Aaron Eckhart Dazzles in No Reservations

This summer, Pixar brought Ratatouille to the big screen, and I've been itching all summer to make the trek to Tinseltown to watch rats preparing gourmet meals. I haven't seen it yet, but yesterday I got a sneak preview of another film involving the love of food.

No Reservations, a rare PG-rated live action film, is the benign tale of Kate (Catherine Zeta-Jones), an exceptional chef at an upscale Bleecker Street restaurant who has plenty of reservations. Her life is ordered by rules, and she thinks these restrictions are helping her to live a more fulfilled life. Her boss Paula (Patricia Clarkson) isn't so sure, and neither is the hapless therapist (Bob Balaban) Kate is seeing at her request, but Kate doesn't really begin to doubt it herself until two events turn her life upside-down.

While on her way to visit Kate, her sister dies in a car crash, leaving Kate with the responsibility of caring for her young daughter, the sullen Zoe (Abigail Breslin). Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Kate feels threatened by the arrival of cheerful, opera-loving sous chef Nick (Aaron Eckhart), who claims that his whole reason for applying for this job was the opportunity to work with her. Undeterred by her icy reception, he continues to let his goodwill seep into the rest of the staff until a turning point occurs when Kate brings Zoe along to work with her one day and Nick charms her with his ability to get Zoe to smile and to eat dinner.

Kate doesn't have the foggiest idea how to be a guardian to this girl, but once she lets Nick into her good graces, she finds a powerful ally in giving Zoe a sense of normalcy and security. But how long can she keep her tendency toward jealousy at bay when Nick begins putting down especially deep roots in her kitchen? Will competitive ambition ruin this fledgling relationship?

No Reservations is a pretty typical romantic film, with touches of comedy and a large focus on the bond that develops between Zoe and Kate, as well as Zoe and Nick. It's refreshingly chaste, with very little profanity and nothing more intense than a couple of French kisses, and a jaunty opera-heavy score sets a nice, mostly light-hearted tone.

Zeta-Jones and Breslin both bring an appropriate solemnity to the film that blossoms into joy as they begin to rebuild their lives around each other. Balaban manages to make his brief, dry appearances enormously entertaining, and Bryan F. O'Bourne plays the role of smitten neighbor Sean with understated sweetness. But it's Eckhart who really steals the show, with childlike, guileless enthusiasm. And his Viggo Mortensen-esque looks only sweeten the deal...

You won't find a terribly complex plot in this family-friendly film directed by Scott Hicks. You'll see most of the key scenes coming long before they happen. Though the movie begins with a death and includes a hefty dose of romance, it's unlikely to plumb your emotional depths very far. But it's the sort of flick that is just the ticket for a pleasant evening out, and I have no reservations about recommending it.

The Saga Concludes With Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

I type these words with a heavy heart: The Harry Potter saga has finally come to a close. Yes, I waited eight and a half years for the last installment of J. K. Rowling's seven-part epic to arrive, but now the final page has been turned, and I'm left with an aching sense of finality, in anticipation of which I delayed my reading of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows as long as I possibly could. Obviously that wasn't very long; I couldn't risk having key plot elements leaked to me upon my return from our annual family reunion camping trip, during which I had steadfastly refused anything but a taste of a few tantalizing chapters, so I sequestered myself and, with little interruption aside from a night of fitful sleep, read straight through to the end. And now it's over. Rowling has given us a world to which we can return again and again, and no doubt I will. But I'll miss the thrill of not knowing just where the journey will lead.

In six months of re-reading the first six volumes in the series, questions bubbled up, the answers hovering just out of reach. Deathly Hallows resolves many inquiries while leaving others shrouded, ripe for speculation and imaginative wanderings. It is unique among the books, with Harry far too preoccupied with the daunting task he has been set to return to Hogwarts for his final year. And indeed, he couldn't if he wanted to, as Voldemort has infiltrated the school as surely as he has the Ministry of Magic, and Harry Potter is Undesirable Number One - the most wanted wizard in the world.

