Reviews

I say this as a Tolkien fan who read The Hobbit several times as a boy and recently read it to my daughter, with much enjoyment, and has read The Lord Of The Rings several times, twice as an adult. I adore the LOTR films, where Peter Jackson and his writing collaborators (Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens) worked wonders to get a coherent screenplay out of that massive, unwieldy tome. He jettisoned whole chunks of plot and characters - Tom Bombadil, the barrow wight, orcish politics - and few reasonable Tolkeinophiles could complain, as these omissions were clearly intended to streamline the story. Personally, my main regret is the absence of The Scouring Of The Shire, the riveting coda to the adventure of The Ring, in which the hobbits return to the Shire and put right the wrongs that have been perpetrated in their absence.

More controversially, Jackson made some radical changes to the story: Elves At Helm's Deep! Arwen's part beefed up! Tolkein would undoubtedly have deplored such meddlings with his text, and his son and literary executor Christopher, when breaking a lifetime's silence to give an interview in 2012 made his feelings clear. And yet, the appearance of a battalion of Elves to strengthen the beleaguered garrison at Helm's Deep somehow feels right, and is not at all implausible in the context of previous alliances between Elves and Men. And while one motive for beefing up the part of Arwen was undoubtedly to give the film more female interest, the love between Arwen and Aragorn is not an idle fancy of the writers, being detailed in the Appendices.

Ultimately, the fact remains that there is a huge wealth of material in the Lord Of The Rings, and the big questions for the writers concerned what to leave out. But then there were well over a thousand pages (in small typeface!) to draw on. It was always doubtful, on the other hand, whether wringing three films out of the Hobbit, a far slighter book, would work. After Part 1, I thought he might just pull it off. Although ludicrously overlong, it was a welcome chance for fans to re-immerse ourselves in that beautifully realised world. Some sections, particularly Bilbo's encounter with Gollum, are perfectly realised. Part 2 shows conclusively that Jackson hasn't pulled it off. With The Desolation Of Smaug, the project appears to be holed below the waterline. This is where the inadequacies are made manifest. So thin is the source material stretched here (barely five chapters!) that he's just Made Up A Whole Load Of Nonsense to buff out the time. Parts of it (such as the rolling barrels) look like video game footage, which for all the CGI jiggery pokery of LOTR was never a problem with those films. Those CGI achievements, which were so thrilling, yet spawned so many doleful imitations, have become the master rather than the servant.

Then there's the matter of the new characters. Tauriel's introduction was doubtless motivated partly by the same concerns behind the decision to make Arwen more prominent, principally a desire to increase the minimal female presence in the story. The trouble is that everything she does is newly introduced material that was not in the Hobbit, and as such its only real raison d'etre is to pad out the films, justifying the ludicrous decision to make three films out of this book - which both Jackson and original director Guillermo del Toro acknowledged is "lightweight" compared to LOTR. Indeed, the decision to expand from two films to three was only made in July 2013, as detailed in the films' Wikipedia entry. It is therefore certain that some of the material in both of the first two films would have been outtakes from a two-film project. There are other problems with the sequences in the Elven domain in Mirkwood: nearly all of the dialogue is laughably portentous, almost parodic of "Tolkein-speak"; Thranduil is played as a camp pantomime villain; and Tauriel's "love triangle" with Legolas and Kili is wholly implausible.

Throughout, the depiction of the Dwarfs is problematic. Their leader, Thorin, is handsome, noble and vainglorious, and not out of keeping with Tolkein's creation (although Richard Armitage's performance contains rather too much ham for my liking). The others seem to belong to a different film altogether: barely differentiated, mostly farcical, and some with hideous prosthetics. Then there is Radagast the Brown, a character who is mentioned once in The Hobbit and is only briefly in LOTR; while I have no beef in principle with making certain characters more prominent, what Jackson & Co have done to poor, blameless Radagast is turn him into the Trilogy's Jar Jar Binks, an absurd, crusty comic grotesque. In fact, sadly, the Hobbit films are shaping up to have more than just that in common with the Star Wars prequels. I am a little worried about the last film, based as it is on barely 60 pages of the book. In fact, I might hold out for the "compact version" of the films, perhaps one film of three hours or so containing the real meat of the original story. I won't be holding my breath

I found Toback's earlier film Black and White mildly diverting, so gave this one a whirl. The scuttlebutt was that this was Neve Campbell's best (and sexiest) performance so far. Well, that much may be true-ish, but the rest of this film is, in places, almost unwatchably bad.

