It's time for the first question and answer session. Let's begin!

Where is your Star Wars review?

I had another question for you on that movie. How come at the end of Return of the Jedi the ghosts of Yoda and Obi-Wan look like how they did when they "died". But Anakin Skywalker has legs and arms?

--I won't be reviewing Star Wars until the DVD set comes out in November. I will review all six films at that time. I've had a total of 16 requests so far for Revenge of the Sith, and strangely, that's not the highest number of requests I've received for a review. But I'll get to that shortly.

As for the ghosts at the end of Return of the Jedi: Frankly, I think the question is similar to a person asking, "Why does Character A have his hand around Character B on the one camera angle while he is holding hands with her on the other?" My initial answer: Who cares?

You're going to love my researched answer. George Lucas has already made an effort to counteract that. In the DVD release of the original trilogy some time ago, he has redone the scene and replaced Sebastian Shaw with Hayden Christensen in the ghost image at the end. Lucas said in an interview that he re-edited the scene to note the time in each Jedi's life where they "died" on the light side of the Force. And Anakin's "death" in Episode III certainly clarified that point. In other words, it isn't the point in which they die physically, it is the point in which they die from the light side of the Force.

The bigger point you are alluding to is that there seem to be an infinite number of inconsistencies in the plot line through the saga. Well, yes, there are numerous inconsistencies (most notably, as you and several others have mentioned, the question of Leia remembering her mother), but I haven't heard or seen a story without inconsistencies. There are numerous plot holes and errors in each and every film shown in theaters. I think you are focusing so much on a couple of grains of sand that you are losing sight of the beach.

Do you think Lucas developed the Star Wars storyline all at once as he has claimed?

--No. In fact, in an interview in May, he mentioned that he had ideas for a backstory but no set storyline. Lucas probably probably had the outline for the complete story before the original Star Wars film came out in 1977, but I sincerely doubt he had scripts prepared. The fact that his scripts have changed numerous times with both the original and prequel trilogies confirms that fact.

I read your review on "The Green Mile" and I was surprised that over all, you didn't like it. And that you didn't like "The Shawshank Redemption" either?! I guess you don't like emotional roller coasters, er, tearjerkers, I love 'em.

You said that you have to believe in or care about something first. The Green Mile is one of those movies that digs very deep into these core beliefs, for one, do miracles happen today, was JC justified in executing his own version of justice? Maybe there's a disconnect between the way I interpreted the movie and your interpretation. Can you elaborate on what you didn't believe in or care about? I can understand that you can resist to be forced to feel an emotion, but you must make a decision, a judgment concerning behavior orcircumstances.

--Excellent questions. I don't think there is a disconnect between our interpretations of the film. The disconnect was in our responses to the film.

While watching The Green Mile, it becomes clearer and clearer to me that no character in the film is genuine. Each character (or group of characters) is a representation. Paul represents the everyday man or the "average" man, JC represents Jesus, Wild Bill and Percy represent evil, etc. The representations are so obvious that there's no sense of humanity in any of the roles. I asked in my review why I should care about a human prop. I meant it. I had no feeling for any of those characters because they weren't human. They were pure and simple metaphors like the fedora in Miller's Crossing or the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Although metaphors can be breathtaking and powerful, they can also be overwhelming and manipulative. But when metaphors take over a whole film, it tramples any impact it could have had.

You say The Green Mile asks, "Do miracles happen today?" I think the film takes for granted that they do. You say The Green Mile asks, "Was JC justified in executing his own version of justice?" I think the filmmakers expected rounds of applause from the audience when Wild Bill died and Percy went insane.

My point? I think the film answers the questions for us rather than asks the questions of us. The smart films ask more than they answer. The pretentious, manipulative films refuse to let us have any say. And I think that's what The Green Mile is doing.

Maybe a better question I should have asked is this: Why should I care about a movie's characters when the filmmakers take for granted or even force-feed us our emotional responses?

Was De Niro's performance in Once Upon a Time in America more impressive to you than in The Godfather: Part II? What are the reasons for your answer?

--De Niro's performances in both films are astounding. What was so astonishing about The Godfather: Part II was how believable he was as the young Vito Corleone. He nailed it. He studied Marlon Brando's performance in the original film for hours and hours. His work paid off. De Niro's understated performance in Once Upon a Time in America was the perfect touch. His performance as the aged Noodles was powerful. His face and mannerisms were always right.

