Emma Is Not Quite the Expert Matchmaker She Fancies Herself to Be

As much as I enjoy Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice, my Jane Austen immersion remains limited. I had intended to read Emma before I watched any of the adaptations, but when the Gwyneth Paltrow version of this story about a well-intentioned but disastrously clueless matchmaker came up on Netflix, my curiosity got the better of me. I found this film, adapted and directed by Douglas McGrath, just as funny and romantic as I have come to expect Austen to be.

Paltrow is Emma Woodhouse, a young woman who lives with her cantankerous father (Denys Hawthorne), a man she loves dearly. With his resources, she is at leisure to enjoy whatever pursuits she desires, and she has no desire to change her status as a single woman. Indeed, she feels perfectly content, particularly when Mr. Knightley (Jeremy Northam), an old family friend, is around for her to trade verbal barbs with. However, Emma does not believe that the life of a spinster is desirable for most women, and after she has a hand in bringing together a happy couple, she decides to devote her attention to matchmaking. Unfortunately, Emma’s instincts tend to be far off-base, and her help is more of a hindrance and a set-up for heartbreak.

Her main efforts are concentrated upon her new friend Harriet Smith (Toni Collette), who truly does not need any help in this department. Harriet already has a blossoming friendship with a man who seems an ideal match for her, but Emma disapproves, considering him beneath her station and not wanting to be cheated out of the chance to be the vehicle for someone’s true happiness. The man Emma has in mind for Harriet is Mr. Elton (Alan Cumming), a preacher with a bubbly personality. Harriet’s insecurities are such that she allows Emma to influence her, but what’s obvious to everyone else is the fact that Mr. Elton is interested not in Harriet but in Emma herself.

Paltrow and Collette play well off of each other, with the former all poise, charm and maddening confidence and the latter a bundle of anxieties and uncertainties. Harriet is a sweet, rather dim-witted woman with a crippling lack of self-confidence who puts too much stock in the advice of Emma, who lavishes far more attention upon her than she is used to. Emma, meanwhile, is likable, clearly wanting the best for Harriet, but her meddlesome tactics are often exasperating, as is her blindness to the disconnect between her perceptions and reality.

Northam is appealing as Knightley, who is so adept at matching wits with Emma and is nearly the only person in her life willing to take her to task for her insensitivities. Cumming brings an affable, rather silly demeanor to Mr. Elton, while Ewan McGregor brings gregarious charm to the role of Frank Churchill, who turns up midway through the movie and immediately captures Emma’s attention. Probably the performance that amuses me most is Sophie Thompson as Miss Bates, a spinster with little money and a nervous habit of prattling endlessly and going into fits of high-pitched giggles. How Emma relates to this fellow singleton becomes an important element in the story.

Not having read the book yet, I am spared the task of drawing comparisons and bemoaning all of the intricate subplots that no doubt had to be left out. Simply on its own merits, I found this 1996 version of Emma to be a funny, well-acted, visually satisfying film about the dangers of playing around with other people’s hearts.

Miss Potter: Long Before Harry, Beatrix Wove Her Magic

Over the summer, I was chatting with my grandma, and she told me that she had just seen a wonderful movie by the name of Miss Potter and that I really ought to check it out when I got the chance. As it happened, I already had intended to investigate the biopic of Beatrix Potter, who's been a favorite of mine since I was introduced to Peter Rabbit as a tender toddler, but the endorsement of my grandma, who rarely enjoys movies, made me even more intrigued. Now that I've finally watched it, I can emphatically echo her opinion.

Miss Potter, written by Richard Maltby Jr. and directed by Chris Noonan, introduces us to the lively, delightfully eccentric Beatrix (Renee Zellweger) as a woman in her early thirties who still lives with her encouraging father (Bill Patterson) and restrictive mother (Barbara Flynn), who insists she be accompanied constantly by an elderly chaperone. As the film opens, Beatrix's only friends are imaginary, an assortment of charming rabbits, ducks and other domestic farm animals that will look familiar to anyone who ever picked up one of her tiny volumes. We see them as she does, not relegated to the page as she has arranged them but taking on lives of their own, blinking their bright little eyes, twitching their wispy whiskers, waddling across the page with a cheeky flap of the wings. These characters become real to her, and she is determined to let the rest of the world fall in love with them as well.

