately devoted to his wife and family, and even enjoys a happy moment with his friend Christian before the journey begins. He is unquestioningly loyal to the Admiralty, but he is also just a tad bitter at not having been promoted to captain (his actual rank is Lieutenant, though he is addressed as "captain" when he commands a ship). He demands respect and the immediate carrying out of orders, but can also admit a mistake and still maintain his authority. Bligh can even (almost) take a joke played at his expense.

Perhaps Hopkins's finest moment is one that you might literally miss if you blink. As he is being carried from his boat to the shore by the natives of Tahiti, he lifts his hat in triumph to the cheering crowd, knowing that the only way to get what he wants from King Tynah (beautifully played by Wi Kuki Kaa) is to present himself as a visiting chieftan. But as soon as the hat goes back on we see a total change: he is now a businessman ready to set up a deal. Glory doesn't interest him, and he wouldn't know what to do with it if he really had it.

"The Bounty" is visually striking, full of beautiful colors and exotic sets. I'm not exactly sure where the island scenes were filmed, but they will make you feel that Tahiti truly is paradise. The cramped space of the small ship is recreated extremely well, and we also are presented with a very real representation of the admiralty headquarters, where Bligh's trial takes place.

Director Roger Donaldson also coordinates his action brilliantly, particularly in the mutiny scene and also in the one in which Bligh and his men have stopped on an island to re-supply and meet up with very unfriendly natives.

If you are a Laurence Olivier fan, you may be disappointed, as he is hardly in the picture. If you yearn to see Mel Gibson, you will be well-satisfied, but also duly impressed. If you like good storytelling and character studies, you will love "The Bounty."

"Hill Street Blues" was about a busy police station in the heart of a great unnamed city, though it was clear that the city had more than a passing resemblance to Chicago. The cast was very large, headed by Daniel J. Travanti as Capt. Frank Furillo.

Though immediately groundbreaking, the series took about a season to hit its stride. The early episodes, for example, showed Frank as something of a superman, an officer who could handle the precinct's problems, dispense wisdom and counsel to his men, and even negotiate in fluent Spanish with gangsters over the loudspeaker. He later became much more quiet and withdrawn, even purposely dull at times, but nevertheless remained an extremely strong presence in the station.

It would require pages and pages to do full justice to "Hill Street Blues," since the characters and stories were often so interesting, and also because there were so many of both of them. The people and situations were very believable, sometimes disturbingly so. The endings were not always happy and the cops did not always get their man. Corruption and incompetence were shown as very real parts of organizational life. Sometimes even recurring characters who were brought in for comic relief would end up being killed. But most people at the Hill Street station had faith that they were making a difference in the community, and that drove them forward.

The acting was, for the most part, phenomenal, and the sense of realism superb. When the officers were on the street, you really believed they were on patrol. The interaction among the characters could occasionally drift toward soap opera, but the writing was nevertheless a far cut above almost anything else before or since. Shock was used sparingly and effectively, and the series relied more on different ways of developing similar plot lines (robbery, shootings, etc.) than on always trying to "out-do" the bizarre storyline from the previous week (a very unfortunate trend in 90s series).

"Hill Street Blues" was an excellent police drama, and an excellent series.

"Barney Miller" was a show that changed dramatically during the course of its run, despite the fact that its plot, setting, and basic cast remained the same.

The show dealt with a detective squad at a precinct house in New York City and the often strange people from the community who went in and out their door. At the beginning of the series, the pace was fast and the comedy a bit "loud," and the emphasis was on one-liners and quirkiness rather than on real characters. Barney was the captain of the precinct, very put-upon and overworked, but nevertheless always wise and friendly. Wojo was the well-meaning detective who was a bit lacking in smarts. Harris was funny, fashion-conscious, and cool, while Yemana was much more introverted, though he would also provide the occasional witty commentary. Fish was the old man on the verge of retirement who had more ailments than you could imagine. Chano was perhaps the most "normal" of the bunch after Barney, and always tried to have a positive outlook despite being constantly exposed to the less inspiring side of life.

