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Susan Granger's review of "ANNA AND THE KING" (20th Century-Fox)
If you've been heard to mutter, "They don't make movies like they used to..." then this sentimental, spectacularly beautiful historical epic is for you. In this fourth film version of Margaret Landon's fanciful story of Anna Leonowens, the strong-willed, recently widowed schoolteacher who travels to Siam in 1862 with her young son (Tom Felton) to educate the King's 58 children in Western customs, Jodie Foster delivers a magnificent performance, combining intelligence with compassion, dignity with vulnerability. Equally impressive is Hong Kong action star Chow Yun-Fat as imposing King Mongkut, the proud monarch who is amazed when a stubborn, impertinent, English schoolmarm has the temerity to consider herself his equal. Anna has Victorian preconceptions of primitive Siam while the King, in turn, has his own disdainful preconceptions of Western civilization. Meanwhile, the ominous threat of an invasion by neighboring Burma, perhaps aided by the British, hangs over their obviously growing affection for one another in this exotic, extravagant, romantic pastiche. Director Andy Tennant (Ever After) and cinematographer Caleb Deschanel (The Black Stallion), shooting in Malaysia, emphasize the lavish, breathtaking opulence and stately splendor, conceived by production designer Luciana Arrighi, perhaps to the extreme. That may be the result of the plodding, bland script by Steve Meerson and Peter Krikes which dulls the sharpness of the underlying culture clash of racial, political and sexual tensions, relying instead on a weak, simplistic subplot involving treason. Nevertheless, on the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Anna and the King is a sumptuous 9, proving that the traditional Hollywood formulas can still concoct gratifying entertainment.

Susan Granger's review of "BICENTENNIAL MAN" (Touchstone Pictures)
The last time director Chris Columbus teamed with Robin Willliams they came up with Mrs. Doubtfire but, if you're expecting this to be a slapstick kids' flick, think again. Adapted from a short story by Isaac Asimov, it chronicles the life of a NDR-114 robot who begins as a household appliance in 2005, created "to perform menial tasks: cooking, cleaning, making household repairs, playing with or supervising children." Dubbed Andrew by the youngest of the family's children (deep-dimpled Hallie Kate Eisenberg) who cannot pronounce "android," he soon begins to show creativity, curiosity, and compassion, confounding his manufacturer and launching a 200-year quest to discover his humanity. Nicholas Kazan's thoughtful screenplay cleverly explores the technology of artificial intelligence as it integrates with human behavior but, since it follows a family for several generations with only Andrew as a connective, it involves too many characters, several with literary-allusion names like Galatea and Portia. Plus, there's a constant awareness that underneath the plastic prosthesis, there's comical Robin Williams, desperately itching to emerge. Sam Neill scores as Andrew's original owner, as does Oliver Platt as a bio-tech designer who becomes Andrew's friend. It's interesting that, just like Woody in Toy Story 2, Andrew makes a choice between pristine immortality and the inexplicable vagaries of humanity but, unlike that magical fantasy, children under 10 will quickly be bored or depressed by the insipid depth of this 2-hour, 13-minute saga. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Bicentennial Man powers up to a surprisingly serious, existential 7, as a poignant parable of what it means to be human.

Susan Granger's review of "FELICIA'S JOURNEY" (Artisan Entertainment)

In 1997, Canadian writer/director Atom Egoyan made an incredible splash with his wildly unconventional The Sweet Hereafter, but this new thriller, while superbly crafted, is neither as compelling nor original. But that doesn't mean it's unworthy. Adapted from William Trevor's novel, it follows the insidious story of Felicia, a good-hearted, pregnant Irish country girl (Elaine Cassidy), who goes to England to search for the child's father (Peter McDonald) and is befriended by Joseph Hilditch, a seemingly gentle and smiling caterer (Bob Hoskins) who works for a factory in industrial Birmingham. While the laborers would obviously prefer simple British fare, the portly Hilditch diligently concocts elaborate recipes on his antique appliances while watching old video-taped cooking programs hosted by his glamorous French mother (Arsinee Khanjian, Egoyan's real-life wife). Aside from his psychotic mother complex, which rivals that of Psycho's Norman Bates, Hilditch has courtly, Old World manners and lives in what appears to be the family mansion - which makes one immediately suspect that he's a dangerous serial killer with corpses in the back yard. Not the trusting young Felicia, however. She's grateful for the "help" he solicitously offers. Problem is: there's no mystery. Egoyan gives away the sinister secret so early in the story that we're just left there, sitting in our seats watching with dread as the tapestry unravels. And it's much more conventional than the quirky Atom Egoyan fare in The Adjuster and Exotica. The scenes stretch on too long and the repetitive flashbacks defuse the tension. Nevertheless, Bob Hoskins (Mona Lisa) delivers yet another dead-on characterization, one that he describes as "a cross between Jack the Ripper and Winnie the Pooh." On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Felicia's Journey is a stylish if shallow 7. It's a bizarre, macabre trip.

Susan Granger's review of "TOY STORY 2" (Walt Disney Pictures)
Among our many blessings this Thanksgiving, let us be thankful for the astonishing, fun-filled Toy Story 2, the best animated comedy sequel ever made. This magical, incredibly inventive mix of action and humor continues, right where it left off, with the gang ready to play in Andy's bedroom. Only, when Andy goes off to Cowboy Camp, Woody gets left behind and is kidnapped by the greedy owner of Al's Toy Barn. It seems Woody's a highly valuable collectible from a 1950s TV show called Woody's Roundup. At Al's place, Woody meets another family from his illustrious past - Jessie, the cowgirl; Bullseye, the horse; and Stinky Pete, the Prospector. But, back in Andy's house, Buzz Lightyear has recruited Mr. Potato Head, Slinky Dog, Rex and Hamm for a rescue mission. Can his pals find Woody before Andy comes home? And, will Woody want to come back to Andy's bedroom now that he's discovered he's a prized museum piece?
The original Toy Story was an international sensation, the third highest grossing animated film of all time - behind The Lion King and Aladdin. Originally planned as a direct-to-video release, this adventurous sequel reunites the same creative team, including Pixar's John Lasseter and Andrew Stanton, along with Tom Hanks, Tim Allen, Don Rickles, Jim Varney, Wallace Shawn, John Ratzenberger and Annie Potts. New voices are Wayne Knight, Kelsey Grammer and Joan Cusack, plus Little Mermaid Jodi Benson as Barbie. Composer Randy Newman's "You've Got a Friend in Me" is reprised, along with new songs "Woody's Roundup" and "When She Loved Me," sung by Sarah McLachlan On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Toy Story 2 is another knockout 10. Don't miss it - or, as Buzz Lightyear would say: "To infinity and beyond!"

Susan Granger's review of "SLEEPY HOLLOW" (Paramount Pictures)
Tim Burton fans are gonna relish this fantasy horror story, especially the creepy beginning. It's 1799 on a misty road near the small village of Sleepy Hollow in New York's Hudson River Valley when a coach carrying the region's richest man (Martin Landau) is attacked by a mysterious Headless Horseman wielding a deadly sword. Whoosh! Off goes his head! Then the killer strikes again. Each time, the victim is decapitated. Understandably, the insular Dutch locals are upset, many convinced that they're being haunted by the demonic spirit of a Revolutionary War mercenary (Christopher Walken) who died in the West Woods, a place where no one dares go. Then an inquisitive, if squeamish, new constable, Ichabod Crane (Johnny Depp) appears, sent to track down the murderer. He scoffs at the idea of a supernatural being, focusing his forensic attention on hunky Brom Van Brunt (Casper Van Dien) but soon learns that, perhaps, there are vengeful supernatural forces at work. In the meantime, he falls in love with Katrina Van Tassel (Christina Ricci - in a blonde wig), the bewitching daughter of his landlords (Michael Gambon, Miranda Richardson). While the first few Horseman attacks are scary - thanks to stuntman Ray Park - it soon becomes evident that all the women are witches and a crazed serial killer is on the loose. Seven screenwriter Andrew Kevin Walker revises Washington Irving's classic ghost story, concluding with a millennial flourish, and Emmanuel Lubezki's sepia-toned cinematography is impressive. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Sleepy Hollow is a grim, gruesome 6 - a belated Halloween treat with more style than substance. Be warned: nearly everyone's head rolls and the brutal beheadings are graphic and violent - not suitable for young children.

Susan Granger's review of "LIGHT IT UP" (20th Century-Fox)
There's this neglected high school in Queens, New York, where a favorite teacher is suspended. In protest, six students barricade themselves inside the school, reluctantly taking a police officer (Forest Whitaker) hostage after he's accidentally shot. And the simplistic, cliché-ridden story predictably evolves. But there's a difference. After Columbine and other school shootings, this is a surprisingly effective civics lesson about the dangers of stereotyping. The six students are disparate personalities. There's the sensitive graffiti artist (Robert Ri'chard) and the school's star basketball player (R&B singer Usher Raymond), along with a purple-haired, pregnant wise-cracker (Sara Gilbert), a sardonic wheeler-dealer (Clifton Collins Jr.), a angry gang member (rap musician Fredro Starr) with an itchy trigger finger and a brainy beauty (Rosario Dawson) who tries to rationalize the impending chaos. Written and directed by Craig Bolotin, it was supposedly "inspired" by "The Breakfast Club," even casting Judd Nelson as the caring, sensitive teacher. Vanessa L. Williams is the hostage negotiator, and Glenn Turman is the school's beleaguered principal. The "Stop Racism!" signs that pop up among the crowd of spectators, along with the students' demands - the windows fixed, more textbooks, and a Career Day - deliver the message of the danger of repressed rage. However, there's little excuse for dialogue like one student's observation: "There was a quiet riot in all of us" or another's self- description: "a chalk-mark waiting to happen." On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Light It Up" is an irresponsible but well-intentioned 4. It's a flawed but plausible hostage thriller, another R-rated movie aimed at teens.

Susan Granger's review of "THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH" (MGM/UA)
When you go to a James Bond film, you're looking for escapist fantasy - and that's what you get in this 19th installment in the long-running, most successful film franchise in cinema history. Directed by Michael Apted, the adventure begins with a sensational, action-packed opening sequence in Bilbao, Spain, where Bond (Pierce Brosnan) is attacked by a sexy sniper, setting the plot into motion. Bond's mission, this time, is to find the notorious international terrorist (Robert Carlyle) responsible for the death of a British oil tycoon in an explosion in M16 headquarters. This formidable villain has a bullet lodged in his brain, rendering him unable to feel pain. To track him down, Bond is assigned as a bodyguard for the tycoon's beautiful daughter, Elektra (Sophie Marceau), who is building an oil pipeline through some of the most dangerous territory on the globe. And his only ally in remote Azerbaijan and the Caspian Sea is a nuclear weapons expert, Dr. Christmas Jones (Denise Richards), whose name leads to one of the funniest last lines of a movie in years. Suave Pierce Brosnan embodies 007, delving into the emotional depth of his relationships, and Denise Richards is amusingly absurd as a scantily clad rocket scientist. Desmond Llewelyn returns as Q, with amazing high-tech gadgets, including a speed-boat and BMW, and John Cleese is introduced as R, his inept assistant. Judi Dench is back as M with Samantha Bond as Moneypenny. "Orbis non sufficit," Latin for "The world is not enough," is the Bond family motto (On Her Majesty's Secret Service, 1969). For James Bond fans, on the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, The World Is Not Enough is a spectacular, fun-filled 10, packed with all the excitement you expect - and more. It's a jaw-dropper, so buckle up for a wild ride!

Susan Granger's review of "LIBERTY HEIGHTS" (Warner Bros.)
Filmmaker Barry Levinson says: "If I knew things would no longer be, I would have tried to remember better." And this expertly crafted coming-of-age tale is Levinson's fourth semi-autobiographical film set in Baltimore - like "Diner," "Tin Men," and "Avalon." Focusing on the changing times of the mid-1950s, it tackles the provocative issues of race, religion and class distinction. A wry and enormously touching remembrance, it spans exactly one year in the life of an insular, middle-class Jewish family. With segregation coming to an end, they struggle with the poignant dilemmas evoked by ethnic diversity. One son finds himself attracted to a young black woman whose family is as appalled by their friendship as is his own, while the other son is dazzled by a luminous blue-eyed, blonde gentile who wields a magic wand, offering him a tantalizing glimpse into a lifestyle that's a marked contrast to everything he's ever known. Each boy pursues his passion with a manic edge that's filled with pathos and amusement. Plus, there's the traumatic upheaval caused by their father's involvement in staging an illegal lottery that draws the attention of the F.B.I.. Headed by Joe Mantegna, the superb ensemble cast features Adrien Brody and Bebe Neuwirth, along with Justin Chambers, Vincent Guastaferro, Orlando Jones, David Krumholz, and Kiersten Warren. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Liberty Heights" is an evocative, nostalgic 8. It's funny, feisty, and full of life, as laughter and tears mix and mingle, characterizing the human condition that Barry Levinson captures so deftly. Don't miss it - and take your parents.

