The Science Of Sleep (2006)

(Originally released as La Science des rêves)

Starring: Gael Garcia Bernal, Charlotte Gainsbourg, Alain Chabat, Miou-Miou, Pierre Vaneck

First, The Lowdown: An artist who spends most of his time in his own head falls in love.

Stephane has just returned to France albeit reluctantly after the insistence of his mother. Mother has promised him not only a place to stay (in the flat where he grew up), but also a job doing graphic design at a local firm. Unfortunately, the apartment stirs up too many uncomfortable memories of his childhood – especially of his father, whom Stephane moved in with after his parents’ divorce. The job equally turns out to be a sham, instead of being a lead designer for a calendar, Stephane is a simple paste boy for a pornographic datebook instead.

Leaving for work one day, he encounters his next door neighbor, Stephanie and her best friend Christine. Stephane is initially attracted to Christine, but the more he talks with Stephanie, the more he is intrigued by her imagination. However, his attraction for either woman has a large obstacle to it.

You see, Stephane lives in his head. Literally. In Stephane’s mind a never ending cable-access talk show is being broadcast, with himself as the host. Sometimes it helps him with his dreams, other times it serves as a forum for his inner chorus. But above all, Stephane spends so much time wrapped up in his own head that much of what he experiences comes of as something he is merely observing and not participating in. To further complicate things, Stephane is extremely creative, so much so that he often forgets where his flights of fancy end and the real world begin.

The Science Of Sleep was Michel Gondry’s first film after Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and it has often been labeled as a low-cost independent version of that movie. While I will admit the two films have their similarities, thematically they are pretty far apart. Where Sunshine is a discourse on the nature of memory and its relationship to whom we love, Science seems to be more about finding a balance between whimsy and maturity.

One thing I loved about the movie is the interactions between Stephane and Stephanie. As a pair, they seem perfect for each other – and yet the same things that are drawing them together are also keeping themselves apart.

Line of the Movie: “The brain is the most complex thing in the universe and it's right behind the nose.”

Four stars. Cheer up, you pile of sad.

My Trek of the Stars, Part 2: The Corbomite Maneuver

Guest Starring: Clint Howard, Anthony Call, Ted Cassidy, Eddie Paskey, William Blackburn

First, the Lowdown: The Enterprise is menaced by a gigantic IKEA-made starship and its dippy looking commander.

So, no shit, there’s the Enterprise doing stellar cartography when all of the sudden its path is blocked by a SPINNING CUBE OF DOOM! It obviously imposes some kind of threat to the ship, at least that’s what the theme music and acting would have you believe, but quite frankly it looks more like the Wisdom Cube from Aqua Teen Hunger Force (don’t ask it about the time it ate boiled peanuts.)

Captain Kirk, in a marvelous display of restraint tries every which way he can think of to maneuver the ship around the offending rhomboid, but the SPINNING CUBE OF DOOM! is about as determined to intercept the Enterprise as those annoying survey guys are in a mall. To make matters worse the SPINNING CUBE OF DOOM! starts to spew out radiation. Having had enough of the SPINNING CUBE OF DOOM!, Kirk orders the thing destroyed before it starts wallpapering the Enterprise with copies of The Watchtower.

Satisfied that the peril is done with, the Enterprise continues on with the same menial task that they performed before. Kirk, unimpressed by the whiny Lt. Bailey’s slowness in response to his commands, orders the crew undergo attack simulations to improve their reaction time.

Things are going swell until all of the sudden an even bigger alien object shows up on their front door. This one now looks like an escaped chandelier from The Inn of Tomorrowland. The alien ship is MEGA-HUGE, however, so the crew takes a few moments to gape at it – with the exception of Bailey who just wets his pants quietly to himself. The ship calls itself the Fesarius and its commander, Balok, lets the Enterprise know that he is incredibly pissed off that they destroyed his SPINNING CUBE OF DOOM! Spock during all of this, manages to generate a visual of Balok, and he looks like a hydroencephalic version of the Crypt Keeper. (Then again, it could be Spock’s attempt of making light of their adversary. Kinda like drawing a picture of the bill collector that’s haranguing you on the phone as a magic, talking butt. “Look at me! I’m a talking butt! And you’re past due on your credit cards!”)

Kirk tries to tell him that the Enterprise was just minding its own business until that pesky cube started saying shit about their mama, so naturally they’re gonna pop a cap in anything that steps up to them. Balok dismisses their claim with a, “Oh no, you di’nt!” immobilizes the ship and tells them they have 10 minutes to make peace with their maker before the Enterprise is destroyed. Bailey reacts in a manner consistent with all trained professionals during times of crisis: he craps in his hand and begins throwing it at the other members of the bridge. Kirk tries pleading with Balok, but the stern alien commander is as intractable as Bill O’Reilly coming onto a wardrobe mistress.

By now, the Enterprise has pissed away all but three minutes of their remaining time. When Kirk asks Spock for advice on their predicament, he compares their situation to a game of chess – summing up that they are royally en passanted up their castle. Not one to take failure lightly, Kirk gets Balok on the horn again and makes vague threats. He tells the fugly alien that they have a super secret device made of Corbomite that will, in effect, turn the Enterprise into rubber and the Fesarius into glue. Kirk also adds that the word “gullible” cannot be found in the computer’s online dictionary.

Balok responds with “It is TOO in the dictionary, and if you look up the word ‘dipshit’ it’s got a picture of YOU under it, Kirk.” But also concedes that, while he does not believe the Enterprise is really capable of possessing a super-secret, uber-huge, explody thing, he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of that hell, either so orders a tug vessel to tow the Enterprise out to his home turf, where they will imprison the crew, destroy the Enterprise, and then pee on the ashes while they watch.

