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A few minutes into Finding Forrester, a young writer opens a book he's been writing only to find someone has read it and has even made some suggestions. At one point, he comes across a message that reads, `Where are you taking me?' I love when I'm watching a movie or reading a book and that particular question comes up. It rarely happens these days. Usually, I'm saying, `I know where you're taking me. Now, let's hurry up and get there.' Finding Forrester takes both phrases and combines them into one sentiment: `I know where you're taking me, but I'm with you anyway, because I like the moment.'

Gus Van Sant's latest drama concerns a young writer, Jamal Wallace (Rob Brown), who lives in the Bronx hood. The film opens almost like a ghost story would, where four friends dare one another to go and visit the neighborhood creepy-old-man's house. Jamal, curious as all great writers must be, takes the dare, walks into the old man's apartment, has quite a scare and accidentally leaves his backpack behind.

He returns the following day to retrieve it. Through the little peakhole in the door, the old man (Sean Connery) orders him to never return again. Jamal goes home to find the old man has read his words. Intrigued, Jamal returns to get more feedback from this ragged old hermit. The old man, named William Forrester, suggests he write a 5,000 word essay on why he should stay the hell away from the apartment. Not one to turn down a challenge, Jamal returns the next day with the essay, and there begins an unlikely friendship between the two faster than you can say Scent Of A Woman.

Jamal also deals with problems at school. His teachers and faculty see him as an enigma. He tests well, but his grades have been low. He plays basketball with the grace and wisdom of Michael Jordan, and he writes like Hemingway, but he also has limited income and little opportunity. An upscale Academy wants him to join their school, all expenses paid. There, he befriends a young girl, Claire (Anna Paquin), and catches the skeptical eye of Professor Crawford (F. Murray Abraham).

Meanwhile, Jamal receives writing lessons of life from Forrester, who has only written one book, but it has been studied in high school and colleges for the past 50 years. In turn for the writing lessons, Jamal teaches Forrester to step out of the apartment once in a while for some fresh air. Forrester insists early on, `What we write in this house, stays in this house.' At this point, you know where the film will take you.

The magic of Finding Forrester comes from the chemistry of the two leads. Films such as this usually do sink or swim on chemistry, and here it basically takes center stage with its otherwise thin storyline. Forrester, in his best role since The Rock (of which it may seem eerily similar), does not upstage newcomer Rob Brown. The two give each other equal time on the playing field, each one winning their share of arguments and one-two punches. They argue the use of `and' and `but' in literature. They compete against each other while watching Jeopardy. Eventually, of course, a bond breaks, and Jamal `is sick of all these lessons,' and he leaves.

We wait for one scene throughout Finding Forrester where Professor Crawford and Forrester meet in a classroom. We know from the get-go that it will happen, and we feel certain that it will be near the end, much like Al Pacino's showboating in the aforementioned Scent Of A Woman. Unfortunately, Van Sant cuts the scene short by doing a montage of Forrester reading Jamal's words and the students looking inspired. I would rather have actually heard the words, so as to know why the kids felt inspired and why Jamal received so much attention for writing those words in the first place. Like this years Wonder Boys, Forrester would rather you concentrate on the writers rather than their prose.

The end also feels a bit tacked-on (I won't give it away), and Van Sant's use of the True Romance-sound-alike score sounds as though the audio recorders forgot to remove the temp track. Still, while Finding Forrester does take us on a familiar journey, it does not sell its audience short. The movie has sharp dialogue, smart characters and a desire to teach a few things about words and language.

But like all writers, great or otherwise, it could still use a few lessons.

We all have our vices. Vices make us complete human beings. We can surpress them and deny them, but we can't quite run away from them. Does it not strike you as a little humorous when someone looks at a menu, knows exactly what they want, but then decides not to get it for fear they will not only offend their God, but offend their own nature? Lasse Hollstrom's latest film, Chocolat, knows all about that person.

Juliette Binoche stars as Vianne Rosher, a chocolate shop owner who not only gets people to talk about their forbidden fruits, but also has the ability to make people happily indulge in them. She, along with her daughter, Anouk (Victoire Thivisol), moves into a quiet French village during Lent and opens her chocolate shop. The townspeople look in the window, admire the confections for a moment, then walk on by.

One diabetic woman, Amande (Judi Dench), decides to stay for a little while. Vianne puts a colorful ceramic plate on the table and spins it around. She asks what Amande sees in the image. Amande tells her and Vianne presumes to know exactly what kind of confection Amande would like the best. We could only dream of such customer service this time of year.

Amande's young grandson, Luc, an aspiring artist, also can't seem to stay away from the chocolate store, in spite of the wishes of his churchgoing mother (Carrie-Anne Moss). Actually, the whole town goes to the same church and it doesn't take long before the Mayor (Alfred Molena) has his say against the shop, since many of the chocolates have been carved into the shapes of naked women and have names such as Nipples of Venus. The chocolates also seem to be changing people's behavior. A sexless, joyless married couple all of a sudden can't keep their Butterfingers off each other.

The non-churchgoing Vianne eventually becomes the center of the town's controversy, but she soon has company after the arrival of the river rats, a group of Irish merchants who travel by boat to pawn off whatever they can, much to the dismay of the townspeople. Here, Vianne meets Roux (Johnny Depp), and they become fast friends and, well, you know the rest.

The story of Chocolat could be described in one sentence-Footloose, only instead of dancing, it's chocolates. However, in this film we have some magic realism to deal with. Unfortunately, the film does not quite develop its own `magical' ideas. It gets bogged down by the usual story elements an d sub-plots we often see with this kind of story. We get the battered wife who finds solace in Vianne's shop and we get the burning of a particular place (here, a boat) to further drive home the point that outsiders will not be tolerated. I would have liked a little more `magic.'

On the other hand, we do get some magic in the form of the performances. Juliette Binoche actually smiles and acts charming, as opposed to the sorrowful and pensive roles in which we usually see her. What a relief to finally see her carrying a picture with warmth, confidence and wit, as well as beauty. The guitar-twanging Johnny Depp (reuniting with his Gilbert Grape director), with a ponytail and an Irish accent, compliments her with a rugged look and easygoing charm that makes his fly-by-the-seat-of-his-pants character a perfect soulmate for Binoche.

I recommend stopping by the candy counter or sneaking in some Fannie May confections before the movie starts. This film does for chocolate what Big Night did for Italian food. In spite of its flaws, Chocolat makes for a far more rewarding and satisfying film experience than Hollstrom's last feel-gooder, the over-rated Cider House Rules. In the end, something about this film won me over. It could have been the irrisistable theme of great food being as close to Godliness as one could get. It could have been the sights of chocolates being created and turned into glorious, statuesque works of art. It could have been the enjoyable cast, each member dealing with their hidden anguish and repression. Or it could have been all of the above, combined with the captivating and alluring grace of Juliette Binoche.

We all have our vices.