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Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Swedish artist Anders Weberg continues his "aesthetics of ephemerality" project."


P2P Art - 5th Film Uploaded to BitTorrent

Swedish artist and filmmaker Anders Weberg, a self-described “human, mixed media artist and filmmaker,” has just completed a fifth piece in his “P2P Art - the aesthetics of ephemerally” series which is basically art that is “made for - and only available on the P2P networks.” When I interviewed Weberg after his first P2P piece he told me just what he meant by it.

“For the last 10 years I have been fascinated about the net culture and how it has developed and how the boundaries between offline/online is being erased,” he said “That and being a fan of street art, graffiti and performance art I just transformed it into the streets of today, The Net. Also how most of the users treat their downloads ephemeral. That’s how I got the idea of making a film that is supposed to be used that way. Download it, share it if you like or just delete it. If you like it, keep it. The aesthetics of ephemerality.”

He uploads the original artwork to BitTorrent tracker sites, in this case Mininova, and seeds it until at least one other user has downloaded it. He then deletes it and everything used to create it from his PC so that the artwork will only be available for as long as others seed it.

The fifth piece is entitled “Anonymus” and you can check it out HERE.

Written by soulxtc (zeropaid.com)


All available torrents uploaded by RecycledImage

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Monday, April 27, 2009

The Fifth Element (1997)


A 'Great Evil' appears whose purpose is to destroy life.


When the laid-back 23d-century New York City cabdriver meets the orange-haired, genetically engineered punk babe in ''The Fifth Element,'' they cannot communicate directly because they don't speak the same language. But there is one shared phrase they understand: ''Big badda-boom.'' Well, who doesn't grasp that concept at the start of the summer blockbuster sweepstakes? Flash, gimmicks, special effects and noisy pyrotechnics are so pervasive that they've even reached France.

As directed by Luc Besson, whose ''La Femme Nikita'' hit a high-water mark for chic sensationalism, ''The Fifth Element'' is a big-budget French effort to play the Hollywood cartoon blockbuster game. It's also proof that Mr. Besson, whose big ambitions and technological expertise have made him one of France's highest-profile younger directors, is also his nation's worst nightmare. Co-opted by international comic book style, Mr. Besson pitches this gaudy epic at a teen-age audience that values hot design over plot coherence, hollow excitement over reason. The story describes a mission to save humanity, but as far as the film itself is concerned, it's already gone.

Bruce Willis, a gratifying cool presence, does give this madly fanciful film some much-needed ballast. He brings sly panache to the role of Korben Dallas, reluctant action hero, who becomes embroiled in a plot that few sane viewers will even try to understand. (''It's 'Star Wars' on acid!'' Gary Oldman, who plays Zorg, the film's mega-hammy villain, has said about the story.) Lulled out of his torpor into a spectacular rescue mission, Mr. Willis has a role he could play in his sleep. But he handles it with muscular intensity and droll, sardonic energy instead.

Now pay attention: It seems that in 1914, apparently during outtakes of a ''Raiders of the Lost Ark'' installment, evil aliens arrived in Egypt to fulfill a mission prophesied by ancient carvings. The aliens looked like half-hubcaps with tiny insect heads, and that was not even the worst thing about them. They invoked the threat of pure evil, and it has to be fended off 300 years later by a nymphet named Leeloo. She is a supreme being who arrives on earth in the form of a naked fashion model.

Leeloo is girded for battle in the costumes of Jean-Paul Gaultier, who outdid himself in dreaming up strappy kinkwear for even the film's minor characters. If Mr. Gaultier is to be believed -- and he's as credible as anything else here -- white could be a big new color in bondage regalia, and even airline employees of the future will be ready for streetwalking without skipping a beat.

Korben spends his working hours driving a space taxi through a three-dimensional New York. (Among the film's quaintly European touches is a title identifying one setting as ''South Brooklyn.'') Elaborate but murky special effects give these scenes a geometric look, though the film's inventive design team has the chance to be more playful with smaller settings, like Korben's grungy cubicle of an apartment.

Anyway, once Korben and Leeloo join forces, the action heads off in wild directions. It winds up at a lavish resort where everything is crowded, security is tight, and a gala black-tie evening is on the agenda. That setting made perfect sense when ''The Fifth Element'' opened this year's Cannes International Film Festival on Wednesday. (It opens in the United States on Friday.)

Mr. Besson directs with ceaseless flamboyance and with an obvious enthusiasm for his film's comic book conceits. But the tone of ''The Fifth Element'' is often terribly shrill, especially when attention shifts to grating minor characters.

Ian Holm, who plays a priest with bemused vitality, shares Mr. Willis's way of injecting a touch of reality, but the rest of the cast strives for surreal degrees of silliness. As a yammering, swishy talk show host, Chris Tucker is flat-out incomprehensible, while Mr. Oldman preens evilly enough to leave tooth marks on the scenery. Milla Jovovich, as Leeloo, demonstrates the merits of flame-colored hair with blond roots. But she leaves serious doubts about whether models will ever save the world.

''The Fifth Element'' does look genuinely novel at times, thanks to the pulp exuberance of its electric colors and bold, jokey production design. It delivers that big badda-boom and nothing more.

''The Fifth Element'' is rated PG-13 (Parents strongly cautioned). It includes mild violence, partial nudity and strong visual suggestiveness in its overall design.

THE FIFTH ELEMENT

Directed by Luc Besson; written by Mr. Besson and Robert Mark Kamen, based on a story by Mr. Besson; director of photography, Thierry Arbogast; edited by Sylvie Landra; music by Eric Serra; costumes by Jean-Paul Gaultier; production designer, Dan Weil; produced by Patrice Ledoux; released by Columbia Pictures. Running time: 105 minutes. This film is rated PG-13.

WITH: Bruce Willis (Korben Dallas), Gary Oldman (Zorg), Ian Holm (Cornelius), Milla Jovovich (Leeloo) and Chris Tucker (Ruby Rhod).

By JANET MASLIN (The New York Times)
Published: May 9, 1997

The Fifth Element (original trailer)

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Godzilla (1998)


Size Does Matter

Godzilla is a 1998 American science fiction film. It is a Hollywood remake of the Japanese film of the same name. It was co-written and directed by Roland Emmerich.