I hate to compare their performances, but I think his portrayal as Noodles was slightly better because it required such versatility within the role itself. This was De Niro at the top of his game. He always had the perfect feel for his characters. He was the character. I think this is especially true with his portrayal as Noodles.

It's amazing to see how far De Niro has fallen. He didn't have much higher to climb, but his choice of roles these days leaves a lot to be desired. I think he and Scorsese should have another chat.

What films can we expect in your Great Movies column before long?

--Ah, I won't give away all the details, but I will list off a few that will be coming in the next few weeks. The next films will be Notorious, Hitchcock's greatest work; City Lights, the best silent film ever made; Goodfellas, Scorsese's classic gangster film; and American Beauty, one of the best cinematic studies of the contemporary American family.

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The following is a list of movies requested for review and the number of requests for that particular film:

The Shawshank Redemption: 37
Close Encounters of the Third Kind: 24
E.T: The Extra Terrestrial: 19
Revenge of the Sith: 16
The Godfather trilogy: 14
After Hours: 9
Casino: 8
Taxi Driver: 8
Raging Bull: 8
Fargo: 7
Dial 'M' for Murder: 5
Psycho: 4

There are more, but those were the notables. The Shawshank Redemption is a long shot since I've seen the film three times. I don't particularly enjoy the film, so the likelihood of me watching it again is questionable. The Godfather trilogy will most certainly be reviewed, but I don't know how soon. I plan to tackle several of the Scorseses later this summer. The Hitchcock films are more difficult, especially with such a lack of good video stores in my neck of the woods. I will be reviewing Close Encounters in mid-July and E.T. near the beginning of August.

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One other note: Several of my upcoming reviews will be co-written by several members of the movie club I am now in. Look for the first such review with Bringing Up Baby on or around July 7.

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Chad's Ask-and-Answer Movie Session will be updated every other Wednesday. Look for the next update on July 13.

Movie Review #50

From Here to Eternity (1953)
Directed by Fred Zinnemann
Written by Daniel Taradash
Based on the novel by James Jones

Rating: 6.00/10.00 or ** 1/2

From Here to Eternity was a bold movie when it first appeared in theaters a brief twelve years after Pearl Harbor was attacked by Japan during World War II. The film was racy, depressing, and complex. It frequently approached "the line" that most films never dared to even talk about much less tease with. But screenwriter Daniel Taradash and director Fred Zinnemann were not shy about making this film. Indeed, the now famous love scene at the beach between Milton Warden (Burt Lancaster) and Karen Holmes (Deborah Kerr) was a visual slap in the faces to the conservative entertainment crowd. Its daring imagery and complex characterizations would pay off, however. From Here to Eternity was a huge cinematic success, both financially and critically. It would earn 8 Oscars, including best picture. Today, it is widely regarded as a classic. And yet...

I was oddly disappointed. The film often seemed flat to me. The actors, given their three-dimensional characters, seemed awfully unnatural in their roles. The most obvious two are the two that ended up with Oscars: Frank Sinatra, as the edgy, high-strung Private Maggio, and Donna Reed, as the racy, "two steps above the pavement"Lorene. Donna Reed was definitely cast against type in her role; unfortunately, there seems to be no reason for it. Her performance seemed hyperbolic and inconsistent. It almost felt like she didn't know what to make of her character. The same is true of Frank Sinatra. His performance, especially early in the film, seemed "statued". It almost looked like he hadn't comprehended the dialogue he was speaking.

Both stars would improve with time in the film, but neither seemed worthy of Oscar wins. Much more convincing in the film was Deborah Kerr as the anguished, empty wife of the adulterous captain of the army base stationed in Oahu. When Warden talks to Holmes at the beginning of the film, Kerr's face of the emotionally battered-into-submission middle-aged wife was pitch perfect. You can sense the glazed fear in her eyes. She's near the point of indifference. Kerr's subtle performance as Karen Holmes is easily the best acting performance of the movie.

Which brings me to the two leading men of the film: Burt Lancaster as Warden and Montgomery Clift as Private Robert E. Lee Prewitt. The two characters are near polar opposites in outgoing personalities. Warden is impetuous, strong-willed, and stubbornly unemotional. Prewitt is passionate, thoughtful, and idealistic. Their similarities only appear below the surface. Both are courageous in their convictions and yet highly vulnerable because of their beliefs.