Ron and Hermione, his steadfast friends through so many adventures, remain with him at this critical time, despite his objections. Gone are the days of worrying about Quidditch practice, essays and love potions. Voldemort is seizing power, and Harry, Ron and Hermione can only hope to defeat him by living on the run and attempting to work out the cryptic clues left by their dearly departed headmaster. Though he no longer is among the living, scarcely a chapter goes by in which Dumbledore does not figure prominently. It is a book rich in revelations about the venerable professor, about whom we knew considerably less than we thought.

With flashbacks, second-hand memories and excerpts from books and articles, we are deluged with exposition providing long-withheld insight. In Rowling's world, one can never take for granted that a character is just who he or she seems to be. Allies turn up in unexpected places; long-familiar names are finally attached to freshly revealed faces; both bravery and betrayal seep out in critical character-revealing moments. The usual twists and turns are intensified. I expected some of the developments but was blindsided by others. This is edge-of-your-seat, can't-stop-once-you-start reading.

There are deep mysteries to solve, thrilling action sequences, new characters to meet and old ones to greet warmly as old friends, never knowing, particularly as the pages toward the front of the book begin to outnumber those to the back, when some beloved character will speak for the last time. Rowling has drawn them all so richly that significance hangs heavily upon each death, and I don't think I'm giving too much away in revealing that her hint of two major deaths struck me as grossly misleading. I suppose I can guess at which two were singled out as "major," but each one is a crippling blow. We've reached all-out war by the seventh book, and Rowling doesn't flinch in showing us all its ugly details.

That isn't to say, however, that all is death and despair as the intrepid trio travel, clinging to one another and accepting help from a variety of sources as they grapple with the enormity of their mission. There is light and laughter, love and life pulsing through the book as powerfully as ever before, even intensified at times by the very knowledge of the doom threatening to consume everything. Though we may not escape the sense of foreboding entirely, there are pockets of profound joy, of bonds of affection strengthened by adversity, of sheer, unbridled delight at life's simple pleasures.

Even more importantly, there is a powerful thread of goodness at the core of this novel. We see each of our heroes mature: Ron becomes more empathetic, Hermione more open-minded, and Harry... Well, he has a lifetime of learning to squeeze into one short year, and while some of his lessons are far more painful than the sadistic detentions with which Dolores Umbridge had hoped to subdue him in Order of the Phoenix, they steel him for his final battle, which above all else is a test of his will, of his spirit, of his soul.

Many aspects of the book took me by surprise, from the titular reference to the identity of the Hogwarts headmaster in this final year. The dark history involving the Hitlerian wizard Grindelwald caused my insides to churn; conversely, I experienced a thrill of ecstasy when Harry stumbled upon one of the last missives written by his mother. While I was pleased to see nearly every significant character from books past turn up at some point, I must confess I was startled by how little we saw of some of them.

After being singled out over the last two years as the character upon whom the events of the final book might well hinge, Severus Snape is curiously absent from the vast majority of the book, and his interaction with Harry is so minimal as to be nearly negligible, though just when I'd almost given up on him playing a crucial role in Harry's last battle, Rowling delivered. I just wish there had been a bit more dialogue between Harry and Snape. Then again, I also would have liked quite a bit more one-on-one time with Draco Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew and Petunia Dursley.

The trouble with the format of this book is that Harry, Ron and Hermione spend so much time in isolation, completely separated from the rest of the Wizarding world. As such, there aren't all that many opportunities for him to come into close contact with all these secondary characters, and since the bulk of what we see is from his perspective, there's little chance to explore them on their own. Because Harry is not at Hogwarts, we feel extremely cut off from what is happening there, and several characters who are omnipresent in other books show up so late in the game I was starting to wonder if we were going to see them at all. These latecomers make a powerful impact, however, particularly the formidable Minerva McGonagall and brave Neville Longbottom.