Her task is not initially an easy one. Though she has honed her skills as an artist and storyteller for years, as we see in flashbacks to a childhood spent blissfully roaming the English countryside and entertaining her brother Bertram (Oliver Jenkins) with fanciful tales, her classic story about Peter Rabbit is met with a sniff and a sneer when she approaches the stuffy Warne brothers, Harold (Anton Lesser) and Fruing (David Bamber), about the possibility of publication. However, timing works to her favor, as their idealistic younger brother Norman (Ewan McGregor) has stated his desire to join the family business and they need a throwaway project to give him, since they doubt he will distinguish himself as a publisher.

Thus, a perfect partnership is born. For Norman sees all the enchantment in Beatrix's work that his brothers miss, and he intends to prove them wrong about the "bunny book" they would have cast aside. As the business relationship blooms into friendship, Norman introduces her to his mother (Phyllida Law), who is startled by Beatrix's spunk but taken with her nonetheless, and his sister Millie (Emily Watson), a free thinker who revels in her lack of romantic attachments and soon becomes Beatrix's closest friend. Meanwhile, Norman enthusiastically encourages Beatrix to write more stories for publication, and in her continued acquaintance with the gentle, exuberant young publisher, Beatrix begins to rethink her staunch stance on the virtues of spinsterhood...

I confess that I'm not always such a fan of Zellweger, but perhaps it's not so much her as the characters she has portrayed. I found whiny, petulant Bridget Jones hard to handle, and I saw nothing lovable about Chicago's dastardly, manipulative Roxy Hart. But I loved her role as the uncouth but hard-working and gutsy Ruby Thewes in Cold Mountain, and she's equally enjoyable here as the much primmer but no less spirited Beatrix.

Funnily enough, her living situation reminds me of that of Shannon Christie in Far and Away, portrayed by Cold Mountain star Nicole Kidman. She's a modern young woman at the turn of the century being held back by the societal expectations of her high-class mother, while her father is more understanding of her dreams. In fact, Mr. Potter once wanted to be an artist himself but never pursued it because it was not deemed respectable, so he appreciates Beatrix's artistry and helps her to nourish it, though he still is none too keen on the idea of her courting a tradesman, especially after she rejected so many upper-class suitors that her mother hand-selected.

McGregor is predictably endearing from the moment we meet Norman, with his eyes twinkling underneath his hat and his mustache extending to his deep-set dimples as he flashes a dazzling grin. Norman, as it happens, has a much better head for the publishing business than his fusty brothers suspect, but otherwise he has little in common with them. While it's hard to imagine them as carefree young lads, Norman obviously has retained his sense of childlike wonder, and what a happy gift that is to the world! I adore him every bit as much as I do Beatrix, particularly in a giddy yet vulnerable Christmastime scene that allows him to make use of his excellent singing voice with a fanciful original tune by Bright Eyes songwriter Mike Batt that is sung more completely by the ethereal Katie Melua over the closing credits.

Yes, Miss Potter is a love story, and a crackin' good one at that. But more than that, it's the story of one marvelously imaginative young woman's insistence upon embracing life's joys and sharing them with others, even in the midst of her own sorrows. Because as heart-warming and exhilarating as the film is, it's also tinged with tragedy. That Beatrix took the trials life handed her and transformed them into opportunities to bestow lasting beauty upon the world, not only through her beloved books but through her tireless conservation efforts in England's Lake District, beautifully preserved on film through Andrew Dunn's shimmery cinematography, is a true testament to her spirit.

Anyone who's ever smiled at the antics of Jemima Puddle-Duck, Jeremy Fisher or especially Peter Rabbit will love this story of how they were born. Wholesome and prickling with the best sort of enchantment, Miss Potter is pure magic.

A Pretty Impressive Capper, But Vader Should Still Seek Revenge for Defamation of Character

“Star Wars is the defining event of our lives,” my dad remarked to my mom on our way home from seeing Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. “The first one came out just as we entered adulthood, and the last one just as our kids are entering adulthood.” It’s a formidable thought. Nearly 30 years for George to complete his legacy. Unless he still has the triple trilogy in mind… It’s strange, setting up a series in such a way that everyone knows how the story ends long before it begins. We all knew that this third installment leading directly into the epic that started it all would be by far the darkest of the six. It makes for a slightly surreal experience, knowing that everything has to go wrong, watching in revulsion but stopping just short of willing it not to happen because you know it’s required for the glorious events of the original trilogy. In the end it begs the question: Did we really need these prequels in the first place? I’m not a hard-core enough fan to answer that question. But I recognize this is the end of an era, and I celebrate it by making it my 600th review – one hundred for each movie if you like. No matter what, you have to admit George Lucas had a pretty impressive accomplishment.