Although Clift and especially Lancaster are effective in their portrayals of their characters, neither performance seemed exceptional. At times, their performances actually seemed forced and plastic. It does not help when the lines they speak seem so melodramatic and clunky. Tarabash's script is vastly overrated; at best, the dialogue only occasionally sounded realistic and provocative.

Unfortunately, the film also is plagued with the "too much material, too little time" syndrome. Often, scene transitions seem abrupt, and the writer and director seem so caught up in one sequence that another is abandoned for great lengths of time. The film lacks focus and loses some of its punch because of it.

One example: The storyline involving Private Maggio and the hateful Sergeant "Fatso" Judson (Ernest Borgnine) often takes over the screen for long lengths of time. The climax involving the storyline is effective but takes way too long to develop. Thus, we lose a lot of chances to develop other more interesting characters, namely the women of the film. Kerr's lack of screentime is a travesty, and Reed's long absences through the film adversely impacted the power of her final scenes.

One positive that would arise out of the Maggio/Fatso storyline is the melancholy bugle call Prewitt gives to his unit. It is easily the most powerful and captivating scene of the film. The direction of the scene is masterfully subtle and simple; what results is a minute of raw emotion onscreen. The now famous sequence is one of the purest dramatic moments in cinema history.

It is unforunate that more scenes were not like this. From Here to Eternity is often too tangent for the drama it tries to convey. Because of this, the film's ending seems anticlimactic and melodramatic. The lines spoken seem inappropriate and often borderline silly. The dramatic impact of the film is reduced to a whimper.

With more focus on the main players' interactions, with tighter direction, and with better actors for the parts, this film may be rightfully labelled as a classic. However, the final product as it is seems eerily overrated and too disorganized to be recognized as a masterpiece of its time.

Movie Review #49

Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Written and Directed by Quentin Tarantino

Rating: 7.00/10.00 or ***

As a first outing, this film is impressive. However, based on the later works of Tarantino, Reservoir Dogs does not stand up well. Tarantino's inexperience as a writer and a director show up quite well in this film. We see characters with little dimensionality, a lack of chronology that at times hampers the effectiveness of particular sequences, and odd camera angles that commonly seem more annoying than artistic. We see a work in progress. Reservoir Dogs seems like a preparation for the mastery that would later appear in Pulp Fiction.

Reservoir Dogs centers around a diamond heist and the incompetent criminals who work together to fail at it. Most of the action takes place in a big, generally empty warehouse where the gang was to meet afterward. However, due to the phenomenally disastrous robbery, most of the gang was separated. One was killed, another was likely shot down, and yet another was severely injured. The survivors suspect a traitor. It's the perfect "hitting the fan" setup.

The players are named by color so as to not reveal anyone's true identity to the other members of the diamond heist dream team. There is Mr. White (Harvey Keitel), a veteran, no-nonsense criminal with a heart for people who give it their all; Mr. Orange (Tim Roth), a newbie who most closely bonds with Mr. White; Mr. Blonde (Michael Madsen), a menacing, somewhat insane man who cannot be predicted at any minute; Mr. Brown (Quentin Tarantino), a nervous, generally inexperienced man whose participation in the robbery seems strangely questionable to me other than it allows Tarantino to be onscreen; Mr. Blue (Eddie Bunker), who sadly gets very little screen time; and Mr. Pink (Steve Buscemi), whose paranoid, high-wired behavior gets more than a little irritating at times. The leaders of the heist are Joe Cabot (Lawrence Tierney) and his son Eddie (Chris Penn), whose leadership skills are only outdone by their slightly aloof mannerisms.

Through the course of the film, we discover that there indeed is a traitor. We discover that Mr. Blonde's unpredictability hides a most sinister personality. Other than that, there is very little plot-wise that transpires.

This is certainly not a flaw of the film; on the contrary, Tarantino is not known for his plot development. What he is known for is his dialogue, which has a rhythm to it that reminds me of a mixture of Aaron Sorkin and David Mamet. Sorkin's speed and Mamet's rhythm seem to combine to form Tarantino's writing style. It's fun to listen to these people talk, frequently about trivial, everyday things and not the plot at hand. This is how real people talk. Tarantino is a master of the everyday word.