Still, there are stories that seem to drop. While we get a glimpse into the future with an epilogue, this post script spans only a few short pages and is insufficient to answer questions about what happened to all but a very few select survivors, and even among these we only learn the profession of one. And what of the magical world at large? How has it changed in the nearly twenty years since what should have been Harry's last year at Hogwarts? There's also the matter of the fallen, and those who bow out in the heat of the climactic confrontation seem neglected, with no time to linger on their deaths properly. I was especially disappointed in how little we saw of the aftermath of one particular character's demise, as it would have had an especially deep impact on certain survivors. We never really got to mourn this person properly or were given any evidence of a lasting memorial, which would have been all too easy to slip in.

On the whole, however, the ending is satisfying, as satisfying as any conclusion to such a treasured series can be. Beautifully written, with copious amounts of love and perspiration compressed into every word, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is more than a brilliantly detailed, expertly plotted adventure. It's sustenance for the spirit, and I have consumed it hungrily. Now I gaze at the eerie form of Voldemort's skeletal hands protruding from his cloak on the back cover, and a part of me wishes I could Obliviate myself and meet Harry anew, absorbing his seven-year quest for the first time. Countless others will take that journey, and they will find within the books' pages a layered tale that may just adjust the way they perceive the world. Some magic is real. Thank you, Ms Rowling, for helping to open our eyes.

While You Wait For Deathly Hallows, Enjoy Order of the Phoenix

It's a grand summer for Harry Potter fans. In little more than a week, all the questions that have been percolating for as many as ten years will be answered with Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Till then, we have Order of the Phoenix to whet our appetites. Having recently re-read the first six books, I'm especially aware of how much richer they are than any film adaptations could be, but with new director David Yates at the helm, the fifth installment in Rowling's saga manages in two short hours to capture much of the majesty of the book.

Yes, it's ironic that the longest book should become the shortest movie, and I won't pretend I wouldn't have preferred an extra half-hour or so. But the streamlined approach taken by screenwriter Michael Goldenberg moves the action along quickly without sacrificing a great deal of significant content. For instance, the movie was nearly over before it occurred to me that we'd never seen a Quidditch match. While I missed the sense of staff solidarity present in the book, I didn't mind the near-exclusion of classes other than Defense Against the Dark Arts, particularly since other classes are entertainingly represented in a series of cleverly inter-cut scenes demonstrating the extent to which the sweetly villainous Dolores Umbridge (Imelda Staunton) has begun to overtake the school, and I won't argue with the decision once again to transfer Dobby's contributions to Neville (Matthew Lewis).

Other omissions are more glaring. Harry's (Daniel Radcliffe) angst, so prevalent and poisonous throughout much of the fifth book, appears only fleetingly in the film; gone entirely is Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione's (Emma Watson) appointment as Prefects, and thus the conflict arising from that. Rita Skeeter is absent, along with Nearly Headless Nick; while I expected he might be cut, there was one scene between him and Harry I'd especially hoped to see, or at least have alluded to. Other characters, like Ginny (Bonnie Wright) and Percy (Chris Rankin), show up but do so little their inclusion almost seems pointless; I especially feel for Ginny, whose only moment that feels noteworthy is casting a wistful glance at Harry as he stays behind after a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson to put in some yuletide snogging with Cho (Katie Leung), the deterioration of whose relationship with Harry is sped up with one character-defining moment that deviates considerably from the book.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. This film finds Harry in his fifth year, haunted by visions of Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes). The target of widespread scorn thanks to a relentless smear campaign by The Daily Prophet, he is often frustrated and depressed despite successfully avoiding expulsion for using magic to defend himself from a pair of Dementors. It seems the only person who really understands him these days is his fugitive godfather Sirius (Gary Oldman), who is warm and paternal but tends to regard Harry almost as the reincarnation of his best friend James. But then Hermione proposes a secret organization in which Harry will teach defensive magic to students who believe his story about Voldemort's return, and with a renewed sense of purpose he steps into the role of teacher, even as he fails to apply himself properly in private lessons with Professor Snape (Alan Rickman) intended help him to guard his mind against invasion. He knows it's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord will strike again. But when?

Visually, the film is incredibly appealing, and I admire Yates' creativity in covering a lot of ground in a very short time. In several montages accompanied by sprightly music, we see how the different professors react to the ever-smiling Umbridge, who is one of the most truly foul characters ever to grace the screen, and watch as curmudgeonly caretaker Argus Filch (David Bradley) gleefully acts as her henchman. Headlines and moving pictures from The Daily Prophet swirl artfully before the eyes, lingering just long enough to disseminate needed exposition.