The tug vessel is miniscule in comparison to the gaudy thing that is the Fesarius, so Kirk orders that they shear away from the alien ship’s tractor beam, which not only frees the Enterprise, but also disables the tug so completely that it can’t send for help. Seeing his big chance, Kirk assembles a boarding party of himself, McCoy, Spock, and Bailey (probably to use as a body shield if things went wrong.)

After being transported onto the other vessel, they find Balok, in all his fugliness – and he’s a puppet. In the next room, they are humbled before the chilling visage of the real Balok – and it’s Clnit Howard! The hideous, snaggle-mawed, troll invites them to chat and offers them all a glass of Tranya, which as anyone who’s been to a sci-fi convention can tell you, is nothing more than Tang made with pure grain alcohol. Balok explains to the Enterprise that he had used the whole setup to divine their true motives. He also states that he had to use the puppet to intimidate them because they wouldn’t have been afraid of lil’ ol’ him. (Apparently there are no mirrors on his ship.) Kirk feigns understanding, which is probably all he could do to keep himself from picking up the misshapen midget by his ankles and dashing him on the floor. Balok also tells him that he is lonely and desires some kind of companionship to accompany him on his journey, so that the two cultures can learn more about each other. Instead of referring Balok to Craigslist, Kirk instead volunteers Lt. Bailey, probably to relieve the rest of the crew of Bailey’s incessant whining.

Things to look for in this episode:

The SPINNING CUBE OF DOOM!: No matter how hard they try to make it so with music and reaction shots, it’s not threatening. I kept expecting one of the Smurfs to come out of it.

The Fesarius: Seriously, it looks like the Krell machine from Forbidden Planet.

Balok: It’s bad enough he starts out being a dippy-looking alien that sounds like a really pissed off Don Pardo, but then to have him turn out to be Clint Howard? That kid could ugly paint off of walls.

What is McCoy not today? A moon-shuttle pilot. Because it’s the future ‘n all.

And what about Spock? Spock’s main job seems to be to creep the hell out of the crew: first by bringing up the visual of Balok, then by informing the captain that the Enterprise is essentially screwed by using a chess analogy. Someone should explain the concept of esprit de corps to him.

My Trek of the Stars, Part 1: Where No Man Has Gone Before

(Out of boredom I have decided to do some reviews of Star Trek episodes, just to spice things up on ABOB.)

Guest Starring: Gary Lockwood, Sally Kellerman, Paul Carr, Paul Fix, Lloyd Haynes, Andrea Dromm

First, the Lowdown: An attempt to penetrate the energy field surrounding the galaxy gives two crewmen psychic powers. Douchebaggery ensues.

The intrepid crew of the Enterprise was leisurely meandering to the far reaches of the galaxy when they encounter the log-buoy for the Valiant, which had been previously lost centuries ago. After bringing the clunky piece of hardware aboard (which looked like a fugitive from The Black Hole), they examine its record tapes and find them mostly destroyed. What little remains doesn’t make much sense, oh wait, yeah it does. It outlines the Valiant’s failed attempt at plowing messily through the galactic barrier, its subsequent psychic effect on a single crewmember, and the captain’s orders to self-destruct the ship before things got out of hand. (I’m assuming the bits which were burnt out was the first-mate’s weblog in which he whines about how no one understands him and threatens to cut himself again. And lost band lyrics for Rush.)

Captain Kirk, having a learning disability which prevents him from recognizing foreshadowing (even when it’s dropped from the sky in big blocky letters), decides that the Enterprise is going to force its way out of the barrier in the exactly the same fashion – after all, what are the odds of something like that happening twice right? Right?

Sure enough, as soon as our brave vessel enters that swirling miasma of energy, the ship’s controls go all higglety-pigglety, panels explode, and two of the bridge crew collapse: Gary Mitchell, navigator and Kirk’s best friend; and Dr. Elizabeth Dehner, the ship’s shrink. When Mitchell opens his eyes though, he looks like an extra from The Omega Man. Dr. Dehner, on the other hand, is seemingly unaffected.

There are bigger concerns, however. Kirk’s drunken wanderings into an obviously dangerous area of space have played havoc with the ship, and the Enterprise’s warp engines now look like the inside of Amy Winehouse’s car. As the ship limps away to a nearby mining planet, Mitchell is resting in sick bay because the rest of the crew is too squicked out by his eyes.

To make matters worse, not only is Mitchell able to read at a fantastic rate of speed, but he is able to call things to his mind and flip buttons on the ship at will. It also has made him a bit of a high-minded jackass. Mr. Spock reminds the audience- I mean suggests to the captain that the same thing happened on the Valiant and that something must be done to Professor Mitchell before he turns into a full blown douchebag with godlike powers. (Think Karl Rove, only psychic.)

Having arrived at the mining facility, the Enterprise makes repairs – and Kirk and Spock figure out the most effective way of stranding Mitchell on the planet like a blind date in a busy bar. Mitchell, however, becomes only all too aware of their plans and makes his escape with Dr. Dehner, how has manifested powers and creepy Omega Man eyes of her own.

