M Movie Reviews

Director Peter Bogdanovich (The Last Picture Show) tipped his hat to the classic screwball comedies of the 1930s, and especially the most glorious of them all, Howard Hawks' Bringing Up Baby. Barbra Streisand plays a charming flake who distracts a self-absorbed musicologist (Ryan O'Neal). He's engaged to be married, but soon Streisand's character has him chasing after stolen jewelry and getting into one madcap fix after another. Bogdanovich, who is also a film critic, understands the engine of the screwball genre, and his loving revival of the form brings a smile, though it is not quite consistently inspired or funny. There are plenty of great moments, however, including a slap at O'Neal's own star-making vehicle, Love Story. --Tom Keogh

An unknown Kevin Costner is magnetic in this entertaining road picture that bypassed most theaters when it was released 1985. On the eve of their college graduation in 1972, five students go off for one last road trip together to righteously celebrate the privilege of youth. Kevin Reynolds expanded his grad-school film to make this one, which he also directed, and it caught the eye of Steven Spielberg, who made Fandango one of his first projects at the newly formed Amblin. Costner's charisma is undeniable in his first lead performance as Gardner Barnes, the free bird of the group. Barnes applauds buddy Kenneth's (Sam Robards) decision to cancel his wedding and now is talking him into dodging the draft. But lost love drives Gardner, too, and we see dreams of an abandoned beauty (Suzy Amis). Others in the car include stick-in-the-mud Judd Nelson (in his best performance), who is gung ho for fulfilling his duty in Vietnam, and the soft giant Dorman (Chuck Bush). Reynolds's aggressive camera style and great use of music (Elton John's "Saturday Night's Alright (for Fighting)" and Blind Faith's "Can't Find My Way Home" bookend the picture) make this film zing along. Reynolds and Costner went on to film (and fight off-screen) two more pictures, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and Waterworld, but they were never better together than in this first film. Being hungry Hollywood unknowns does have certain advantages. --Doug Thomas

This well-acted drama won the Audience award at the 1996 Sundance Film Festival, causing a festival ruckus when several distributors entered a bidding war in response to the movie's positive buzz. When the movie was finally released, audience and critical response provided a sudden reality check: the movie's good to a point, but hardly worth the fuss it received at Sundance. Packing a miniseries' worth of melodrama into 117 minutes, the story centers on a young woman named Percy (Alison Elliott) who served prison time for manslaughter and arrives in a small town in Maine with hopes of beginning a new life. She works as a waitress in the Spitfire Grill, owned by Hannah (Ellen Burstyn), whose gruff exterior conceals a kind heart and precious little tolerance for the grill's regular customers, who cast their suspicions on Percy's mysterious past. The plot unfolds when Hannah holds a $100-per-entry essay contest to find a new owner for the grill. There's ample mystery surrounding the collected money, a local hermit who's really Hannah's shell-shocked Vietnam veteran son, and circumstances that lead the locals to adopt a lynch-mob mentality at Percy's expense. By the time Percy is nearly drowning in a raging river, The Spitfire Grill has taken its melodrama a few steps 'round the bend. Fine acting is the movie's saving grace, however, and newcomer Alison Elliott anchors The Spitfire Grill with a subtle, emotionally involving performance. Thanks to Elliott and Burstyn, you don't have to feel too guilty if you find yourself reaching for a Kleenex as the closing credits roll. --Jeff Shannon

Deservedly hailed as one of the best films of 2001, Wit makes it clear why top-ranking talents seek refuge in the quality programming of HBO. Unhindered by box-office pressures, director Mike Nichols and Emma Thompson turn the most unglamorous topic--the physical and psychological ravages of cancer--into an exquisite contemplation of life, learning, and tenacious, richly expressed humanity. In adapting Margaret Edson's compassionate, Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Nichols and Thompson open up the one-room setting with a superb supporting cast. But their focus remains on the hospital experience of Vivian (Thompson), a fiercely demanding professor of English literature whose academic specialty--the metaphysical poetry of John Donne--is the armor she wears against the cruel indignities of her cancer treatment. While losing all that she held dear, she reassesses her life as an aloof intellectual, and Wit illuminates her bracingly eloquent and deeply moving struggle for dignity, meaning, and peace at life's ultimate crossroads. --Jeff Shannon