As "gigantic monster reptile attacks New York" movies go, you've got to admit that Godzilla delivers the goods, although its critical drubbing and box-office disappointment were arguably deserved. It's a shameless, uninspired crowd pleaser that's content to serve up familiar action with the advantage of really fantastic special effects, and if you expect nothing more you'll be one among millions of satisfied customers. There's really no other way to approach it--you just have to accept the fact that Independence Day creators Roland Emmerich and Dean Devlin are unapologetic plagiarists, incapable of anything more than mindless spectacle that can play in any cinema in the world without dubbing or subtitles. The whole movie plays out like a series of highlights stolen from previous blockbusters of the 1990s; it's little more than a rehash of the Jurassic Park movies. The derivative script is so trivial that it's unworthy of comment, apart from a few choice laughs and the casting of Michael Lerner as New York's mayor, whose name is Ebert and who closely resembles a certain well-known movie critic. Perhaps that's a clever hint that this movie's essentially critic-proof. It's stupid but it's fun, and for most audiences that's a fitting definition of mainstream Hollywood entertainment. The widescreen Special Edition DVD includes a wealth of bonus materials--audio commentary by the film's special effects supervisors, a "making of" featurette, the Wallflowers' music video "Heroes," a photo gallery, and a variety of features related to this and all the classic Godzilla films from Japan. --Jeff Shannon






The soundtrack for Godzilla was released in March of 1998 and included a selection of popular alternative rock and hip hop artists from the era. Several songs on the soundtrack (such as Silverchair's "Untitled" and Fuzzbubble's "Out There") were previously unreleased outtakes and leftovers that had remained unreleased until their inclusion on the Godzilla album.

Godzilla Soundtrack (Reprise Records) [Cat. #971-0092]


1. "Heroes" - The Wallflowers

2. "Come with Me" - Puff Daddy featuring Jimmy Page
3. "Deeper Underground" - Jamiroquai
4. "No Shelter" - Rage Against the Machine
5. "Air" - Ben Folds Five
6. "Running Knees" - Days of the New
7. "Macy Day Parade" - Michael Penn
8. "Walk the Sky" - Fuel
9. "A320" - Foo Fighters
10. "Brain Stew" (The Godzilla Remix) - Green Day
11. "Untitled" - Silverchair
12. "Out There" - Fuzzbubble
13. "Undercover" - Joey DeLuxe
14. "Opening Titles" - David Arnold
15. "Looking for Clues" - David Arnold

Saturday, April 18, 2009

The 'burbs (1989)


A comedy about one nice guy who gets pushed too far.

The 'Burbs is a 1989 black comedy directed by Joe Dante starring Tom Hanks, Carrie Fisher, Rick Ducommun, Corey Feldman, and Bruce Dern; and written by Dana Olsen, who also briefly appears in the movie. The film pokes fun at USA suburban environments and their eccentric dwellers.

In his typical "good guy" mode, Hanks plays Ray Peterson, a loving family-man with an ordinary life in Mayfield Place, which is located in a stereotypical "white bread" suburban neighborhood. This changes when a mysterious family, the Klopeks, move in next door. Ray's two neighbors, work-shy slacker Art and paramilitary nut Rumsfield, believe the Klopeks are actually a family of murderers who killed Walter, the old man who lives next door. Ray, along with the other two civilians-turned-detectives, attempt to solve the mystery.


The 'Burbs - TRAILER

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Solyaris (1972) aka Solaris


The Russian answer to 2001

Film::'Solaris,' Russians in Space A Science-Fiction Parable on the Nature of Mankind

By RICHARD EDER
Published: October 7, 1976
(New York Times)

A nation's image of outer space reflects itself. Jules Verne's moon train was a small wagon-lit. American science-fiction movies stress the gleaming pipes and dials, a kind of hi-fi waterworks. Andrei Tarkovsky's "Solaris," which opened yesterday at the Ziegfeld Theater, gives us Russian outer space.

I say Russian rather than Soviet because this complex and sometimes very beautiful film is about humanity but hardly at all about politics.

In any case, the space station on the planet Solaris has an absent-minded neglect about it that could have come straight out of Dostoyevsky's study. There is a suspicion of rust on the pipes, and the furniture would look at home in the Omsk railroad station. One has the feeling that wrappers of half-eaten sausage are lying just out of sight and that a samovar is at work. Outer space is shabbiness, lots of tea and urgent philosophical discussions that leave no time for shaving.

Nothing that's visible matters very much—except for nature: shots of a pond of water weeds of a running horse—and life's surface are quite unimportant. Because of it, the blockish camera work, the egg-like colors and the general visual poverty are almost irrelevant. What matters is the conversations, the problems they raise, the faces that reflect them, seen blurrily as if at the end of an all-night session.

Mr. Tarkovsky, who is known here for a truncated version of "Andrei Rublev," made "Solaris" from the novel by the Polish writer Stanislaw Lem. It is science-fiction in the formal sense of the word; in substance, it is a parable about the nature of mankind.

Set in some future time, it is about the voyage of Chris Kelvin to the space station on the planet Solaris. The Academy of Sciences has found no profit in the long studies made of the planet. Chris's mission is to talk with the three scientists at the station and to report on closing it down.

The surface of Solaris is something like a sea, a great pulsating mass. A previous scientist, Burton, has come back in severe nervous shock; he believes that it may not be a sea but a superior order of consciousness, a great brain, in fact. Chris, a haunted but practical man, a missioner of human progress, is prepared to order a final experiment: a massive infusion of radiation into the "sea."

Burton, now older, is horrified. "You must not destroy what you don't understand," he says. Chris's father, a solitary, severe man, is also appalled. "Space is too fragile for your kind," he says.

The whole long, strange trip develops the theme. Mankind, with its aggressive expansionism — intellectual as well as material—destroys more than it finds. Chris is the practical man who, by the film's end, will be converted.

He finds that the space station, that summit of technology, is a heart of darkness. All three scientists there have been shattered by encountering the mystery of the planet. Solaris is, in fact, a great consciousness. Thought is made reality there, including the deepest thoughts of its visitors.

One has killed himself, leaving behind an obscure message on videotape for Chris. As he explores the decrepit space station—almost visibly rusted by the presence of a greater reality—Chris finds the other two. Sartorius, who will not accept what he can't understand, barricades himself in his laboratory surrounded by dwarfs—his thoughts made substance. Snouth, more innocent and hopeful, drinks a lot, but his visitors are children.