Rather than cutting his losses, fleeing the planet, and posting a big sign on the front lawn saying “WARNING: GOD-LIKE DOUCHEBAG ON PREMISES”, Kirk decides to solve this dilemma the only way he knows how – with his fists. Unfortunately, he seemed to forget that Mitchell’s abilities are now on par with Neo’s in the last few minutes of the first Matrix movie, and gets tossed about like a Hannah Montana doll in a K-Mart. So, Kirk has to rely on the only other weapon in his arsenal – moralistic rhetoric. Kirk’s exposition on the tyranny of Mitchell’s actions (which kinda ignore the whole “don’t piss off the god-like doucebag” angle) foments doubt in Dehner’s mind and she lashes out at Mitchell with her own powers (which are obviously subdued because she’s a chick.) This gives Kirk enough time to pummel the shit out of his best friend (which no doubt resolved some lingering personal issues between the two men, “This is for using my toothbrush to clean the toilet!”). And everything gets resolved with Mitchell being buried in a grave of his own making.

Things to look for in this episode:

• Gary Lockwood as Gary Mitchell. Most sci-fi geeks will know him better as Frank Poole from 2001: A Space Odyssey, where instead of being a douchebag with godlike powers he’s a douchebag engineer who gets jettisoned into space by an evil computer.
• Sally Kellerman as Elizabeth Dehner. Or as anyone who grew up in the 1980s would better know her as – the announcer chick for Hidden Valley Ranch.
• Scotty’s first appearance in the series… And he forgot to shave. I’m not joking on this one, either. Look for him in the transporter room, he looks like he woke up after a bender.

Award for Best On-Screen Death: Lt. Kelso, who reacts to being strangled in the wackiest way possible.

What is McCoy not today? In this episode apparently.

Does Sulu get stoned? Not in this one. Physics officer Sulu was too busy making up simple analogies to get high in this one.

And what about Spock? Spock does a lot of yelling in this episode. A lot of yelling. And at the beginning when talking about one of Kirk’s “earth emotions” he comes off like Tucker Carlson talking about women’s health.

Annie Hall (1977)

Starring: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, Tony Roberts, Carol Kane, Paul Simon, Shelley Duvall

First, the Lowdown: A comedian breaks up with his girlfriend and tries to figure out how the relationship failed.

My fellow fans and reprobates, I’m going to break from my usual reviewing style here by forgoing any attempt at synopsizing this film and instead cut straight to the critique of it. “Why?” might you ask? Because it’s a film that kinda defies any attempt to sum it up – I could tell you moments of the film, or specific lines (“Twins, Max. 16 years-old. Can you imagine the mathematical possibities?”), but really Annie Hall is a movie that you are either going to get or not, much like most of Woody Allen’s work. And even still the only way you know if you’re going to get it or not is by watching it.

As usual, Annie Hall comes off as semi-autobiographical, or at the very least, self-analytical. Having only watched a handful of Woody Allen previously, I can say that while Annie Hall is chocked full of Woody’s usual directorial indulgences (Marshall McLuhan comes in from off-screen and dresses down a pseudo-intellectual), here they are used to good effect instead of coming off as Woody Allen saying “Why did I film it that way? Because I can, you moron.”

Directorial whimsy aside, Allen manages to engage his audience through storytelling (something most American movie studios have forgotten about.) What makes Annie Hall so cool is that it presents its viewers with a situation nearly everyone of us has been in – that moment of retrospection after a breakup that vacillates between self-flagellation and righteous indignation. Both Annie and Alvy are perfectly flawed and perfectly realistic.

One thing of note – Annie Hall is one of those cinema classics that everyone has to have seen because all these other movies borrow from it. And to be honest, I have to agree here: nearly every romantic comedy I’ve seen from about 1987 onward has either blatantly ripped off or paid homage to Annie Hall in some small way or another - especially if that movie has wall-breaking on-screen narration.

Annie Hall is most definitely a product of the 1970’s, however. And I’m not even referring to the fashion either, just look at the mainstream acceptance of psychotherapy, drug use, intellectualism, sex, and the female orgasm (“With your wife in bed, does she need some kind of artificial stimulation, like marijuana?” “We use a large vibrating egg.”) One of my favorite scenes has our couple in Los Angeles at the grand estate of a music producer, and all of the guests are wearing their individualistic quirks like fashion accessories. (Jeff Goldblum’s walk-on cameo sums it up best: “I forgot my mantra.”

Line of the movie: “I feel that life is divided into the horrible and the miserable.”

Four and a half stars. Give me cookie!

The Virgin Spring (1960)

(Originally released as Jungfrukällan)

Starring: Max Von Sydow, Birgitta Valberg, Gunnel Lindbolm, Birgitta Pettersson, Axel Duberg, Tor Isedal

First, the Lowdown: A young girl is murdered. Her killers unwittingly turn to her father for shelter in the night.

Dawn breaks on a farm in the Swedish countryside. A pregnant girl, Ingeri, rousts the fire and begins the early morning chores in the farms main house, but pauses to say a prayer to Odin. Later she is chastised, by Mareta, her devoutly Christian foster mother for staying up too late dancing.

At breakfast, Tore, the head of the household asks Mareta where their daughter, Karin, is because she hasn't helped with any of the daily chores, and they need her to deliver candles to the local church in time for Good Friday. (Tradition holds that a virgin deliver them on.) Mareta insists that Karin is too ill to make such a journey, but Tore is firm. In Karin's room, it turns out that she is not sick at all, merely lethargic from sleeping too much. Upon being woken by her mother, Karin greets her brightly and insists on being dressed in her finest yellow silk shift, fur-lined cape, and embroidered skirt.

Outside, Tore and Mareta prepare Karin's horse. Karin insists that Ingeri join her because the road is long and lonely. Ingeri reluctantly agrees. Along the way they encounter a woodsman's cabin at the edge of the forest. The darkness of the forest frightens Ingeri, and she panics. The woodsman offers to take her in so that Karin can continue her journey.