So, how was it? Well, I missed the mayhem of opening night, though my brother and our exchange student got in on the fun. My parents and I saw it three days later. We still had to buy our tickets three hours in advance and wait in line for an hour after turning in our tickets in order to be assured decent seats. Aside from a few light sabers, ours was not a costumed audience. Only one man had the full regalia, a fellow who’d been there for the first showing (and maybe every night after) in his $2700 Darth Vader costume. I want one. Not really. I’d rather have a life-size R2-D2. Anyway, we were treated to a rather unusual occurrence that night. Just before the previews were about to start, the lights went up and a man, armed with the disclaimer that he had nothing to do with the movie, announced that he was attending with his girlfriend, who was very special to him, and he requested that she join him in front of the screen. Then he proceeded to get down on one knee and propose, and her affirmative answer was met with rapturous applause. Oddly enough, I think it was the loudest applause of the night…

Trouble is, Revenge of the Sith is rarely a movie that makes you cheer. It’s like a Shakespearean tragedy, with Anakin (Hayden Christiansen) in the spot occupied by Othello and MacBeth and other anti-heroes who leave the audience groaning and thinking again and again, You moron! Anakin is a decent guy at the start of the film, teaming up with master Obi-Wan Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) to battle evil robots while rushing to the defense of indispensable little R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) when his mentor maligns him. His passion is his undoing, however. In spite of Yoda’s warnings to release himself from attachment to anything he fears to lose, he is increasingly driven by paranoia brought on by a series of disturbing dreams about his beloved secret bride Padme (Natalie Portman). Christiansen doesn’t bug me as much in this movie as he did in Attack of the Clones, but he’s still too moody and whiny to be very likable, or very impressive. I can put up with Luke’s petulance at the outset of A New Hope; at least he comes across as a sweet guy. I don’t know how I wanted Anakin to be, but I think I preferred having his origins ambiguous. Darth Vader is arguably the most formidable movie villain in cinematic history, and I find him cheapened by an inadequate history. And while we are supposed to believe that the intensity of his love for Padme is so great that he is willing to all but destroy the Jedi order to ensure her safety, they always seem wooden in their scenes together. It doesn’t help that they’re still hampered by the occasional excruciating dialogue. If my husband had just told me that he wanted to take over the galaxy, I’d like to think I could have come up with something more useful to say than “You’re breaking my heart.”

If Christiansen still lacks chemistry with Portman, he demonstrates it with McGregor. They kick off the film together with a dizzying action sequence at the conclusion of which a light-hearted conversation between Obi-Wan and Anakin reveals just a hint of jealousy that the padawan is outranking his teacher. Theirs is a relationship torn by the tension between affection and ambition. For the most part, we do get the sense Obi-Wan accepts the notion that he is training a Jedi who will become more powerful than him and resents the fact that other members of the council find Anakin less than trustworthy. Anakin, however, is less generous, always grumbling about Obi-Wan standing in the way of what he wants to do. It doesn’t take him long to abandon concern for his master. As Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) leads him further down the path of corruption, Obi-Wan looks more and more like the enemy. McGregor helms most of the film’s truly emotional scenes, most notably the culmination of their climactic battle in which an agonized Obi-Wan is forced to admit once and for all that he has lost his padawan forever. We see a great deal more from McGregor this time around, and I would classify him as a much better actor than Christiansen. It’s just a shame that one of the most beloved Star Wars characters was played by two different actors who’ve seemed almost resentful of the fact that they were involved. I suspect McGregor’s recent comments on his fans may have alienated a few people; I guess he has a hunch now how Sir Alec Guinness felt.