Chris has arrived with the suicide of his wife, Hari, on his conscience. Hari begins, nevertheless, to visit him. She is not an apparition; she is a yearning that the Solarian sea has given substance and built—the other scientists explain—of neutrinos. But she becomes more and more human until, in an act of abnegation, she asks to be destroyed so Chris can return to earth.

Put in summary, the plot may seem ludicrous. "Solaris" has its problems. Its rhythm is slow, and sometimes is extinguished altogether. The narrative can be difficult to grasp. Finally, as the film draws into conclusion, the parable seems to unclothe; the sense of wonder that Mr. Tarkovsky has created yields to a certain didacticism.

All of these drawbacks must be cited provisionally. "Solaris," whose mystical, totally nonmaterialistic character has won it no other favor in the Soviet Union than the permission to exist, is here in a severely truncated form. The original was reportedly four hours long; a second version, shown in Cannes and elsewhere, was 2 hours and 47 minutes. The version we are seeing is down to 2 hours and 12 minutes and the distributors, who received it that way, say they don't know whether Mr. Tarkovsky supervised the cuts.

Obviously it is impossible to judge the pace, the rhythms and the clarity of a film that is cut nearly in half. It is like a fresco partly eaten away by rising damp.

The result must be viewed actively and with some effort. But if it is, the result is extraordinary enough to compensate. The film's great metaphors—the faces of Donatis Banionis as Chris, Natalya Bondarchuk as Hari and Yuri Jarvet as Snouth—involve us totally in the difficult mysteries. Like his Solarian sea, Mr. Tarkovsky has made ideas walk, breathe and move us.


The Cast
SOLARIS, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky; screenplay by Friedrich Gorenstein and Mr. Tarkovsky from the novel by Stanislaw Lem; photography by Vadim Yusov; music by Eduard Artemyev; in Russian with English subtitles. Released by Magna Distributing Corporation. Running time: 132 minutes. This film has not been rated. Chris Kelvin . . . . . Donatis Banionis Hari . . . . . Natalya Bondarchuk Snouth . . . . . Yuri Jarvet Also with Nicolai Grinko, Vladislav Dvorzhetski and Anatoli Solonitsyn.

The Bodyguard (1992)


Never let her out of your sight. Never let your guard down. Never fall in love.

The Bodyguard is a 1992 romantic-thriller film starring Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston. In the film, Costner stars as a former Secret Service Agent turned bodyguard who is hired to protect Houston's character, a music star, from an unknown stalker. The film was written by Lawrence Kasdan and directed by Mick Jackson.

In this film debut for Houston, she plays Rachel Marron, a music superstar who is being stalked. Frank Farmer (Kevin Costner), a professional bodyguard and former Secret Service agent, is hired to protect her.

The film then follows Rachel Marron's life through her career and family. Performances include her singing hits such as I Will Always Love You and I Have Nothing. Frank Farmer successfully protects her from danger and as a result of his protection, Rachel falls in love with Frank. He initially tries to keep the relationship professional, but the two sleep together. However, recognizing that their relationship may compromise his protection of her, Frank breaks off their affair. Rachel must put her trust in Frank ahead of her own desire for success. In the end, Frank's duty is fulfilled, having successfully protected Rachel, and they part with a kiss. Frank then moves on to his next assignment to protect an archbishop.

The film was originally proposed in 1976 with Steve McQueen and Diana Ross in the leads, but negotiations fell through as McQueen refused to be billed second to Ross.[3] It was proposed again in 1979, starring Ryan O'Neal and Ross again in the leads. The project fell through due to irreconcilable differences in the relationship of the two stars. Costner stated that he based Frank Farmer on Steve McQueen; even cutting his hair like McQueen.

Madonna was considered for the role of Rachel. The deal was called off informally during an incident captured in her documentary Truth or Dare. This took place during the scene where Madonna met with Costner backstage; he congratulated her concert, calling her show neat, Madonna made fun of his "neat" remark after he left. Costner undoubtedly saw this after the documentary's release.

During recording of the song "I Will Always Love You", there was some different ideas for the cover version of the song until Costner and Houston decided to do the intro a capella, having Houston sing with no music. That version would be the one used in the film. The single of this song would ultimately go on to #1 in two dozen countries, sell over eight million units globally, and give Houston the best selling single by a female artist in music history.

Originally, the song that Rachel performs at the end of the film was meant to be "What Becomes of the Brokenhearted", which was originally sung by Jimmy Ruffin. However, it was decided that the song Rachel would sing would be Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" (supposedly at the suggestion of Costner, believing the song would fit better with the couple's break up).

The Bodyguard (1992) - Movie Trailer


Sunday, April 12, 2009

Broadway's Lost Treasures


Broadway's Lost Treasures I

"Broadway's Lost Treasures" is a compilation of 17 musical numbers from several annual editions of the Tony Awards, all produced under Alexander Cohen's aegis. A disproportionate percentage of these numbers are from the 1971 Tony Awards ceremony. The 1971 Broadway theatre season was less distinguished than usual, and the American Theatre Wing expected that year's edition of the Tony Awards to be thin pickings. With one of his legendary bursts of inspiration, Alex Cohen realised that this year (1971) was the 25th anniversary of the Tony Awards. He decided to celebrate the occasion by having several of Broadway's most legendary performers reprise their most famous musical numbers. "Broadway's Lost Treasures" contains several of those re-enactments.

Unfortunately, some of the re-enactments in "Broadway's Lost Treasures" are less than first-rate. From the 1971 Tony special, we see Vivian Blaine doing an abbreviated version of "Adelaide's Lament" from 'Guys and Dolls', plus Robert Preston doing 'Trouble' from 'The Music Man', Yul Brynner doing 'Shall We Dance?' from 'The King and I' and John Raitt singing 'Hey There' from 'The Pyjama Game'. But all of these performers did these songs much more brilliantly in the respective film versions of these musicals, which are now (although not in 1971) readily available on video. The John Raitt number is especially disappointing: why didn't he reprise for the Tony Awards his greatest number of all, 'Soliloquy' from 'Carousel'? This is especially regrettable, since -- unlike 'The Pyjama Game' -- Raitt didn't get a chance to repeat his performance in the film version of 'Carousel'. Also on offer here, Zero Mostel repeats his biddy-biddy-boom routine from 'Fiddler'. I've always thought of this grossly overrated and undisciplined performer as Less-than-Zero Mostel, and his performance here does nothing to convince me otherwise.