Susan Granger's review of "THE OMEGA CODE" (Providence Entertainment)
Onward, Christian filmmakers! Heavily promoted by the Trinity Broadcasting Network, the largest Christian TV organization in the country, this religious thriller is an end-of-the-world suspense story based on the book of Revelation. Written by Stephan Blinn and Hollis Barton, it manages to be a non-violent story about Armageddon, crediting to Hal Lindsey (The Late Great Planet Earth) as "prophecy consultant." The muddled plot revolves around Casper Van Dien as a Tony Robbins-like motivational speaker who, along with European Union Chairman, played by Michael York, seems to be trying to secure a world peace agreement. Only, a secret Biblical code falls into the wrong hands, putting the world's future at stake. Not surprisingly, Van Dien will have to accept Jesus Christ as his Lord and Savior in order to save civilization as we know it. Produced by Matthew Crouch, son of TBN's president, Paul Crouch, the film is designed to alert Hollywood that there's an audience for clunky spiritual entertainment. They may be right from a religious perspective but film-making is an art that these zealots have yet to master. Casper Van Dien (Starship Troopers) is handsome but unconvincing, as is Catherine Oxenberg as a talk show host. Michael York's such an obviously sleazy megalomaniac that it's not credible that he's a trusted diplomat. Only Michael Ironside emerges with dignity intact. Rob Marcarelli's direction is flat and unimaginative, the computer graphics are juvenile, and the delusional absurdity includes having Van Dien discover his house is bugged and then verbally discuss his "secret" plans. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, The Omega Code is a timely but ploddingly dull 3. I'd advise you not to pay for this preachy, blatant brain-washing; instead, tune in - free - to TBN.

Susan Granger's review of "ANYWHERE BUT HERE" (20th Century-Fox)
In this mother/daughter spin on Thelma and Louise, Susan Sarandon and Natalie Portman, as Adele and Ann August, respectively, take off from Bay City, Wisconsin, for Beverly Hills, California. They're on the road in a 1978 Mercedes, heading for what flamboyant Adele envisions as a better life. Ann's more than reluctant; she's bitterly rebellious about leaving her small-town friends and family. When they reach the promised land, their first stop is the opulent Beverly Hills Hotel where their financial reality dawns on Ann, if not Adele. In fact, reality plays a minuscule part in any of Adele's decisions - the most disastrous of which is a one-night stand with a recently-separated dentist whom she meets on the beach. Over a period of two years, mother and daughter adjust to a poverty-plagued life in a series of tacky, sparsely furnished, one-bedroom apartments in the flats of Beverly Hills. Ann is the resourceful realist, making friends and adjusting; Adele, ever the dreamer, just outside Nirvana, looking in, considering an ice cream cone as the solution to every crummy problem. Of course, in the end, Ann realizes how indebted she is to her mother not only for her creative juices but also for her spirit of adventure. Directed by Wayne Wang, Natalie Portman delivers a subtle, nuanced performance as a teenager desperate for normalcy, particularly in contrast to Susan Sarandon's persistent, over-the-top kookiness. Alvin Sargent's screen adaptation of Mona Simpson's novel amounts to little more than a series of vignettes, leaving you emotionally uninvolved. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Anywhere But Here is a touching, sentimental 6. Make no mistake - it's a woman's picture. And, if you enjoy it, why not rent last year's Slums of Beverly Hills, a similar but far edgier comedy?

Susan Granger's review of "THE INSIDER" (Touchstone)
Michael Mann's compelling story, adapted by Mann and Eric Roth from Marie Brenner's 1996 Vanity Fair article, "The Man Who Knew Too Much," examines the behind-the-scenes drama and maneuverings that led to the media's exposure of tobacco industry fraud. Whistle-blower Jeffrey Wigand, former head of research and development at Brown & Williamson, was a corporate officer, the ultimate insider on the skullduggery involved in the business of selling tobacco. His firing comes to the attention of Mike Wallace's producer, Lowell Bergman, who convinces the reluctant scientist to spill the beans on 60 Minutes, only to have the interview killed by CBS's corporate lawyer who cites a confidentiality agreement the executive signed with the tobacco company. Three months later, after the Wall Street Journal printed Wigand's allegations, 60 Minutes aired the segment. So much for fiasco. It's the Oscar-caliber performances that command attention, primarily the emotional relationship between Russell Crowe, as the conflicted Wigand, and Al Pacino, as the tenacious Bergman. A journalist hasn't shown this much righteous indignation since All the President's Men. Christopher Plummer deserves a Best Supporting Actor nod as Wallace, who with Philip Baker Hall, as producer Don Hewitt, come across as cowards, bowing to management on ethics, leaving their source, Wigand, hanging in the wind. The medieval and Middle Eastern music by Lisa Gerrard and Pieter Bourke enhances Dante Spinotti's dark, eerie imagery. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, The Insider is a tense, trenchantly topical 10. Subsequent to the shocking events dramatized in the film, the tobacco industry settled the lawsuits filed against it by Mississippi and 49 other states for $246 billion.


Susan Granger's review of "DOGMA" (Lion's Gate Films)
A holy war has been waged over this crude, controversial Kevin Smith satire of Catholicism. Financed and developed by Bob and Harvey Weinstein at Miramax, a Disney subsidiary, it was sold to Lion's Gate after William Donohue's Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights filed protests with Disney CEO Michael Eisner. The Catholic League previously led a boycott of Disney over Priest, a 1995 Miramax release which depicted a gay priest. Yet, despite all the fuss, Dogma is a surprisingly dull parable. Matt Damon and Ben Affleck play fallen angels who have been sent to everlasting exile in Wisconsin. Using a loophole in Catholic doctrine, they know a way to get back into heaven but their re-entry would negate all existence - at least that's what abortion clinic worker Linda Fiorentino is told as her help is enlisted by an angel (Alan Rickman). She's befriended by the black 13th Apostle (Chris Rock) and a spunky stripper-muse (Salma Hayek), while being pursued by an exiled muse (Jason Lee). She encounters a zealous Cardinal (George Carlin), who's promoting "a buddy Christ", and discovers God is a woman (Alanis Morissette). So what? Among the long, boring interludes is some particularly repugnant chicanery with an excrement monster. Affleck and Damon are genial dudes but Fiorentino mopes, smirks or snarls, showing no emotional or vocal range. Kevin Smith's cult fans who enjoyed Clerks and Chasing Amy may be the only audience for this feeble comic fantasy which is too heavy on moralizing and too light on laughter. Smith's message - that dogmatism is bad, that no one religion is better than any other - is delivered with a thud. The sophomoric jokes basically bomb. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Dogma is an uninspired, trifling, muddled 2. It's a dud.


Susan Granger's review of "THE BONE COLLECTOR" (Universal Pictures)
This is yet another urban thriller about a sadistic serial killer. Denzel Washington plays a bedridden, suicidal, quadriplegic forensics expert and best-selling author who teams up with a former fashion model-turned-rookie cop, Angelina Jolie, to capture an imaginative murderer with a penchant for cryptic clues. And each killing is uniquely horrific, just like in "Seven." Inexplicably, the NYPD uses Washington's SoHo loft as a base of operations while Jolie acts as his eyes and ears, exploring the grisly crime scenes, describing them to him, and following his instructions precisely. "You've got to saw her hands off at the wrist line! I've got to have those cuffs for prints!" he barks into her cell phone from his motorized bed. As his devoted nurse, Queen Latifah imbues the role with a special sassy quality, while the stereotypical supporting characters include Ed O'Neill, Mike McGlone, Luis Guzman, and Michael Rooker as Washington's former boss. Utilizing Jeremy Iacone's cliché-ridden, uneven screenplay, adapted from the novel by Jeffrey Deaver, director Philip Noyce ("Clear and Present Danger," "Patriot Games") cleverly keeps the cinematic tension taut as the hapless victims are buried alive, scalded by steam or devoured by rats. But the final confrontation between the immobilized Washington - using "one finger, two shoulders, and a head" - and the deranged killer is utterly preposterous. Angelina Jolie is woefully unconvincing, particularly when she's crying, and her pouting lips have been so puffed up with some kind of silicone concoction that they look ludicrous. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "The Bone Collector" is a dopey, diabolical 6. It's basically a grisly, gruesome whodunnit.


Susan Granger's review of "THE BACHELOR" (New Line Cinema)
There have been a number wedding-theme'd comedies like "Runaway Bride" and "The Best Man" but this is the weakest of the group. Chris O'Donnell plays a billiards heir who realizes that it's time to give up his beloved bachelor status and make a commitment to the photographer, Renee Zellweger ("Jerry Maguire"), whom he's been dating for three years. But when the moment to propose occurs, O'Donnell lamely grins at her, offering an engagement ring, saying, "You win." Offended by his ambivalence and obvious insincerity, she leaves him flat. Shortly thereafter, he discovers he will lose his grandfather's (Peter Ustinov) $100 million fortune if he's not married by the age of 30 - which is less than 24 hours away. So, following the advice of the family attorney (Ed Asner) and stock broker (Hal Holbrook), he desperately arranges for a priest (James Cromwell) to wait in the limousine, ready to perform a quickie ceremony, while he rides around San Francisco looking for a bride. Mariah Carey, Brooke Shields, and Jennifer Esposito pop up in cameos as his former girlfriends. His buddy (Artie Lange) spills the dilemma to the newspaper which results in a climactic stampede of 1,000 wannabe brides clad in white gowns. "It's like Larry King's living room!" Lange quips. The screenplay by Steve Cohen was adapted from Buster Keaton's "Second Chances" (1925) with a nod to "Brewster's Millions" (1945) in which an ordinary guy had to spend $1 million in a month in order to receive a major inheritance. And director Gary Sinyor ("Stiff Upper Lips") must be an ardent fan of over-acting. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "The Bachelor" is a totally predictable, pre-feminist 4 until, finally, the bland "hero" realizes the non-materialistic merits of matrimony.


Susan Granger's review of "DREAMING OF JOSEPH LEES" (Fox Searchlight Films)
This Gothic tale of romantic obsession revolves around a young woman named Eva, played by Samantha Morton ("Under the Skin"), who is preoccupied with her second cousin. Eva lives with her teenage sister (Lauren Richardson) and stern, elderly father (Frank Finlay) in the rural English county of Somerset. She works as a clerk but fantasizes about Joseph Lees - that's Rupert Graves - who has been the unrequited object of her affection since childhood. When her precocious little sister discovers her secret, she plots to get the two together. The fact that the handsome ex-soldier, now a geologist, has lost his leg in a quarry accident in Italy only increases Eva's fervent fascination. And she's hardly deterred by the ardent pursuit of a dull local pig farmer, Harry Flyte (Lee Ross), with whom she moves in, which is an inexplicably daring and rebellious move, considering it's the late 1950s. Her explanation is that she doesn't want to "make the same mistake" that her divorced parents did. Finally, Joseph Lees actually appears - at a family wedding - and, predictably, real trouble begins. There's an immediate physical attraction, pure lust, which is soon consummated - much to Harry's distress. At this point, Harry's suicidal depression abruptly becomes the dramatic focus, resulting in Eva's distraught soul-searching. Screenwriter Catherine Linstrum and director Eric Styles concentrate on Eva's sensuality and character development, leaving Joseph Lees as somewhat of an enigma and ignoring large plot loopholes. In addition, Harry is such a clumsy, unappealing rival that there's no tension. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Dreaming of Joseph Lees" is a confused, conflicted 4. It's a murky melodrama about emotional repression that remains strange and shallow.