The swashbuckler genre bumped into science fiction in 1954 for one of Hollywood's great entertainments. The Jules Verne story of adventure under the sea was Walt Disney's magnificent debut into live-action films. A professor (Paul Lukas) seeks the truth about a legendary sea monster in the years just after the Civil War. When his ship is sunk, he, his aide (Peter Lorre), and a harpoon master (Kirk Douglas) survive to discover that the monster is actually a metal submarine run by Captain Nemo (James Mason). Along with the rollicking adventure, it's fun to see the future technology that Verne dreamed up in his novel, including diving equipment and sea farming. The film's physical prowess is anchored by the Nautilus, an impressive full-scale gothic submarine complete with red carpet and pipe organ. In the era of big sets, 20,000 Leagues set a precedent for films shot on the water and deservedly won Oscars for art direction and special effects. Lost in the inventiveness of the film and great set pieces including a giant squid attack are two great performances. Mason is the perfect Nemo, taut and private, clothed in dark fabric that counters the Technicolor dreamboat that is the beaming red-and-white-stripe-shirted Kirk Douglas as the heroic Ned Land. The film works as peerless family adventure nearly half a century later. --Doug Thomas

This gentle reworking of Ted Hughes's 1968 novella was the unseen gem of 1999. Hogarth, a young boy who lives in the Maine woods during the cold war, befriends a giant robot. As with E.T., the iron giant is a misunderstood outsider who becomes a child's best friend, and Hogarth does his best to hide the massive figure from his mom (voiced by Jennifer Aniston) and the local scrap-yard beatnik (Harry Connick Jr.). Soon the suspicions of neighbors and a government agent (Christopher McDonald) spell trouble.

With no songs, no sidekicks, and no cheap ending, The Iron Giant is a refreshing change-- like an off-Broadway production compared to the glitz of Disney's annual animated extravaganzas. Director Brad Bird may have Family Dog and The Simpsons to his credit, but this film doesn't have that brand of scatological humor. As with the best family entertainments, there are gags that adults will howl at while the kids are watching something else (see Bird's interpretation of cold war propaganda). And the star is one cool piece of animated magic. Voiced by Vin Diesel (Saving Private Ryan's hulking Private Caparzo) and filled with more gadgets than a Swiss army knife, the giant is a grand thing to behold. And like another famous cinema tin man, our hero--and the movie--has heart. Superb entertainment for ages 5 and up. --Doug Thomas

M*A*S*H redux. Sign up for another stint with the 4077th. This three-disc set contains all 24 episodes from the superb second season (1973-74) of the series ranked by TV Guide as among the top 25 television shows of all time. The season opener, "Divided We Stand," is a deft reintroduction to these now iconic characters: bleeding-heart surgeon Hawkeye Pearce (Alan Alda in his signature role), kindred misfit spirit Trapper John (Wayne Rogers), clueless administrator Henry Blake (McLean Stevenson), buttoned-up Frank Burns (Larry Linville), and unbuttoned head nurse "Hot Lips" (Loretta Swit). In this episode, a visiting psychiatrist evaluates the 4077th to determine whether the unit "can function as a team." His evaluation can serve as this series' mission statement: "These impossible people are in an impossible place doing totally impossible things. They're mad--quite mad." M*A*S*H experienced no sophomore slump from its Emmy Award-winning first season. It continued to subvert sitcom convention with multiple-story episodes such as "Radar's Report." Scenes in the operating room play without a laugh track (this DVD gives viewers the option of watching entire episodes minus the intrusive chuckles and guffaws). M*A*S*H also tackled such issues as racism ("Dear Dad... Three," "L.I.P.--Local Indigenous Personnel"), homophobia ("George"), and war atrocities (Hawkeye and Trapper try to get the Army to take responsibility for the accidental shelling of a South Korean village). Not that M*A*S*H forgot how to be funny. "Five O'Clock Charlie" and "For Want of a Boot" are strictly for laughs. Hawkeye and Hot Lips memorably exchange flu shots in "Carry On, Hawkeye." Loyal viewers will note the emergence of several supporting characters, including Jamie Farr's Klinger and William Christopher's Father Mulcahy. One also sees the (to some) unfortunate transformation of Gary Burghoff's savvy, crackerjack clerk Radar into a naïve innocent. Allan Arbus makes his first appearance as compassionate psychiatrist Dr. Sidney Friedman in "Radar's Report." This second-season set is representative of why M*A*S*H was a cut above. --Donald Liebenson