On the plus side, we get Joel Grey's brilliant performance of 'Wilkommen' from 'Cabaret'. Here too is a number which the Broadway performer has repeated in the movie version ... but Grey's characterisation here, as the German cabaret's compere, is astonishingly different from his Oscar-winning performance of this same role in the film. I was thrilled to see this. (Intriguingly, Joel Grey is backed here by an interracial chorus ... a surprising decision, as this show takes place in 1930s Berlin.) The great Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera are slinky and sexy in their Bob Fosse duet from 'Chicago': it's intriguing to see their different dance styles side by side. (Ms Verdon's legwork had much more amplitude than Ms Rivera's, even before Chita Rivera's taxi accident.)

Also extremely enjoyable here are 'Kickin' the Clouds Away' from 'My One and Only', performed in sprightly fashion by Twiggy, Tommy Tune and some tap-dancing bridesmaids, and 'Hello, Argentina' from 'Evita'. I found the 'Lullaby of Broadway' number from '42nd Street' much too overblown, but some people will like it. Angela Lansbury performs a rapid-fire patter song (with tongue-twisting Sondheim lyrics) from 'Sweeney Todd'. A close-up reveals that she's lip-synching to her own pre-recorded voice. Since the Tony Awards were broadcast live, I can't blame Alexander Cohen's decision to take this precaution.

The most pleasant surprise here is Julie Andrews warbling 'Send in the Clowns' from 'A Little Night Music'. Ms Andrews was one of those rare singers who actually emoted a song rather than merely performing it: her rendition here is warm and enchanting. At one point during this live performance, she glances offstage to check the lyrics on a cue card ... but her performance is so deft that you'll barely notice this.




Broadway's Lost Treasures II

A second collection of great performances from the Tony Awards. Some of the classics of the Broadway stage have been lost to history - except for the archives of the American Theatre Wing and its collection of films of the Tony Awards ceremonies. Performances in the on-air version included "Anything Goes" from the 1987 revival of Anything Goes, "Bosom Buddies" from Mame, "I Believe in You" from the original production of How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, "La Vie En Rose" from Piaf, "The Impossible Dream" from the original production of Man of La Mancha, "Take A Glass Together" from Grand Hotel, "That's How You Jazz" from Jelly's Last Jam, "Sit Down, You're Rockin' the Boat" from the 1992 revival of Guys and Dolls, "We Are What We Are/I Am What I Am" from La Cage Aux Folles, "Les Miserables Medley", "You'll Never Walk Alone" from the 1994 revival of Carousel and "All I Care About" from the original production of Chicago.



Broadway's Lost Treasures III

A third collection of great performances from the Tony Awards. Some of the classics of the Broadway stage have been lost to history - except for the archives of the American Theatre Wing and its collection of films of the Tony Awards ceremonies. Performances in the on-air version included "Anything Goes" from the 1987 revival of Anything Goes, "Bosom Buddies" from Mame, "I Believe in You" from the original production of How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, "La Vie En Rose" from Piaf, "The Impossible Dream" from the original production of Man of La Mancha, "Take A Glass Together" from Grand Hotel, "That's How You Jazz" from Jelly's Last Jam, "Sit Down, You're Rockin' the Boat" from the 1992 revival of Guys and Dolls, "We Are What We Are/I Am What I Am" from La Cage Aux Folles, "Les Miserables Medley", "You'll Never Walk Alone" from the 1994 revival of Carousel and "All I Care About" from the original production of Chicago.


Storyboards I, II & III






Monday, April 6, 2009

Falling in Love (1984)


Sometimes Love Hurts!

By VINCENT CANBY
Published: November 21, 1984
(New York Times)

''FALLING IN LOVE'' is a classy weeper that poses a rude question: What are talented people like Robert De Niro, Meryl Streep and Ulu Grosbard, their director, doing in a sudsy movie like this?

It may be that they were looking to have some fun. Each has been doing fairly heavy duty of late - Mr. De Niro in ''Once Upon a Time in America'' and ''King of Comedy,'' Miss Streep in ''Sophie's Choice'' and Mr. Grosbard in ''True Confessions'' with Mr. De Niro. The change of pace must have appeared terrifically appealing.

''Falling in Love'' is not a bad movie by any means. It's not stupid or gross or cheap. It's been done with taste, but it's the sort of production that, even when it works, which it frequently does, seems too small and trite to have had so much care taken on it.

At heart, ''Falling in Love,'' which opens today at the Tower East and other theaters, is an American ''Brief Encounter'' that goes on too long. It's about two attractive Westchester commuters, each happily married to someone else, who meet, fall in love and then don't know what to do about it.

The principal setting is Manhattan, where Frank Raftis (Mr. De Niro) works in some never clearly defined capacity in the construction business, and Molly Gilmore (Miss Streep), a free-lance commercial artist, comes regularly to sell her work and to visit her hospitalized father.

For what seems an unconscionable amount of time, the Michael Cristofer screenplay crosscuts between the daily routines of Frank and Molly, showing us how, unknown to them, their paths keep crossing - on the train to Manhattan, at Grand Central Station telephone booths, on Fifth Avenue, at restaurants and other pretty locations. However, since Mr. De Niro and Miss Streep are the stars of the film, the movie can keep them apart for only so long without the audience's becoming a wee bit restive.

Even after they meet - on Christmas Eve at the Rizzoli Book Store, where each winds up with the other's purchases - it's still several months before the film gets down to the business of their falling in love. At this point it becomes apparent that the inarticulate, tentative nature of most of the dialogue is, virtually, the style of the film. It's also the point at which the film, which seems to yearn to be a romantic comedy of a more sophisticated, sharper sort, becomes most serious and most affecting in an unembarrassedly sentimental way.

It's not easy to make a movie about people who initially communicate by making tentative proposals that are answered with tentative ''yeahs,'' ''sures,'' ''unhuhs'' and ''okays.'' For a while this also has the effect of bringing out the most tiresome of lifelike gestures, especially in Miss Streep, who spends much of the first part of the movie giving an early Kim Stanley performance composed of shoulder shrugging, expressive but wordless sighs and half-finished sentences.

Mr. De Niro's Frank, who is the more aggressive of the two characters, doesn't have that problem, and once the two do declare their love, Miss Streep is on solid ground with solid material.