I found it very hard to feel sorry for Anakin throughout the film, even if his initial motivation was noble. It’s sad to see him manipulated by Palpatine, who is perhaps the true star of the film as McDiarmid takes him from benign presence who nonetheless seems to possess a slightly sinister air to fully disclosed evil emperor. But it seems good judgment should have tipped him off early on that Palpatine was up to no good. He recoils at Palpatine’s request to kill Count Dooku (Christopher Lee, who must be getting tired of playing second-tier villains with somewhat embarrassing death scenes) and refuses to acquiesce to his demand that – supposedly in the interests of time – they leave Obi-Wan behind. But apparently there are years of influence at work that we don’t see on screen. Palpatine is truly frightening for most of the film, evoking a moral crisis in Anakin, particularly when he announces his familiarity with the dark side and offers to pass on his knowledge. I found the altercation in the theater unsatisfactory on Christiansen’s end, or at least whoever wrote the dialogue. Palpatine’s fine, but Anakin again seems stiff and unconvincing. The scene sets us up for the moment that should demonstrate to him once and for all that this guy is extremely bad news but instead seems to eradicate any trace of a decent human being in young Skywalker. Perhaps he sees himself as party to such a calamity that he already deems himself irredeemable. All he supposedly cares about now is Padme, though once he begins to carry out Palpatine’s orders it can hardly be said that thoughts of her have any influence over his actions. The last indication in the film that she still means anything to him is so excruciating, one wonders how James Earl Jones could have been convinced to decimate his dignity by agreeing to it.

Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson) embodies the struggle for the Jedi to remain relevant in a time of great change. He is a formidable force, rather like the man who plays him. I find it amusing that he talked Lucas into giving him a purple light saber so he’d stand out and that he actually included a stipulation in his contract that his character had to have a noteworthy death scene. Visually, it’s pretty riveting. Emotionally, it’s the turning point of the whole film. Yoda (Frank Oz) spends much of the movie hobnobbing with the Wookiees, and while I was looking forward to this aspect of the film, it didn’t really satisfy me. For one thing, I imagined the planet as an idyllic locale, and it might have been if not for the fact that it was a war zone. The Wookiees almost looked like Klingons with all their ammo and war decorations, and when it came right down to it the whole interlude at their planet seemed to serve little purpose other than to get Yoda out of the line of fire for a while. Chewy (Peter Mayhew) shows up, but we don’t get any sense of his personality except that he’s on Yoda’s side. So that was a bit of a disappointment, but Yoda never fails to come through for me. He’s one of my three favorite characters in the trilogy, all of which conveniently appear in the prequels portrayed by the same actors. I still prefer the swamp-dwelling Yoda to the more dignified personage of the prequels, but he’s still the same delightful character, and he radiates wisdom and heart in a film whose protagonist stands in sore need of both.

The droids are my other favorites. There is precious little to be seen of C-3PO, though when he is on screen he certainly attracts attention with his ultra-shiny new frame. Generally he’s a great chatterbox, and I could have used more of his silly comments. I was also rather perplexed by his appearance just after Anakin departs to subvert the inevitable altercation between Palpatine and Mace Windu. It cuts to Padme, and C-3PO waddles up to her, and then it cuts to a completely different scene. Those five or ten seconds seemed completely superfluous, and I was left with the impression that a scene had been deleted and due to sloppy editing or a teaser for the DVD or whatever, they left the beginning of it intact. R2-D2 shines in Sith, however, particularly at the beginning. He is as much a hero as Anakin or Obi-Wan in the opening minutes, and he handles his sticky situation with typical good humor. Most of the movie’s funniest moments involve him. When we bought our tickets, we received a complementary copy of Flick, a Cinemark magazine, and this issue focused entirely on Star Wars. One page advertises various available merchandise, including life-size cardboard stand-ups that come equipped with a chip allowing them to speak quotes from the movie. One of the figures is R2-D2, which begs the question, of what significant quote my favorite little garbage can-like being could boast. Still, he’s awfully expressive for a guy who speaks exclusively in a series of unintelligible squeaks, beeps and whistles, and you can never really accuse him of having a lame line.