The detectives were racially mixed, which, at the show's inception, would occasionally provide for some comedy, though ethnic humor was largely dispensed with after the first season. Other detectives came and went after an episode or two, especially during the very early years.

By the end of the run, the pace of the show had slowed down somewhat. The precinct house was now very leisurely for a police station in Manhattan. Conversations became more relaxed as well, and you got the idea that the directors were trying to show human interaction as it often was, with people thinking before they spoke. The dialog became wittier and the characterization much more subtle. Barney was now more of a real person, the pressures of life seemingly affecting him more, and he would even get a bit frustrated with his immediate underlings. Harris, with whom Barney now clashed from time to time, had become successful financially and was becoming more attuned to the cultural side of things. He had developed into something of a snob, and was also less and less interested in police work as the series went on. Chano had moved on early, Fish retired (and had briefly had his own show), and the actor who played Yemana died, inspiring a half-hour tribute to actor Jack Soo by the rest of the cast. Dietrich was Fish's replacement, and was the intellectual of the group (one Monday morning he chit-chatted about how he had gone to the Goethe Festival over the weekend). His (often in-depth) knowledge on every conceivable subject was an extreme nuisance to Harris, but proved helpful to Barney in official matters. Wojo, by the end of the run, was no longer the loud, sex-driven brute he had been before, but rather a soulful and sensitive person, prompting Harris, in one of the show's great inside jokes, to proclaim in the final episode: "He is so MUCH improved!"

Popping in occasionally was Inspector Luger, Barney's immediate superior, a man who yearned for the old days of police work, when men were men (and died like men) and there wasn't all this "concern" for the suspect. Though Luger never changed, Barney's reaction to him did: where he once considered him as an amusing relic from the past of the city's police force, he later saw him as dangerously out of touch and a potential threat to police-civilian relations. And he turned out to be just that: at a protest by Hasidic Jews at the station house, Luger suggested that they all disperse, go home and "take a shave." The protest immediately turned into a riot.

The obsequious Officer Carl Levitt became a regular after a few seasons, always trying to become a detective, but continually rejected, apparently because of his height. And every once in a while there was a visit from Lt. Scanlon of Internal Affairs, who delighted in the hunt and, especially, the smell of blood.

Almost all the action during the run of the show took place in the squad room (which contained a single jail cell) and Barney's adjoining office. Despite the fact that the squad seemed very small considering its location (not to mention not very busy!), the viewer got the feeling that he was really in a run-down precinct house. The office was cramped, and the furniture old and in dire need of replacement. Papers and files lay around for so long that you actually got used to them being where they were, and the advertisement for boxing posted on the wall next to the stairs seems never to have been updated in seven years.

"Barney Miller," during its run, became a literate, well-written show with interesting characters and story lines. In its later years it unfortunately suffered from "social-cause-of-the-week" syndrome, à la Lou Grant, but it also knew when it was taking itself just a little too seriously, and the episode would often allow a well-timed and witty remark by Dietrich to lighten the atmosphere a bit.

"Barney Miller" is highly recommended, especially in daily reruns, where you can see its steady development into a fine television series.

Must we continually suffer the well-meaning enthusiasm for the Star Wars saga in the praise we hear of The Phantom Menace? An entertaining movie, to be sure, but it is not too much more than that. Terrific special effects (especially in the scenes showing the completely urbanized planet and the one involving the speeder race with young Anikan) and the great fight scene with Darth Maul are the highlights of this not-bad motion picture. You will probably stay alert right to the end, which is definitely saying something, but there's a lot to be endured: the interesting characters of the first series are not there, the acting generally ranges from flat to poor, and the story is more or less forgettable. The very talented Samuel L. Jackson will probably be happy to tell his grandchildren about the seven lines he spoke in Star Wars, but many of us in the present would have liked to see more of him. And, of course, Jar-Jar Binks is just plain irritating and won't go away no matter how hard you wish. Computer nerds may continually marvel at how he was created, but the viewing audience, I would assume, is made up of a broader spectrum of the public at large.

Despite all this, I will still look forward to the next Star Wars epic.