The film is well cast from the stars right down to the smallest supporting role with, somewhere in between, Harvey Keitel and Diane Wiest as the respective best friends of Frank and Molly. Also good, though their roles have a kind of built-in superfluousness, are Jane Kaczmarek, as Frank's wife, and David Clennon, as Molly's husband. Only if actors of a stature comparable to the stars' had been playing these roles, would there be a moment of legitimate suspense in ''Falling in Love.''

As it is, one follows the story not to find out what happens next but how it's going to happen.

What keeps the movie going is its combination of intelligent performances and expert timing, which works well up until about 15 minutes before the end. It's then that the very large hankie - which is what Mr. Cristofer's screenplay really is - receives two or three more twists than it can take without being pulled to shreds. One has become all too aware of the studied mechanics of the film, including the Dave Grusin soundtrack music, and of how the mechanism must function if the movie is to end without being a feature-length anticlimax.

When the characters are allowed to become at least partially articulate, their emotions carry real impact. Extremely moving is a scene in which Miss Streep's Molly pours out her feelings about Frank to a skeptical Miss Wiest and reaches her own dead end. Exhausted, she simply says, ''I like being with him.'' Mr. De Niro has an equally wrenching confrontation with his wife, not because he's been physically unfaithful to her, but because he hasn't and desperately wants to be.

There's also one quite wonderful love scene, which may mark a breakthrough for love scenes in this day and age, though not for reasons one would expect.

Under these circumstances, one keeps wanting the film to be much, much better. Mr. Cristofer is capable of writing very funny scenes, as when Mr. De Niro, riding in a packed elevator and chomping on a hot dog, is fiercely scolded by another passenger. ''You shouldn't be eating here,'' says an irate woman. ''People have clothes on.''

It's at such moments that one realizes the kind of romantic comedy ''Falling in Love'' might have been, instead of the high-toned soap opera it seems content to be.

''Falling in Love,'' which has been rated PG-13 (''parental guidance suggested''), contains some vulgar language and one love scene that is unexpectedly erotic without being at all graphic.

Hankies and Kisses FALLING IN LOVE, directed by Ulu Grosbard; written by Michael Cristofer; director of photography, Peter Suschitzky; edited by Michael Kahn; music by Dave Grusin; produced by Marvin Worth; released by Paramount Pictures. At Tower East, 72d Street and Third Avenue; Paramount, at Columbus Circle, and other theaters. Running time: 106 minutes. This film is rated PG-13. Frank RaftisRobert De Niro Molly GilmoreMeryl Streep Ed LaskyHarvey Keitel Ann RaftisJane Kaczmarek John TrainerGeorge Martin Brian GilmoreDavid Clennon IsabelleDianne Wiest Victor RawlinsVictor Argo Mike RaftisWiley Earl Joe RaftisJesse Bradford.



Falling in love trailer

Thelma & Louise (1991)

Call it a comedy of shocking gravity.

Thelma & Louise begins like an episode of I Love Lucy and ends with the impact of Easy Rider. It's a bumpy path between those points, and director Ridley Scott (Black Rain) and first-time screenwriter Callie Khouri don't cushion the ride. The film switches moods violently, and sometimes it just jerks your chain. But this is movie dynamite, detonated by award-caliber performances from Geena Davis and Susan Sarandon in the title roles.

Davis plays Thelma, a Arkansas housewife married to a cheating, verbally abusive salesman named Darryl (broadly caricatured by Christopher McDonald) whom she began dating when she was fourteen. "He's an asshole," says Thelma, "but most times I just let it slide."

Sarandon plays Thelma's pal Louise, a waitress who is pushing forty and fed up with waiting for her musician boyfriend, Jimmy (subtly detailed by Michael Madsen), to stop roving and commit. Louise organizes a weekend fishing trip for herself and Thelma, who doesn't know how to fish. "Neither do I," says Louise, "but Darryl does it -- how hard can it be?"



That's the setup: two women putting drudgery and men behind them for a few days of rest and intelligent talk. But before they reach their destination, a hungry Thelma asks Louise to stop her '66 T-Bird convertible at a roadhouse, where Thelma knocks back three shots of Wild Turkey and dances with a local Romeo.

Louise thinks her friend is just blowing off steam until she catches the guy beating and trying to rape Thelma in the parking lot. Grabbing Darryl's gun (which Thelma brought along for protection), Louise presses the barrel into the rapist's neck and says, "Just for the future, when a woman's crying like that, she's not having any fun." He hitches up his pants and starts to leave but not before saying to Louise, "Suck my cock." Louise takes two steps back and fires a bullet into his face. The suddenness of the act -- the man is no longer a threat -- is shattering. Vividly shot by Adrian Biddle (Aliens) and edited by Thom Noble (Witness), the scene is made even more potent by Louise's whispered remark to the bloody victim: "You watch your mouth, buddy." In a stunningly poignant performance, Sarandon shows that the emotionally bruised Louise has been in a similar position before and has finally been pushed past her limit.

The dazed women drive off and try to plan their next move. The cops have staked out their homes. When Thelma phones Darryl, detective Hal Slocumbe (Harvey Keitel) urges the pair to stop running. Hal is the film's one sympathetic male character, and he doesn't ring true. Khouri -- a Texas-born actress, video producer and former waitress -- doesn't turn her movie into a man-hating tract, but she does show what a lifetime of male sexual threat and domination (disguised as paternalism) can do to women.

As Thelma and Louise -- now outlaws -- attempt to escape to a new life in Mexico, the movie offers vignettes that are comic, tragic and surreal, sometimes simultaneously. They pick up J.D., a hitchhiking hunk charmingly played by Brad Pitt. Thelma takes him to bed because she likes his body. "You could park a car in the shadow of Darryl's ass," she tells Louise. For once, Thelma has a sexual experience that isn't "completely disgusting." In bed, J.D. -- using a hair dryer as a gun -- teaches Thelma the art of armed robbery. Then he robs her. The experience pushes Thelma over the line; she knocks over a convenience store using the J.D. method. "I know it's crazy," she tells Louise, "but I just feel like I've got a knack for this shit." Swilling booze and howling like a dog, Thelma heeds the call of the wild. But Davis, who has never been better, keeps Thelma rooted in reality. Crime has taught her to express herself; she won't go back to a cage.

Surrender doesn't suit Louise, either. She knows the police won't buy the truth because "we just don't live in that kind of world." Besides, she says, "I don't want to end up on the damned Geraldo show." The banter doesn't disguise the terror these women feel, but driving through Utah's Canyonlands -- after blowing up the gas tank of a semi whose driver offered to lick them all over -- they achieve a kind of serenity.