Most of the characters (or should I say caricatures - take the Italian mogul: did anybody find this man even remotely believable?) are without a shred of originality, and in the case of Ford, bear virtually no resemblance to human beings of the sort you or I might actually meet. It may be that his relentless hustling is *intended* to show him as a pathetic individual - but there is a fine line between depicting characters we may not like but in whom we can invest some interest as to their fate; and, as happens in this film, showing people who are irredeemably ghastly, and about whose fate we don't give a toss.

In Black and White, Mike Tyson had a very funny cameo, in which Robert Downey Junior's character tries to seduce him. Here, it looks as if Toback has simply raided his address book and shoehorned as many celebrity cameos as he could into what passes for the plot. Ooh, look, there's Lori Singer! Wow, there's Mike Tyson (again). Ooh, that really is Damon Dash! Toback's own performance as the "hilariously" named cross-cultural enabler is pure smugness in a bottle. The only honest moment is when he confesses to wanting to get into Neve Campbell's knickers. We can only speculate as to whether that is a case of art imitating life.

And Neve Campbell? Yes, she is good in this. She gets some decent dialogue to get her teeth into and delivers it with aplomb. I still think Wild Things is a better showcase for her talent.

The incident towards the end of the film was certainly unexpected; but then again, any idiot can make unexpected things happen in a film. The trick is to work up to it in *some* way. Toback is either incapable of doing this, or simply can't be bothered. The dénouement left me shrugging: so what? Who cares about these cardboard cut-outs?

This series slipped under the radar, which I think is a real shame. It was by no means perfect, but it was mostly well written and directed, and the acting was pretty solid. What made it special was Sally Phillips. She was superb, showing off the full range of her considerable acting talents. She could be touching, insecure, feisty - and hilarious: the first episode in particular, has a treasurable scene where she interviews a prominent (and none-too-impressed) feminist for a feature called "What's in my fridge" or something similar. When the subject testily enquires whose brilliant idea this was, Sally Phillips's reaction is priceless, even though she just says one word: "Guilty!" She is a huge comic talent, and I really hope we see more of her on big and small screens.

There may be a halfway decent film trying to wriggle out of this mess, but as with another British disaster movie (of the unintentional kind), Crush, this film is killed by a ropy screenplay and some horribly two-dimensional characterisation. Michael Kitchen is a fine actor, but his performance here as Stephen's father is just shocking; he could probably drag the scriptwriter down the plughole with him, but either way he is not going to be a movie star if this is the sort of project he gets saddled with. Marianne Jean-Baptiste (another fine actor - when is she going to get another part as good as Secrets & Lies?) is quite unconvincing as a counsellor, in a seriously underwritten part, pretty much the only kind there is in this film apart from the two leads.

As to the two main roles, they have a few good moments, but are asked to make us believe the implausible and the indefensible by the script. The "operation" scene is laughable, which perhaps was the idea, although I would have thought we are supposed to be laughing at the horror of it all, not at the ludicrousness of the action. And when it came to the drug scenes, I confess I eventually had to fast forward through them, so embarrassing were they.

"Crush", incidentally, was almost called "The Sad Fuckers Club"; I'm sure that it was in the task of sanitising it for our protection that a good idea turned into a terrible film. I wonder if this film had a similar working title...

Since An Angel At My Table Jane Campion hasn't made a flawless film, yet I still think she is a genius, and couldn't make a bad or uninteresting film if she tried. The Piano was a truly Great Film. Portrait Of A Lady was terrific apart from John Malkovich's horrible performance; Holy Smoke was an extremely brave film (who else would mix an exploration of spiritual belief, a story of forbidden love and broad Aussie slapstick, and get away with it??) with an exceptional, fearless performance from Kate Winslet.

