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The thing with American Quilt, which you will especially notice if you have already read the book, is that it has a lot of contents to deal with in the ranges of a feature film. But Jocelyn Moorehouse obviously wanted to pack all the magic of the small stories of the women into this film, she wanted an entire quilt, full of bits and parts. It is only when understanding this that one can fully appreciate this wonderful piece. Fynn, escaping her partner and the life (marriage) probably unfolding before her, stays with her grandmother and -aunt for the summer. The serious young eccentric, a worried, messed-up hippie girl, confronts her future, her past and her present (dealing with gorgeous Johnathon Schaech chasing her with smiles and strawberries), when she dives into the life- and love stories told to her by the women in her grandmother´s quilting circle. The rest is magic. See the torture of love, the journeys of women and the revelations of grief and new beginnings, see what they hold dear, what will always stay with them, and learn what Fynn eventually comes to terms with: That life is not about perfection, it´s about balance, about putting the small things together, just like a quilt. So, okay, mechanically, Moorhouse really doesn´t have enough time for subtlety, and some characters and developments literally just fly by without any diving in. This will lead people to saying it´s superficial, but it´s not: It´s a journey, like looking out of a car window in another country: Just peeks. Bits. Parts. Parts of a quilt the movie leaves you to put together. If you do, like I did, it´s so moving and inspiring. Warm. The music of THE one-and-only Thomas Newman, the beautiful Winona Ryder, the charismatic ladies, the land, full of secrets and peace. This is what makes it special. Fast, but special. And the final highpoint, a literal "storm" that blows everything apart yet puts everything together, is a cinematic masterpiece, proof of heartfelt, imaginative work of both the writer and the director. They´re actually dreaming an ending together - just take this lovely movie in and stop bickering about reality. If you ask me.

I have watched parts of this movie more than once. The movie from start to finish only once. Each story unfolds like a facet on the quilt. Then as the main plot line draws to a conclusion, the thread that binds these stories together resolves each individual facet, to complete the whole.

Quilting as I understand it, is bringing many contributions together to create a final product. Each little design tells a story and the master quilter put's these stories together , to convey a theme or message.

I have not read the novel, but the movie conveys the message in it's title.

The soundtrack is tranquil and adds to the mood.

The interplay between Burstyn and Bancroft is a pleasure to watch. Winona is excellent.

Bride-to-be Finn Dodd (Winona Ryder) hears tales of romance and sorrow from her elders as they construct a quilt.

Is this a chick flick or something more? I think it is primarily a chick flick, as it tells multiple romance stories from the point of view of the ladies. But it is not a romantic comedy, which makes it deeper than the average chick flick. And the cast... wow. Winona Ryder, Maya Angelou, Claire Danes and the debut of Jared Leto? That has to make it worth something.

And actually, it was the cast that really made this enjoyable for me. I cared very little about the plot, and definitely did not care about the romances. Finn could be with her boyfriend, a foreign guy or whoever. I don't care who she picks. But the casting was excellent.

I have spent many pleasant hours mocking "How To Make An American Quilt" to friends, but at this moment I want to play fair. I'm sure that there are many things to like about this movie and that somehow they escaped my notice. For me it was never more than a series of plot devices stitched together (ha ha) to form an unsatisfying story.

Winona Ryder is always a pleasure to watch. I've liked her better in more irreverent titles like "Beetlejuice" or "Heathers". Still, she wears earnestness well, and manages to make bearable the Poloniusesque quilt speech at end of the picture (see the quotes section).

The supporting players should be every bit as watchable (with several centuries of acting experience among them, they ought to be). I wish I'd been allowed to watch them act. Their function was to sit in front of the camera quilting and say a few words of introduction before the flashback--as if they were hosts of a documentary.

I want to pause for a moment over Maya Angelou's casting. It's always a tricky thing introducing a famous person from another discipline as an actor. I call it the "Hey, you're Kareem Abdul-Jabbar" problem (based on the scene from _Airplane_ where a kid recognizes the basketball player in the co-pilot's seat. The joke is in how much time he spends denying it). Maya Angelou has screen presence, but does nothing to dispel the problem. My dominant experience watching her was, "Wow, they got Maya Angelou, world famous poet!" Maybe this was the idea. Maybe the filmmakers felt her famous presence would, in itself, add depth to the proceedings, so why muddy it with anything as messy as an interesting character? Her appearance was less acting than promotion. Maya Angelou wouldn't appear in a dog, would she?

Well...

The plot reminds me of a line Robin Williams had about alcoholics, "You realize you're and alcoholic when you repeat yourself. You realize you're an alcoholic when you repeat yourself. You realize, oh dammit." Each woman's story follows a similar pattern. Girl meets boy, sleeps with boy, marries boy, boy leaves, boy comes back--each time unconvincingly (I wonder how far any guy has ever gotten with the opening line "You swim like a mermaid"). The Alfre Woodard story is the only variation, and as a result, the only interesting one among them.

And of course Winona Ryder's Finn has a similar problem. Does she marry Dermott Mulrooney or does she go off with the local stud muffin. I call him the local stud muffin because that's all he is. The actor who played him didn't convince me that there was anything under the perfect I-don't-have-to-work-out abs that would compel her to do more than roll in the field with him. He wasn't a character so much a plot device meant to set up an obvious choice. Handsome rogue or dependable architecht? Given the way the flashbacks ran, take a guess.

There are more scenes to pummel here. There's the thesis blowing away in the wind (she's the only grad student I've ever seen with no notes, no paperweight, and, since she was using a typewriter, no carbons), and there's her random meeting with the Stud Muffin (who just happened to be hanging out in the groves with a picnic basket and a blanket for her. I guess this was set before the advent of stalking laws), but it would take too long to mock them all. The real trouble with the movie is that it was so earnest, so desperate to convince the audience of its poetic depths, that it wound up shallow, unsatisfying, unconvincing and unintentionally funny.

Or, to put it another way--never have so many, who were so talented, worked on something so ordinary.

A very moving, beautifully-crafted film. As I have not read the book, I am unable to compare the two. But the movie is enough: the acting is wonderful, although we get only snippets of each actress/actor. The message is wonderful, and the soundtrack is equally touching. I would recommend this to anyone in love, or making a decision about love. Inspiration is abundant in this film about a young woman about to get married and in the process of building a house with her fiance. As she takes the summer away from him to write a thesis and stay with her Grandmother and Great Aunt, she finds them in the middle of making a quilt for her wedding. She also finds a very attractive young man, tempting her to cheat. What follows are stories told by and about each of the women in the quilting circle. The young women discovers that love is not perfect, and that you must take advantage of what you have, and that there is beauty in the known.