But there's one thing that bothers me about the dialogue in this film. I think about it every time I see it (which is three times now). If I were in this situation, the last thing I would be doing is talking. I would just sit there in stunned silence. I may even moan to myself occasionally. I would have this huge lump in my throat that would prevent me from speaking.

My point is that the dialogue, no matter the enormity of its realism compared to the everyday conversation, isn't realistic in this situation because the situation is certainly not a daily one. The actions that transpire far outweigh the words that could or would be spoken. I felt the most effective scenes in the film were the scenes without dialogue. Take the scene with Mr. Orange and the tortured prisoner Martin (Kirk Baltz). Sure, they talk occasionally, but there are few words spoken. They're so caught up in their pain that we hear more panting and moaning than talking. What a great scene. Or the inevitable concluding scene of the film. We just stare at Mr. White's face for what seems like hours. That's something to behold.

Along with that, there is actually little focus on the characters themselves. The people in the film seem to talk without purpose. Any character could have given 99% of the lines in this movie. Certainly, character development is not entirely necessary for a film like this, but I still think there was not enough focus on these people. If there would have been, I think the ending could have been much more more profound.

The acting in this film, however, is generally exceptional. Harvey Keitel gives a solid performance. Michael Madsen is superb as the vicious Mr. Blonde. Lawrence Tierney and Chris Penn give fine supporting performances. Tim Roth is also excellent as the injured Mr. Orange. Steve Buscemi, however, is merely decent as Mr. Pink; Buscemi has done better than his performance here.

Some of the director's choices in the film seemed amateurish, but others were brilliant. I especially enjoyed the director's subtle use of colors (often showing certain characteristics about the characters in the film). Although I found some of the camera angles and movements distracting, others were very effective. Tarantino's long-track scene following Mr. Blonde was a noteworthy example of his ability to enhance a scene's intensity.

Reservoir Dogs is a good example of a director learning by experience. It is not a great leap to see that a film as great as Pulp Fiction could come from the director of this film. His dialogue becomes more purposeful, his characters become more colorful and dimensional, and his direction becomes more focused. As a first effort, Reservoir Dogs is a triumph. And it would lead to bigger and better things.

Movie Review #48

The Green Mile (1999)
Written and Directed by Frank Darabont
Based on the novel by Stephen King

Rating: 5.75/10.00 or ** 1/2

If Steven Spielberg is the master molasses maker, then Frank Darabont is the master manipulator. It was not a surprise to hear that Steven Spielberg recommended this film to Darabont. The Green Mile is riddled with "emotion injections," scenes that exist specifically to cause the audience to cry or to "feel bad" about something. I'm sorry, Mr. Darabont, but it didn't work on me with The Shawshank Redemption, and it doesn't work on me with this film, either. To make me cry or "feel bad" or feel any emotion for that matter, the situation or the circumstance first has to make me believe in or even care about something. I cannot be forced to feel emotion; in fact, I refuse to.

The Green Mile stars Tom Hanks as Depression-era prison guard Paul Edgecomb. Paul is a good-hearted, if not somewhat simple, man. He is well-respected by his subordinates at the Louisiana State Penitentiary and is friends with many of them. Paul specifically looks over Coal Mountain, Louisiana's death row. The other guards of the Green Mile, so called because the floor of the prison is green, include Brutus (David Morse), a quiet, stern, and very loyal man who is a good friend of Paul's; Harry (Jeffrey DeMunn), an older member of the prison guard; Dean (Barry Pepper), the young gun whose innocence is quite apparent to the other guards; and Percy (Doug Hutchison), a man with connections to the powers-that-be. Percy is on the Green Mile to "watch someone's nuts cook."

We also meet the prisoners on the mile. There's Eduard (Michael Jeter), an unintelligent, high-strung prisoner whom most of the guards feel sympathy for; Arlen (Graham Greene), a quiet prisoner who generally keeps to himself; Wild Bill (Sam Rockwell), a vicious prisoner who commonly gets the prison guards into trouble; and John Coffey (Michael Clarke Duncan), a simple, larger-than-life individual who seems too innocent to be on death row.