Susan Granger's review of "POKEMON" (Warner Bros.)
Pokemon is more of a worldwide phenomenon than a movie. Its name is short for "pocket monsters." These creatures are stored in spheres carried by human trainers who free them for friendly combat whenever they're challenged by trainers of other Pokemon. The merchandising madness began in 1996 as a Nintendo video game in Japan and became an animated TV cartoon. There was a quick bout with infamy when its editing techniques were said to prompt seizures in children but that problem has been corrected. Pokemon next appeared in card form, the collectable, swapable baseball variety, featuring more than 150 characters. Card trading so distracted children that many schools have banned it; as a consequences, its popularity has soared. Pokemon: The First Movie begins with a 22-minute short called "Pikachu's Vacation." Then comes "Mew Strikes Back." Mew is a tiny, adorable Pokemon but then comes Mew/Two, a bio-engineered mutation, who escapes from the lab where he was created, bitterly vowing to take revenge on the human scientists who enslaved him. He heads a super race of Pokemons who have declared war against the original Pokemons and their human friends. There's non-stop fighting until, finally, the human hero, named Ash Ketchum, sacrifices himself to save Pikachu, his chubby yellow Pokemon, a gesture that causes Mew/Two to re-think his assertion that humans and Pokemons cannot exist in harmony. Written by Takeshi Shudo, based on characters by Satoshi Tajiri, and directed by Kunihiko Yuyama, Pokemon is contradictory in that it preaches the futility of fighting while presenting non-stop violence. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Pokemon is a frenzied 5 - but kids love it. Don't underestimate the tsunami of Pokemon Power.

Susan Granger's review of "THE HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL" (Warner Bros.)
What's scary about this picture is how many people went to see it last weekend, proving two things: 1) you can't beat good timing, and 2) when you have a creepy dud on your hands, don't let people know it's coming - that's why critics were not permitted to view this film before it opened. Oscar winner Geoffrey Rush (Shine) plays a nasty amusement-park tycoon who invites four supposed strangers to help celebrate his wife's birthday in the notorious Vanacutt Psychiatric Institute for the Criminally Insane, promising "terror, humiliation, perhaps even murder." He obviously detest her as much as she loathes him. Rush is made-up to resemble Vincent Price, the star of William Castle's campy 1958 version, including the pencil-thin mustache. His character is even named Price, in case you missed the point. Anyway, this eccentric host offers each of his jittery guests $1,000,000 at daybreak - if they can survive the night. Directed by William Malone from a screenplay by Dick Beebe, based on a story by Robb White, there's little horror and zero originality. The villainous Vanacutt was a demented doctor who performed hideous experimental surgery without anesthesia until, once night, the inmates rebelled, igniting a fire that destroyed the place - so we're told. Of course, the ghosts still run rampant, causing death and destruction. Famke Janssen, Taye Diggs, Ali Larter, Brigitte Wilson, Peter Gallagher, and Chris Kattan look as though they fervently wished they were elsewhere. Heh! Heh! Heh! So did I. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, The House on Haunted Hill is a ghoulish, wretched 1. But the only thing frightening about it is the waste of talent. If you thought The Blair Witch Project was ridiculous, this is far worse.

Susan Granger's review of "MUSIC OF THE HEART" (Miramax Films)
Can Wes Craven, creator of slasher/horror movies from Nightmare on Elm Street to Scream, score in another genre? Yes! Working with an intelligent screenplay by Pamela Gray (A Walk on the Moon), Craven goes for a different kind of gut emotion in this timely, true story violin instructor Roberta Guaspari, the mother of two young boys, who was abandoned when her Naval officer husband ran off with another woman. Forced into asserting her independence to survive, she cleverly badgers an East Harlem principal into hiring her as a substitute music teacher, despite the protests of the tenured faculty and the wariness of the inner-city parents. Fervently believing in discipline, dignity, and commitment, Roberta Guaspari struggles to teach classical violin to disorderly, often resistant students, building self-esteem and changing their lives in remarkable ways. And her crusade leads all the way to Carnegie Hall, where violinists Isaac Stern, Itzhak Perlman, Arnold Steinhardt and Mark O'Connor join in Fiddlefest, along with the children of Guaspari's actual East Harlem violin program. If the story sounds familiar, it was the basis of a 1995 Oscar-nominated documentary, Small Wonders. Meryl Streep delivers a polished, virtuoso performance that could earn her another well-deserved Oscar nomination, while Angela Bassett, Gloria Estefan, and Aidan Quinn deliver strong support. Estefan performs the title song with teen sensation 'N Sync, and the sound track talent includes Jennifer Lopez, C Note, Macy Gray, and Julio Iglesias Jr.. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Music of the Heart is an exhilarating, uplifting 8. Like Mr. Holland's Opus, it's sentimental and emotionally manipulative but there's an audience for this kind of heart-warming film that everyone in the family can enjoy.

Susan Granger's review of "PRINCESS MONONOKE" (Miramax Films)
Based on Japanese folklore, this captivating environmentalist fable is the tale of a war between the beast gods of the forest and the humans who are encroaching on their pristine territory. Set in the 15th century, a time of feudalism, the characters are desperately grasping to understand and adjust to the coming industrialization and how it will affect the balance of nature. In this English-dubbed version, a young warrior, Ashitaka (voiced by Billy Crudup), is forced to kill a fierce, demonic boar to protect his village. While dying, the evil creature places a mysterious curse on him, signified by a dark, twisting scar on his right arm. Defiant and determined to find a cure, Ashitaka mounts his trusty red elk and travels to the boar's homeland where he becomes involved in a dispute between Lady Eboshi (Minnie Driver) and her feisty ironworkers and the forest creatures, led by Moro, the Wolf Spirit (Gillian Anderson), and her adopted human daughter, Mononoke ("spirits of things"), called San (Claire Danes). The conclusion is a plea to humans to live harmoniously with the world around us. Directed by Hayao Miyazaki, the Japanese version is one of only two films to ever break $150 million at the Japanese box-office - the other being "Titanic." The fluid and superbly detailed animation is technically awesome, emotionally powerful, and unbelievably beautiful. I was particularly enchanted by the tiny, ghost-like, head-clicking tree sprites. But - at a lengthy 135 minutes - with scenes of graphic violence and a complex, philosophical storyline to follow, it's definitely not meant for young children. Heed the PG-13 rating. Basically, it's art house fare. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Princess Mononoke" is a stunning, spiritual 7 - but it is definitely too much of a good thing.

Susan Granger's review of "BEING JOHN MALKOVICH" (USA Films)
If there's an award for the boldest, most unconventional and wildly inventive movie of the year, it has to go to "Being John Malkovich," in which screenwriter Charlie Kaufman and director Spike Jonze blend surrealism with science-fiction and self-parody. John Cusack stars as an out-of-work puppeteer who takes a job as a filing clerk in a New York office building on the 7 1/2 floor, where the rents are low because the ceilings are half the normal height. It's a great visual gag as workers hunch over, scuttling down the hall. Stuck in an unhappy marriage to an almost unrecognizable Cameron Diaz with dark, frizzy hair, he becomes infatuated with a co-worker, Catherine Keener, who couldn't be less interested. At least until he discovers a small door behind a filing cabinet that leads to a tunnel which, inexplicably, sucks him into the brain of actor John Malkovich. Cusack can see through the actor's eyes and share whatever he's is feeling - for 15 minutes - until he's dumped into a ditch on the New Jersey Turnpike. When he shares his discovery with Keener, she immediately sees the potential in selling entrance - $200 per person - to this portal so that others can partake in the sensory and emotional experiences of John Malkovich. They become partners in this commercial venture - until, inevitably, the enigmatic Malkovich discovers how they've opened this "metaphysical can of worms." Plus, there's a deliriously mad subplot of gender/blender sexual seduction, absurdist supporting gems from Orson Bean and Mary Kay Place, plus witty cameos by Charlie Sheen, Sean Penn, and Brad Pitt. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Being John Malkovich" is a clever, outrageous 10. It's a film of astonishing and beguiling originality.

Susan Granger's review of "BRINGING OUT THE DEAD" (Paramount Pictures)
Martin Scorsese is one of our most respected auteurs but this hollow melodrama is a major misfire. Marking the fourth collaboration between Scorsese and writer Paul Schrader, it's an adaptation of Joe Connelly's novel about the rescues and failures of a New York City paramedic. Nicolas Cage plays a tormented EMS worker on the graveyard shift in Hell's Kitchen who, in a week of full moons, is so sleep-deprived that he wants nothing more than to be fired. Subsisting on whiskey and cigarettes with an occasional pizza, he's a hyperactive adrenaline-junkie, spiked by the surreal filth and loathing that surround him and haunted by the face of an underage girl named Rose whom he once failed to rescue. One night, this burnt-out wannabe hero punches life back into the cardiac arrested chest of Mr. Burke, while striking up a relationship with the man's estranged, ex-junkie daughter, Patricia Arquette (Cage's real-life wife). As opposed to a plot, the film consists of aimless, loosely connected episodes narrated by Cage, working with a series of wacko partners. There's John Goodman, who's resigned to holding on to his sanity amidst the blood, pain, and despair; Tom Sizemore, who's heavily into violence against the parasites of humanity; and Ving Rhames, who fancies himself infused with the Holy Spirit. The camera technique is tricky, the pace frantic, and the sound track filled with pop music with a thumping bass. The eccentric characters say weird things which may relate to guilt and redemption but that's not too clear. And there's a crazy "Isn't-this-cool?" attitude when you realize that Scorsese voices the ambulance dispatcher. But that's it. Nothing more. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Bringing Out the Dead" is a chaotic, wretched, frenzied 3. It's so cool, it's stone cold.


Susan Granger's review of "THE STRAIGHT STORY" (Buena Vista Pictures)
This delicately wrought, true story of Alvin Straight, a man on a mission, is a marked departure for film-maker David Lynch ("Blue Velvet," "The Elephant Man"), and charismatic Richard Farnsworth's poignant performance has definite Oscar potential. The story revolves around a stubborn 73 year-old - that's Farnsworth - who travels 260 miles from Laurens, Iowa, to Mt. Zion, Wisconsin, to visit his ailing brother and patch up a quarrel. What makes his odyssey unique is his mode of transport: a '66 John Deere lawnmower. With his own health failing, Alvin can't see well enough to drive and refuses to let anyone take him, even though he must hobble with two canes. So, despite the protests of his speech-impaired daughter (Sissy Spacek) and his cronies who consider him crazy, Alvin rigs up a small trailer behind his lawnmower, packs up his gear, and putts along the highway at 5 m.p.h. for six weeks. En route, he encounters some kindly folk and spreads his simple brand of homespun wisdom. He counsels a pregnant teenage runaway about the strength of family ties, recalls to yuppie bikers how "the worst part of being old is remembering when you were young," negotiates engine repairs with quirky twin mechanics, and commiserates with a fellow veteran about his guilt of being a sniper during World War II. Screenwriters John Roach & Mary Sweeney and director David Lynch show taste, discipline, and restraint in this heartwarming, if slow-paced, geriatric "road picture," while cinematographer Freddie Francis hauntingly captures the dramatic skies-and-plains vistas of America's autumnal heartland. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "The Straight Story" is an unforgettable 9. A delight from start to bittersweet fade-out, this subdued, lyrical, mature film is a treasure.

Susan Granger's review of "AMERICAN BEAUTY" (DreamWorks Pictures)

This surprisingly dramatic black comedy goes for the jugular as it examines with bruising intensity two dysfunctional families in American suburbia. Oscar winner Kevin Spacey ("The Usual Suspects") stars as a cynical advertising exec who hates his job and resents his controlling wife, played by Annette Bening. She's a fiercely ambitious, high-strung perfectionist, intoxicated with success, as she passionately devotes herself to selling real estate and tending her rose garden. Thora Birch is their daughter - and she loathes them. In fact, the film opens with videotape footage of the teenager complaining about her father, wishing someone would kill him. Early on, we discover someone does. Spacey will be dead within the year - at least that's what he tells us. Who? How? When? Why? That's what's eventually revealed on the screen. It's a classic suspense device - and it works. Meanwhile, Spacey's lusting after his daughter's flirtatious high school chum (Mena Suvari) and Bening's bedding a realtor (Peter Gallagher), as Birch becomes involved with the "psycho next door" (Wes Bentley), who is - in turn - terrorized by his stern, abusive father (Chris Cooper). In this satiric, sophisticated social commentary, first-time screenwriter Alan Ball and first-time film director Sam Mendes (Broadway's "Cabaret," "The Blue Room") cinematically capture the hilarious, hedonistic, and heartbreaking desperation of a marital mid-life crisis and struggle in depth with the ironic definition of beauty. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "American Beauty" is an amazing, powerfully disturbing 10, as it skewers the '90s. Let's talk Oscar nominations - this is one of the best pictures of the year!