As the film plunges toward its lacerating climax, some may have conflicting feelings about Thelma and Louise: Are they feminist martyrs or bitches from hell? Neither is the case. They're flesh-and-blood women out to expose the blight of sexism. Khouri's script isn't about rage or revenge; it's about waste. Director Scott, whose films (Alien, Blade Runner) are noted for their slick surface, cuts to the marrow this time. This wincingly funny, pertinent and heartbreaking road movie means to get under your skin, and it does. by Peter Travers




Friday, April 3, 2009

Apollo 13 (1995)


Houston, we have a problem.

"Failure is not an option!". So says mission-control director Gene Kranz, played by Ed Harris, as mission control devises a way to get the astronauts safely home. Although initially viewed as a disaster (explosion in spacecraft which forces cancellation the the moon-landing mission), in reality it is a story of success due to resourcefulness. The astronauts must return to earth and splash down safely with only enough electrical power to run a coffee pot.

Probably the best of director Ron Howard's movies, it is well acted by stars Tom Hanks (as Jim Lovell), Kevin Bacon (Jack Swigert), and Bill Paxton (Fred Haise) as the three space-bound astronauts, Gary Sinise (mission-bumped astronaut Ken Mattingly), Ed Harris (mission control Gene Kranz), and Kathleen Quinlan (Marilyn Lovell). The movie was nominated for 9 Oscars including best picture, writing, supporting actor (Harris), supporting actress (Quinlan), music, and visual effects, and won for editing and for sound.



There are a lot of special effects thoughout the movie, including the entirely-recreated lift-off sequence from a bird's-eye viewpoint. The weightlessness scenes were achieved by filming in a KC-135 airplane that did a series of parabolic climbs and dives, allowing about 25 seconds of filming at a time.

An exciting 220 minute movie about one of the most-watched successful rescues in history, the DVD contains a good "making of" documentary, a commentary by director Ron Howard, and another by Jim and Marilyn Lovell. "Bill Paxton's home movies" were never located, and the "comparison with NASA footage" and the "extensive exploration of special effects" were brief parts of the "making of", not separate items. Text-based production notes and cast/crew blurbs, and a trailer. Undocumented feature is the isolated score which plays in its entirety at the main menu (can skip forward, but not backward, however). The 2.35:1 wide-screen movie has 56 (!) chapters. Highly recommend for fans of any of the actors listed above, the space program, or adventures in general.

"With all due respect, sir, I believe this will be our finest hour" - Gene Kranz

Review by K. Gittins


Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Mary Reilly (1996)


The Jekyll-Hyde Duo And Their (His?) Maid

Mary Reilly" proves Julia Roberts has the clout to play an unbecoming role in a gloomy film with a story whose outcome, even in the age of the happily-ever-after "Scarlet Letter" remake, is an especially foregone conclusion. Hubris like this is not unknown in Hollywood, but we haven't lately seen it demonstrated so forcefully on dry land.

Biting into a huge slab of humble pie, Ms. Roberts appears as a shy flower in the household of Dr. Henry Jekyll, medic extraordinaire. She is seen scrubbing the front stoop as "Mary Reilly" opens. She serves her master endless breakfasts in bed, since morning-after syndrome is a serious problem in the Jekyll domain.

She also spends long hours stitching, to judge from the intricate tucks and folds of a very fetching maid's uniform. And since she is so eager to please, Mary plants a courtyard garden and tends it until it looks like the work of a Beverly Hills florist. Her green thumb is all the more impressive in view of the film's setting, a dank, fogbound 19th-century London that never sees a ray of sun.

"Mary Reilly," based on Valerie Martin's novel rather than on Robert Louis Stevenson's, witnesses odd goings-on in the Jekyll household through the downcast eyes of this shy young maid. In the process, it injects a classic horror tale with banal contemporary elements, like the alcoholic father who abused Mary and made her sympathetic to Dr. Jekyll's plight. ("The drink turned him into a different man," Mary says of her crude, leering parent, played with suitable unpleasantness by Michael Gambon.)

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Freud could scoff with equal ease at the transparent mysteries of "Mary Reilly," especially when Mary finally grasps the secret that every audience member will have acknowledged from the start. "Now how could anyone know such a thing?" Mary marvels about Dr. Jekyll's alter ego. "How could anyone possibly guess?"

The job of casting such false naivete in a flattering light falls to Stephen Frears, an imaginative and able director reunited with several important contributors to the success of his "Dangerous Liaisons." These include the cinematographer Philippe Rousselot, the production designer Stuart Craig and the playwright Christopher Hampton, who adapted Ms. Martin's novel. Most important, "Mary Reilly" reunites Mr. Frears with John Malkovich, who makes Hyde a model of mocking sensuality and treats the more repressed Dr. Jekyll as an only slightly less lascivious figure. Mr. Malkovich's insinuating presence gives the film an eroticism it otherwise lacks.

Ms. Roberts, looking sheltered and maidenly as only a high-priced movie queen can, has a much narrower role. Tremulous and shocked by predictable turns, regularly discovering gruesome souvenirs mixed in with the Jekyll laundry, she gives a solemnly repetitive performance without much spark. Clearly Ms. Roberts has the makings of a serious actress and the wherewithal to become one, but "Mary Reilly" offers a vehicle that is unrelievedly grim. The greatest demands placed on her here are sustaining a brogue and pronouncing "laboratory" with the emphasis on the second syllable.

Speaking of the site of Dr. Jekyll's experiments (ominously realized by Mr. Craig's set design), it contributes substantially to the film's gruesome streak. Bloody messes, animal carcasses, organs in formaldehyde and an eel that frightens Mary in the kitchen (see Freud, above) are among many sickening aspects of the film's semi-scientific tone. Glenn Close, also looking ghastly, plays a heavily painted harlot and has this story's most thankless supporting role.

"Mary Reilly" is rated R (Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian). It includes violence, scenes involving prostitution and many glimpses of graphic gore.

Directed by Stephen Frears; written by Christopher Hampton, based on the novel by Valerie Martin; director of photography, Philippe Rousselot; edited by Lesley Walker; music by George Fenton; production designer, Stuart Craig; produced by Ned Tanen, Nancy Graham Tanen and Norma Heyman; released by Tri-Star Pictures. Running time: 118 minutes. This film is rated R.

