Nanny McPhee Returns to Weave Her Enchantment During World War II

Last year, Nanny McPhee Returns arrived in theaters, and while I’d enjoyed the first film about an eccentric nanny who works wonders in a household that desperately needs her, my primary reason for wanting to see the movie was quite silly. I had seen footage of the premiere, and I spotted Emma Thompson walking with a woolly pig. It was one of the strangest creatures I had ever seen, and I assumed that it was one of the stars of the sequel. When I finally got around to renting it this week, I confess that the pig was what I most looked forward to seeing. Alas, although it’s hardly customary to bring one’s pets to a movie premiere, apparently the sheep-pig was merely a personal pet of Thompson’s. At any rate, it played no role in the movie. How disappointing…

Although a small part of me kept hoping throughout the film that the sheep-pig would eventually show up, I mostly gave up on it early on and resolved to enjoy the movie anyway. Like the first movie, it finds Thompson playing Nanny McPhee, a frumpy, intimidating personage who arrives unwanted and begins to work her magic upon a group of unruly children and their overwrought guardian. She is the only character linking the two movies – except for the eccentric Aggie (Maggie Smith), an elderly shopkeeper. Aggie was just a baby in the first movie, so that tells you how many years have passed. Instead of the late 1800s, we’re now in the 1940s, and World War II hangs heavy in the air.

On an untidy little farm out in the English countryside, Isabel Green (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is waiting for her husband to come home from the war. She’s trying to manage the farm without him, but it isn’t easy, especially since she has three rambunctious children to contend with. What’s more, her cossetted niece and nephew have just arrived, and nobody’s very happy about it. Even worse, unbeknownst to her, Isabel’s brother-in-law Phil (Rhys Ifans) gambled away the farm to two rather terrifying women who intend to do nasty things to him if he doesn’t cough it up. As a result, he’ll now do just about anything to get her to sign away her property. Isabel could really use some help.

The setting is sometimes picturesque, sometimes grotesque. The surrounding fields are gorgeous, but the immediate area near the house is a muddy mess. If it were just mud, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but there is great reasons to suspect that this sludge is more malodorous in nature. It’s certainly not a welcome sight for stuffy Cyril (Eros Vlahos) and spoiled Celia (Rosie Taylor-Riston), and they are not a welcome sight for their spirited cousins, Norman (Asa Butterfield) and Megsie (Lil Woods). Of the five children, the most agreeable is young Vincent (Oscar Steer), whose primary role in the film is to be utterly adorable. When Nanny McPhee arrives, she tells Isabel that the children require five lessons. By the end of the third lesson, the children are no longer at each other’s throats. But can they work together to keep Isabel from losing the farm?

Like the first movie, the sequel is a bit over-the-top and silly at times but quite touching at others. The children hold their own among some of the giants of British cinema. Thompson looks a bit goofy spending most of the movie berating the crow who came with her, but she still carries herself impressively, while an especially wispy-looking Smith is thoroughly entertaining in each of her appearances. Completing the trio of Harry Potter alums is Ralph Fiennes, who plays Cyril and Celia’s father, a severe high-ranking officer who works in London. Meanwhile, Gyllenhaal must provide the film’s heart, and she quickly wins the viewer’s sympathy.

While the movie does not include a sheep-pig, several plain old pigs play a prominent part, and an elephant even shows up at one point. The latter is, naturally, part and parcel of Nanny McPhee’s magic, which works in unexpected ways and has far-reaching consequences. While Mary Poppins will always be my favorite mysteriously magical British nanny, I’m happy to see Nanny McPhee return to work her enchantment yet again.

In Bruges Rises Above Profane Brutality to Be Profound

Last night, my friend Dan and I had a media marathon which started with Bolt, the recent computer-animated Disney flick starring Miley Cyrus and John Travolta. Despite a few theatrical explosions, the PG-rated film stayed firmly in family-friendly territory. Not so our next movie, the extremely R-rated In Bruges. I'd seen the trailer months ago and had thought it looked interesting, and a recommendation from my brother increased my interest, as did a Best Screenplay nomination, so I readily agreed when Dan suggested we rent it, even though I had a pretty good idea of its objectionable content.

In Bruges, written and directed by Martin McDonagh, is the story of two hit-men, Ray (Colin Farrell) and Ken (Brendan Gleeson), whose boss sends them to Bruges, Belgium, after a job goes sour. Unclear on their purpose in being sent to this ancient city, they take differing approaches to their predicament. Surly Ray is determined to be miserable, berating the city from the moment he gets off the train, while Ken looks upon it as a paid vacation and giddily immerses himself in the town's rich history. Both men have filthy mouths, but as Ken wanders through the streets in a state of childlike wonder and Ray retreats into dour introspection, it's hard to think of these men as killers. It isn't long, however, before the film provides a stark example of just what it is they do for a living.