Susan Granger's review of "CRAZY IN ALABAMA" (Columbia Pictures)
Before he came to the United States. Antonio Banderas was a star in Pedro Almodovar's sex comedies in Spain. So it's not surprising that Banderas's first directorial effort reflects Amodovar's style of directing, beginning with the opening credits which are similar to "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown" and "Dark Habits," and continuing with an amalgam of wacky whimsy and genuine emotion throughout the narrative. Written by Mark Childress, the film attempts to interweave two stories, set in 1965. One chronicles the Civil Rights awakening of a young Southern boy called Peejoe (Lucas Black), who lives in a funeral home with his mortician uncle, and the second revolves around his zany, flamboyant Aunt Lucille (Melanie Griffith, Banderas's real-life wife). As the tale begins, Aunt Lucille decapitates her abusive husband, puts his head in a hatbox, and sets off to pursue her dream of a show biz career in Hollywood - just as Peejoe sees the sheriff (Meat Loaf Aday) kill a black boy during a protest at a segregated municipal swimming pool. Will Peejoe tell the truth to the authorities - or cover up the crime? That's his moral dilemma. And will Lucille be convicted of murder? All the various story elements come together in a big court-room finale, dominated by the gavel of an eccentric judge (Rod Steiger). The problem is that the shrill, farcical humor of Aunt Lucille distracts from the intimate drama of the teenager's coming to terms with bigotry and racial prejudice in his own hometown. And one simply cannot ignore Melanie Griffith's incongruous jet-black wig and scarlet, collagen-infused lips. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Crazy in Alabama" is a fanciful if uneven 5, offering a few lively moments of clever insight.

Susan Granger's review of "THE BEST MAN" (Universal Pictures)
Remember Taye Diggs, the actor who played Angela Bassett's lover in "How Stella Got Her Groove Back"? Enough people were so impressed with him that he's got a romantic comedy of his own. Diggs plays a Chicago-based fledgling novelist whose upcoming book, "Unfinished Business," about his college experiences, has his friends buzzing, particularly regarding the steamy sections revolving around who-slept-with-whom. It's already been endorsed by Oprah Winfrey and an advance copy is doing the rounds prior to the upcoming marriage of a New York Giants running back, Morris Chestnut, and his longtime girl-friend, Monica Calhoun. It's a celebratory weekend in New York that will reunite the successful African-American college crowd once again as they face some of life's major dilemmas. Diggs is trying to dodge making a marital commitment to his current girlfriend, Sanaa Lathan, primarily because a sexy, ambitious TV producer, Nia Long, is, as one of his buddies comments, "the best girlfriend you never had," while laid-back Harold Perrineau seems to be firmly attached to domineering Melissa De Sousa, whom everyone knows is wrong for him, and Terrence Howard continues to be a perennial bachelor as well as a perennial student. Writer-director Malcolm D. Lee, a cousin of Spike Lee whose company produced the film, quickly demonstrates that film-making talent runs in the family, having genuine good fun with the universality of intimate male/female relationships, at least from the male perspective. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "The Best Man" is an amusing, energetic 7 - and stick around for the credits. Like "The Blair Witch Project," the hype for this date movie began on the Internet, building anticipation for a whalloping opening weekend.

Susan Granger's review of "FIGHT CLUB" (20th Century-Fox)
First rule of Fight Club: You do not talk about Fight Club. So, right away, I'm in trouble with this bleak, profoundly disturbing, testosterone-laden contemporary study of emasculation and insanity. Edward Norton is the nameless narrator. He's a bored, bitter, yuppie insomniac with no family or close friends. For company, he joins cancer and other disease-support groups, while Brad Pitt is Tyler Durden, a devious, charismatic anarchist who challenges him, taunting "How much can you know about yourself if you've never been in a fight?" He introduces Norton to the raw, animalistic instinct for survival. When their bare-fist brawls outside a bar attract cheering crowds, they create an underground network of secret, private clubs where self-destructive, disillusioned professionals can seek solace from despair by pummeling each other to smithereens. "This is your life," Durden says, "and it's ending one day at a time." Soon Durden becomes a subversive cult hero, a grungy messiah for the sado-masochists of an emotionally-dead generation suffering from the onslaught of consumerism and technology. And Helena Bonham Carter is the funny, foul-mouthed, chain-smoking, self-help junkie who comes between the two men. Adapted for the screen by Jim Uhls from Chuck Palahniuk's gritty best-seller and directed by David Fincher ("Seven"), it's a fast-paced, stylized man's movie, exploring the psychology of violence, complete with a sub-plot involving bath soap made from human body fat from a liposuction clinic. Both Norton and Pitt deliver knockout performances, relishing the wry, cruel nihilist humor. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Fight Club" is an insidious, cynical, savage 8. But it's socially irresponsible and repellent in its graphic depictions of extreme violence and brutality.

Susan Granger's review of "THE LIMEY" (Artisan Entertainment)
With "sex, lies & videotape,""Out of Sight" and now "The Limey," film-maker Steven Soderberg has become the master of the lighter, gentler film noir. Charismatic Terence Stamp (who should have received an Oscar for "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert") stars as a tough Englishman named Wilson who flies from London to Los Angeles to find out who was really responsible for the death of his daughter Jenny. With the help of Luiz Guzman, who had sent him a clipping about the car crash "accident" which took her life, he tracks down a sleek, sleazy pop music producer, played by Peter Fonda, who had been Jenny's lover. He learns even more about what happened from Lesley Ann Warren, Jenny's acting teacher, and finds himself emeshed in Fonda's drug-running operation. Determined to savor his revenge, the Cockney-speaking ex-con fantasizes about drawing a gun and shooting Fonda on the spot but decides to torture the cowardly culprit a bit before killing him. Besides, first he has to eliminate Fonda's smirking chief of security, Barry Newman, and his hired goons. Steven Soderberg's stylish use of recurring flashbacks and memories is compelling. It's as if you're seeing the story unfold through Stamp's clear blue eyes. Curiously, both Stamp and Fonda seem to be doing parodies of their '60s screen personas, and the amazingly "youthful" shots of Stamp were adroitly lifted from Ken Loach's "Poor Cow" (1967) in which Stamp also played a character named Wilson. The weakness lies with Lem Dobbs' laconic script that has loopholes you could drive a truck through, particularly in a segment involving federal agents. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "The Limey" is a mysterious, dynamic 9. It's a cool, restrained revenge thriller for the art house crowd.

Susan Granger's review of "SUPERSTAR" (Paramount Pictures)
Once again, Hollywood delves into the deep files of "Saturday Night Live" for a story idea, so no one should be very surprised when it turns out to be like an extended TV skit. Molly Shannon reprises her SNL role of gawky parochial school-girl Mary Katherine Gallagher, easily recognized by her red hairband, thick horn-rimmed glasses, too-short plaid skirt, sensible white underpants, and armpit-sniffing nervous tic. All Mary Katherine wants in life is a kiss, a real bona fide Hollywood-style kiss. She works at a video store as a "rewind girl," so she's keenly aware of the open-mouthed passion that true love can inspire. But her prospects look decidedly grim until she enters a "Let's Beat Venereal Disease Talent Contest," sponsored by Catholic Teen Magazine, lured by the grand prize of a free trip to TinselTown, where she's sure her dreams will come true. The object of her affection is SNL's Will Ferrell, who not only plays the most popular boy and best dancer at St. Monica's High School but also a jiggy Jesus. Unfortunately, in director Bruce McCullough's close-ups, thirtysomethings Molly Shannon and Will Ferrell look their age - and they've left their teenage years far behind. After playing the character for six years on SNL, Molly Shannon explains the appeal of Mary Katherine this way: "I think people identify with her adolescent struggles because she's hopeful. It's not like she's just a loser that's not going to succeed, but she has hope and she's a fighter. She gets hurt and put down but she never lets that defeat her. She just keeps going after what she wants. She's a character with a lot of heart and passion." Nevertheless, on the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Superstar" is an awkward, dopey 3. Mary Katherine's best suited for the small screen, so wait for the video.

Susan Granger's review of "BOYS DON'T CRY" (Fox Searchlight Pictures)

First-time writer/director Kimberly Peirce was so appalled when she read a newspaper account of how and why 21 year-old Teena Brandon was shot dead with two friends in a farmhouse just outside Falls City, Nebraska, back in 1994, that she was determined to bring this true story to the screen. Teena Brandon - a.k.a. Brandon Teena - so desperately desired to be a boy that she posed as one. She "strapped and packed" by flattening her breasts beneath surgical bandages and inserting socks into the crotch of her jeans. Not only did she get away with the pathetic masquerade but, amazingly, she seduced several young women who, when they questioned her sexual identity, were told that she was a hermaphrodite. Brandon adamantly insisted that she was not a lesbian, explaining that she was really a boy trapped in a girl's body and often spoke of plans to have a sex change operation. Actress Hilary Swank (TV's " Beverly Hills 90210") delivers an incredibly believable performance as the troubled "pretty-boy" Brandon with Chloe Sevigny as the gullible girl who adores her. The problem is that all of the characters are essentially repugnant for one reason or another, so it's difficult to relate to any of them. (Giving a toddler beer to drink is hardly an endearing quality.) Plus, there's a gratuitously violently brutal rape scene in which two local boys (Peter Sarsgaard, Brendan Sexton III) take their revenge on the deceitful "dyke" - and that, in particular, is distasteful and difficult to watch. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Boys Don't Cry" is a pathetic, sad 4. It's a tragic, depressing tale of prejudice and hatred.

Susan Granger's review of "THREE TO TANGO" (Warner Bros.)
The producers of this mildly amusing, off-beat romantic comedy obviously thought that if they paired popular Matthew Perry from TV's "Friends" with Neve Campbell from TV's "Party of Five" and "Scream," adding Dylan McDermott and Oliver Platt for substance, they'd have a hit - wrong! Matthew Perry plays an ambitious, idealistic, if clumsy young architect who has just been chosen by businessman Dylan McDermott to compete for the design of a multi-million dollar Chicago cultural center. The slimy tycoon also tells Perry he'll get preferential consideration if he'll spy on his mistress, Neve Campbell, assuming that Perry is a homosexual, like his openly gay partner, played by Oliver Platt. Predictably, Perry falls for Campbell, who also thinks he's gay, particularly when he's honored as Gay Professional of the Year. What will he do? Will he continue to lie to hold on to the job opportunity of a lifetime and a warm but frustrating friendship with the girl he loves or come out of the closet and admit he's secretly straight? You guess. I'll give you a hint, though. Screenwriter Rodney Vaccaro's own bizarre experience inspired the story. While he was working as creative director of a large advertising agency, he fell in love with his boss's mistress. A series of what he describes as "sexual errors" led to Vaccaro eventually marrying her and co-writing this script with Aline Brosh McKenna. But, despite superficial similarities, this is no "The Apartment" or even "In and Out," perhaps because of Damon Santostefano's light-hearted direction which makes it feel like a TV sit-com. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Three to Tango" is a frenetic, formulaic, flimsy 4, satirizing sexual stereotypes with the catchline: "You've made a big gay bed, and now you must slumber gayly in it!"

Susan Granger's review of "The Story of Us" (Universal Pictures)
Instead of the usual vows, perhaps the marriage ceremony should include the question: "Do you have any idea how difficult this is going to be?" Because that's what intrigued filmmaker Rob Reiner to wonder: Can any couple with two kids survive together for 15 years? Bruce Willis and Michelle Pfeiffer play a suburban dad-and-mom whose constant quarrels have made them decide on a trial separation while their kids are in summer camp. As they fumble through the nitty-gritty of living apart, flashbacks reveal what abrasive episodes led up to their edgy estrangement. Basically, she's a crossword-puzzle creator who's a highly organized, compulsive perfectionist while he's a laid-back, playful writer who flourishes in an unstructured existence. (One is tempted to interpret Willis' obviously raw hurt as a spillover from his real-life divorce from Demi Moore.) Writers Alan Zweibel and Jessie Nelson re-visit bittersweet marital territory that's been explored many times before, stressing that any successful relationship is a work-in-progress. One winces for the obvious hair pieces and/or transplants Willis feels compelled to wear, while Pfeiffer is so breathtakingly beautiful that her efforts to be a plain housewife are pathetic. And when Jayne Meadows, Tom Poston, Betty White, and Red Buttons pop up as the in-laws, you're acutely aware that these are aging stars playing cameos. Nevertheless, Reiner's slickly inventive direction and the sheer charm and likeability of Willis and Pfeiffer prevail, set to the tune of Eric Clapton's guitar strumming "I'm Sorry." On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "The Story of Us" is a shaky, sentimental 6. It's "When Harry Met Sally" - 15 years later - with "best friend" Rita Wilson outrageously attempting to update the orgasm-in-a-deli scene.