So did Sith deliver all that I expected? I can’t say for sure, though a hunch still tells me no. Phantom Menace was a lot more fun, and I rather liked our feeling of jubilation as we exited the theater. It seemed the only appropriate reaction to the end of Sith was pensiveness. But it wasn’t any more depressing than I expected, and less violent than I thought it would be. It was visually stunning, though it lacked the beauty of Naboo as revealed in different forms in the first and second installments. The dizzying chases through space and sky threatened to give me vertigo, while Palpatine passed on the creepy crawlies every time he appeared on screen. Anakin, too, mainly in the horrific scenes following Mace Windu’s death that are as distressing for what they don’t show as what they do. The most tragic moment for me in the entire film was when a young Jedi, eyes wide with fear and trust, turned to Anakin for protection and received something entirely unexpected. In ten seconds, that young man packed an emotional whallop infinitely greater than what Jake Lloyd was able to accomplish in the course of an entire movie.

I won’t say that Sith impressed me as much as I thought it could have, but all in all it was a pretty affecting film and a mostly satisfactory link between Episodes I and II and the original trilogy. But I still think Darth Vader will never be quite as cool as he was before the prequels exposed Anakin as a character most undeserving of being the subject of a grandiose 6-part space epic.

Anakin and Amidala Are No Han and Leia

While I found some aspects of Phantom Menace to be rather disappointing, I still looked forward to the arrival of the second installment of the Star Wars prequel in theaters. The stirrings of foreboding occurred when I heard that the title would be Attack of the Clones - very B-movie-ish, if you ask me. As it turned out, the flaws I perceived in Phantom Menace melted away in comparison with its sequel. My brother tells me my feeble mind is incapable of grasping the intricacies of a plot he claims is easy to follow. Whatever the case may be, I had a hard time figuring out what was going on when I watched Attack of the Clones.

The bulk of the film concerns two separate plotlines. In one, Obi-Wan (Ewan McGregor) endeavors to discover the source of a poison dart used to kill now-Senator Amidala’s (Natalie Portman) would-be assassin. In the process, he learns of the existence of a clone army built for the use of the Republic, while the audience gets a bit of background on the mysterious Boba Fett. Meanwhile, Anakin (Hayden Christiansen) is left behind to protect Amidala, on whom he has had a crush since their meeting during the first film. Though Anakin is now nearly 20, Amidala still thinks of him as the child she last saw ten years earlier, while he yearns to be so much more. When she tells him, “Ani, you’ll always be that little boy I knew on Tattooine,” it’s the last thing he wants to hear. Tied in with this is Chancellor Palpatine’s (Ian McDiarmid) gradual corruption and the threat of Count Dooku (Christopher Lee), a former Jedi and war-monger. Several other threads run throughout the movie, and when I finished watching the movie for the first time I wasn’t very clear on all that had happened. To be precise, my feelings could best be summed up by the words of C-3PO in one of the film’s few funny moments: “I’m so confused.”

McGregor continues to do a solid but ultimately rather boring job as Obi-Wan. Not his fault, they just don’t give him that much to work with. He does have a few good moments with Anakin, including a pretty impressive speeder chase through the multi-level streets of a Las Vegas-style city in Coruscant. Maybe part of the trouble is that these people are a part of an established order and they always seem to know what they’re doing. There’s not the high level of uncertainty and trial and error that Luke, Leia and Han had.

But as in Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan is still one of the strongest characters in the film. Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson) gets more screen time in here, which he deserves, while Jar Jar (Ahmed Best) gets less, much to the satisfaction of his legions of anti-fans. There’s far too little of the droids, but they shine in their on-screen moments, as does Yoda (Frank Oz), who is afforded the chance to display some humor and get into a memorable light saber duel.

It should have been interesting to see the origins of Boba Fett (Daniel Logan), but the film failed to make me care. Or perhaps I was just too distracted by what was going on with Anakin to be properly moved by that storyline, which does build to a traumatic finish. Palpatine seems increasingly sinister and Dooku is appropriately intimidating, but neither made a huge impression on me. In fact, what I recall most about Attack of the Clones has nothing to do with the clones at all, but rather concerns the budding romance between Amidala and Anakin. I find it odd that Darth Vader is probably the most formidable, memorable character in the original Star Wars trilogy, and yet in the prequel he always seems to be the weakest link. I’m beginning to wonder whether an actor can be faulted for failing to impress when forced to deliver such uninspiring lines. From where I’m standing, though, it looks like Jake Lloyd was a lousy kiddie Anakin and Christiansen is a lousy post-adolescent Anakin.