The Green Mile is generally the story of how all of the inmates on death row die. The first to go is Arlen, whose moving discussion with Paul is one of the brighter spots of the movie. It is one of the few scenes that seems genuine, perhaps because we are not so far into the movie. I suggest this reason because as the movie progresses, the feeling that each character purely exists for emotional impact increases. Arlen's execution is early enough in the film that this feeling is not present. Thus, his death is probably the most effective scene in the movie.

John Coffey then joins the inmates at Coal Mountain. Paul comments that he seems too innocent to be on death row. Meanwhile, the Green Mile's mascot, a playful mouse, brings entertainment to the inmates and to the guards. The mouse specifically befriends Eduard. This, of course, sets up the scene that could have been predicted the moment the mouse appeared. Eduard has to see the mouse killed, and by Percy no less. Eduard goes crazy, and Percy seemingly wins the battle. Darabont's classic example of manipulation here...

It becomes apparent that John Coffey has elements of supernatural power. Paul, who has a nasty bout of bladder infection, is one day cured of his illness by John Coffey. In another miracle, John Coffey saves the mouse from certain death (after Percy smashes it with his shoe). These miracles lead to an even bigger one later. Paul's friend, Warden Hal (James Cromwell) has a very sick wife. She has terminal brain cancer. Paul believes that Coffey can save the woman, so he, Brutus, and Harry take Coffey with them to the home of Hal and his wife. John Coffey then saves the wife. The melodrama of this scene is palpable, with a reborn wife spewing a dialogue I could have iterated in unison the first time I watched the film.

Eduard is put to death near the middle of the film. His death is excessively cruel and violent due to a nasty Percy not wetting the sponge that is placed on top of the head before electrocution. The scene seems utterly ridiculous and horrifyingly manipulative. Sure, this has been witnessed at electrocutions before, but was this meant to show the cruelty of electrocution or the cruelty of Percy? I cannot stand this scene because its motives do not justify the presentation.

Of course, with the Christ-like miracles of John Coffey (who I'll now call JC), we must watch as he is electrocuted. Not before the *real* killer of the two kids that JC supposedly murdered is identified, though. And it just so happens to be Wild Bill. In a scene that I could describe simply as the most predictable, pretentious, and maliciously motivated I have seen in film in quite a while, JC shows Paul what Wild Bill did...and then we see that Percy and Wild Bill are killed for their crimes against humanity. Wild Bill and Percy are evil; they deserved bad things to happen to them. And what we got was a lesson, a moralistic bombardment of what's good and what's not in the world. And who better than a character with the initials JC?

I hope my point is obvious. The film is so blatantly instructive, arrogant, and manipulative that it crosses the "insult the audience" line. Actually, it leaps across it with a fervor unparalleled since, amazingly enough, The Shawshank Redemption. Ever wonder why we didn't hear what the "good" inmates in the prisons did in order to be placed in jail in the first place? Forget the crimes they pulled; Darabont is going to tell us who the good people are. And we're going to like them because we are supposed to. And we're going to be told who to not like because JC told us to.

Percy is the prime example of what I despise about this movie. His character is pure evil, as everything he does in the prison promotes hostility, anger, or violence. My question is this. Why is his character even in the movie? So he can be identified as bad by JC? His sole purpose is for the scene in which JC identifies him as an evil dude. That's it. Percy is a representation, not a person. When a movie substitutes metaphors for humans, it immediately prompts me to no longer care about the film or the characters in it. People can be metaphorical in films, just like objects or scenery. But they're still people, or should be presented as such at least. Why should I care about a human prop?

As previously mentioned, JC is put to death by Paul and the others. It, of course, is an eerie reminder of the death of Jesus. Yes, indeed. At least by this point, Darabont simply states the metaphor. But it does not excuse the blatant pretention that brought this scene to fruition.

I have not read Stephen King's novel, so I'm not sure the blame should be placed entirely on Darabont here. But Darabont is responsible for the film, so I do blame him for the movie's feel and the emotional tug-of-war he places on his audience. Many have found it touching; I find it insulting.

Editor's note: I'm sure I'll be asked why, if I found the movie so insulting, I rated it as high as I did. The one thing that was very, very good in this movie was the acting. Tom Hanks gives his usual exceptional performance. David Morse and Michael Jeter were also particularly effective. Michael Clarke Duncan also gave a standout performance in a fairly difficult role. The acting saves this movie from the graces of single-stardom.