Susan Granger's review of "MYSTERY, ALASKA" (Hollywood Pictures)
Just because he just won two Emmys for "The Practice" and "Ally McBeal" doesn't mean David E. Kelley can score every time. This story revolves around a publicity stunt that pits the world-famous New York Rangers in a televised exhibition game against a hometown team from Mystery, Alaska, population 633. The genesis for the face-off is a "Sports Illustrated" article, written by a former native, Hank Azaria, that explores the rural legend of a small Alaskan town where, for generations, young men aspire to nothing more than being on the local ice hockey team. It's a place where people are so obsessed with the sport that they leave the streets frozen for skating. And the comedy comes from a culture clash between the media hype and the rugged Alaskan eccentrics. Burt Reynolds plays the stuffy town judge and hockey coach. Russell Crowe is the sheriff and, at 34, a 13-year veteran of the team, while Ryan Northcott is a high-school whiz who threatens Crowe's prestigious position. Directed by Jay Roach ("Austin Powers"), it's like "Northern Exposure" meets "The Longest Yard," although too much time is spent on superficial strained marriages and father-son relationships. Colm Meaney, Mary McCormack, Michael Buie, Michael McKean, Ron Eldard, Judith Ivey, and Lolita Davidovich embody colorful characters who add to the predictable melodrama as Little Richard sings "The Star-Spangled Banner" and Mike Myers broadcasts the game. There's lots going on but little depth. If you're looking for a really good hockey movie, rent the video of George Roy Hill's "Slapshot," which was filmed in the mid-'70s at Yale. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Mystery, Alaska" slides in with a chilly 5. The puck stops here.

Susan Granger's review of "RANDOM HEARTS" (Columbia Pictures)
How would you react to your mate's adultery? And how much more agonizing would it be if your spouse's accidental death prevented you from asking the agonizing question: Why? That's the premise of Sydney Pollack's romantic drama, adapted from Warren Adler's novel by Darryl Ponicsan with a screenplay by Kurt Luedtke. And the concept is intriguing. Harrison Ford plays a detective in the Internal Affairs Division of the Washington, D.C. police department and Kristin Scott Thomas is a well-bred New Hampshire congresswoman running for re-election. They're strangers until his wife and her husband are killed in a plane crash and it's discovered that the deceased were lovers, secretly traveling as "Mr. and Mrs." to a tryst in Miami. Grief-stricken, the survivors are thrown together as they attempt to come to terms with their mutual betrayal. He's masochistically determined to investigate every sordid detail, while she's deep into denial. "Sooner or later, everybody knows everything," he informs her. And that scandal is what terrifies her. Then abruptly, inexplicably, they desperately start groping each other. Inevitably, they're soon in bed, as if the answers to the emotional questions they're struggling to understand were hidden beneath the sheets. Looking scruffy, wearing an ear stud and sporting the world's worst haircut, Harrison Ford is sincere, earnest and stoic, while Kristin Scott Thomas's chilly demeanor fails to ignite this restrained, ultimately dull, rebound romance - even though Sydney Pollack delivers a strong performance as a media strategist. And there's a forgettable subplot involving gunplay with two corrupt cops. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Random Hearts" is a well-crafted but emotionally distant 5. Let's put it this way - it's not exactly a date movie.

Susan Granger's review of "DOUBLE JEOPARDY" (Paramount Pictures)

In this action/revenge movie, a clever woman goes after her conniving husband after he frames her for his supposed murder. Ashley Judd stars as the wife and mother who is wrongly imprisoned for killing her husband. While serving her sentence at a Washington State Prison, she discovers that her spouse is, in fact, living with another woman and raising their son. In addition, she's told by another inmate that she can't be tried twice for the same crime so, when she gets released, she figures: Why not really murder the two-timing rat? The vigilance of her parole officer, played by Tommy Lee Jones, is her only obstacle. Directed by Bruce Beresford, strong and slender Ashley Judd seems perfectly cast, yet she was not the first choice for this plum part. Jodie Foster was supposed to do it until pregnancy forced her to drop out. Tommy Lee Jones is stalwart, as always, doing the relentless law enforcement officer gig which he perfected during "The Fugitive," but Bruce Greenwood's husband part is just too slippery and sleazy. But superficiality is the keynote of the slick, plot-heavy screenplay by David Weisberg and Douglas S. Cook. As for the legal question about whether Judd's character truly has a legal license to kill, the answer is "no." Under the principle of double jeopardy, a person cannot be tried twice for the same crime. But, if the crime was really never committed, then the concept is invalid. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Double Jeopardy" is an angry, violent 4. It's an implausible, illogical but mildly intriguing thriller.

Susan Granger's review of "HAPPY, TEXAS" (Miramax Films)
In the comedy genre of "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" and "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar," this whimsical farce revolves around two convicts - Jeremy Northam ("The Winslow Boy," "An Ideal Husband") and Steve Zahn ("Out of Sight") - who escape from a chain-gang and steal a Winnebago, only to discover that its rightful owners are two gay guys who travel around the country producing children's beauty pageants. Their only hope of evading the law is to assume these new identities, which is immediately funny since neither crook is exactly in touch with his feminine side. When they arrive in Happy, Texas, Zahn's job is to coach the pre-teen contestants for the Little Miss Squeezed Pageant - to the delight of supervisor Illeana Douglas - while Northam handles the business end. Their plan is to pocket the contractual $1,000 fee and scram quickly - after robbing the local bank. Only it's not that easy. Beautiful banker Ally Walker (TV's "Profiler") is attracted to Northam - and he to her - but the only way he can be with her and maintain the charade is to pretend to be her sympathetic confidante. And Northam's in for an even bigger surprise when the tormented sheriff - that's William H. Macy - has a hankering for him at a gay cowboy bar. Screenwriters Ed Stone, Phil Reeves and writer/director Mark Illsley were obviously inspired by Billy Wilder's "Some Like It Hot" since there are many similarities. Curiously, in this era of Jon-Benet Ramsey's murder, the jibes are gentle; somewhere, somehow there's irony buried in juvenile beauty pageants that's yet to be unearthed. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Happy, Texas" is a snappy, screwball 6. And if you like this, rent the video "Waiting for Guffman," which is even funnier.

Susan Granger's review of "ELMO IN GROUCHLAND" (Columbia Pictures)
Anyone who's ever had toddlers knows there are certain taboos - like separating a kid from his security blanket. In this latest of the "Sesame Street" movie spin-offs, stemming from the genius of the late Jim Henson, lovable Elmo, the shy, little, red-tufted yarn puppet with an orange nose and eggshell eyes, loses his beloved blue blanket, named Blanket. The story starts as Elmo gets very, very upset when his best friend Zoe wants to hold Blanket. In fact, a tug-of-war breaks out and neither of them sees Telly coming at them on his new roller blades. An accident occurs and Blanket winds up in Oscar's mysterious trash can - which, in turn, leads him Grouchland, a stinky, yucky place where everyone's irritable and smiling is forbidden. And there's a cranky villain in Grouchland.. That's greedy Huxley, played by Mandy Patinkin. He's a selfish bully who stamps everything "Mine" and sucks up Blanket with his Hoxocopter and won't give it back. Moppets will not only love watching but they're invited to yell, sing and clap along, and that's about as interactive as cinema can be these days. And the best part - insofar as parents are concerned - is that whenever the going gets tough - like Blanket might rip - Bert and Ernie interrupt the story to reassure viewers that they shouldn't worry and things will turn out all right. With the Muppeteers, there's light-hearted humor and good-natured fun which makes for lots of laughs - and Vanessa Williams makes a great Queen of Trash. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "Elmo in Grouchland" is a warm, fuzzy 8, teaching pre-schoolers a gentle lesson about sharing.

Susan Granger's review of "HANGING UP" (Columbia Pictures)
No doubt, Columbia Pictures and the producers wanted this to be a baby-boomers' version of The First Wives Club; i.e.: a wise, witty chick's flick about three blonde, beautiful sisters coping with their sibling rivalry while dealing with their philandering old father who's suffered a minor stroke. But something went wrong from the script to the screen. What's left is an overdose of cheery cute. Meg Ryan's perky as ever as the sensible middle sister, a party planner whose motto is "No surprises." Which puts her in direct conflict with Walter Matthau, her charming, curmudgeonly dad who not only drinks too much but loves to surprise women by pinching their posteriors. Diane Keaton's the hip, super-successful, self-involved older sister, while Lisa Kudrow's the youngest, a ditsy, semi-successful TV actress on one of those daytime hospital dramas. Adapted by Delia Ephron from her 1995 novel, co-scripted by sister Nora Ephron, and directed by Diane Keaton, its title comes from the family's addiction to cell phones which are annoying enough in real life but become unbearable on the screen. Delia Ephron reveals, "I live half my life in the real world and half on the telephone" - and that cliché-filled, whiny jabbering is the premise of the story. There's also some metaphysical connection between hanging up the phone and disconnecting yourself from your problems. But the movie is uneven in pace and tone. Sometimes it's goofy, concentrating on quirky, if banal, verbal sibling encounters; at other times, it goes for pathos - what with dad's dying. Predictably, ultimately, there's reconciliation and redemption. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Hanging Up is a flimsy, floundering 4. Be thankful you don't share the phone gene in this family's DNA - nor their frenzied phoniness.

Susan Granger's review of "PITCH BLACK" (USA Films):

A disabled spacecraft crash-lands on a harsh desert planet at the beginning of this tedious sci-fi disaster. Among the grungy survivors are the female pilot (Radha Mitchell), a Muslim priest (Keith David), a prissy antiquities dealer (Lewis Fitzgerald), a convicted killer with huge muscles and surgically-enhanced laser vision (Vin Diesel) and the bounty hunter (Cole Hauser) who is bringing him to justice. Squabbling, they're all vying for leadership power - until they're terrorized by armies of voracious, carnivorous, nocturnal creatures who are fiendishly determined to devour them. Australian writer/director David Twohy (The Arrival), working with writers Jim and Ken Wheat, lifts elements from the Alien films, among others, and treacherous, pterodactyl-like creatures from Godzilla. The formulaic dialogue is all their own and there's little tension in the episodic plot which involves a solar eclipse. The only commendable originality is in the stylish lighting, utilizing various filters, and cinematography, drawing on several types of film stock which complement the strange, ominous planet with its intense heat from three different suns and bizarre desert landscape. However, on a parched, cloudless planet supposedly devoid of all water, a sudden downpour which drenches the hapless survivors is one of the most obvious discordant occurrences which is never explained. And if Vin Diesel's voice sounds familiar, you might recall that he did the title character in The Iron Giant. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Pitch Black is a dismal 1 - a noisy, nightmarish waste of time and money, the producers' and yours.

Susan Granger's review of "SNOW DAY" (Paramount Pictures/Nickelodeon)

What kid hasn't listened to the radio for that oft-anticipated but rarely realized announcement: "Schools are closed. It's a snow day!"? After a groan from the grown-ups, the fun begins. But how to spend a lovely snow day? For the Brandstons of Syracuse, there are many possibilities. Dad (Chevy Chase) is a TV meteorologist, actually the wacky weatherman who predicted that an unexpected blizzard would hit the area. Mom (Jean Smart) is attached to her cellphone, working on a business deal in Beijing. So 15 year-old Hal (Mark Webber) is free to pursue the perfect girl of his dreams (Emmanuelle Chiqui), who has never acknowledged his existence, while taking for granted the genial companionship of his best friend (Schuyler Fisk, daughter of Sissy Spacek). Hal's 10 year-old sister (Zena Grey) has a bigger ambition: she's seriously determined to defeat the demonic Snowplowman (Chris Elliott), a suburban Darth Vader in a ten-ton truck who haunts the kids' snow days. He has a pet crow, his rig's called Clementine, and legend has it that he makes chains for his tires from the braces of kids he's run over. And Hal's brother (Connor Matheus), the terrible toddler, just wants to go outside and play. Writers Will McRobb & Chris Viscardi and director Chris Koch deliver slippery slapstick sketches with only a few slushy moments. Yeah, there are flatulence jokes but they get big laughs from the smallfry audience. And the adults snicker when they recognize punker Iggy Pop as the ice rink DJ, playing old Al Martino records. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Snow Day is a flaky 5 - silly, wintry fun for the kids and not too bad for their parents either.