Jane Campion has coaxed another fearless performance from an estimable talent, Meg Ryan. The thing I really like is that I never thought she was overdoing the slumming it - "Hey everyone, this is me, cute little Meg, proving I can act by skipping the make-up and looking as ugly as I can." It feels like an honest performance, and she just happens to look more beautiful and desirable than ever before. Mark Ruffalo is superb in this; I've liked him a lot ever since You Can Count On Me - even his blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo in Ride With The Devil left a strong impression - and he's just as good here. JJL is bearable, which is about as much as I can say about her. And Kevin Bacon is very fine, though I haven't yet figured out why he's uncredited (I see there's a thread on that here, which I must read!).

I loved the sleazy feel of the film, the cinematography and especially the editing, which really was outstanding. The dialogue was really grown-up as well. Not only were the sex scenes adult and sexy, but the sex talk was too - it rang true, which sex talk hardly EVER does in Hollywood films.

There are flaws, and I don't think the police procedural is Campion's forte; the ending was a bit pat, I thought, although the lead-up to it was edge-of-the-seat stuff. Overall, there is far more to get your teeth into than 90% of films. I give it a nine, just because Jane Campion is an original and a cussed spirit. Hollywood desperately needs more independent, maverick spirits like her.

I watched this for the second time last night, and liked it even more than I had first time round. I *like* the fact that this film isn't particularly ambitious, that it doesn't have big stars, that it's unassuming. These are all virtues in my book, provided that the film tells its story and brings you its characters effectively.

I'd forgotten how many great lines there are in this film, many of them given to Maria Bello, whose brassy performance was a lot of fun - although I wasn't sure about her singing: she hits all the notes, but there's virtually no sustain. Odd, that. Anyway, Gwyneth P sings very sweetly, and shows her unselfish approach to her craft. For someone so famous, she is a real team player - In addition to her Oscar winning part, check out her strong performances in ensemble pieces like Sidney (aka Hard Eight) and The Royal Tenenbaums.

It's already been said here that the scenes involving Andre Braugher and Paul Giametti are the best in the film; I'd agree, and go further and say that Giametti's performance is verging on great: I've seen few actors convey someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown so convincingly, steering the treacherous path between "I shout a lot to signify I'm going through a transition" and "Look at me, I'm a teapot". He really does seem like a man on the edge, and the scenes with his wife pack a real emotional punch. And his singing is terrific: my personal favourite was his gradually-loosening-up take on Hello It's Me.

No quibbling about Andre Braugher's performance, though: it *is* great. I'd never seen him before, not having seen Glory or Homicide. I found his playing immensely touching: shepherding a man cracking up, the escaped convict becomes a wise man, friend and protector, and Braugher conveys all this with gravitas and a wry world-weariness. In all seriousness, I think this performance was worthy of an Oscar for best supporting actor, at the very least a nomination. And his voice? Wow!

Duets is not perfect, and doesn't set out (one imagines) to break box-office records in its first weekend. It is a solid, well-made ensemble piece with a clutch of fine performances and some lively singing. I'd quite happily buy this on DVD and watch it again.

Stephen Fry is such a prodigious polymath that it's no surprise what a good fist he's made of his directorial debut. That's not to say it's wholly successful; the characters are so shallow that it is hard to warm to them, although it should be pointed out that this is not necessarily a fault. Indeed, it's refreshing these days to find a film in which characters are not trying to ingratiate themselves. Emily Mortimer is exempt from this observation in any case, as she's just so adorable - and is it just me or does she look a dead spit for the young Mary Steenburgen?

I found not only the camerawork but the lighting extremely gaudy, sometimes offputtingly so. However, Fry is admirably adventurous in some of his camera sweeps, not playing it safe as some inexperienced directors do.

As to the performances, it is true that Simon Callow hams it up quite outrageously (although he still wrung a couple of chuckles out of me), and I found Michael Sheen's uber-camp queen rather wearing, until his scene at the end which I thought he handled well. I know I'm not the first person to say this, but it bears repetition: Fenella Woolgar is a revelation in this film, conveying the insouciance of the upper class effortlessly (and the scene after the "orgy" with the stern family is priceless). James McEvoy was excellent too.

Oh, and by the way, to whomever described Evelyn Waugh as "herself one of the beauties of the age" - you may have been joking, but in case not, Evelyn Waugh was in fact a curmudgeonly man who would no doubt have snorted to hear himself thus described!