Further down her path, Karin encounters three herdsmen – two men and a boy – who are instantly attracted to the young girl. Quickly the rush to introduce themselves, at least one of them does – the other adult has had his tongue cut from his mouth and the boy is too shy. They ask Karin who she is and where she is from. Karin tells them a story about being the daughter of a great king in a giant castle, which they all laugh about. She invites them to share her meal.

Meanwhile Ingeri stay at the woodsman's cabin is putting her more on edge. The man tells her that it has been far too long since he has has a woman with him. He also says he recognizes Ingeri as a worshiper of the old ways and shows her his offering to Odin. (Which includes a finger.) Frightened, Ingeri flees the cabin to try to catch up with Karin.

Karin's meal with the herdsmen goes well, until begin pressing how pretty she is. At first Karin takes the compliments demurely, but upon looking at her guests their hidden intentions suddenly dawn on her. She tries to flee them, but they quickly catch her and force themselves on her. After they finish they begin looting her belongings and the mute herdsman clubs Karin to death with a staff. On a nearby hill, Ingeri witnesses this all, too frightened to act. Ashamed at her inability to act, Ingeri runs home.

Later that evening, Tore and Mareta worry about their daughter. Tore is sure that Karin decided to stay the night at the church because of how late it is, but Maret is inconsolable. At the door, however, the herdsmen come calling. They seek shelter from the coming evening and Tore invites them in to wait out the night.

This is the first Bergman film I've had the opportunity to watch and I have to say I loved it thoroughly. I've heard many a filmgoer complain about the open silences that populate his films, but here it adds to the atmosphere. Coming from an era where even stereo sound wasn't possible in theaters, having spans of nothing by ambient sounds playing only makes the viewing experience more immersive.

One thing I was intrigued by is that for a film filled with archetypes, the characters (for the most part) are fairly well rounded. Karin is indeed virginal and naive, but in way that is the product of a sheltered existence. Ingeri is the foil to Karin's virgin, and she is in many ways – she's disobedient, rebellious, and not even devout. And yet the movie only pits them against each other briefly.

Even more interesting for me is Max Von Sydow as Tore. Like most Americans, the earliest role I've seen him in was that of Father Merrin. There, and in every role I've subsequently seen him in, he looks about 60. So it's very odd for me to see him be almost youthful. It's his strength of presence that I think carries best here. Von Sydow looks very much like a farm's patrician, meting out discipline with the same strength he uses to turn his fields.

Line of the movie: “It's the same with people. They quiver like a leaf in the storm, afraid of what they know and what they don't know.”

Four and a half stars. Monkey enema!

Happy Endings (2005)

Starring: Lisa Kudrow, Steve Coogan, Jesse Bradford, Bobby Cannavale, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Jason Ritter

First, the Lowdown: A series of connected stories about people's lives and loves.

Mamie is an abortion counselor who as signed up for a massage. She's nervous at first, especially when she finds out she is going to be serviced by a man instead of a woman. Her tension only increases when the Latino masseur begins to seduce her. The tension is broken, however, when the pair of them start laughing, Turns out Mamie has been dating her regular masseur, Javier (a big no-no in the massage profession).

Meanwhile, Mamie's neurotic stepbrother, Charlie has problems of his own. Charlie's partner, Gil, was the sperm donor for a lesbian couple (one of whom is Gil's best friend) who are now the happy parents of a beautiful boy. The problem is, the couple claim that they used alternate sperm to sire the child because Gil's wasn't compatible. Charlie isnt' convinced they were wholly honest with them about it, however, and is determined to find the truth, one completely neurotic way or another.

Otis works at Charlie's restaurant. And is gay. But doesn't know how to tell anyone, especially his rich father. Desperate to cover up his homosexuality, he lets himself be seduced by professional golddigger, Jude. Jude, being the opportunist she is, quickly trades up Otis for his father, Frank. Frank recently lost his wife and has been dating women young enough to be his own kid to try and recapture a sense of vitality: even as they fleece him for all he's worth.

Mamie, however has bigger things to worry about. A desperate filmmaker, Nicky, knows about the whereabouts of the child she had given up for adoption when she was 17. Desperate to get into the American Film Institute, Nicky tries to set up a reunion between Mamie and her estranged kid so he can film it. Mamie tells Nicky where he can stick that idea, however, so instead Nicky decides to use the information he has on her to blackmail her into making a documentary instead.

Got all that?

Ever since Paul T. Anderson's Magnolia hit the screen there have been multiple imitators trying to put a new spin on the “talking heads” movie by having it involve people who are only tenuously connected to each other. Director Don Roos wants to go one step further toward “originality” however, by putting witty captions between scene changes. While the titles are very witty (my favorite: “When you're a gay man, you have to feel good about yourself when a urologist says, 'Yeah. I pick you.'”), they otherwise come off like that super-annoying guy who has seen the movie thousands of times before and can't help but give you annoying spoilers while you watch it for the first time.

Not only are they kind of unnecessary, but the way they're implemented makes it feel like the director is too afraid of his material becoming too moody and depressing. (Example immediately after one of the characters is hit by a car a caption assures us 'She's not dead'). The meat of the movie comes from the interplay between Jude, Otis, and Frank. Jude's focused cynicism cuts through the foggy cluelessness that both Frank and Otis share. And the movie unfairly seems to focus on them more than any of the other plot threads. It's as if the director emulated the wannabe filmmaker Nickie by coming up with something that one only partially thought through.