Initially, I found Farrell quite unlikable as the grouchy Ray, until a flashback showed exactly what had happened to make him so ill-tempered. We soon learn that he's new to this business - that he's only had one assignment, in fact, with a disastrous outcome. He got his target - but a stray bullet hit a boy in the shadows, a child he didn't even know was there. And killing a kid was not what he signed on for. As he struggles through his intense feelings of remorse and despair, his comradeship with the more experienced Ken deepens over the course of the next couple of days. In the meantime, he manages to make both friends and enemies in his meanderings. Though Ray wrestles internally with deep questions, he acts impulsively, and many of the decisions he makes come back to haunt him later.

As a Harry Potter fan, it was a kick for me to see three of the series' actors gathered together in the same film. The most prominent of these is Gleeson, who was fantastic as gruff, formidable Auror Mad-Eye Moody. Ken is similarly weathered from many years in the trenches, though in this case he's working for Big Bad Ralph Fiennes instead of against him. Ironically enough, the man who breathed such sinister life into Voldemort now plays a man named Harry. But although Ken claims that Harry has only ever sent him on the trail of rotten people, his boss, while more human than Voldemort and with an unwavering (albeit brutal) sense of integrity, is not exactly a nice guy. By contrast, Gleeson's Ken is almost cuddly. He seems like a soul too gentle for this grim business, and throughout the film, he faces several moral crises that make him the most compelling of the trio of conflicted baddies.

Unwittingly drawn into the drama of these three men are luminous native Chloe (Clemence Poesy, better known to Harry Potter fans as Fleur Delacour), who embarks upon a whirlwind romance with Ray; the dwarf Jimmy (Jordan Prentice), an American actor who befriends the lovebirds; and Marie (Thekla Reuten), the pregnant owner of the hotel where Ken and Ray are staying. Much about Ray is revealed in the way he relates to these three characters. Though I found myself frustrated with him for his tendency to antagonize people, he also shows himself perfectly up to the task of treating others with kindness and respect.

In Bruges is an odd movie that asks us to sympathize with murderers and cheerfully endure a barrage of profanity that includes well over a hundred uses of a certain colorful metaphor beginning with the letter "f". It's excessive to the point of ridiculousness, with the f-bombs littering sentences with the absurd frequency of "like" in a stereotypical val-gal's rambling speech. Harry, who doesn't turn up until fairly late in the film, is the worst offender of all, with about every other word he says an expletive of some kind. He is a harsh man, though at the same time, he holds childhood as sacred, and there's something undeniably tender about his reasons for sending Ken and Ray to Bruges, despite what he ultimately wants to have happen there.

Though it's not pervasive, there are several instances of graphic violence in the film: once in a flashback, and a number of times throughout the last half hour or so. In some ways, the movie is a comedy of errors, with several mis-steps and bits of bad luck contributing to an ending that is less than uplifting. The film is not entirely realistic. Though Ray talks of Bruges as a podonk, middle-of-nowhere, exceedingly dull locale, Harry refers to it as a place out of a fairy tale, and there remains a sense of everything being a bit off-kilter. Harry and Ken, Ken and Ray and Ray and Harry each have at least one conversation that is patently ludicrous yet somehow insightful at the same time. Marie speaks for the audience at one point when, observing a showdown between characters, she cries, "You people are crazy!" The combination of almost Monty Python-esque silliness with high-stakes drama makes for riveting viewing, and like LOST, the film is loaded with religious imagery and completely preoccupied with the notion of redemption, inviting several parallels with my favorite TV show (and prompting me to wonder if the shot of an alarm clock showing the time 8:15 was an intentional homage).

I wouldn't recommend this movie for everyone. It goes under the category of films that I probably shouldn't like, based on all of their unsavory elements, but do anyway because, much like the characters in this movie, there's something of great value buried in all that grit and grime. While I'm not a fan of the language with which McDonagh chooses to tell his tale, I can understand how the screenplay was deemed worthy of Oscar consideration. It's a very clever script if you can get past language, and quite touching if you can get past the violence. If you can handle No Country For Old Men and Hot Fuzz, both darkly comedic films that impressed me mightily despite being extremely profane and gory, then chances are you're ready for a holiday In Bruges yourself.

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.