He glowers his way through the movie, his dialogue stilted throughout. “Now that I’m with you again,” Anakin tells Amidala, “I’m in agony.” So am I, listening to him talk. What’s worse, Amidala falls for him. She spends the first third of the movie remembering him fondly as the boy who helped her out of a jam, the middle being creeped out by his lewd and very un-Jedi-like glances, and the end declaring her undying love for him. Where did that come from? Their on-screen chemistry is next to nil, and their romantic arc is barely believable. It certainly pales in comparison to the gradual development of Han and Leia’s relationship, complete with impassioned insults and several life-threatening situations. It’s bad enough for Anakin to be utterly infatuated with her, but there’s no reasonable explanation for her declaration, “I truly, deeply love you.” They haven’t spent enough time together for that, and most of that time sweet little Ani’s been acting like a creep.

Attack of the Clones is visually impressive, but there are far fewer beautiful scenes and absurd creatures in this film. Those that do appear stand out, particularly Dex, a greasy but cuddly cafe owner with whom Obi-Wan shares a companionable scene. There’s also less humor. Second installments in trilogies tend to be very dark and depressing, and aside from that infamous carbonite scene, Attack of the Clones is much more of a downer than Empire Strikes Back. Actually, that’s not strictly true, since we care more about the characters in Empire; Attack is more “blah” than distressing. Still, it sets a necessary stage for the third film, which hopefully will be the best of the three, though it promises a great deal of death and disorder. My favorite moments in Attack all involved Yoda, C-3PO and R2-D2, so Chewbacca’s presence in Revenge of the Sith is a good sign. Let’s just hope they get Anakin some better writers…

Dialogue Menaces a Masterful Prequel

For many years, I devoutly avoided Star Wars due to the traumatizing effects of seeing Han Solo frozen in carbonite at too tender an age. Thankfully, by high school I was well over my discomfort with the trilogy, so I could appreciate the excitement of several of my classmates over the films’ re-release in the theaters. When I learned that the rumors of a prequel trilogy would begin to come to fruition just weeks before my high school graduation, I was aware this was a major cinematic event. At some point, during the massive fast-food tie-in campaign, flurry of merchandise and early reports that the film would be sold out for several weeks, I began to wonder if it might be a bit too major. I didn’t intend to go anywhere near a theater during the first couple weeks of Phantom Menace’s run, fearing for my life. So when Dad came home from work two hours before the first showing announcing there were still tickets available for the first night, I couldn’t believe it. We found ourselves in the midst of a super-charged crowd of people, many of whom were in costume, during the second showing of the film. I find it ironic that I got in on the first-day Phantom Menace geekfest but none of the Lord of the Rings equivalents, but it was a rather exhilarating experience.

Was the movie worthy of all the hype and the nearly two decades of waiting? Well… Not quite. Some of the magic of the first trilogy was just missing. The special effects were absolutely amazing but overwhelmed the movie. None of the characters were as fully realized or easy to care about as those in the original trilogy, and I particularly missed Han Solo, who had no corresponding character in Phantom Menace. Of the new characters, Qui-Gon Jinn (Liam Neeson) is the one who impressed me most. Recalling Obi-Wan in A New Hope, he is kind and wise and exudes a calm Jedi aura. I was already a fan of Neeson before this film, and his performance here was one of the highlights of the movie. He seems a completely natural part of Lucas’ universe, and it’s a shame he could only be a part of one film. (Or could he? If Obi-Wan could come back as a ghost in two movies, why not Qui-Gon??) At any rate, he's a wonderful new character, and his lengthy light saber battle with Darth Maul is exciting and tragic. Also impressive is Mace Windu (Samuel L. Jackson), though we don’t see him much in this film. He also comes across as a natural Jedi. Yoda (Frank Oz), C-3PO (Anthony Edwards) and R2-D2 (Kenny Baker) all reappear and are predictably delightful, though even Yoda has been infected with the epidemic of over-seriousness.

Natalie Portman brings grace and warmth to the role of Queen Padme Amidala, a young woman with far more maturity and wisdom than Princess Leia possessed at the beginning of A New Hope. She also has more ornamental clothing; her ceremonial dresses and headgear are ridiculously ornate. In spite of her stiff ceremonial appearance, she is a fearless and compassionate leader, and her empathy allows her to form a bond with the young Anakin (Jake Lloyd) that will play a major role in their future. Not to pick on the little guy, but I would actually have to identify Jake as the weakest link in the chain here. I found him irritating, either too sullen or too cutesy. Whenever he was on the screen, I got more of an impression of him reading cue cards than actually doing any acting. His best scene was probably the pod race, a fast-paced little-guy triumph slightly reminiscent of the Herbie films, and the success of that scene had far more to do with special effects than acting.