Line of the movie: “She's a mother. It's a sick, sick bond. Think of yours; think of mine. It's unwholesome.”

Three and a half stars. Insert witty comment here.

Donnie Darko (2001)

Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Holmes Osborne, Maggie Gyllenhaal, Mary McDonnell, James Duval, Daveigh Chase

First, the Lowdown: A teenage boy starts hallucinating about a man in a bunny costume. And then it gets weird.

Fall 1988. America finds itself saying goodbye to the Reagan Administration, and finds itself not yet ready to let go. Meanwhile, in the Darko household, the dinner conversation takes an uncomfortable turn as the eldest sister, Elizabeth, announces to her Republican-leaning parents that she's voting for Democratic nominee Michael Dukakis. (Personal aside, despite finding Dukakis a less-than-evil choice to Bush, Sr., I find it difficult to see how anyone would vote for a person whose name has “cock” in the middle of it.) The resulting debate ends with Elizabeth being excoriated for her choice, and thusly steering the conversation to a more immediate concern: the fact that Donnie has stopped taking his medicine.

Donnie has been diagnosed with unspecified emotional problems and is a chronic sleepwalker. One evening during one such bout of somnambulism, a figure in a disturbing rabbit costume named Frank appears to Donnie and tells him that the world will end in 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds. That same evening a jet engine detaches from its plane and plummets into Donnie's room. If he had not been sleepwalking, he would have been killed.

The next day, the FAA come to the Darko family and offer to house them in a hotel whilst they repair their house. As further incentive, they give the Darkos a substantial settlement for their inconvenience, provided that they family signs a non-disclosure waiver preventing them from talking about the incident to anyone. Curiously enough, the feds are having difficulty identifying the engine, as there were no flights within the vicinity of their area, and the serial numbers that would tell them what plane it came from are burnt away.

On the way to his therapist, his dad nearly hits an elderly recluse that the town's children have dubbed “Grandma Death.” They swerve out of the way, and as Donnie escorts her back to her house, the old woman whispers something in his ear that disturbs him. That evening, Donnie dreams about walking into the boiler room of his high school and flooding it. Waking up the next day he finds out that indeed someone has chopped open the water main of his school, buried the hatchet used into the head of the school mascot (the “Mongrel”), and spray painted “they made me do it” underneath.

Later on, Donnie meets Gretchen, a new girl at the school with problems of her own. It seems that her stepfather tried stabbing her mother to death, now the two of them have moved to a new city under a new name to prevent any further problems. Gretchen is intrigued by Donnie's quirky intelligence and the two of them begin dating in earnest. Donnie's lashing out to authority figures (the high-strung gym teacher, the confidence counselor during a presentation) only endears her more to him.

Donnie Darko is certainly a bizarre flick, which is surprising that it is as accessible as is to most people. The fact that Donnie is in high school (at the same time period as much of the movie's audience) is probably the major factor. I admire the fact that the Darko family has its rough edges, but the filmmakers don't take the “let's put the fun in dysfunctional” tactic. It's been too easy a cop-out for writers to say “oh, the main character isn't craze, it's his family that's making him crazy.” As the film explores Donnie's interactions with the adults in his life, it's easy to see how difficult it is to find a common ground with an emotionally troubled teen. Donnie's parents, especially his mother, are somewhat distant towards him, but in a way that shows they're scared of upsetting him further.

Another intriguing aspect is the “maybe crazy people see the world differently” angle the movie takes. People have often tried making a comparison between Frank in this movie and Harvey with Jimmy Stewart. Unfortunately what they don't realize is there is nothing whimsical about Frank (at most he gets enigmatic, which is not quite the same thing.) Where Harvey is a symptom of empowerment through imagination, Frank is most certainly a symptom of Donnie's illness (and not always an empowering one). Combine that with a time-travel subplot (just stick with me here) and you've got one weird flick.

Line of the Movie: “The children have to save themselves these days because the parents have no clue.”

Four stars. Avocado is the new black.

Heights (2005)

Starring: Glenn Close, Elizabeth Banks, James Marsden, Jesse Bradford, Thomas Lennon, Matt Davis

First, the Lowdown: Five New Yorkers have to decide between their own complacent path and the life they want.

On stage a leather-jacketed Lord Macbeth is goaded to murder by his Lady, who presses a revolver into his hand to complete his bloody deed. The players are interrupted by their teacher, Diana Lee, who reminds scorns them for taking a simple task of quiet assassination in Shakespeare's drama and twisting it into a scene out of Scarface. “We have lost passion,” she wails to her students and challenges them to take a risk sometime during the next week before dismissing class.

Diana's daughter, Isabel, has been eking out an living as a wedding photographer – a job that she finds stressful because it disrupts her own personal photography and only emphasizes how stressful her own big day is going to be in the next few months. Her fiancé, Jonathan, has stressors of his own as he is Jewish and Isabel is not. Complicating this is Diana, who is insisting on dressing Isabel like a Shakespearean fairy for her wedding.

Meanwhile Alec, who lives in the same building as the couple to be, has a dilemma of his own. He has an audition for an Off-Broadway production, which will finally pull him away from his position as a cater-waiter and the tidbits of acting that is available for people working for free (namely the Fringe Festival). What he didn't know (like all good actors should prior to auditioning) is that the play he is trying out for is directed by Diana Lee. This fact puts him ill at ease.

At the audition, Diana is rather impressed by Alec's performance (perhaps TOO impressed, wink-nudge) and invites him to a soirée that she is hosting with the most prominent of New York's art community. Alec has to respectfully decline as he has an important date with someone that evening. Further frustrating Diana is the fact her husband has stopped flirting discreetly with her understudy and instead has brought it out in the open.