This film feels more contemporary than the others, mostly because we seem to spend so much time in the city. The headquarters of the titular group of witches and wizards working to bring down the renewed Voldemort is located in London, as is the Ministry of Magic, so we have several stirring shots of the lit-up buildings whizzing past as Harry and his companions take to the skies. While the urban settings come to life, the Hogwarts grounds seem strangely drab, lifeless as though in the midst of a drought.

There are many feasts for the eyes, as when Number 12 Grimmauld Place suddenly appears in the midst of a mundane series of dwellings or when Filch teeters on ever taller and more precarious ladders to pound the latest Ministry decree into a wall already displaying dozens of them. Umbridge is brimming with eye-catching possibilities, from her grotesquely girlish office walls adorned with mewing kittens to the Dark Arts primers that bear a suspicious resemblance to Dick and Jane readers, as are the climactic scenes in the Department of Mysteries involving wayward spells and shattered glass.

Also impressive is the execution of the secret meetings of Harry's club, during which spells ricochet around the room in bursts of sound and color. The Patronus lesson is especially awe-inspiring. But perhaps the most exhilarating spectacle involves a grand gesture by Fred and George (James and Oliver Phelps); while it comes off a bit differently than in the book, it's an adrenaline rush nonetheless, the culmination of a very satisfying role for the twins in what could be their last film. Earlier, they stir up laughter when they Apparate ridiculously short distances or share their not-yet-perfected wares with unsuspecting students. I was hoping their prominence in this film would be retained, and on this score I was immensely gratified.

The children are all noticeably older; Hermione in particular has blossomed into a mature beauty, and she takes the initiative throughout the movie, particularly when her quick thinking lands Umbridge in a sticky situation, a scene which garnered many hearty guffaws. The tiny glimmer of connection that exists between her and Hagrid's (Robbie Coltrane) half-brother Grawp (Tony Maudsley) in the book is deepened in the film, and in coy moments with Ron she displays a readiness for a change in their relationship. Ron, meanwhile, is spared some of the goofy dialogue that has marred his role in earlier films, and Harry, with his closely cropped hair, looks older than he acts, though he shoulders the burdens thrust upon him remarkably well.

Draco Malfoy (Tom Felton) revels in his inclusion in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, and Seamus (Devon Murray) is briefly spotlighted as one of the students slow to believe Harry's account of his deadly encounter with Voldemort. I can't decide whether I'm happy with Neville. His affinity for herbology receives a nod as he clutches his mimbulus mimbletonia early in the film, but he never tells us what it is; we see a picture of his parents, and in an intimate scene, he quietly explains to Harry the effect their torture at the hands of Death Eaters has had on him, yet his touching visit with them at St. Mungo's gets left out. Curiously, Neville doesn't seem able to see the Thestrals, whose inclusion is otherwise well handled, particularly in an added scene involving a foal. Even more strangely, when we hear the prophecy, the wording is generalized so that compelling tie between Neville and Harry is lost. While I can overlook other changes, I confess I find this alteration distressing and one of the key reasons the ending pleased me less than the majority of the movie did. My only complaint with dreamy Luna, portrayed with refreshing candor by fledgling actress Evanna Lynch, is that she stops just short of providing further insight into the Veil we see in the Department of Mysteries.

Indeed, anyone who hasn't read the book might not catch the import of that briefly viewed doorway, and that's only one aspect of the showdown at the Ministry and its aftermath that feels glossed over. Three nefarious nemeses offer assault on Harry and his friends. Silky Lucius Malfoy (Jason Isaacs) serves as an antagonistic figurehead, while deranged Bellatrix LeStrange (Helena Bonham-Carter) cackles her way through her few lines. When Voldemort himself finally turns up, squaring off against Dumbledore, the effect is bone-chilling, particularly when he inhabits Harry's body in a bizarre sequence that suggests a temporary triumph belonging more to the teenager than to his headmaster. While I'm happier with Michael Gambon's performance here than in Goblet of Fire, he just doesn't quite seem like Dumbledore to me, and his post-crisis chat with Harry is disappointingly passionless and unenlightening, though the blame for this lies primarily with the screenplay, which leaves too many loose ends and denies Harry the cathartic experience of ransacking his patient headmaster's office.