Ewan McGregor is perfectly fine as Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t get to do all that much here. He speaks – and smiles – very little and spends most of his time simply shadowing Qui-Gon. And his Scottish accent is wasted in a role that requires him to sound like a young Sir Alec Guinness. But I really don’t have any legitimate complaints against Obi-Wan. And – don’t kill me – I don’t even consider Jar Jar Binks (Ahmed Best) a detriment to the film. Clearly, he’s there for comic relief, but the film could use some of that since its main characters tend to be overly serious. I usually found him funny, and my favorite moment in the entire film occurs when Qui-Gon grabs his tongue to prevent him from nabbing another piece of fruit and sternly admonishes, “Don’t do that again.” Jar Jar can be a little irritating sometimes, but not overly so. I love the whole Gungan culture, particularly their leader, and the underwater scenes are cinematographically the most impressive in the film. The climactic final battle is also a visual treat and recalls Return of the Jedi.

All sorts of bizarre creatures populate this film, making it even more visually appealing. The trouble is that while the visual aspects of the movie are meticulously crafted, the plot is less enticing than those in the original trilogy, and the dialogue is sometimes painful. Anikin particularly suffers from poor writing. His “yippees” sound completely out of place, as does his groaner of an exclamation of “This is tense!” Most of his dialogue sounds unnatural. Other characters suffer not so much from bad dialogue as a lack of good dialogue. The original trilogy was full of great lines. I’m not sure I could come up with half a dozen great quotes from the first two films.

Nonetheless, Phantom Menace does provide an intriguing look into the rest of Lucas’ big picture. It’s heartening that he actually did deliver the prequel trilogy he promised, even if it took him twenty years to do it. I’m thinking he’ll opt out of the triple trilogy idea, but it’s nice to get the beginning of the story. And besides, a third trilogy would require disturbing the harmony Return of the Jedi so gloriously restored. Does Phantom Menace stand up to the original trilogy? Not completely. But it’s still pretty nifty.

Kidman and McGregor Make Magic in Moulin Rouge

I am a great fan of musicals, so when I heard about the movie Moulin Rouge, I was intrigued, particularly since the musical has gone out of fashion even where it is most expected; Disney’s recent lack of musical numbers, particularly sung by a film’s characters, has been most disheartening. But Moulin Rouge went on my long list of films-to-see-in-the-theater whose contents generally are shifted to films-to-see-on-video, the latter of which has grown to an unwieldy length, and defiant loyalty compelled me to be annoyed with the movie when it swiped two Oscars from Fellowship of the Ring. But a hearty recommendation from a couple friends of mine and an assurance that I would finally get to hear Ewan McGregor’s fabled brogue renewed my interest, so when my brother fell in love with the soundtrack last week, I was happy – until I discovered a hearty dislike for the songs he chose to play in mass repetition, particularly Because We Can. So when his infatuation with the soundtrack naturally led to a movie rental, I was a bit leery.

I have come to the conclusion that generally speaking, I am a Bear of Very Little Brain who prefers her movies straightforward and able to be taken at face value. An overarching sense of serenity doesn’t hurt either. So I perceived the first twenty or so minutes of Moulin Rouge as an assault on my senses, complete with wildly flashing images and a series of frantically energetic songs equally conducive to epileptic shock. The headache these opening scenes gave me was not encouraging, but I noted with some satisfaction that Christian’s (Ewan McGregor) face during this portion of the movie registered a series of contortions alternating among bewilderment, awe and nausea. Ultimately, it was this idealistic young writer who allowed me to fall in love with the movie despite my reservations. Moulin Rouge is his story, one which we understand by the broken state in which we find him at the beginning has taken a great toll on him. My brother commented that it’s never good when a movie starts out depressing and then goes into a flashback. But this movie careens so madly between quiet, gut-wrenching tragedy and joyfully choreographed chaos that the audience often forgets the haunting, inversely prophetic image of Christian, a year after the main events of the film, sitting at his typewriter in obvious anguish. Though he remains throughout the movie as a device to move along the narration, he is easy to overlook once another flashy dance number begins.