Meanwhile, Peter has arrived at the offices of Vanity Fair and is greeted by the editor. Peter has arrived from London to help out with the article Vanity Fair is doing about Peter's boyfriend – renowned photographer Benjamin Stone. More specifically, they want a perspective of Benjamin Stone given by the artist's models – all of which Benjamin has dated and/or slept with. In his search, one of the first people Peter contacts is Jonathan, who thought he had put that dalliance behind him (both emotionally and legally.)

Heights is voyeuristic in the the same way that watching a confrontation on Jerry Springer is voyeuristic, only without the chanting audience and bouncers. After the first half-hour we have a pretty good idea of the setup, and in the next half-hour it becomes more obvious to us that our players are going to react when the chips are down.

If anything, this movie reifies how frustrating it can be to stay in a rut and the motivations that people have to be in them. The more Isabel thinks about her upcoming marriage, the less sure she is about it. Conversely, the more Jonathan worries about his past biting him in the ass, the more he clings to being married. Peter realizes that the “errand” he is on was nothing more than a contrivance for Benjamin Stone to fuck around, but has a choice to keep flagellating himself with denial or step away from it. Finally, Alec's important meeting (that he may have jeopardized his audition with by skipping a party for) is all about him being sick and tired of the habit he's gotten into with his partner.

Over all of this presides Diana. While she really has no rut she is trying to break free from (if anything she stays firmly in her own idiom even though it sometimes hurts her), Diana is the hub from where all of our stories are connected to. Although it is established that Diana will be performing as Lady Macbeth in an upcoming production, director Chris Terrio thankfully avoids using any subtext from that play in his film. I kept waiting for Diana to be cruelly manipulative, but instead an entirely different character emerged.

Line of the movie: “Know what you should do? You should fuck them, and I mean that literally – fuck them all for revenge.”

Four stars. Everything's coming up roses.

Waiting... (2005)

Starring: Ryan Reynolds, Anna Faris, Justin Long, David Koechner, Luis Guzman, Chi McBride, John France Daly

First, the Lowdown: A 20-something ponders whether he really wants to be waiting tables the rest of his life.

Shenanigans is a corporate based “party restaurant” (ala Applebee's), complete with seating that centers on a bar, and random knick-knack detritus stapled to the walls. (Why is it that places like this have to decorate as if they've taken a nine-year old with ADD and a glue gun to an antiques mall?) But stalking the grounds like the starving predators of the Africa's savannah are the people who work there.

Dean is a twenty-something slacker who is sleepwalking is way through community college for that elusive (and somewhat useless) AA degree. His day opens with a meal with his mother, who spends the entire time reminding him that his classmates from high school are all moving on to successful jobs that aren't waiting tables at Shenanigans. His best friend, Monty, is also a waiter at the same establishment, and manages to slough off the drudgery of his job by having a snarky witticism for everything that he encountered.

Enter Mitch, a wide-eyed babe in the woods as far as the restaurant is concerned. As a new hire he has to learn the routine of serving food to the patrons and where everything is, and most importantly be always on the ready for the Penis Game. The Penis Game was introduced as a way to alleviate the boredom of their jobs and entails the following: a guy whips out his genitals like he's a cast-off from Puppetry of the Penis in the hopes that some hapless coworker will walk into the room and get a steaming pile of man-flesh in his eye sockets. Those caught looking are called “fag” and kicked in the posterior. Kinda like a fraternity initiation, only they don't sodomize you with a bottle of Corona as well.

Dean is approached by their manager, Dan, who wants to groom him for the prestigious role of assistant manager. This is supposed to generate conflict, I guess: Dean's co-workers see having one of their own being promoted as one step towards douchebaggery. While Dean sees some of the perks as being attractive (a 20% employee discount? Oh yeah, make that TWO orders of chili fries!), but also sees him eventually hanging himself with the tie of his uniform later down the road.

Since Kevin Smith's Clerks has come out, more and more people are releasing movies based on the “you think your job sucks?” premise. Most of my friends and co-workers have made comparisons to Waiting with Office Space. And understandably so, both movies have the fatal flaw of not providing us with characters but with archetypes. But where Waiting is unfortunately different, is that it has very little cohesion to it's plot. The director thinks that a series of kinda-characters acting out the little anecdotes you read on the Customers Suck blog is the same as a movie. It's not a movie, I'm afraid – it's a sitcom. While most of the gags presented are enough to evince a chuckle, most of the "humor" comes out as a desperate attempt to add more energy to the funny. (Piece of advice, you do that through writing not dick jokes).

The most satisfying moment of the movie comes at the end where Mitch the New Guy vents his spleen to everyone and calls Dane Cook a steaming pile of shit (and tell me, who hasn't wanted to say that to Dane Cook?) If the best part of a movie is that it has a good Network-style rant at the end, what does that tell you for the rest?

Line of the movie: “You're the coolest fuckin' guy at Shenaniganz! WHOOO! That's like being the smartest kid with Down's syndrome!”

Three stars. 15% is the minimum gratuity.

The King Of Masks (1996)

(Originally released as Bian Lian)

Starring: Zhigang Zhang, Zhigang Zhao, Renying Zhou, Xu Zhu

First, The Lowdown: An elderly street performer looks for an heir to pass the secrets of his trade to, but finds it harder to do than he thinks.