Movie Review #47

Death to Smoochy (2002)
Directed by Danny DeVito
Written by Adam Resnick

Rating: 5.00/10.00 or **

It's amusing (if not accurate) to think of the children's corporate television world as corrupt, greedy, and criminal. Danny DeVito apparently thought so, too. So much so that he decided to make a whole movie about it. Death to Smoochy focuses on two clowns. One clown, Rainbow Randolph (Robin Williams), is as corrupt as the corporate world he works for. The other clown, Smoochy the Rhino (Edward Norton), is the exact opposite: so wholesome good that I begin to picture ways in which to make him suffer. Before long, I think of throwing a few tomatoes at the screen out of pure instinct. It's almost involuntary, like the knee-jerk at a physical.

Then I realize that I don't want to throw tomatoes at Smoochy. I want to throw tomatoes at the filmmakers. After a solid premise opens the film, the idea is trashed and burned in one colossal web of unnecessary, unfunny, and unintelligent subplots, characters, and colorfully vomitous sets. Death to Smoochy is not a dark satire as much as it is a twisted version of the very genre it's trying to satirize.

The film begins with a seemingly successful Rainbow Randolph, who hosts a hit TV children's show. Off the set, his happy-go-lucky clown persona is buried beneath an evil greed for money and power. He is caught in an FBI sting when he accepts money from parents eager to see their children on television. The executives at Kidnet TV must replace him with someone who screams the word "perfect", so they find Sheldon Mopes (Smoochy), who has solely good intentions to entertain and help kids. Meanwhile, the executives at Kidnet TV have a thirst for the bundles of money to be made in merchandising; in other words, their motives are driven by greed. Leading the producing crew are Marion Frank Stokes (an obviously amateur Jon Stewart) and Nora Wells (Catherine Keener).

Smoochy becomes a hit in the children's world. The people surrounding Sheldon Mopes begin to plot to make money off him. Randolph Smiley (Rainbow Randolph) plots to kill him, or at least to embarrass him publicly to the point of forcing his removal from the industry. Sheldon Mopes hires an agent, who only plots Smoochy's own demise. The agent, Burke Bennett (Danny DeVito), plots with a cruel gangster (the hoarse Harvey Fierstein), to "take him out". Oh, but there are more. Tommy Cotter (Pam Ferris) wants a piece of the action as well, so she encourages Sheldon to allow her annoying, drunken-stupor-of-a-brother Spinner Dunn (Michael Rispoli) to be alongside Smoochy on the show. And then there's Nora Wells, whose thirst for money and power is only outdone by her twisted sexual attraction to children's show TV hosts.

The film becomes so hopelessly misguided in all of these subplots that each of their resolutions seems forced, contrived, and uninteresting. Furthermore, the inconsistent characters seem outlandish and confusing, not funny and entertaining. The end result is a film full of mis-steps. Each scene's setup feels like a lost cause. The potential for biting satire is there, but the film's fundamental flaw is that it seems too afraid to exploit it.

The only times when Death to Smoochy succeeds occur when the film does go ahead with the biting satire. This occurs in two instances. The first scene involves one of Randolph's attempts to embarrass the persona of Smoochy. Using Sheldon Mopes's desire to help children, Sheldon unknowingly agrees to host a neo-Nazi rally. The scene ends uproariously, with a purple-colored rhinoceros silhouetted by an enormous Nazi flag in the background. The second scene is equally as satisfying. Smoochy is singing to some kids during one of his shows; in a stinging portrayal of the children's singer Raffi, Ed Norton nails the song "My Stepdad's Not Mean; He's Just Adjusting".

But these scenes are the exception rather than the rule. Generally, the film contains annoying sequences with lackluster energy. Acting is constantly over-the-top, and the cinematography and set designs are dizzyingly amateur.

Death to Smoochy, generally classified as a dark comedy, is only occasionally humorous although certainly offbeat and strange. The direction seems aloof, unaware of and indifferent to its audience. The movie is too extreme to be funny, too annoying to be entertaining. Most importantly, the film never lives up to the satire it intends to develop.

In the end, Death to Smoochy contains too much to be focused and not enough to be effective.