Susan Granger's review of "THE TIGGER MOVIE" (Walt Disney Pictures)
Though it's destined to have a much longer run on the video shelf than in theaters, this fun-filled, full-length animated feature follows in the wake of Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree (1966) and The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977), adapted from the classic A.A. Milne books. Who doesn't love Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Owl, Kanga, Roo and - in this case - the ever-exuberant Tigger? Written and directed by Jun Falkenstein, based on a story by Eddie Guzelian, it revolves around Tigger's need to find his "gigantically, stripedy" family tree. Voiced by Jim Cummings, Tigger hunts boisterously throughout the Hundred Acre Wood, looking for other Tiggers. But, as he has so often said himself, "The very most wonderful thing about tiggers is that I'm the only one!" What Tigger concludes, of course, is that family isn't just about sharing blood and similar physical features. It's about giving and receiving love from those around you - providing a good lesson for eager, open young minds. The narration by John Hurt sounds wonderfully, authentically British and the animation is not only inventive but amusing. Art director Toby Bluth has chosen line drawings that hark back to the original E.H. Shepard artwork. The colors, the light, and the shading all reflect the Hundred Acre Wood - a real place that one can still visit outside of London. While nothing that will go down in the annals of musical history, the six new songs by Robert and Richard Sherman (Mary Poppins, Jungle Book) are pleasantly tuneful and one, at least, is a terrific tongue-twister. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Tigger is a toddler's 7 - it's a cuddly cartoon.

Susan Granger's review of "DOWN TO YOU" (Miramax Films)

More and more movies are being made for a target audience - and this bland romantic comedy is aimed at an under-20 demographic, particularly teenage girls. Rated PG-13, it's about a young couple experiencing the thrill, along with the trials and tribulations, of their first love. Freddie Prinze Jr. (She's All That) plays Al, a genial New York City college student aiming for a career as a world-class chef, like his celebrated father, while Julia Stiles (10 Things I Hate About You) is Imogen, a talented art student who steals his heart. Early in the plot, he brings her a cake. "This is sacred," Al says about cooking. "Cake is my world," Imogen purrs. But the path of true love never runs smooth, particularly in this cliché-ridden, one-dimensional soap-opera, written and directed by Kris Isacsson. A silly sub-plot revolves around Al's kooky room-mate (Zak Orth), a cynical, aspiring film-maker, being pursued by a seductive porn starlet (Selma Blair) who used to study chemistry at M.I.T. Plus there's a guy named Jim Morrison (Ashton Kutcher) who's predictably obsessed with this rock-star namesake. But there's no real dramatic thrust. Henry Winkler and Lucie Arnaz do their professional best as Al's parents who dream of the day when their son can work with his dad, known as Chef Ray, on television; their high-concept show would have the pair storming, like cops, into unsuspecting people's homes and making dinner for them. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Down to You is a cutesy, shallow, formulaic 3. Maybe it will work better on video.

Susan Granger's review of "TITUS" (Fox Searchlight Pictures)
Julie Taymor, who received both critical and popular acclaim for her Broadway version of Disney's The Lion King, makes her film debut with a curious adaptation of Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus, one of the Bard's least successful plays. It's a graphic, grisly, gruesome orgy of vengeance, revolving around Titus, a proud but aging Roman general, played by Anthony Hopkins, who returns home in triumph circa. 400 A.D. after conquering the Goths to crown the new Emperor Saturninus (Alan Cumming). His prized gift to the new ruler is Tamora (Jessica Lange), Queen of the Goths, whom the depraved Saturninus impetuously marries - after being scorned by Titus's only daughter (Laura Fraser). Along with her secret lover, a villainous Moor (Harry Lennix), and her two punkster sons (Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Matthew Rhys), the furious Tamara then schemes to wreak a crafty revenge on Titus and his family for the ritual death of her oldest son at Titus' hands. Cinematically, Taymor idiosyncratically links this historical epic of political intrigue with the 20th century by incorporating a contemporary lad (Osheen Jones) playing with toy soldiers. Working with production designer Dante Ferretti, costumer Milena Canonero and cinematographer Luciano Tovoli, the inventive Taymor sets out a defiant, dizzying visual feast, crowned by a repulsive, cannibalistic banquet that could have been created by Hannibal Lechter - and it's impressively scored by Elliot Goldenthal. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Titus is a perversely stylistic, surreal 6. It's a bold, bizarre bloodbath, giving us only fleeting glimpses of the tragic characters who - in later Shakespearean plays - evolve into King Lear, Lady Macbeth, and Iago.


Susan Granger's review of "SUPERNOVA" (M.G.M release)

The behind-the-scenes story is far more interesting than this mundane sci-fi thriller which should disappear as quickly as it popped into our local theaters without previous critics' screenings. It seems Walter Hill (48 Hours, Aliens) abandoned the project more than a year ago, using a pseudonym, Thomas Lee, as titular director. And rumor has it that Francis Ford Coppola did the final assemblage but he is not officially mentioned anywhere in the film credits either. The story, written without a cohesive structure by David Campbell Wilson, revolves around the search and rescue patrol of a medical ship and its six-member crew in the 22nd century. When their vessel, the Nightingale 229, answers an emergency distress signal from an abandoned mining colony on a rogue moon in a distant galaxy, the crew soon finds itself in danger from the mysteriously charismatic young man, Peter Facinelli, whom they rescue, the alien artifact he smuggled aboard, and the gravitational pull of a giant, imploding star about to go supernova, creating the most massive explosion in the universe. Robert Forster is the Captain of the deep-space ambulance but he's killed off quickly, allowing James Spader, his First Officer, to take the helm, along with Angela Bassett, as Chief Medical Officer. Robin Tunney, Lou Diamond Phillips, and Wilson Cruz complete the crew - along with their trusty computer named Sweetie. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Supernova is a sputtering, pointless 3. Something went terribly wrong - and not in outer space.

Susan Granger's review of "NEXT FRIDAY" (New Line Cinema)

Writer/rapper/actor Ice Cube's Friday was a surprise hit back in 1995, so it should not come as a shock that there's a sequel, aimed directly at the same young, hip, urban audience. Along with serving as producer, Ice Cube reprises his role as Craig, a young man who was trying to survive on the mean streets of South Central Los Angeles. Now, he's moved from the city to the suburbs only to discover that his troubles came right along with him. They're personified by Debo, played by Tommy "Tiny" Lister Jr., a massive bully who wound up in prison in the original story. Debo's escaped from the Los Angeles County Men's Central Jail and wants payback - which is why Craig's father (John Witherspoon) suggests that he hang out in Rancho Cucamonga with his Lotto-winning uncle (Don "DC" Curry) and trophy-wife aunt (Kym E. Whitley), much to the consternation of other friends, relatives, and Hispanic gangster neighbors. Chris Tucker's manic character of Craig's pal Smokey has supposedly "gone into rehab" but, obviously, Tucker's gone on to bigger and better things. Most of the vulgar dialogue is unprintable and the crude, chaotic humor centers on bathroom functions. What could have been an amusing Beverly Hillbillies riff is ineptly directed by first-timer Steve Carr, whose background is in disjointed music videos - and it shows. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Next Friday is a coarse, cheesy, repetitive 3. It's loud, lame slapstick silliness.

Susan Granger's review of "MANSFIELD PARK" (Miramax Films)
In this provocative, revisionist adaptation of Jane Austen's third novel, Canadian writer-director Patricia Rozema gives her 19th century heroine, Fanny Price, much of Austen's own confidant, creative personality. Incorporating material from Austen's early journals and letters, Rozema recreates Fanny (Frances O'Connor) as a poor relation who is sent from Portsmouth to the magnificent mansion called Mansfield Park to live in emotional exile with her pompous uncle, starchy aunts, and privileged cousins. Her favorite cousin is the brooding Edmund (Jonny Lee Miller) who is destined to be a humble clergyman, much to the chagrin of the outspoken, ambitious young woman (Embeth Davidtz) who wants to marry him. Always made to feel inferior within the genteel, rigidly conventional British class system, she is considered more than a servant but less than an equal companion. Nevertheless, meek Fanny becomes an adept and witty writer who is courted by a charming, handsome rake (Allesandro Nivola) whom she does not trust. Australian actress Frances O'Connor does a splendid job as the plucky heroine and her complex performance is matched by playwright Harold Pinter, as her autocratic uncle, and Lindsay Duncan in dual roles - as both Fanny's desperate, impoverished mother and wealthy, opium-addicted aunt. Admittedly, Patricia Rozema's script tackles too many social issues, including the dark brutality of slavery on the Caribbean island of Antigua, an exploitive endeavor which supports this segment of England's landed gentry. And Rozema's willfully manipulative, pro-feminist characters seem far ahead of their time. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Mansfield Park is a sensual, cinematic 7. It's a period drama that should appeal, primarily, to the art-house crowd.

Susan Granger's review of "ANGELA'S ASHES" (Paramount Pictures)
Whereas a novel is written to be appreciated for its language and literary integrity, a movie is a visual medium. Most often, the books that make the best films are those with clear narratives and focused stories. In Angela's Ashes, author Frank McCourt put the entire story inside the mind of a character and focus solely on that character's inner world - what he is thinking, feeling, remembering. While filmmaker Alan Parker has dealt with the Irish before in The Commitments, he now, working with writer Laura Jones, meticulously evokes McCourt's saga of poverty, pain, ignorance, and the death of three children. But their anecdotal screenplay fails to capture the Irish-American writer's lilting wit and emotional poetry. The story begins in 1935 in Brooklyn as the titular Angela (Emily Watson) falls apart when her baby daughter dies, and the family, consisting of her irresponsible, alcoholic wastrel of a husband (Robert Carlyle), Frank and his brothers, goes back to Limerick, Ireland. As McCourt noted in his opening paragraph, that was a big mistake. Life in the miserable, wet, filthy Roden Lane slum - painstakingly recreated by production designer Geoffrey Kirkland and captured by cinematographer Michael Seresin - is awful, and, at school, Frank's teachers are either religious or nationalistic fanatics. It isn't until he's a teenager, working as a mailman, that life begins to hold possibilities, particularly the promise of returning, alone, to America. Three actors - Joe Breen, Ciaran Owens, and Michael Legge - play Frank as the resilient boy-to-man who bravely copes with his dysfunctional family and rises above his terrifying travails. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Angela's Ashes is a respectful but depressing, grim 7, giving one a greater appreciation of America as the land of hope and promise.

Susan Granger's review of "RIDE WITH THE DEVIL" (USA Films)
Before making Gone With the Wind, David O. Selznick spent years searching for the perfect "unknown" actress to play Scarlett O'Hara, realizing that a famous Hollywood star would never be believable in the role. It's too bad the Taiwanese director Ang Lee didn't follow his precedent. When celebrity pop singer Jewel appears, dressed like a 19th century farm girl, it's jarring, breaking the suspension of disbelief that is necessary for this epic to be effective. In this revisionist Civil War saga, set in the border state of Missouri, childhood friends Tobey Maguire and Skeet Ulrich join a rag-tag, rebellious guerrilla group called the Bushwhackers who are determined to wreak revenge on the Union Army and its Southern sympathizers, eventually joining William Quantrill who led a notorious 1863 raid into Lawrence, Kansas. Their cohorts include their leader James Caviezel, courtly Simon Baker, his former slave Jeffrey Wright, and vicious Jonathan Rhys Meyers. They meet up with this pretty war widow - that's Jewel - who, predictably, complicates their lives when they seek winter shelter in a hillside dugout. Despite the meticulous historical accuracy in the screenplay by producer/writer James Schamus, adapted from Daniel Woodrell's novel Woe to Live On, there's an emotional detachment, as though Ang Lee were examining the morals and mores of the disillusioned Confederacy in this time and place in the same way he delved into the sexually promiscuous '70s in a Connecticut suburb in The Ice Storm. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Ride With the Devil is a chaotic, faltering, floundering 5. But Ang Lee almost redeems himself with an eloquent, profoundly touching scene in which Maguire reads aloud a stolen letter from a mother to a Union soldier.

Susan Granger's review of "HOLY SMOKE" (Miramax Films)
With last year's Hideous Kinky and now Holy Smoke, Kate Winslet seems determined to reach beyond her classic Titanic heroine. In this psychosexual drama, Kate plays Ruth Barron, a young, vulnerable Australian tourist in India who succumbs to the spiritual "enlightenment" of a charismatic guru. Ruth thinks she's found salvation and transcended into bliss, but her horrified parents are sure she's lost her mind. So they lure her back home to a Sydney suburb and hire an American "cult exit counselor," P.J. Waters, played by Harvey Keitel, to deprogram her. Dressed in black from his dyed hair to shiny cowboy boots, the tyrannical P.J. is a jaded, slick, persuasive brain-washer who demands to be left alone with sari-clad Ruth in an abandoned shack in the Outback for three days. There, they play brutal mind-games while exploring their carnal lust, engaging in a fierce battle of wills and, oddly, reverse roles. Ruth uses her voluptuous body to sexually dominate and mentally control P.J., dressing him in drag and then savagely humiliating him, leaving him whimpering. Australian writer/director Jane Campion (The Portrait of a Lady, The Piano, Sweetie) collaborated on the script with her sister, Anna Campion (Loaded) and, despite a few moments of comic relief from Ruth's grotesque family of wackos, they're heavily into the provocative issues of religion, sex and power. Brooding tough guy Harvey Keitel is simply overmatched by willful, outspoken Kate Winslet. You know from the beginning that he doesn't stand a chance against her, particularly when cinematographer Dion Beebe exquisitely bathes her nude body in sensual, shimmering light. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Holy Smoke is a bizarre 4, presenting a frustrating battle of the sexes that seems unfairly matched.