This film is pretty long, but never dragged; perhaps this was because the writer picks his influences wisely. So there are some Kubrick references, as has been pointed out, but he isn't a isn't a slave to Robert McKee's tedious "3 Act" structure which *every* bleedin' Hollywood film seems to use these days, and which was sent up so accurately in Spike Jonze's Adaptation.

This film is truly funny (especially in the fake news videos that Alex's friend makes); poignant without being sentimental; depicts a loving but spiky sibling relationship beautifully; and has a breathtakingly subtle irony at the end, which I won't mention here - it just seems to get everything right. The fact that it's still showing in London several months after its release, and that of the first 20 comments on this site there isn't one negative one, show that this film is an unequivocal success. The Oscar for best foreign language film is somewhat devalued currency these days, but I like to think that Good Bye Lenin will at least get a nod.

I don't usually start my contributions like that, honest - but it's entirely merited. I've just watched the whole of the first series on DVD and been perhaps even more impressed coming back to it after a long gap. One of the things I love about the programme is that although the books they're reading aren't that important, the book group setting itself *is* crucial to the programme.

There are several laugh-out-loud scenes in the first series, none of them revolving around standard gags or punchlines. One scene gets its laughs from repeated use of the "c" word, which is an extremely hard trick to pull off!

The characters are beautifully drawn, starting with the pivotal figure of Claire, who is at once hugely irritating and sympathetic. All the actors are fine, though I particularly liked the louche and laconic Rab. The minor parts are well done too, for example Ben Miller as the writer, the guys who play Fist's and Dirka's husbands, and the vicar, whom we see in one episode.

One other thing: it's really exquisitely filmed.

I can certainly imagine myself getting more than one viewing out of this DVD (I am intrigued to know what the audio commentary will be like), and will certainly look to get the second series eventually, if nothing else for the interplay between Claire and her sister.

Oh dear! It's very rare that I go and see a film knowing absolutely nothing about it, as I've usually read reviews and previews. It's usually enjoyable to see a film "blind", so to speak, but I'll have to make an exception for this wildly miscalculated effort.

There are a few plus points: the three children are fun and natural, and the officious young policeman is a hoot. The films looks lovely - but then again, with a gift location like this, you'd have to be unfeasibly cack-handed not to produce some eye candy. The gangs of feral children were pretty arresting, although there was no momentum to the action. One scene followed the other seemingly at random.

The characterisation of the adults was rudimentary at best: the father was a cipher of caring-but-macho, and the others barely made a dent in my consciousness. My big beef is with the character of Grazia, and more specifically her "condition" - what is supposed to be wrong with her exactly?? Maybe I'm over-sensitive, but as a counsellor I have a very low tolerance for what I can only describe as "Hollywood mental illnesses." I thought the screenplay botched the subject spectacularly, falling between the two stools of, on the one hand, simply being a "free spirit" misunderstood by the staid townspeople and, on the other, having a diagnosable personality disorder or mental illness. The injections they give her don't add to our understanding in any way, and nor does the vague talk of a "specialist in Milan". Has she seen someone about it or what?

People in any kind of mental turmoil are incredibly ill-served in cinema, and this film just adds to it. Oh, and I thought the ending was appallingly sentimental. Bah humbug!

I don't know what made me think of this film suddenly, as I saw it three years ago in the London German Film Week. The director was there, which added to the sense of occasion, and I remember being hugely impressed with the lead actress, who reminded me a bit of Emily Watson, not in terms of physical appearance, but in her honesty and lack of artifice.

I don't suppose this film will make many appearances on TV in the UK or USA, but if it does, I'd highly recommend it.

I thought this was a very strong all-round effort (although I wouldn't go as far as to say it was brilliant), with Jennifer Aniston finally shrugging off Rachel, to move to second place in the Friends On The Big Screen chart - behind Lisa Kudrow, obviously, whose performance in The Opposite Of Sex sets the bar very high. I tip my hat to Aniston here, as this isn't a pseudo-indie film which some high-profile actors use to get some street cred; I'm not sure who financed it (and maybe it was a big studio), but it was certainly "indie" in spirit, as can be gleaned by the look of the film, its subject matter and by looking at the cast list: Mike White (Mr "Chuck & Buck"), Zooey Deschanel, the guy who played Fances McDormand's husband in Fargo, etc.

