katht

Sometimes our reactions to a movie tell us more about our own fantasies than Freud could conceive. How petulantly dissatisfied we are when our fictional characters don't act the way we think they should. How could that character make such bad decisions, be so cowardly and weak, lie to him or herself--and to others--so thoroughly and to such a fantastic degree? We righteously sit back and say, "I see everything so clearly! I have such good taste. I make all the right decisions. I would never behave that way. I would never fall into that trap. I would never come up with such a wild rationalization to torture someone I love. I would hide that evidence, close those blinds, lock that door..." Right. Keep telling yourself that.

Initially, this little movie seems to have the deceptive sweet and sour flavor of a romantic comedy, but it delivers more of the sour to those who want their fictional characters flawless as well as beautiful--or comical as well as homely. But that desire is cowardly as well as cliché.

The flaws the characters in "The Good Girl" exhibit are painfully human, and only those blessed with compassion and kindness can look upon the agonizing manifestation of these flaws and appreciate the depth, humanity, realness, and compassion the actors bring to the roles they play. You can open yourself to heartbreak as well as horror when Bubba pleads for Justine to save him. You can cringe at Holden's pretentiousness when he tells Justine that Tom is his "slave name." "The Good Girl" can, if you let it, give you the rare chance to love human frailty.

This movie is startlingly real, depressingly real, comically real. That is not to say it is not flawed. Occasionally, it drags. Its ending is curt and somewhat contrived. But the cast is brilliant, funny, pathetic, and charming. Likewise, the writing and directing that evoke such strong performances deserve kudos. (They evoke boring suburban Texas wonderfully.) It is small, intimate, and lovingly made. It's clearly for those of you who still think and feel at the theater.

I had high hopes for this Linklater film, but obviously more than my hopes had to be high to enjoy this pretentious dog. The ideas are lazy and sophomoric. (I saw Sliding Doors, which covered the same territory with a charming story, rather than just lecturing me.)

The animation was sick-making (literally). The only movie I've walked out of in 20 years. And I sat through the equally nauseating and pretentious Breaking the Waves.

This film demonstrates how a stage director can combine the unique atmosphere of theater with the stark realism--and fantastic effects-- of film and make a beautiful, moving masterpiece. The words are Shakespeare, the staging is fabulous, the costumes and sets are remarkable and memorable. Jessica Lange and Anthony Hopkins and Alan Cummings radiate. Seeing Titus leaves one exhausted and exhilarated, believing one has seen true, gifted, timeless film making.

Titus is one of Shakespeare's little-known, earlier works, and it is a violent, disturbing tragedy. The producer and director took incredible risks to bring this remarkable experience to you. I know you will be moved.