The rest of the adults are effective if underused: woebegone, thick-lensed Trelawney (Emma Thompson); sibilant, sarcastic Snape; incensed, sympathetic McGonagall (Maggie Smith); brawny, idealistic Hagrid; doting, overprotective Molly (Julie Walters); wide-eyed, encouraging Arthur (Mark Williams); formidable, serene Kingsley (George Harris); wacky, ultra-vigilant Moody (Brendan Gleeson); wise, disheveled Lupin (David Thewlis); disbelieving, bureaucratic Fudge (Robert Hardy); spunky, appearance-changing Tonks (Natalia Tena). The only one who seems a bit off is tiny professor Flitwick (Warwick Davis), who strikes me as far too young and not quite cheerful enough, aside from his much-appreciated note of approval for the antics of Fred and George.

It's inevitable that the paring down of a 900-page book into a two-hour movie will leave any fan bemoaning certain losses, but with the exception of aspects of the ending, I found Order of the Phoenix quite accomplished and much funnier than I expected, given the oppressive trailers. The series has a way of running through nearly as many directors as Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, but it looks like Yates is on board for Half-Blood Prince. If he exercises the same degree of care there and perhaps allows himself a little longer running time, the sixth could well be the finest installment yet. Of the two major Harry Potter events of the summer, the release of the seventh book is by far the more exciting, but whether they catch it before the book to take the edge off the wait or after to ease the pain of the saga ending, The Order of the Phoenix is an impressive cinematic achievement in which Potter fans should rejoice.

Compassion Compels Cusick's Christ in The Gospel of John

Back in 2004, I debated whether I would be shirking my duty as a Christian filmgoer if I failed to attend a showing of Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ. While I applauded Gibson's determination to craft a film that conveys the extent of Christ's sacrifice, I just didn't think I could stomach watching Jesus take an R-rated beating for three hours, so I passed, though I observed the furor with interest. While articles weighing in on the movie flooded the papers, a quieter film slipped in, scarcely noticed as it stood in the shadow of this long-anticipated epic. What little I read about Philip Saville's The Gospel of John spoke of it favorably enough to pique my interest, but if it ever landed at theaters in Erie, I missed it, and soon I'd forgotten it entirely.

Then, earlier this year, I was visiting the MySpace page of a particularly ardent fan of LOST's Desmond when I saw several stills from The Gospel of John featuring a strangely familiar-looking Jesus. I crinkled my forehead, registering the connection, and rushed to imdb to confirm it. Sure enough, right there on the cast list was Henry Ian Cusick, whose name wouldn't have made a blip on my radar screen in early 2004. Three years later, it was enough to compel me to rent the movie.

Christopher Plummer as the narrator sweetened the deal, as did the PG-13 rating, which promised nothing so graphic as what The Passion had to offer. This week, I returned from the video store toting The Gospel of John, which an employee found for us in the special interest section after our own search yielded nothing. I popped it into the player with some trepidation, knowing I would view the movie differently now than if I'd seen it in the theater. Now I had Desmond clouding my vision, so I feared for my decorum and hoped that at least Cusick would not sound Scottish.

Helpfully, he employs a rather generic "Biblically British" accent, which is distinct enough from his natural speaking voice that if I'd been listening without the visual, I might not have made the connection. That's offset by the fact that in most of his appearances on LOST, Cusick, sporting only slightly less shaggy hair, looks very much like he does here; given the reluctantly messianic role the enigmatic hatch inhabitant has played since the season two finale, I wonder if Damon Lindelof and the gang were hoping some people would make the connection. That reluctance is all but absent in Cusick's performance as Christ. Though hesitation briefly flickers across His features as the crucifixion looms, throughout the bulk of the film there's a profound serenity about Him as He goes about his work, never in doubt as to the path He must follow.