WITH: Julia Roberts (Mary Reilly), John Malkovich (Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde), George Cole (Mr. Poole), Michael Gambon (Father), Kathy Staff (Mrs. Kent) and Glenn Close (Mrs. Farraday).

By JANET MASLIN
Published: February 23, 1996


Mary Reilly - Trailer


Flatliners (1990)


Young Doctors Explore the Boundary Between Life and Death

LEAD: There is no innocence in the world of ''Flatliners'' - not in childhood memories, not in the motives of the medical students who push themselves beyond death and then return to life, not in the film's borrowings from classic horror movies. And all of that is to the good. ''Flatliners'' is a stylish, eerie psychological horror film laced with wit, a movie that thrives on its characters' guilty secrets and succeeds on the strength of the director Joel

There is no innocence in the world of ''Flatliners'' - not in childhood memories, not in the motives of the medical students who push themselves beyond death and then return to life, not in the film's borrowings from classic horror movies. And all of that is to the good. ''Flatliners'' is a stylish, eerie psychological horror film laced with wit, a movie that thrives on its characters' guilty secrets and succeeds on the strength of the director Joel Schumacher's flair for just this sort of smart, unpretentious entertainment.

Like ''Flatliners,'' the best of Mr. Schumacher's previous films have been glossy ensemble pieces in which members of a young, improbably attractive gang are threatened by adulthood. They are college friends in the underrated ''St. Elmo's Fire'' and teen-aged vampires in ''The Lost Boys.'' Mr. Schumacher is at his worst dealing with fundamentally ordinary people in a film like ''Cousins.'' Fortunately, the characters in ''Flatliners'' have their peculiar death wish, and they prove that the most commonplace memories can turn sinister.

Kiefer Sutherland plays Nelson, the insanely ambitious student who plans the death experiment. Drugs will send him into a state in which he is technically dead, his heart and brain producing flat lines on the monitoring machines. Then his colleagues will revive him.

Julia Roberts is the sensitive student who has private reasons for studying the afterlife, and Kevin Bacon the valiant one who is suspended after performing surgery to save a life, without permission. William Baldwin plays a womanizer, and Oliver Platt is the skeptic, who knows that Nelson's greatest ambition is not to unlock death's mysteries but to be profiled afterward on ''60 Minutes.'' In the script, the first by Peter Filardi, these characters are neatly and flatly drawn. Mr. Sutherland and Mr. Bacon are especially effective in adding emotion to their roles. So is Ms. Roberts, though anyone who expects her to run away with this film as she did with ''Pretty Woman'' is mistaken.

The true star of ''Flatliners'' is the film's haunting atmosphere. Mr. Schumacher, who started his career in fashion design, knows the full value of style. Like all good horror films, this one exists at a skewed angle to reality. But more than most, its resonance depends on the meeting of ordinary life with a slick, hyperreal aura (which owes a great deal to Eugenio Zanetti's production design and Jan De Bont's photography).

The experiments take place in the murky bluish light of a makeshift lab where half-covered statues and one huge sculptured face are ominous observers. After his return from death, Mr. Sutherland walks down a street where steam from construction sites billows in the background, bright street lights create a shining foreground, and a bag lady in a dark alley warns, ''In the end, we all know what we've done.'' The foggy atmosphere and the omen evoke old horror films, just as the overreaching medical students are Frankenstein's descendents. A figure who echoes the red-hooded dwarf in Nicolas Roeg's ''Don't Look Now'' becomes the wittiest and most frightening creature in ''Flatliners.'' But Mr. Schumacher never lets these savvy allusions degenerate into camp, and his pacing keeps him a step ahead of the audience.

When Mr. Sutherland experiences death, he at first recalls green fields and romping children, an image that seems much too idyllic. This man's near-death memories would be much kinkier. Sure enough, the picturesque scene turns out to be less wholesome than it appears.

No one in the audience will be in suspense when Nelson's colleagues have trouble reviving him. It is far too early in the film for Mr. Sutherland to disappear, and ''Flatliners'' doesn't turn its stars into ghosts. But as the others experience death, each for a longer period of time and later into the film, the odds of losing a character increase dramatically.

And, in the film's most chilling idea, each person carries back from the other side some dark, unresolved burden of guilt that takes human form, at least on screen. Mr. Filardi's script is best when defining the characters' guilty pasts, which raise questions about sin, responsibility and unintended evil. The weakest writing involves Mr. Baldwin's character, who didn't have to die in order for the women he deluded to start haunting him; that probably would have happened in life. And Mr. Platt's character is so blatantly functional, as comic relief and cynic, that the story's mechanics show through.

But when taken on its own stylish terms, ''Flatliners'' is greatly entertaining. Viewers are likely to go along with this film instantly or else ridicule it to death. Its atmospheric approach doesn't admit much middle ground.

Directed by Joel Schumacher; written by Peter Filardi; director of photography, Jan De Bont; edited by Robert Brown; music by James Newton Howard; production designer, Eugenio Zanetti; produced by Michael Douglas and Rick Bieber; released by Columbia Pictures. Running time: 111 minutes. This film is rated R.

Nelson....Kiefer Sutherland
Rachel....Julia Roberts
Labraccio....Kevin Bacon
Joe....William Baldwin
Steckle....Oliver Platt

By CARYN JAMES
Published: August 10, 1990


Flatliners.True Nightmare edition.Trailer

Philadelphia (1993)


Tom Hanks as an AIDS Victim Who Fights the Establishment

For a film maker who thrives on taking chances, "Philadelphia" sounds like the biggest gamble of all. As the first high-profile Hollywood film to take the AIDS plague seriously, Jonathan Demme's latest work has stubborn preconceptions to overcome as well as enormous potential to make waves. What it does not have, despite the fine acting and immense decency that give it substance, is much evidence of Mr. Demme's usual daring. Maybe that's not surprising: it isn't easy to leave fingerprints when you're wearing kid gloves.

Hollywood's past reluctance to take on AIDS isn't strictly a matter of cowardice. This subject, with all its anguished inevitability, does not easily lend itself to run-of-the-mill movie methods. If the theater has led the way, with works as different as "Jeffrey" and "Angels in America," it also has more freedom to experiment with format. Conventional wisdom has it that a big-budget film needs reassuring familiarity if it means to play at the multiplex, even if Mr. Demme proved otherwise with his bracingly tough "Silence of the Lambs."