Anyway, the whole cast of The Good Girl did good work here - I especially enjoyed Zoey Deschannel as the attitudinous Cheryl. She provided my favourite line, the slightly indistinct "F*** you very much" to a customer, repeated as "Thank you very much" - great stuff!

I had expected this film to be a rather worthy look at the plight of Britain's immigrant underclass. I thought it would be good and well-acted: there's been a lot of press about Chiwetel Ejiofor in the UK press recently, for both his screen and stage work; and of course there was considerable interest in the casting of Audrey Tautou in a gritty Brit film after the whimsy of Amelie.

Well, DPT is all these things and much more. I hadn't realised what a white-knuckle-ride *thriller* this film would be. It's incredibly tense at times, as well as horrifying in parts - I did have to avert my eyes a couple of times, although as someone else has already remarked, it's not so often as to make the film a trial to sit through, and the gory scenes are totally necessary to the plot.

That said, it's also funny, deeply moving and depressing by turns. I became dewy-eyed a couple of times, particularly at the end, and at the same time really admire Stephen Frears for not milking the tear ducts - he could have dragged a couple of scenes out and manipulated the audience's emotions, but drew back at just the right time.

Chiwetel Ejiofor is the film's lynchpin , and his performance is every bit as good as the most effusive praise has suggested. Okwe is obviously a Good Man, though I don't agree that he is too good to be true, as some have suggested. He is a complex and tormented man, struggling to maintain his moral integrity and dignity against daunting odds - and Ejiofor made me believe this man completely.

Audrey Tautou is pretty darn good too. Her accent is indeed way off base, and if her performance weren't so good, it would really rankle. however, I can usually forgive such infelicities if the acting is good enough. Her mixture of naive optimism and world-weariness is beautifully conveyed.

The supporting cast is terrific, with Sergi Lopez just the right side of monster; Sophie Okonedo full of vim and vigour; Benedict Wong's wry resignation was a real highlight. The Russian doorman was perhaps a little too close to caricature, but the character's larger-than-life personality and good heart were shown with gusto.

It occurs to me what an extraordinary achievement it is to have made a film that is utterly British, and yet with virtually no white British characters in it.

One final word about the plot: it really keeps you guessing and on the edge of the seat - it took a number of turns towards the end (I won't say "twists" as that makes them sound gratuitous), and for a while I really couldn't work out what was going to happen. When it is revealed what Okwe has decided to do, it gives the lie to the notion that he is too good to be true!

I watched this film for the second time, and was left feeling very ambivalent. On the one hand, there is so much to admire: the witty, literate script; Kevin Spacey's completely persuasive performance; the support work of Chris Cooper, Thora Birch, Mena Suvari and the marvellously oily Peter Gallagher; and some great cinematography.

The fly in the ointment was a feeling I was left with with that the main female characters (or certainly three of them) in the film are crude caricatures, in contrast to the complex and nuanced characters played by Spacey, Wes Bentley and even the seemingly straight-out-of-central-casting Chris Cooper. Most obviously there is Carolyn, whom Lester calls at one point a dried-up old bitch, or something like that. She is portrayed as hysterical, shrewish, over-ambitious, pathetically insecure and domineering, and is pretty much without any redeeming features. She even has lousy taste in music! Lester has come to hate her, and my feeling was that the audience was being invited to feel contempt and hatred for her too. I found this extremely grating, although this was not a criticism of Annette Bening's acting, more of the script and direction.

Then there is Angela, the would be slut, who has a mind like a sewer and is completely shallow and obsessed with appearances. At the end, one sentence from Ricky is enough to burst her bubble of self-delusion and send her crying into Lester's arms. Admittedly, her last scene does show a different side to her, but it is one that has been occasioned by an insult from a man and then nurtured by another man. All-in-all, a cipher.

And what of Ricky's hapless mother? Some very imaginative suggestions have been made on these message boards to explain why she is the way she is, but I think these suggestions are being overly generous to the filmmakers, as to me none of it is in the script. She seemed like a pitiable, catatonically stricken woman who was just there.