Yet this is a very human Jesus, and there is scarcely a moment on screen when He is not reaching out a hand to comfort or gazing steadily into the eyes of an outcast in an expression brimming with both compassion and challenge. And He smiles, displaying more of his gleaming teeth in three hours than the generally morose Desmond has in two seasons. He exudes genuine joy as he proclaims, "I am the bread of life!" and shoulder-squeezing camaraderie as He selects His startled apostles. There's even laughter, as when He chuckles at Peter's zealous reversal from refusing to have his feet washed to requesting that Jesus also bathe his hands and head. Rage against the hypocrisy of the Pharisees is underplayed, as grimacing diatribes give way to pleas for comprehension.

John Goldsmith's screenplay is taken directly from the Good News version of the fourth Gospel, making this an ideal dramatization to show in church study groups. Because the Good News translation is more noted for readability than poeticism, Goldsmith may have missed an opportunity for some more artful wording, but I suppose he wanted to ensure that the film would be as accessible as possible. As it is, most of the narration is pleasing and the dialogue natural, with the exception of Jesus' repeated exclamation of "I am telling you the truth!" Although I long ago got used to the fourth Gospel's abundant use of the phrase "Truly, truly I say to you," that introductory clause is not nearly so conspicuous as the stand-alone sentence, which smacks slightly of desperation, as though Jesus constantly feels the need to assure His followers that He is not lying to them.

It becomes a catch phrase to listen for, much like the word "brother" from Desmond, showing up mostly in long-winded speeches, some of which are complemented by sepia-tone flashbacks in order add more visual interest. It's in quieter moments when we get the best sense of Jesus, as when He casually converses with the embittered woman at the well, offering her the water of life, or when, after softly suggesting that those without sin cast the first stone, He waits for the angry mob to dissipate before forgiving the adulteress and gently exhorting her to sin no more.

It's hard to say whether we hear more of Cusick or Plummer. There's very little dead silence in this film; if a character isn't speaking, the narrator is, with a warm, rumbling tone to his voice that reflects his reverence for the project, which he expresses in one of the special features, as does Cusick, who explains that he tried to portray the Christ he grew up with. The only times the narration feels awkward are when Plummer explains something that was just said and then states, "This is why he said..." before repeating the line. It doesn't happen very many times, but there's a sense of superfluity to it that could have been avoided with the snipping of a few sentences. While Plummer usually isn't an interfering presence in the midst of dialogue, he is most effective in lengthy voice-overs accompanied by Miroslaw Baszak's stirring cinematography, which captures the excitement Jesus generates and the beauty of the natural world, even in the midst of dusty expanse. Especially impressive is the scene in which Jesus walks on the water toward his fishing disciples, the tumultuous storm around him subsiding with each step.

None of the actors from the extensive supporting cast are familiar to me, and there's the usual trouble of keeping the robed and bearded apostles straight when they are rarely directly addressed as individuals. Doe-eyed Stuart Bunce is charming as the devoted John, upon whom the camera lingers last before the credits roll, while Daniel Kash strikes just the right chord as bumbling Peter. The inclusion of Thomas' (Andy Velasquez) proposal to follow Jesus to Jerusalem and die with Him there provides some vindication for the much-maligned doubting disciple, whose reunion with Jesus is among the most touching moments in the film, while Alan Van Sprang's Judas is as shifty as I've ever seen him.

Stephen Russell's Pontius Pilate is initially formidable but increasingly faltering as he runs out of options in attempting to spare Jesus an unwarranted execution, while Diego Matamoros portrays Nicodemus as a man of wisdom and courage who stands up to his fellow authorities after becoming convinced of Jesus' divinity. Other standouts include Lynsey Baxter as Mary Magdalene, Stuart Fox as the man to whom Jesus restores sight, Miriam Brown as Martha and Scott Handy as John the Baptist.