I Don't Have Enough Patience For The English Patient

This past Christmas, my aunt brought several boxes of videos along with her to the traditional family gathering. Having switched over to DVDs, she was running out of space, so all those movies she'd taped over the years were fair game for the rest of us. We took her up on her offer, snagging 50 or so tapes. Among the movies was The English Patient, about which I'd heard glowing reviews, particularly during a college class I took on colonial literature. Going into the film, I was intrigued; coming out, I was confused, and after a great deal of puzzling, I'm still not sure just what to make of it.

The English Patient opens near the end of World War II when a French nurse named Hana (Juliette Binoche) takes a severely burned man (Ralph Fiennes) under her wing, letting her comrades leave her behind so she can care for him in what she assumes are his last days. He doesn't seem likely to recover from his injuries, yet there is life and spirit in him still. He has a story to tell.

So he tells it, in bits and pieces, and we watch his tragic tale unfold in flashbacks that show him as the handsome young Hungarian Count Laszlo de Almasy, who comes under the spell of a beautiful woman named Katharine (Kristin Scott Thomas), who is married to Geoffrey Clifton (Colin Firth). The Cliftons work with the Count on some of his archaeological expeditions, and initially Katharine and Laszlo don't get along so well, but their passionate sniping leads to passionate other things, and when Geoffrey finds out, life gets a whole lot harder for both of them.

Throw into the mix Caravaggio (Willem Dafoe), who shows up one day shortly after Hana takes on the role of hospice nurse. We don't really know why he's there, but he obviously has a deep personal connection to the man lying helplessly in the bed with bandages all over him, eerily prefiguring the faceless Voldemort, whom Fiennes portrayed in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Late in the film, we see first-hand what happened to Caravaggio to make him so bitter, and it's probably the most grotesque sequence in a film with its fair share of violent moments. It's one of those scenes that I would retreat to the kitchen for if I watched the movie again, my hands clenched over my ears to block out Dafoe's blood-curdling screams.

Creating a quartet in the present day is bomb disarmer Kip (Naveen Andrews), a Sikh with whom Hana becomes smitten. Polite and quiet, he treats Hana with respect, though her regard for him seems much stronger than his for her, at least initially. I've seen most of the members of this cast in other roles but was especially excited to see Andrews, since my only familiarity with him was from LOST, which, like Lord of the Rings, provided me with a long list of actors to watch out for in other projects. I enjoyed his role here, which was a bit less complicated than the others since there wasn't so much back story to deal with.

Oddly, three of the actors in this film - Fiennes, Dafoe and Jurgen Prochnow - have played Jesus. (Now, if only Henry Ian Cusick had made it into the movie somehow, we could've had someone who both played Jesus and stars on LOST...) I assume this is mere coincidence (especially since Fiennes' portrayal came four years after this movie), though the film certainly explores religious themes such as redemption and sacrifice. That said, I wouldn't consider any of the characters a Christ figure. In fact, while Hana and Kip are likable enough, I don't find Laszlo, Katharine, Caravaggio or Geoffrey all that sympathetic. We watch all of them endure great suffering, and we feel sorry for them, but... I don't know. The movie stretches on for nearly three hours, and the minutes tick by ever so slowly. By the time it ended, I was just glad it was over, and I can't say it had much of an emotional impact on me. The ending left me feeling cold, and none of the gradually unveiled secrets of the past made much of an impression on me.

I think this is the sort of movie that's best watched twice if one wants to get a proper appreciation for everything that's happening. Unfortunately, I doubt I'll be delving into the movie further; my list of movies to see continues to grow, and I just don't have time to re-watch films I didn't like much to begin with. It takes a very patient viewer to embrace The English Patient.

These Chums Should Scrub Their Mouths Out With Soap, But We Can Learn From Them

Watching a movie with my mom can be a very interesting experience. If it's an action-packed film full of narrow escapes and violent encounters, we can bank on her letting out at least three or four screeches loud enough to rouse the whole neighborhood. If it's a mystery, she's sure to spout several inquiries at the television or her fellow viewers as to what is going on. But I don't think I have ever witnessed her having a more vocal reaction to a film than she had to The Chumscrubber.

The movie came courtesy of my brother Nathan, who had seen it and raved about it. Though he knew just what to expect from the ensuing scenes, Mom and I had little idea what this indie had to offer. As it turned out, what it offered more than anything else was ludicrously incompetent parents. "Oh, my gosh!" Mom yowled, time and again, slapping her pillow in dismay as the adults in this freakishly perfect community failed to listen to a word their teenagers were (or weren't) saying. "These people are such idiots!" She was incensed. Furious. Livid that even in an exaggeration of reality the phrases "talking without speaking" and "hearing without listening" could have such broad applicability. But if Paul Simon had woken up one day in the world of this movie, he may just have thrown up his hands in despair and called it a day.