Jane is easily the most complex and fully realised of the female characters; even here, though, I found myself wondering whether this was simply down to the fact that Thora Birch is so damn good that she wrung more subtlety out of the character than was originally there (witness her superb performance in Ghost World for another exhibition of her brilliance). I found there was a dissonance between what's in the script (she's a f*ck-up) and what I saw on screen, which is in many ways the film's most sympathetic character. She even says more than once that she's a bad person, and that it isn't surprising she's so screwed up, with such weird parents.

Certainly, Lester's attitude towards Jane is pretty contemptuous, until right at the end. He only sides with her when he's battering his wife's taste in music. It's as if his daughter is just another woman put on earth to make his life a misery. He laments that she would never confide in him, but never asks himself about his own responsibility and his part in her upbringing. But hey, this film isn't about a dysfunctional family, it's about one man, the worm that turns against his oppressors and becomes a hero. Sod the women, this is a guy's wish-fulfilment fantasy. Cheer on Lester Burnham, give Spacey an Oscar (and it is a terrific turn from him) - the film still leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.

Plenty of people have praised this film already, and I can only add a "me too" in that I think this film is brilliant and should be shown to schoolchildren in America - of course it won't be, for all sorts of reasons.

This film covered a LOT of ground. Its use of footage of the Columbine massacre was heartstopping and entirely justified; the footage of Charlton Heston intoning the words "from my cold dead hand" while brandishing a rifle was sickening and chilling, and I have no sympathy for him. Some people think he was stitched up by Moore, and/or that as he has Alzhemier's Disease he should be left alone. Well, if he'd stop holding gun rallies in places that have just witnessed carnage such as as Columbine, maybe there'd be a valid point there. Besides, he seems up for the interview and not obviously doolally. I don't suppose he will feel that he's lost out much from the film.

The film is also extremely funny at times, prompting guffaws of disbelief in the audience at the cinema in London where I saw it - which also contained a lot of Americans, incidentally. My favourite bits are the incomprehension at Moore's question about Gandhi's peaceful methods; "thank you for not shooting me"; and the animated history of America.

One point I'd like to add (and it may have been made earlier) is that documentaries do not have to be neutral. The charge of "bias" is meaningless here: this is clearly a polemic, and Michael Moore is perfectly within his rights to edit and shape the film any way he wants to, so that it best supports the thrust of his arguments. The interview with the former acquaintance of Timothy McVeigh was truly chilling, although I don't think any tricksy editing was required to achieve that effect - the man is clearly barking!

I think Moore puts a most persuasive case as to what is behind the gun-fuelled malaise in the USA: poverty (exacerbated by politicians) and fear (stoked by the media) make for a pretty combustible combination.

After all the hype that greeted Lynne Ramsay's first film, Ratcatcher, which I didn't see, I approached this with caution. The presence of Samantha Morton was my guarantee that it would at least be watchable, as she's never yet put a foot wrong on screen. And boy was my faith rewarded! It's a long time since I've emerged from a cinema so entranced, and then started itching to see the film again just a few hours later.

Samantha Morton's performance is truly extraordinary, bringing to life this mysterious, inscrutable woman who is at the same time very alive and in-your-face, not out of place getting smashed at a party, yet seeming like an alien as she wanders around listening to her walkman with a dazed 1000 yard stare. I was amazed to read that Kathleen McDermott, who plays her best friend, is a non-professional; it says a lot for her performance that she holds her own opposite such a stellar talent - and also says a lot for the naturalism and generosity of Morton's performance.

Some critics have been much exercised by the implausibilities in the plot (around the fate of her boyfriend's body and the dealings with the publisher, for example). I don't care about all that stuff! This film is as far away from gritty realism as it's possible to get. Go with the flow and soak up the atmosphere is my advice.

You may read that this film is beautifully photographed, that every shot is a small work of art, exquisitely composed and framed. If not, you've just read it from me. That's all very well, of course - they say the same things about Peter Greenaway, who as far as I'm concerned would have been burnt at the stake in a more civilised age. The difference here is the warmth and seeming spontaneity of Lynne Ramsay's work. I didn't hear a voice shouting "look at me, aren't I beautifully filmed??". She doesn't tell us, she just shows us, revealing a gift for finding beauty in the mundane.