Susan Granger's review of "ALL ABOUT MY MOTHER" (Sony Pictures Classics)
This is the foreign language picture you'll be hearing about in the coming awards season. It's the 13th film and best work so far from Spanish film-maker Pedro Almodovar, who gave us unconventional fare like The Flower of My Secret, Live Flesh, and Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. This baroque, non-judgemental film about femaleness - what it means to be female - tells the story of Manuela (Cecilia Roth), whose teenage son is killed by a car. Honoring her son's wish to learn more about the father he never knew, she goes she goes back to her native Barcelona to locate the man she fled from nearly 20 years earlier - a man now known as Lola. Finding herself amidst drug addicts and transvestite hookers, she befriends another former companion, Agrado (Antonio San Juan), who introduces her to Sister Rosa (Penelope Cruz), a nun whose own secret connection to Manuela is cleverly interwoven into the criss-crossing fabric of coincidences and interconnections as she comes to reconcile with ghosts from her past. For inspiration in creating these characters, Almodovar draws on many sources: A Streetcar Named Desire, echoing Blanche Dubois' famous line: "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers...", All About Eve, from which the title and character comes, and, primarily, John Cassavetes' Opening Night, in which a Broadway actress (Gena Rowlands) is haunted by the accidental death of an idolatrous young woman. But Almodovar creates a fascinating, often hilariously funny work that stands on its own, evolving into a magnificent, if melodramatic, meditation on female solidarity. Almodovar calls it a "screwball drama." On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, All About My Mother is a poignant 10. It's 1999's best foreign language film.

Susan Granger's review of "TOPSY-TURVY" (USA Films)
When the New York Film Critics voted it as Best Film of 1999, this unconventional, music-laden biopic of Gilbert & Sullivan by Mike Leigh took on a surprising, new status. By definition, the term "topsy-turvy" means inverted or confused, both of which apply to the life and times of Britain's operetta maestros William Schwenk Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan, who worked together from 1871 to 1896, concocting delights like H.M.S. Pinafore, The Gondoliers and The Pirates of Penzance. The story, covering 14 months in the mid-1880s, finds the ailing, aristocratic composer Sullivan (Allan Corduner) deeply discontented with his collaboration with the somewhat boorish librettist Gilbert (Jim Broadbent) after the tepid reception of their Princess Ida. Depressed and despondent, Sullivan decides to turn his attention from "light" to "serious" opera, much to Gilbert's dismay, not to mention the chagrin of the manager (Ron Cook) of the Savoy Theater. That is - until Gilbert's wife (Lesley Manville) takes him to a Japanese exhibition in London which sparks a fanciful idea - namely The Mikado, which became one of Gilbert & Sullivan's greatest hits. Then the rest of the film concentrates on the meticulous preparation of this witty, new operetta - focusing on the rehearsals, primarily on the prickly, temperamental actors (Timothy Spall, Martin Savage, Kevin McKidd, Shirley Henderson). Leigh's pacing, unfortunately, is uneven. There's a middle section with tepid musical numbers from The Sorcerer that gets quite tedious. And the including of some risqué nudity seems gratuitous, earning an R-rating when the content should have been suitable for teenagers. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Topsy-Turvy is a deftly performed, frothy, delightful 8, particularly for Gilbert & Sullivan fans.

Susan Granger's review of "ANY GIVEN SUNDAY" (Warner Bros.)
It may be the classic story of the aging coach on a losing streak, the meddling owner, the injured veteran quarterback, and the rookie punk who's itching to be a stadium star - but Oliver Stone adds a high-charged adrenaline rush and a few new twists. Al Pacino plays Tony D'Amato, longtime coach of the Miami Sharks; he's sacrificed his wife and kids to his job and now he realizes he's not relating to the younger guys on the team, particularly an amazing third-string quarterback, Jamie Foxx, who's so nervous that he barfs on the field. "This game's about more than winning," D'Amato passionately insists, yet he's antagonized by Cameron Diaz, as the team's ruthless owner. Her father left her the franchise and she's determined to prove she's tough enough to run it. While sweet-talking the league commissioner (Charlton Heston), she even tries to blackmail Miami's mayor (Clifton Davis) into building her a new stadium. Dennis Quaid's the aging quarterback and LL Cool J's a wide receiver with gridiron greats Lawrence Taylor as the top linebacker and Jim Brown as defensive coordinator. James Woods and Matthew Modine are the team's battling team physicians. Once again, women in Oliver Stone's movies turn out to be boozers (Ann-Margret), bimbos (Elizabeth Berkley), or bitches (Lauren Holly). This testosterone-laden football drama spews visual and auditory barrages. Sometimes the split-screen holds two, three, even four images, and there's chaotic, rapid-fire cutting throughout. Rock and rap songs blare, almost masking the formulaic pigskin clichés, penned by Stone and John Logan. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Any Given Sunday is a stylish, hyperkinetic 8, a manic, visceral cacophony of sights and sounds - and as close as you're ever gonna get to playing pro football.

Susan Granger's review of "GIRL, INTERRUPTED"
Back in the '60s, 17 year-old Susanna Kaysen wound up in Claymoore, an upscale psychiatric hospital in Massachusetts, for more than a year and used that experience to write a novel which fascinated doe-eyed actress Winona Ryder enough to option it and make it into this movie - in which she, of course, plays the dour, dreamy title role. It's an episodic memoir, at best, showcasing the acting acumen of Ms. Ryder as the passive, indecisive Susanna and, even more, Angelina Jolie as a ferociously vicious sociopath, along with Clea DuVall as a pathological liar, Elizabeth Moss as a severely scarred burn victim, and Brittany Murphy as a pampered, rich girl with an eating disorder and an overly attentive father. Vanessa Redgrave is impressive as the chief psychiatrist. Problem is, Susanna Kaysen's confused mental state, diagnosed as Borderline Personality Disorder, is much like that of a lot of female adolescents - confused about her self-image, uncertain about her long-term goals, and struggling to make sense of a rapidly changing world around her. Directed by James Mangold (Heavy, Cop Land) from a script co-written by him, Lisa Loomer and Anna Hamilton Phelan, the implausibly detached, humorless narrative examines the boundaries between confinement and freedom, friendship and betrayal, madness and sanity, evolving into a female version of One Few Over the Cuckoo's Nest with no group dynamic. As a result, there's no emotional involvement. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Girl, Interrupted is a sappy, superficial, frustrating 5. At one point, Whoopi Goldberg, as her no-nonsense nurse, tells whiny Susanna Kaysen, "You are a lazy, self-indulgent little girl who is driving herself crazy." Right on, Whoopi!

Susan Granger's review of "THE HURRICANE" (Universal Pictures)
Denzel Washington delivers an intense, Oscar-worthy performance of overwhelming power and humanity as Ruben "Hurricane" Carter, whose dreams of winning the middleweight boxing title were destroyed when he was arrested for a triple murder in a New Jersey bar. Wrongfully convicted and sentenced to three life terms in prison, Carter channels his frustration and despair into writing his story, The 16th Round, saying: "Writing is a weapon more powerful than any fist can ever be." Although he's vowed to withdraw from the outside world, Carter's touched when a alienated American youth, Lezra Martin (Vicellous Shannon), living in Canada, buys his book and sends him a letter. "Sometimes we don't pick the books we read, they pick us," Carter notes. As a friendship evolves, the determined 15 year-old enlists his guardians (Deborah Unger, John Hannah, Liev Schreiber) to mount a full-time campaign to prove Carter's innocence. "Hate put me in prison," Carter declares. "Love's gonna get me out." Writers Armyan Bernstein & Dan Gordon with director Norman Jewison weave a rich, eloquent tapestry, revealing the racism that overcame reason, the concealment that prevented full disclosure. Dan Hedaya is brutal as the corrupt prosecutor, and Rod Steiger is effective as the federal judge. Two quibbles: (1) at 2 hours, 20 minutes, it's repetitious and (2) I wanted more about Lezra's social activist guardians. Nevertheless, on the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, The Hurricane is a chilling, compelling 10 - a triumph of the human spirit and one of the best movies of the year. Although they evoke a shameful past, we need movies like these to remind us about the injustice and racial prejudice that has been and still remains an integral part of America.

Susan Granger's review of "THE END OF THE AFFAIR" (Columbia Pictures)
What a disappointment! Writer/director Neil Jordan, who gave us The Crying Game, Mona Lisa, and In Company of Wolves, totally misses the mark with this soggy romantic tale, grimly adapted from one of Graham Greene's most autobiographical novels. Looking like a leftover from the '50s, it's a staid, stodgy drama set during W.W.II, when the Nazis were bombing London and adulterous couples carelessly cavorted in bed instead of seeking shelter during the air-raids. One such couple is Ralph Fiennes and Julianne Moore. He's a moody novelist, tortured by jealousy, and she's a troubled married woman, trapped by circumstance in a dull, loveless marriage to a career civil servant, glumly played by Stephen Rea. They enjoyed many lusty encounters until, inexplicably, she broke off with him. The story explores how that happened and why. It would be helpful if we cared but we don't, because neither character is even remotely interesting and, without revealing too much, suffice it to say that the explanation revolves around Catholicism, the power of prayer, the existence of miracles, and the virtue of sacrifice. Julianne Moore spends considerable screen time cavorting naked, having shocked audiences with her full frontal nudity in Robert Altman's Short Cuts. She's actress who obviously enjoys anatomical revelation and seeks roles in which she can show her body off. Delicate, skinny Ralph Fiennes, on the other hand, suffers when his clothes are removed; plus, he seems totally self-absorbed which renders the love scenes lifeless, even depressing. This same story was filmed unsuccessfully before in 1955 with Deborah Kerr, Van Johnson, and John Mills. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, "The End of the Affair" is a plodding, dreary 4. It's a murky, misguided melodrama.

Susan Granger's review of "GALAXY QUEST" (DreamWorks)
Glory, Hallelujah - this is the Christmas action comedy you've been waiting for! Tim Allen, Sigourney Weaver, Alan Rickman, Tony Shalhoub, and Daryl Mitchell play five actors who - 20 years ago - starred on a popular television series that was canceled. For four seasons, from 1979 to 1982, they played the crew of the NSEA Protector - now they earn their living appearing in costume at sci-fi conventions and chain-store openings. However, far in deep, outer space, the Thermians, a race of aliens from the Klatu Nebula, have intercepted Earth's TV transmissions and, having no knowledge of fiction or drama, they have mistaken the sci-fi shows for valid historical documents. So when they're faced with a deadly adversary, the ruthless Roth'h'ar Sarris of Fatu-Krey (Robin Sachs), the Thermians abduct the characters - Comdr. Peter Quincy Taggert, Lt. Tawny Madison, Dr. Lazarus, et al - not realizing they're really out-of-work actors. With no script, no director, and no clue about real space travel, the actors must turn in the performances of their lives to become the intergalactic heroes they've convinced everyone they are, as they encounter cannibalistic Blue Demon children, a giant Rock Monster, and a Pig Lizard. As the vain, self-serving commander, Tim Allen has never been better. Sigourney Weaver is a sexy, shameless babe, and Alan Rickman is outrageous as a Shakespearean-trained Brit who has been reduced to playing a half-human/half reptile. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Galaxy Quest is an exuberant, enormously funny 8. Aptly directed by Dean Parisot from a cleverly ironic screenplay by David Howard and Robert Gordon, it's a bright, shiny holiday package of pure enjoyment, destined to blast into one of the big hits of the season.