McGregor’s earnest performance as the lovestruck naif charmed me immediately. His face is marvelously expressive, but I most enjoyed the glorious smiles he so generously bestowed upon the audience. With the all too serious Obi-Wan Kenobi as my primary McGregor reference point, I was startled by his dashing exuberance. While his gleaming teeth and boyish dimples brilliantly conveyed his joy, it was the task of his eyes to carry the weight of his most grueling scenes. Add to that the worth-the-wait Scottish accent and a smoothly satisfying singing voice, and you have a most laudable lead in Ewan McGregor.

But before I get accused of dissolving into fangirlishness – an embarrassment I only intend to allow myself when referring to Clay Aiken and Billy Boyd – let me hastily add that Nicole Kidman is equally impressive. I tend to get far less excited about actresses than actors, but I am perfectly willing to concede that Kidman is one of the loveliest and most talented actresses in films today. My first impression of her in the much-maligned Far and Away has been confirmed with each new role I see her in. As Satine, a performer at the Moulin Rouge who dreams of true stardom, she exudes cool confidence on the stage but lapses into vulnerability when Christian allows her to experience love for the first time. Her overly sensual antics towards the beginning of the film were a bit of a turn-off for me - though I had to admit her double-entendre-laced Tevye-and-Lazar Wolf-style scene with Christian was pretty entertaining - but when she displayed her true feelings she was a very appealing and sympathetic character. I was also impressed by her singing voice, especially during her wispy inner monologues and spirited duets with Christian. Its tone was very pleasing and seemed a bit of a throwback to a WWII-era singing style. It also reminded me a lot of Helen Reddy's voice in Pete's Dragon.

The acting all around was solid, with particularly noteworthy performances by Jim Broadbent, Richard Roxburgh and John Leguizamo. Broadbent portrays Harold Zidler, the nightclub owner who is by turns jolly and sinister but consistently over-the-top. His is a broadly comic role, and we get the impression he is constantly trying to keep things under control but never quite succeeding. His absurd performance of Like a Virgin with the Duke (Roxburgh) is a comedic highlight. Zidler comes across as a decent if slightly unscrupulous fellow. The Duke, meanwhile, is the most villainous character in the film, yet his ridiculous false teeth, pointy mustache, bad comb-over and irritating accent make him as laughable as he is creepy. And though we never want Satine to wind up with him, it’s hard not to feel a little sorry for this scorned wooer. The petrified facial expressions he offers in response to a number of musical assaults are hilarious. Leguizamo takes on the role of the Bohemian Henri Toulouse Lautrec with great gusto. He’s a wacky character whose cheeriness and romanticism make him especially likable. The role proved an unusual challenge for Leguizamo, as he had to present the appearance of being less than five feet tall.

Moulin Rouge is a musical, but it is unusual in that most of its music is derived from other sources. The film pays tribute to dozens of films with both the music used and the way certain scenes are staged. I must admit to not being crazy about most of the louder, flashier numbers, though they are very well done. Generally, the more elaborate the choreography and the more people are involved, the sillier the song is. The number in which Christian, Zidler, Satine and the Bohemians pitch their play to the Duke is incredibly complex and quite amusing. I enjoyed hearing the film’s take on Your Song and several other classics, but I found the most powerful performance to be the final reprise of Come What May, the song Christian and Satine create to pledge their love to one another. The scene that accompanies it heightens all of the emotions that have been building throughout the rest of the film, ending in a sublime moment of triumph.

I’m all for happy endings, so there’s a part of me that says I would have preferred that Moulin Rouge drop the “tragi” in tragi-comic. As bright and boisterous as the film gets, it cannot escape the other half of its description. However, it’s the quieter, more honest scenes, many of which are associated with the darker side of the film, that I usually enjoyed the most, so I won’t complain that the film went on just a bit longer than was needed to give me the finale I was hoping for. Moulin Rouge is a unique film, and it takes some getting used to. I wouldn’t even necessarily trust your first viewing to give you your final opinion of it. Stick with it, and if you’re spending an inordinate amount of time scratching your head, watch it once again, with the commentary if you’ve got it. It’s worth the extra effort.