In a riverside village, a street peddler performs for an entranced crowd. The performer, Wang, specializes in an elaborate mask dance - where he changes masks with the flick of his hand. This is witnessed by Liang, a famous female impersonator with the Sichuan opera – whose most famous role is retelling the legend of Quan Yin. Liang invites Wang to tea where e expresses his amazement at the older man's talents and offers Wang a position with the opera company. Wang prefers his solitary life and politely demurs. Liang asks Wang about who would take his place when the older man dies. But Wang has no disciple - his only child died when he was 10, and the art of the masks is one that is passed on from father to son. Liang implores Wang to find some way of making sure that his art survives.

A recent flood of a nearby village has saturated the poorer quarters of the town with desperate refugees. Their need is so great that they are looking to sell their children into service because they can no longer care for them. Wang looks there for a heir, but finds mostly girls. Just as he is about to leave, an 8-year old boy calls out to him. Wang is taken in by the boy's appearance that he buys him from his father, who sells him gladly. Later on his boat, Wang names his new charge “Doggie,” and asks the boy why his father didn't seem disappointed in losing a son. Doggie shows Wang the bruises on his arm and tells him that he was beaten regularly. Wang promises to take care of him and never to raise a hand to the boy ever.

Life seems blissful for the pair, until it is revealed that Doggie is a girl. Since Wang's tradition is one that is passed from father to son, he feels both betrayed and swindled. Angry at this turn of events, Wang tries to turn Doggie away with a handful of money, but she instead begs him to take her in as a servant. Having been already moved by the child, albeit deceitfully, Wang agrees to let her stay.

The best thing about The King Of Masks is that it's a movie with much social commentary, but doesn't resort to too much soapboxing (although it does happen). Chinese traditionalism values boys over girls, something that is starting to come back to haunt them: in spite of its population of over 1 billion, China's obsession with male progeny has caused their population to decrease. Even with though Mao's communist reformations valued all members of the proletariat equally, whether male or female, the population at large has found it a hard practice to let go of.

With its lush sets and interesting portrayal of almost forgotten performing arts, I was often reminded of Farewell My Concubine, so much so that I was bracing myself for a fast-forward to the 1960s and Chairman Mao's “Cultural Revolution.” But fortunately, it spends less time being political and more time trying to prove that sometimes the only way an ancient art can survive is by evolution, not tradition.

Line of the movie: “Even a beggar has many ways of beating away dogs.”

Four stars. Don't whiz on the electric fence.

The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe (2005)

Starring: Georgie Henley, Skandar Keynes, William Moseley, Anna Popplewell, Tilda Swinton, James McAvoy

First, The Lowdown: A group of children wander into the magic kingdom of Narnia, and become hunted by it's ruler.

London, September 1940. As the British Army pulls back from their defeat in France, the German Luftwaffe presses forward to gain air superiority over the Royal Air Force. Those of His Majesty's citizens still in disbelief of the war lasting longer than Christmas are woken up as the Blitzkrieg brings the bombings to their front doorstep. At the Pevensie household, the frantic Mrs. Pevensie ushers her children, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy to the outside bomb shelter as air raid sirens wail in the background. Edmund rushes back inside to the house, against everyone's wishes, to retrieve the photograph of their father, who is fighting with the Army.

Having realized that the war is no longer something reported about on the radio, Mrs. Pevensie (like thousands of others) arrange to have her children sent off to the countryside to stay at the home of the reclusive Professor Kirke. Upon their arrival, the stern head servant, Mrs. MacReady, gives a long list of restrictions, thusly declaring the spacious mansion a “No Fun Zone” for anyone without a baccalaureate.

One rainy day, with nothing else to do, the Pevensie children play hide and seek. Lucy finds her way to an upstairs storage room and hides in its only occupant, a large handcrafted wardrobe filled with heavy fur coats. As she presses further inside, Lucy finds that the is suddenly standing in a snow covered forest clearing with a lamppost. After a few minutes of wandering, she runs into Tumnus, a fawn who is just as surprised to see her as she is him. Tumnus invites Lucy to his cave for tea, and explains that she is in the land of Narnia, which has been ruled by the White Witch, who insures that it is always winter, but never Christmas. When Lucy reveals that she is a human, Tumnus informs her that the White Witch has ordered all humans be brought before her, under pain of death. Tumnus has a sudden change of heart and leads Lucy back to the lamppost so she may return to where she came.

When Lucy leaves the wardrobe she discovers that only a few seconds have passed. Quickly rushing to her other siblings, she tells them of everything she saw, only to have it dismissed as the fevered imaginings of a child. In fact, when Peter investigates the wardrobe, he finds it completely sealed. As they bed down, Lucy sneaks out to go back to the wardrobe, only to be followed by Edmund. This time, the land of Narnia is on the other side of the wardrobe, and Edmund finds himself separated from Lucy. The jingling of sleigh bells draws Edmund to a reindeer driven sledge bearing a slender, pale woman all in white. The woman introduces herself as the Queen of Narnia and asks Edmund of his origin. Edmund, not knowing that this is the White Witch, tells her that he is indeed human. The Queen tells Edmund to bring his siblings to her castle, and that if he does so, he will be made a prince. After being dismissed, Edmund makes his way back to the lamppost and quickly back to his world with Lucy. Once again, Lucy tells Peter and Susan of her new adventure in Narnia and presents Edmund's collaboration as proof. Edmund, realizing the seriousness of what he has told the White Witch, does not want them to venture further into that world and again dismisses the whole thing as a game with Lucy.