If the dread-disease drama has often been relegated to television, there, too, AIDS has proved daunting: HBO's attention-getting "And the Band Played On" was a much more tepid undertaking than "Philadelphia" turns out to be. Unlike that obviously hamstrung dramatization, "Philadelphia" mostly succeeds in being forceful, impassioned and moving, sometimes even rising to the full range of emotion that its subject warrants. But too often, even at its most assertive, it works in safely predictable ways.

"Philadelphia," which has the year's most elegant and apt movie title, begins with great promise and with a reminder of what the unfettered Mr. Demme can do. A stirring montage of Philadelphia street life, accompanied by a mournfully beautiful new Bruce Springsteen song, offers a resounding sense of vitality and communal obligation. (The film is suffused with haunting music, with operatic arias used much too pointedly in several places and Neil Young's title song floating gently through its final scene.) Mr. Demme knows how to breathe both hope and frustration into the promise of brotherly love.

Soon afterward, Mr. Demme shows an equally impressive tact as he introduces Andrew Beckett, the lawyer played by Tom Hanks. First seen defending a construction company accused of spreading pestilent dust, Andrew is next shown visiting a clinic for AIDS treatment. The film attaches no fanfare to this information, and it spares the audience a melodramatic scene in which Andrew's AIDS is first diagnosed. Likewise, it presents his mother (Joanne Woodward) as determinedly brave and well aware of her son's situation. With these touches, the film promises not to exploit its subject in maudlin ways, and that is a promise it keeps.

Mr. Demme and his screenwriter, Ron Nyswaner, elect to dramatize their material by presenting AIDS as a cause as well as a personal calamity. So "Philadelphia" gives Andrew a tangible grievance. First, he is established as an ambitious, gung-ho young corporate lawyer. "Outstanding!" exclaims Andrew, upon hearing that the firm has landed an important account. Next, he is seen arousing suspicion among the firm's equally hearty senior partners. "What's that on your forehead, pal?" one of them asks, staring at a Kaposi's sarcoma lesion.

"Oh, that!" says Andrew, with the forced heartiness that hides his real nature, and as such is the habit of a lifetime. "I got whacked in the head with a racquetball." Nobody believes him.

When Andrew is summarily fired on a trumped-up charge of incompetence, the film gives him a mission: to sue his former firm for wrongful termination and to fight the bigotry faced by people with AIDS. Admirable as this is in the abstract, it steers the movie in exactly the wrong direction. "Philadelphia" winds up centered on the courtroom, devoting an inordinate amount of time to what should only have been this story's MacGuffin, a minor but galvanizing plot device. The courtroom scenes, which lack suspense and too often have a soapbox tenor, will not tell the audience anything it doesn't already know.

A much more interesting side of "Philadelphia" depicts the relationship between Andrew and Joe Miller (Denzel Washington), his anti-gay, ambulance-chasing lawyer. ("We take no cash unless we get cash justice for you," Joe informs one potential client.) Reluctant to take Andrew's case at first, and flaunting his fears and prejudices with his doctor and his wife, Joe changes gratifyingly during the course of the story. Mr. Hanks gives a brave, stirring, tremendously dignified performance as a man slowly wasting away. But Mr. Washington, who is also very fine as the small-minded shyster who becomes a crusading hero, has the better role.

It shouldn't have been that way. But Mr. Nyswaner's screenplay allows Andrew almost nothing in the way of individual characteristics. It makes him a gay Everyman whose love of opera -- awkwardly underscored in a scene that shows the audience how little it really knows about Andrew -- hardly qualifies as a distinctive trait. Andrew's domestic relationship with Miguel (Antonio Banderas) is presented so sketchily that it barely seems real.

The screenplay's tendency to evade and overgeneralize is not helped by the depiction of gay men as gentle souls, straight men as bigots, and Andrew's large family as a monolithic, enlightened entity. Andrew's father: "We're incredibly proud of you." Andrew's mother: "You get in there and you fight for your rights." Andrew: "Gee, I love you guys."

Most of "Philadelphia" is a lot better than that. Neither Mr. Demme's attention to detail nor his talent for tight, urgent storytelling has let him down. He has assembled a large, expertly cast group of actors to fill out the film's background, among them Ron Vawter as the law firm's one conscience-stricken partner, Jason Robards as its overbearing patriarch, Anna Deavere Smith as an astute paralegal and Robert Castle (the priest who is Mr. Demme's cousin, and the subject of his "Cousin Bobby") as Andrew's father.

Ms. Woodward is especially memorable in a brief but luminous appearance. And Mary Steenburgen has the potentially interesting role of a ruthless, sarcastic defense attorney determined to wear down a now-frail Andrew when he gets to the courtroom. But even here, the film pulls its punches. After conducting a particularly grueling cross-examination, Ms. Steenburgen is allowed to acquit herself by muttering "I hate this case!"

"Philadelphia" may be equivocal in its attitudes, but Mr. Demme will never make a film that lacks visual color. Tak Fujimoto, Craig McKay and Kristi Zea, who have collaborated with the director before as cinematographer, editor and production designer, respectively, give the film a warm, believable look and a vigorous pace. Mention should also be made of Carl Fullerton's makeup, which makes sure that Mr. Hanks's transformation from robust lawyer to visibly suffering AIDS patient will not soon be forgotten.

In the end, thanks to such effects and to the simple grace of Mr. Hanks's performance, this film does accomplish what it means to. "Philadelphia" rises above its flaws to convey the full urgency of its difficult subject, and to bring that subject home.

"Philadelphia" is rated PG-13 (Parents Strongly Cautioned). It includes mild profanity and brief nudity. Philadelphia Directed by Jonathan Demme; written by Ron Nyswaner; director of photography, Tak Fujimoto; edited by Craig McKay; music by Howard Shore; production designer, Kristi Zea; produced by Edward Saxon and Mr. Demme; released by Tri-Star Pictures. At the Gemini, Second Avenue and 64th Street, Manhattan. Running time: 119 minutes. This film is rated PG-13. Andrew Beckett . . . Tom Hanks Joe Miller . . . Denzel Washington Sarah Beckett . . . Joanne Woodward Charles Wheeler . . . Jason Robards Belinda Conine . . . Mary Steenburgen Miguel Alvarez . . . Antonio Banderas Bud Beckett . . . Robert Castle Bob Seidman . . . Ron Vawter Anthea Buton . . . Anna Deavere Smith

By JANET MASLIN
Published: December 22, 1993

Philadelphia (1993) - Movie Trailer


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