The other stroke of genius in this film is the soundtrack - and I don't just mean the music, although that is brilliantly chosen, revealing a trace of gallows humour in the film's grisliest scene; no, just the use of sound, the way we can hear everything, even the cockroach scuttling along the hotel room floor; and the way some of the conversations fade in from a distance, but in such a way that we can still just about hear what is being said.

For once, the hype is justified: Lynne Ramsay is the real deal, and Samantha Morton deserves another Oscar nomination for this breathtaking performance. Unreservedly recommended. So there.

This film seems to have polarised viewers more than just about any I can remember noting on this site (only Dancer In The Dark is in the same love-it-or-hate-it class). I can understand that up to a point, as it lurches disconcertingly at times between serious spiritual discussion/exploration and slapstick 'strine farce. I say why the hell not - Jane Campion is a unique film maker and I have so much respect for her that perhaps I give her more leeway than I would many other directors. Not everything works, for sure, but the film has an almost visceral power at times, and the "main" ending (ie before the "one year later" coda) is hugely moving.

I can't think of a better performance by Kate Winslet: she is totally convincing both as a star-struck spiritual convert (albeit one who continues to smoke for Australia), a headstrong and bolshie virtual prisoner, and a young woman who does find out some truths about herself. She is also completely fearless and heart-stoppingly beautiful (oops, there goes any last vestige of objectivity).

Harvey Keitel's part is fiendishly difficult: how to portray a man who is deeply narcissistic and a "dirty old man" (in his words), while still showing at least some of the techniques and skills that an exit counsellor might use. I'm not sure he pulls it off completely, but - like Kate's performance - it's a bloody brave attempt.

I can't recommend this film unreservedly, as you might hate it. but I can recommend it wholeheartedly, as it is courageous and unique, two attributes that most films nowadays lack.

Seeing this film for the third time recently, I was amazed that I was STILL gripped towards the end, even though I knew how it ended. About how many thrillers can that be said?

A few critics (in the UK at least) dismissed this film as a Sapphic exploitation flick, but they could not be more wrong. The sexual chemistry between Gershon and Tilly is astonishingly potent, but there is only one nude sex scene, which looks to an outsider (ie a straight man) to be a lot more authentic than what you sometimes see in "erotic thrillers" and soft-core made-for-cable movies. The seduction scene which precedes it is also highly erotic, but both of these scenes are over quite early in the film, and the directors obviously trusted the strength of the story enough not to have to throw more sex scenes in later.

And they were right: the plot is a doozy, constantly keeping us guessing, mainly thanks to the mercurial Caesar (another treasurable performance from Joe Pantoliano), who like Violet is a bit smarter than he seems. For much of the film he is perched on the brink of hysteria, but every now and then his vision clears and he thinks he can see a way out. Only a really good actor could bring this off and make it believable, and almost evoke our sympathy.

The screenplay is unbelievably good, tight as a drum, and with no holes that I could see. The twists and turns never seemed contrived, most of them arising out of the characters and the relationships between them. For example, a crucial plank in Corky's plan involves exploiting the hatred between Caesar and Johnny Marzzano, which has previously been shown. And Mickey's tender feelings towards Violet, very subtly hinted at, help to explain his credulity at the end of the film (not to give it away). I honestly reckon the screenplay deserved a written-for-the-screen Oscar nomination at least.

Structurally, too, the film is very strong. While there is nothing new about cutting the chronology around to make the film non-linear, the W brothers do this just enough to keep it fresh. In particular, the opening shot is pretty daring, including as it does several of the film's key lines played over it, but not in such a way that it would ruin the suspense.

And the two leads? It's hard to imagine how they could have been better. Jennifer Tilly's breathy voice is an undoubted asset here, and she has the chops to suggest that under the gangster's moll exterior there lies a clever and cunning woman. Gina Gershon is even better: wry, wary, smart and sexy as hell. Some of her insolent lines to Caesar as the film's climax approaches are outrageously well-delivered. She's up there with Catherine Keener and Judy Davis in the sardonic stakes.

Bound has been comprehensively overshadowed by the Matrix, but, as with Paul Thomas Anderson's debut, Hard Eight (aka Sydney), I would like to think that posterity will recognise it as the superior work. See this film!