For those intimidated by the film's three-hour length, the two-disc DVD includes a two-hour-long version, but I'd recommend the theatrical cut, which remains engaging to the ending that comes a solid ten minutes or so after the risen Christ's first appearance. The trial and crucifixion are not skimmed over, but we see the gruesome flogging only in shadow, and the nailing to the cross occurs off-screen, so the violence is kept to a minimum. Rather than emphasizing the agony of those scenes, the focus is on the "good news" inherent in the ordinary, extraordinary person of Jesus, "the resurrection and the life." Embrace it.

High School Musical Has Made-for-TV Written All Over It

Recently, a high school in my area launched a production of High School Musical based on the popular made-for-TV Disney movie. Mom and I had both heard of the film before, but reading the article about the play was enough to compel us to check out the movie. After two video stores failed to have it in stock, we found success with my 9- and 11-year-old cousins, who own the movie and were happy to lend it. I appreciate their generosity. But maybe the universe was trying to tell us something when we came home from the video stores empty handed.

From the moment High School Musical begins, it feels like it was made for television. Somehow I thought this one might be a cut above the average, but in fact it smacks of all the corniness inherent in most Tween-centered Disney shows these days. We meet our two young stars at a New Year's Eve party at a lodge, where both are on vacation with their families. Troy Bolton (Zac Efron) is a talented basketball player, as he pretty much has to be since his dad (Bart Johnson) is not only a former champion but his coach. Bookish Gabriella Montez (Vanessa Anne Hudgens) is used to sitting on the sidelines, except when she's taking part in academic competitions. But when the DJ in charge of karaoke at the party forces the two onstage for an impromptu performance, they both discover untapped talent... and each other. It's the last day of vacation, so they don't expect to see each other again any time soon, but then of all the high schools in all the cities in all the country, Gabriella has to walk into his.

Conveniently, her family has just moved into Troy's town, so massive coincidence places her and Troy in close proximity to one another once again, this time for keeps. And with their newfound singing abilities, not to mention a desire to spend as much time together as possible, the lovebirds defy convention and audition for the "winter musicale," which will be under the direction of loopy acting teacher Ms Darbus (Alyson Reed), dodging all sorts of obstacles along the way. Troy faces pressure not only from his dad but from his whole team, particularly his best friend Chad (Corbin Bleu), to "keep his head in the game"; after scheming drama queen Sharpay Evans (Ashley Tisdale) circulates news of the new girl's past intellectual victories, the brainiacs play into her hand and nab Gabriella for the Scholastic Decathlon. Throw in their own insecurities about trying something completely different, and they have a lot working against them.

Kind of like this movie has a lot working against it, but while Troy and Gabriella are fated to overcome their obstacles to not only nab the lead roles in the play but become schoolwide heroes in the process (come on, you knew that was coming), High School Musical never quite rises above the schlock to become something greater. I confess I'm baffled by the popularity this movie has enjoyed. While its main characters are likable enough and the songs are reasonably catchy, every single performance is laughably over-the-top, and the film relies heavily upon the very stereotypes it seems to be trying to break.

None of the acting impressed me very much, as all of the cast members seem to lean upon exaggerated expressions and whatever high school cliches best fit them. Especially onerous are Tisdale, who smirks her way through the movie with a hearty measure of rolled eyes, hair flips and simpers thrown in, and Reed, who delivers amusement but takes her character's eccentric pomposity to a scarcely tolerable level. Of course, she is given some of the most ridiculous dialogue in the movie to work with; while I've known people like Ms Darbus, it seems the writers were striving to make her unbelievable, as when, on two occasions, Troy and Gabriella show up two seconds after she has called for the next auditioners and she protests heavily that the opportunity has passed, or when she sternly tells a basketball-toting Chad that her homeroom is not a hockey rink. Sharpay easily manipulates her into rescheduling the call-backs so that they're the same time as the basketball championship and the academic competition; what's the point of having call-backs at all if the only challengers to the long-running leads (Sharpay and her brother Ryan (Lucas Grabeel), which seems a bit odd considering that most shows with a lead male and female role revolve around a romantic relationship) are unavailable to try out? Perhaps the point we're supposed to take from this is that Ms Darbus is stuck in a rut just like her pupils and doesn't particularly want to risk messing things up by casting newbies in her show, but the plot contrivances just seem a little too frequent and glaring for my liking.