Susan Granger's review of "STUART LITTLE" (Columbia Pictures)
It's family entertainment that's unabashedly sentimental but it's difficult not to fall under the spell of this fanciful adaptation of E.B. White's classic children's tale. In the book, of course, a mouse was inexplicably born to a Manhattan family but, in the movie, artfully written by M. Knight Shamalyan and Gregory J. Brooker, directed by Rob Minkoff, teeny Stuart (cheerfully voiced by Michael J. Fox) is adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Little (pensive High Laurie, perky Geena Davis). They find him adorable, much to the consternation of their older son, George (Jonathan Lipnicki, memorable from Jerry Maguire), and the family feline Snowbell (hilariously voiced by Nathan Lane), who has been warned that Stuart is now family "and we don't eat family members." Affable and helpful, Stuart soon recruits George as a friend but Snowbell's a different matter. After all, no one has ever seen a chipper rodent with a fluffy cat as a pet! Chagrined, Snowbell consults the local alley cat (Chazz Palminteri) who enlists a couple of malicious mice (Bruno Kirby, Jennifer Tilly) to pose as Stuart's biological parents and claim him as their long-lost son, thus kidnapping him and providing, for the cats, a picnic in the park. Their comedic portrayals are eerily reminiscent of two similar sleazy characters in the musical Annie. Obviously, resourceful Stuart is eventually reunited with his loved ones and the dastardly "bad guys" get a well-deserved dunking in a cold stream. Technically, the blend of the digital characters with humans is seamless and superb. Stuart is minutely etched, along with his magnificently tailored clothes and emotionally expressive whiskers. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Stuart Little is an engaging 8. This wee mouse could roar, stealing your heart for family fare this weekend.


Susan Granger's review of "MAN ON THE MOON" (Universal Pictures)
Don't miss the beginning - it's the most imaginative and hilarious part. Facing the camera, Jim Carrey establishes immediately that he's completely captured the eye-bulging essence of the late comedian Andy Kaufman. His impersonation is nothing short of brilliant, even Oscar-worthy. That having been acknowledged, the movie itself leaves a lot to be desired. First, it's not really a movie. It's simply the embodiment of an objectionable character whom people either adored or loathed. Director Milos Foreman and screenwriters Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski, the trio who did The People vs. Larry Flynt, don't attempt an analysis or even offer psychological insight into the complex, enigmatic nature of this definitely unhinged, obviously neurotic, and perhaps psychotic performer. Instead, we simply watch his progress from comedy clubs, like the Improv, to Saturday Night Live, to TV's Taxi along with his relentless self-destruction, aided and abetted by his writer/sidekick Bob Zmuda (Paul Giamatti). Danny DeVito's superb as his agent, observing: "You're insane - but you might also be brilliant." Kaufman meets his girlfriend (Courtney Love) in a wrestling challenge but she too is a cipher. They have only one revelatory moment together when he whines, "You don't know the real me." And she replies, "There isn't a real you." And then, at age 35, cancer strikes. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Man on the Moon is a strange, shallow 6. Who was this Andy Kaufman - and why did he love to provoke people? That's never answered in this uneven, two-hour compilation of comedy shtick. Even DeVito asks, "What's the point?"

Susan Granger's review of "BOILER ROOM" (New Line Cinema)
If you've ever responded to a telephone solicitation, be prepared for an eye-opener! This disturbing, cautionary story about a stock scam takes you into the infamous "boiler room" where twentysomething millionaires are made overnight. They're Gen-Xers who want the adrenaline rush of easy money. So when Seth, a 19 year-old college dropout played by Giovanni Ribisi (Saving Private Ryan), realizes that his father, a judge (Ron Rivkin), has caught onto the illegal casino he's been running out of his Queens apartment, he's recruited into the inner sanctum of a fly-by-night Long Island brokerage firm named J.T. Marlin (a name chosen because it sounds like J.P. Morgan) by Ben Affleck (Dogma). After a glimpse of his boss's 355 canary-yellow Ferrari and an eye-popping indoctrination, he becomes a stockjock-in-training, learning how to hustle unsuspecting investors over the phone. "Never pitch the bitch," he's instructed, meaning that women ask too many questions. Seth's a money-hungry natural - glib and greedy. And he enjoys hanging out with his foul-mouthed cohorts - "They could sell bubble-gum in the lock-jaw ward in Bellevue" - not to mention the firm's enigmatic receptionist, Nia Long, his "chocolate love." But soon his insatiable curiosity gets him into trouble with the law, as he discovers exactly how his colleagues are getting richer as their customers are getting poorer. First-time writer/director Ben Younger was intrigued by the remarkable statistic that one out of every 36 working Americans is a millionaire, so he created this timely, high-wire drama about today's mega-fortune-hunters. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Boiler Room heats up to a searing, shocking 7. Just remember: when a stranger calls, trying to sell you stock, hang up!


Susan Granger's review of "THE BEACH" (20th Century-Fox)
It's a teeny-bopper's fantasy: Utopia with Leonardo DiCaprio. Let's hope those teenagers who flocked to Titanic are now old enough to get into this R-rated idyll because they're the target audience. Leo plays an American backpacker in Thailand, eager to escape from the touristy, pop culture, digital world of today. Travel, he says, is the search for experience, the quest for something different. That's just what he finds when he and a young French couple (Guillaume Canet, Virginie Ledoyen) follow a map given to him by a manic, crazed Brit (Robert Carlyle) who commits suicide. To get to "the perfect beach," they swim across open sea from one island to another, crawl through cannabis fields past armed guards, and jump from the top of a 120' waterfall. Exhilarated, they discover a small, international community of young travelers under the leadership of ruthless Tilda Swinton, who has vowed to keep their unspoiled hideaway secret, an exclusive enclave - no matter what the consequences. "In the perfect beach resort, nothing is allowed to interrupt the pursuit of pleasure, not even dying," Leo learns. Filmmaker Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, A Life Less Ordinary) and cinematographer Darius Khondji have captured Alex Garland's parable of modern life and distilled it into a weird, ironic glimpse of paradise, particularly when the temporarily deranged Leo runs through the jungle as a character in a video game. Problem is: the characters are too thinly drawn and much comes across as pretentious poppycock, particularly the glib, happy, very commercial ending with Leo back in a cyber-cafe, downloading a photographic memento of his exotic misadventure. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, The Beach is a cinematically sweeping 5 - the vivid saga of a Club Med gone awry.

Susan Granger's review of "GUN SHY" (Hollywood Pictures)

It's got Sandra Bullock and Liam Neeson but something went terribly wrong with the incomprehensible script and lame direction of this silly mob comedy. Neeson plays a legendary undercover DEA agent who suffers from post-traumatic stress syndrome after a failed sting operation. That's why he seeks psychiatric help and winds up in group therapy and takes up with a spunky nurse, Sandra Bullock, who gives him an enema. Meanwhile, the nasty DEA chief (Mitch Pileggi of TV's X-Files) assigns him to complete one final covert operation wherein he must escape the wrath of a hot-tempered, trigger-happy Mafia leader - known as "the Jeffrey Dahmer of hitmen"- played by Oliver Platt, and his vulgar, no-nonsense wife, Mary McCormack, who are involved with Colombian drug dealers in a complex money-laundering scheme. Sound like Analyze This? Sound like The Sopranos? The producers should be that lucky! Just because TV writer/director Eric Blakeney worked on Moonlighting, Wiseguy, and Max Headroom does not mean he can pull off this kind of unconventional feature film, particularly when he presents a colonic irrigation as a romantic encounter and relies on feeble poop jokes for laughs. Remember Grosse Pointe Blank? It explored much the same ironic territory - far better. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Gun Shy misses the target with a fumbling 4. Few laughs, little suspense and several talented actors who surely could have found a better picture.

Susan Granger's review of "DIAMONDS" (Miramax Films)
Kirk Douglas is still the Champion. In fact, this affectionate story begins with photographs and clips from that 1949 film which catapulted him to stardom. In recent years, not only has Douglas survived a helicopter crash that nearly cost him his life but also a crippling stroke which left him with slurred speech. Now he's back with vigor, delivering a courageous, inspirational performance as irascible Harry Agensky, a former boxing champ known as the "Polish Prince." Resolutely practicing his facial and vocal exercises, Harry's recovering from a stroke, along with the death of his beloved wife of 45 years. But he's still feisty and ferocious, especially when it comes to how he's going to spend the rest of his days. He's been living uneasily with his dutiful older son (Kurt Fuller) in the Canadian wilderness but, instead of an old-age home, he wants his own place - with a companion to take care of him. The only way he can swing it financially is to retrieve a cache of "magic diamonds" he recalls hiding in the wall of a mobster's kitchen in Reno after he threw a fight. Harry convinces his estranged younger son (Dan Aykroyd) and teenage grandson (Corbin Allred) to take him on a life-changing road trip that they both consider to be a fool's errand. Written by Allan Aaron Katz and directed by John Asher, the touching but two-dimensional story is corny, cliché-filled and contrived, particularly when the trio make an improbable visit to a bucolic bordello run by Lauren Bacall, who hasn't been paired with Douglas since Young Man With a Horn (1950. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Diamonds is a sentimental 7 with Douglas proclaiming, "Live each day as if it were your last - and never give up!" It's an optimistic, engaging comedy-adventure, particularly for the geriatric crowd.

Susan Granger's review of "A MAP OF THE WORLD" (First Look Pictures)
There's no greater tragedy than being responsible for the death of a child, and that's just the first blow Sigourney Weaver suffers at the beginning of this complex, dramatic portrait of a woman in emotional agony. Then, still reeling with guilt, she's falsely accused of child abuse, an offense which sends her to jail to await trial. Based on the novel by Jane Hamilton and adapted by Peter Hedges and Polly Platt, it's an implausible yet harrowing story of victimization. Weaver plays Alice Goodwin, a devoted mother of two daughters who works part-time as a school nurse in a rural Wisconsin town. She and her wimpy, taciturn husband (David Strathairn), a farmer, are a curiosity. They're relative newcomers who painted their barn blue. But, above all, the bright, fiercely independent Alice arouses people's ire with her cynical, sarcastic attitude towards the complexities of life. Her only friend is a gentle neighbor (Julianne Moore) who also has two little girls. Her nemesis is a tarty welfare mom (Chloe Sevigny) whom outspoken Alice openly accuses of neglecting her young son. When suspicion focuses on Alice after an accidental drowning in a pond on her property, the town turns on her with self-righteous fury, preferring to believe the flimsy, bogus charges of child molestation brought against her rather than seek the truth. Oddly, the unflappable Alice seems to relish her martyrdom, openly enjoying her predicament. Whether it's because that's her perverse way of coping with the bizarre situation or she's temporarily insane is not made clear by director Scott Elliot, who makes it into a masochistic, maudlin melodrama. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, A Map of the World is a dense, disturbing, depressing 4, made tolerable only by Sigourney Weaver's intelligent, vivid performance.

Susan Granger's review of "PLAY IT TO THE BONE" (Touchstone Pictures)
From writer/director Ron Shelton we've come to expect good sports movies like Bull Durham (baseball), Tin Cup (golf), and White Men Can't Jump (basketball) but this flimsy, raunchy story about over-the-hill boxers doesn't measure up. Woody Harrelson plays a bald, tattooed eccentric who has found Jesus - but hasn't worked in years. Neither has his rival and best-buddy, Antonio Banderas, who happens to be dating his ex-girl-friend, Lolita Davidovich when, suddenly, they get the chance of a lifetime. It seems two middleweight fighters have canceled and a sleazy promoter (Tom Sizemore) asks them to be the opening card of a Mike Tyson bout at Vegas' Mandalay Bay Hotel. The job promises big money - $50,000 each - plus a bid for the middleweight championship, but there's a catch: they have to get there immediately. Fortunately, Davidovich has a grass-green 1972 Olds 442, so they take off from L.A. scrambling through the sizzling desert. Now, right away, one wonders why the hotel didn't send a jet - or at least plane tickets - but that's part of the problem if the underwritten script. Besides, half the film is spent on the road trip in which we learn more than we ever wanted to know about the bickering threesome, plus there's Lucy Liu as a free-spirited hitchhiker. By the way, the title refers to the commitment of not quitting until you've achieved your goal. Finally, the fighters get into the ring but, by that time, I was ready to throw in the towel. On the Granger Movie Gauge of 1 to 10, Play It To The Bone is a fumbling, flat-footed, formulaic 3, filled with foul language. In one scene, Harrelson says: "Any guy with any gal is a mismatch - we're just not equipped to go the distance." Neither is this movie.

Susan Granger's review of "SIMPATICO" (Fine Line Features)

Jeff Bridges, Nick Nolte, Sharon Stone, and Albert Finney try valiantly but even their compelling performances can't effectively elevate this somber, slowly paced screen adaptation of Sam Shepard's 1994 play about friendship and betrayal set against the backdrop of high-stakes horseracing. Written by David Nicholls and Matthew Warchus, a British theatrical director who makes his debut as a screen director, it's deeply symbolic, filled with bitter, rambling ruminations about corruption. Jeff Bridges plays a multi-millionaire horse-breeder in Lexington, Kentucky, who - in the midst of selling a champion thoroughbred stallion named Simpatico - is interrupted by a phone call from a boozy bar-fly, an old friend, Nick Nolte, who threatens to expose a racetrack scam th