The movie revolves around Dean Stiffle (Jamie Bell), a surly, disengaged teen who turns out to be just about the most normal character in the film. After finding his best friend Troy (Josh Janowicz) dead in his room, his already dreary life goes from bad to worse. His psychologist dad, who's been shoving pills down his throat for as long as he can remember, keeps pressing him for his feelings in the face of losing Troy so he can incorporate his responses into his next book. Class punk Billy (Justin Chatwin) and his lackey Lee (Lou Taylor Pucci) torment him with re-enactments of Troy's death. Oh, and then they kidnap his brother Charlie (Rory Culkin) so that Dean will be forced to retrieve the drugs still stashed in Troy's room.

Except they kidnap the wrong Charlie: Charlie Bratler (Thomas Curtis), a scrawny tuba-playing geek who initially is rather amused by the proceedings, enjoying the change of pace, particularly the attentions of Crystal (Camilla Belle), a compassionate young woman who seems to be romantically attached to Billy but is growing fonder of Dean by the hour. So the plan seems pointless for a while until Billy refuses to release Charlie after repeated requests and grows violent after Dean delivers the wrong goods, thanks to some intervention by his real brother, who's such a twerp it probably would have been much better for everybody if he actually had been the one kidnapped.

While the film focuses on the journey of these young characters through a wasteland of sugary suburbia more garish than the neighborhood featured in the haunting Edward Scissorhands, what had my mom shaking her fists was the parents, from Dean's exploitative father (William Fichtner) and burnt-out, vitamin-obsessed mother (Allison Janney) to Crystal's mother (Carrie-Anne Moss), who is so obsessed with staying youthful that she competes with her daughter for the attention of teenage boys, and from Troy's mother (Glenn Close), who catatonically accepts casseroles while calling all her neighbors to assure them, "In no way whatsoever do I blame you for Troy's death," to Lee's parents (Caroline Goodall and Jason Isaacs), who refuse to pay attention when he tries to let them in on Billy's plot.

Worst of all, though, is perpetually busy Terri Bratley (Rita Wilson), who is so occupied with talking a mile a minute while she works out the overly complicated last-minute details of her wedding that she fails to realize her son is missing. She's so insufferable, it's a good thing she's balanced out by the delicate naivete of her fiance, mayor Michael Ebbs (Ralph Fiennes), who's been in a bit of a daze since the unfortunate tumble that introduced him to Terri. He recently experienced a sense of awakening, however, thanks to a book written by Dean's dad, so while he still seems confused, he wanders about now enmeshed in eccentricity and awash with exuberance, eager to share his newly acquired vision - which compels him to immerse himself in liquids and paint dolphins on the living room walls - with the world. He is easily my favorite character.

But Dean and Crystal are pretty likable protagonists, and it's up to them to break free of the constraints of their crippling surroundings in order to do what they know is right. So this maddening, often foul-mouthed, occasionally violent satire ultimately acts as a morality play. And if my mom's screams of indignation are any indication, I think they got the message across.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

Aside from a distractingly abrasive performance from Michael Gambon as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire is an excellent movie, with Brendan Gleeson and Ralph Fiennes compelling additions to the cast.

"It's Simon and Garfunkel! You Can't Just Turn Them Off!"

Last year, my dad and brother had the opportunity to spend an evening in Buffalo watching Beatlemania!, a tribute to the Beatles, which is my brother’s favorite musical group. Mom and I had acquired the tickets by chance when the two of us went to see Art Garfunkel in February; a local radio station had a booth set up, and I gave the wheel a lucky spin and walked away with the tickets. We only thought it fair to make Beatlemania! a boys’ night out to balance our February concert, but while Dad and Nathan were grooving to I Wanna Hold Your Hand and Let it Be, Mom and I decided to veg out for the evening with a couple of chick flicks. We debated a bit but wound up with two, one of which was Maid in Manhattan. Mom was especially interested in seeing it. I doubted I would strongly dislike it, but I didn’t expect it to thrill me too much either. While exceedingly high expectations sometimes lead me to think badly of an otherwise good movie, one that delivers more than I expected usually ranks high with me. I suspected from the movie’s opening moments that this would be such a film.

The film opens with shots of New York City set, I noted with excitement, to the tune of Paul Simon’s Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard, a lively Latin-flavored tune that also showed up in The Royal Tenenbaums. It captures the energy of the city well and also gives a nod to the ethnicity of the protagonist. I was just tickled to hear the song and thrilled with the opening dialogue between the titular maid, Marisa Ventura (Jennifer Lopez), and her son Ty (Tyler Posey), which reveals that the boy is a big Simon and Garfunkel fan. Now that, I thought, is one cool kid!