Just as shaky as the writing and the acting are the musical sequences. Sure, these kids have pretty decent voices, but each of the songs looks unforgivably phony. There's nothing natural about the way they are singing; Gabriella may be casually walking down the hall, and Troy may be dribbling a basketball, but they both sound like they're in a recording studio, and we never forget for a moment that the actors are lip-synching. It's From Justin to Kelly all over again, from the overblown choreography and cheesy lyrics to the determination of conniving friends to nip an unlikely romance in the bud. It's also Mean Girls, as the students so rigidly divided into distinct cliques begin to come together, discovering that you can be both an athlete and a baker, a geek and a hip-hop enthusiast. That's a message worth imparting, but it comes in such heavy-handed trappings that even a cornball like me can't choke it down. I'm glad that millions of pre-teens have gotten such a kick out of this little flick, but as for me, I've seen dozens of high school musicals right here in my own hometown that have impressed me more.

I'm In Love With Uptown Girls

I usually can't stand the raspy-voiced Brittany Murphy, but I'm a sucker for Dakota Fanning, so when my mom suggested renting Uptown Girls, I hoped my enjoyment of the latter would outweigh my irritation with the former. Happily, not only was Fanning winning as always, Murphy was perfectly tolerable, and the story that developed around them was both funny and touching.

The titular girls in this Boaz Yakin film are Molly Gunn (Murphy), a 22-year-old free spirit who inherited the fortune of her musician parents after they died in a plane crash when she was eight, and Ray Schleine (Fanning), an uptight eight-year-old who runs through nannies faster than Jane and Michael Banks. Molly's world comes crashing around her for the second time when she discovers that the man in charge of all her money has skipped town and left her practically penniless. Suddenly, the girl who's never worked a day in her life, who's too scatterbrained to keep any of her appointments, whose cluttered abode is littered with candy wrappers and take-out boxes has to figure out how to fend for herself.

Molly scores the nanny gig after a first job attempt goes hopelessly awry. Her cheerful pal Huey (Donald Faison) pulls some strings, and she finds herself in the employ of the acid-tongued eight-year-old. While Molly is clueless about how to be a responsible adult, she's also pretty guileless, and her attempts to connect with her charge are genuine. But Ray, hardened after years of inattentive parenting, is a hard child to reach, and both girls have a lot of learning to do before they will be able to reach a happy medium.

Thrown into the mix are subplots about Molly's friends - the rather shrill and controlling Ingrid (Marley Shelton), whose friendship with Molly is tested when she offers to share her apartment (with strings attached), and Huey, whose affable manner makes him a solid source of comfort - and a romantic interest, an up-and-coming musician by the name of Neal (Jesse Spencer). Having become familiar with Spencer on House, I enjoyed seeing him in the role of a sensitive singer-songwriter, and I must say that I've never seen him quite so cute.

Among the smaller parts in the film are two appearances by Short Circuit alums, and as huge fans of that 80s comedy about a robot who develops a personality, my parents and I thought it likely that the director had been involved in that film in some way. I can't find any evidence to support that, however, so if the inclusion of Austin Pendleton and Fisher Stevens was an homage to Short Circuit, it must have been just because Yakin liked the movie. More likely, it was a coincidence. Also coincidence? The fact that Molly has a pet pig she gives to Ray after Ingrid refuses to house him, making this one of two movies thus far in which Fanning has shared considerable screen time with a porker.

After watching the deleted scenes, my mom observed that had they been included, this film would have been much raunchier. (Unfortunately, an inoffensive scene featuring the adorable Michael Urie as a dog walker was also cut, removing the Ugly Betty co-star from the movie.) As it was, it rarely earned the PG-13 rating; she was inspired to rent it after the recommendation of my uncle, who watched it with his 9- and 11-year-old daughters, and it was perfectly appropriate for them, especially since the bulk of the movie focuses on Molly's relationship with Ray. As a romance, it builds to a sweet conclusion, but the real focus is the way these two girls, in the words of the film's tagline, "teach each other how to act their age," uplifting audiences in the process.