I Movie Reviews

There have been a lot of durable family groups in popular music over the years, but it would be hard to name one that has lasted longer, and succeeded as consistently, as the Bee Gees. Barry Gibb and his younger twin brothers, Robin and Maurice, were making TV and radio appearances in Australia as early as 1960 before returning to their native England and joining the Beatles-led British Invasion, and they're still at it more than 40 years later. All of that is duly chronicled in this two-hour documentary (produced in 2000), along with a great deal more: the personal problems that led to a breakup in the early '70s; the unparalleled success of the Saturday Night Fever era; their occasional missteps and failures (e.g., the abominable Sgt. Pepper movie); the rise and tragic fall of brother Andy; the respect their success finally earned them in the '90s; and so on.

The format is pretty standard; interviews, photos, home movies, and concert footage all contribute to a straight, chronological telling of the Bee Gees' tale. But no stone is left unturned, and the Gibb Brothers (not to mention everyone else who's interviewed) have plenty to say. Best of all, there's lots of the Bee Gees' music, including a video of the title track of the 2001 album, after which the film is named. In the end, we're left with the impression the Bee Gees would probably want us to have: that these guys have written, recorded, produced, and performed literally hundreds of great songs. --Sam Graham

In I'm No Angel, Mae West's second star vehicle, she's sideshow attraction Tira, "the girl who discovered you don't have to have feet to be a dancer." As usual, West wrote all her own dialogue for the film, and it's full of priceless wisecracks. A crowd of men ogles her as she tosses off a saucy little number, "They Call Me Sister Honky Tonk," swinging her hips phlegmatically. Then she slithers offstage, muttering "Suckers." Bored with life, Tira consults a fortuneteller. "I see a man in your future," he drones. "What, only one?" quips Mae. Tira wants to quit the carnival, so her boss (an unctuous Edward Arnold) makes her a proposition. If she'll become the show's lion tamer, she can meet "the swells." Just one little thing: she's got to put her head in the lion's mouth. (West insisted on performing this stunt herself, to the horror of Paramount Pictures' executives.) Enter Cary Grant as Jack Clayton, an aristocrat who falls for this floozie from the wrong side of the tracks. Some of the film's merriest scenes show Tira and her five black maids having a ball dancing and singing as she prepares for her dates with Jack. (West made it her business to keep as many of her black girlfriends working in movies as possible.) Tira's head maid, Beulah, played by Gertrude Michael, is the object of that momentous line "Oh, Beulah, peel me a grape." Mae slays 'em all in this picture, dressed, as always, in fabulously flamboyant finery. --Laura Mirsky

Ex-biker gang leader Eikichi Onizuka wants to become a teacher--so he can ogle 16-year-old girls. In the first episode, Mizuki, a girl from his class, puts him in a compromising position so three thuggish students can take embarrassing photographs; their blackmail scheme falls apart when Onizuka and a gang capture the trio and torture them. Later, Onizuka helps Mizuki with her family problems--and is rewarded with her panties. The tone of this outré series shifts abruptly from puerile to maudlin to pseudo-inspirational and back. The animation is simple and often grotesquely distorted to symbolize Onizuka's extreme moods and spasms of barely restrained lust. Japanese audiences may find a comedy about a leering teacher acceptable, but the growing concern over abuse makes it a tough sell in America. Unrated; suitable for ages 17 and Up: Sexual humor, profanity, violence, tobacco and alcohol use, grotesque imagery. Contains the first four episodes. --Charles Solomon

This second volume in a projected, definitive collection of the beloved I Love Lucy series includes broadcast episodes 4 through 7, which prove beyond doubt that the classic sitcom had hit the ground running by November 1951. "Lucy Thinks Ricky Is Trying to Murder Her" is the famous comedy of errors in which Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball) misunderstands something her husband, Cuban bandleader Ricky (Desi Arnaz), says, and assumes he's out to get rid of her. In "The Quiz Show," restless housewife Lucy turns to a television contest for fun and the opportunity to win $1,000. "The Audition," one of the series' most beloved stories, finds Ball exercising her considerable skills as a physical comic by pretending to be a professional clown named Buffo. Finally, "The Seance" is one of the best of Lucy's misadventures with best friend, Ethel (Vivian Vance), this time participating in a riotous ritual to wake the dead. Marvelous stuff. Bonus features include a delightful "Behind the Scenes" photo gallery, a radio broadcast that helped shape a later television episode, guest cast information, and the series' original opening. --Tom Keogh

This superbly acted, mordantly funny romp through 70 years or so of Roman history is one of the best-loved miniseries ever made, and deservedly so. Derek Jacobi plays Roman Emperor Claudius, who reflects in old age on his life and his remarkable family, giving us a history lesson that's unlike anything you learned in school.

The story begins in 24 B.C. during the reign of Augustus Caesar, Rome's first emperor, and ends in A.D. 54 with Nero on the throne. In between, I, Claudius details the scheming, murder, madness, and lust that passed for politics in the early years of the Pax Romana. The biggest worm in the Roman apple is Augustus's wife, Livia (the superb Siân Phillips), whose single-minded pursuit of power shapes the destiny of the Empire. With a carefully planted rumor here and a poisoned fig there, she gradually maneuvers her son, Tiberius, toward the throne, creating an atmosphere of suspicion and treachery that starts Rome on its helter-skelter slide into bloody chaos. Phillips somehow makes us understand this extraordinarily wicked woman. As she ages and her carefully wrought webs begin to unravel, it becomes clear that Livia has been as thoroughly poisoned by her own ambition as her victims were by her carefully prepared meals.

Further acting honors go to George Baker as Tiberius, who resists but eventually succumbs to the destiny forced upon him by his mother, and to John Hurt as a hilarious and absolutely terrifying Caligula. In one breathtakingly tense scene, the mad Emperor performs a dance in drag, then asks Claudius to critique it, perfectly capturing the horror of a world where one wrong word means death, or worse. Jacobi is the perfect Claudius, hiding his intelligence behind a crippling stammer and shuffling around the edges of events--until he finds himself pulled to the very center. His wry comments give shape to the tangled story of his family and help the audience make sense of a dauntingly complex cast of characters.

I, Claudius might seem a little studio-bound to viewers brought up on more recent big-budget costume dramas, but the topnotch cast and the incident-filled plot are more than enough to hold the attention through almost 11 hours of gripping, deliciously wicked Roman follies. This boxed set also includes a documentary entitled "The Epic That Never Was," about Alexander Korda's failed attempt to film I, Claudius in 1937. The film, directed by Josef von Sternberg and starring Charles Laughton as Claudius and Merle Oberon as Messalina, was abandoned unfinished, and it remains one of Hollywood's great lost movies. --Simon Leake

This splendid documentary captures the band Wilco's struggles (both with their record company and within the band itself) while recording their album Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. I Am Trying to Break Your Heart is completely engrossing, whether or not you are familiar with the band. As they work on the album, there's some tension between singer-songwriter Jeff Tweedy and bandmate Jay Bennett, but overall the band members are happy and enjoying exploring their music. But when they turn in the finished songs, their record label drops them, leaving them adrift with the album that promises to be a huge artistic leap. For fans of Wilco, this gorgeously photographed movie will be a thrilling look at the life of the band and Tweedy's creative process; but even novices will be drawn into the contrasts between art and commerce brought out by the conflict. --Bret Fetzer