Ty is eccentric and precocious, driving much of the action in the film, including his mother’s first encounter with Chris Marshall (Ralph Fiennes), a senatorial candidate staying at the hotel where Marisa works. Chris is a very pleasant fellow, annoyed by all the special treatment his staff wants him to receive and refreshed by Marisa and her gregarious son. The only trouble is that when he meets her, she is wearing the luxurious outfit of a wealthy guest, a dangerous dress-up game initiated by her trouble-making fellow maid Stephanie (Marissa Matrone). They hit it off, but Chris doesn’t know Marisa’s a maid instead of a socialite and she doesn’t want him to find out. The whole story plays out much like Ever After, with the class boundaries, deception, confrontation, and eventual inevitable reconciliation. Not overly creative, I suppose, but I’m the sort of gal who can tolerate multiple incarnations of basic plotlines. I think Maid in Manhattan does very well for what it is.

Marisa is both timid and ambitious, an hard-working woman who wants to do her job well and rise to a higher position in society but makes a big mistake along the way. Lopez handles the character well, while Fiennes’ slightly aloof approach makes Chris come across as shy and kindly. I also found Posey very enjoyable in his role as the clever, match-making Ty, and supporting roles by Stanley Tucci, as Chris’ cynical campaign manager, and Bob Hoskins, the honorable head butler who sympathizes with Marisa, enhance the film considerably.

I must attribute some of my enjoyment of the movie to the unexpected presence of Simon and Garfunkel. After that promising beginning, I kept alert for any future references and was rewarded with Eva Cassidy’s exquisite rendition of Kathy’s Song toward the end of the film. The movie was not as much of a comedy as I had anticipated, but that didn’t bother me; too much of the humor in most romantic comedies I’ve seen lately tends to be crude anyway. I just found it a nice, feel-good movie with a happy ending and a nifty soundtrack. And that was good enough for me.

Let Us Never Forget

Oskar Schindler was a shrewd businessman. He was a womanizer and a Nazi. He was also a humanitarian. In Stephen Speilberg's amazing epic film, Schindler's List, the life of this unlikely hero is chronicled through a horrifying three-and-a-quarter-hour account of the Holocaust, in which six million Jews met their demise in the Nazi gas chambers.

The entire film is in black and white, except for a few key moments. This lends the movie a documentary feel and adds to the aura of desolation and horror that hangs over all of Europe. When color finally comes, it is first as a means of recognizing a child seen previously in the film during the storming of a ghetto. But moments before the conclusion of the film, it is a symbol of hope in the form of flames from the candles of the Sabbath ceremony performed by the rabbi in Schindler's factory.

Liam Neeson plays Oskar Schindler, a deeply conflicted man who must eventually decide whether to live as he has lived, seeking profit and going along with the cruelty of his political party, or risk everything to make a difference -- indeed, to save lives. His two best friends are the sadistic Ammon Goeth, a psychotic Nazi commandant played chillingly by Ralph Fiennes, and Itzhak Stern, his Jewish clerk, whose gentle wisdom and compassion shine brilliantly through Ben Kingsley's portrayal.

While the movie focuses on the ever-differing lives of Schindler and the commandant, it gives a horrifying account of what happened to the Jews after Hitler declared his plan for the purification of the Aryan race. The brutality and inhumanity which occurred during these years was such that a person watching this movie would be tempted to think that such a thing never could have happened, especially not in our civilized twentieth century. We must not succumb to that temptation. Six million Jews, not to mention several million other people who didn't fit the Nazi ideal, were systematically slaughtered in ghettos and death camps before the war ended in 1945.

Schindler's List depicts this mindless genocide in stark detail. This movie is not pleasant, and you should consider carefully whether your child can handle such graphic material; indeed, you may not be able to yourself. Prepare yourself, and prepare your child for the horror he or she is about to witness. I would not eagerly endorse this film for anyone under the age of thirteen, though I do think that younger children should be informed of what happened during the Holocaust. I just don't think they are ready to see it presented in such graphic detail.

Despite this film's bleak subject, it is not without hope. It provides a powerful testimony of the profound difference one person can make. Oskar Schindler bankrupted himself to save 1100 Jews. Over 6000 "Schindler Jews" are alive today. That is a powerful legacy. Let us never forget the horror of the Holocaust or the power of a person to bring a ray of hope into the darkest hours of human history. For "all that is necessary for evil to exist is that good men and women do nothing."