The next day's weather is much nicer than it had been previously, and the Pevensie children decide to have a cricket match in the lawn outside. Edmund's swing at bat proves a bit too strong and their ball ends up shattering the window to the Professor's study. Fearing the impending rage of Mrs. MacReady, the children scramble upstairs to hide in Lucy's wardrobe, and find themselves in the land of Narnia. After gloating in vindication, Lucy leads them to Tumnus's cave, only to see that it has been ransacked. A written decree on the floor has declared Tumnus a traitor to the Queen for failing to bring Lucy to her – and the punishment is death. Having realized that Narnia is just as dangerous as Earth, Peter tells his siblings that they should return home. However, outside a talking beaver beseeches the children to follow him to a safe shelter, for they are being tracked. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver greet the children warmly, but also tell them they are in grave danger. Having strayed into the land of Narnia, they may very well fulfill an ancient prophesy, which states that when two Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve sit at the four thrones of Cair Paravel, the White Witch's reign will be usurped. Determined to not have this come about, the White Witch has declared that all humans are to be brought before her – and executed.

However, Mr. Beaver has word that the exiled and true King of Narnia, Aslan the Lion, is amassing an army on the outskirts, waiting for the proper moment to strike and fulfill the prophecy.

In any fantasy literary circle, once you start talking about J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, you eventually get to talking about C.S. Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia. Indeed, if you do an analysis of both authors, you begin note the similarities between their field of study and the thematic elements of their writing. Tolkien was a linguist, with a keen interest in Old English and its origins in the German and Norse dialects. Thusly, his most famous opus reads much like a dry, yet concise prosaic translation of Beowulf, complete with appendices and a concordance. Lewis, on the other hand, was a student of medieval literature, and a devout Christian apologist – having published About Christianity and The Screwtape Letters many years previous to Narnia. As such, Narnia (especially the first few volumes) comes across as a gross oversimplification of the Crucifixion, but watered down for a younger audience. And that I think is the significant difference between the two authors. Tolkien's characters are broadly archetypal, fitting in with most Germanic and Arthurian legend. Lewis, however, merely translates biblical metaphor literally – the messianic “Lion of Narnia” is scourged, executed and resurrected (trust me, that's not a spoiler, it becomes eye-rollingly obvious the more Aslan is on the screen); and what doesn't come from the bible seems to conveniently be borrowed from William Shakespeare. (The unwitting traitor is named Edmund? C'mon.)

Having not read the books recently, my memory of Wardrobe is a little hazy. As it is, I remember thinking that the Pensevies came off as written by someone who did not find himself entirely comfortable with children, so it is refreshing to see that in this telling of the story, our central characters were given a bit more depth (and actually behaved like children.)

Line of the movie: “Some children just don't know when to stop pretending.”

Three and a Half stars. Best when served warm.

Stardust (2007)

Starring: Michelle Pfeiffer, Kate Magowan, Melanie Hill, Charlie Cox, Sienna Miller, Robert De Niro, Claire Danes

First, the Lowdown: A boy steps into a magical land to retrieve a star. And then it gets weird.

There are two kingdoms in the land of England – the magical kingdom of Stormhold and the quite normal land of Her Majesty's domain. The Stormhold is enclosed by a stone wall, but much like the wall of King Hadrian, it was erected not so much as to prevent us from coming in, but to prevent them from getting out. On the normal side of the wall dwells the tiny country hamlet of Wall (natch), whose original purpose was probably to serve as a garrison against those pesky magic using types, but has since faded into obscurity – and a guard of one who minds the wall's only gap.

Tristan is a poor shop boy who has dreams of living beyond the small lot cast him – one them involving the local beauty, Victoria. However, Tristan's means of courting her are not terribly successful, so in a last ditch attempt he vows to bring back to Victoria a star that has fallen on the other side of the wall.

Unbeknownst to Tristan, Stormhold has some problems of it's own. The aged king is dying, and not one of his seven sons has survived killing the others to become the sole heir. (Although four have already passed on to the next life). Since the king can no longer wait to see who outlasts the tontine he casts his ruby necklace out to the kingdom, with the charge that whoever finds it will be king. The ruby, however, is precisely what has knocked the star out of the sky that Tristan is seeking, who upon landing on Earth is a golden-tressed woman named Yvaine. So on waking, the first thing Yvaine does is put on the ruby necklace.

However, Tristan is not the only one looking for the star. Three sisters of the dark arts also are seeking her. If you were to woo a star so that it attains full brightness, and then cut out its heart, you will be granted eternal life. Years of magic use have taken its toll on the witches, and it's been over 400 years since they last seduced a star.

Got all that?

The problem with fantasy is that it's hard to bring complexity to the plot without completely losing your audience. For all of it's glitter and special effects, The Lord of the Rings is an epic length reverse Holy Grail legend with Homer's Iliad thrown in to keep the audience awake. Stardust's major failing is that it borrows from quite a few well known themes (Shakespeare's Macbeth and King Lear easily come to mind), but then then puts a new spin on subjects that are probably lost on anyone who didn't pay full attention in English Lit 201. (The village of Wall is straight out of a Thomas Hardy novel.)

In essence, Stardust is a quest story with a bit of romance thrown in. (It's also been unfairly compared to The Princess Bride, which was a romance with a bit of quest thrown in.) So like all quest stories, it's just one damn thing after another with little to explain for it.

As interesting as it is to bring in two sets of antagonists that are completely unaware of one another, it gets really confusing until the climax when our groups of villains have nearly annihilated each other. I'm thinking that if instead of dealing with a cadre of brothers and a trio of sisters, it should've been one or the other. (There's also a bit about Tristan's mother tossed in a few places, but it seems like an afterthought.)

Finally, Robert De Niro's role as Captain Shakespeare is a treat, but fits a little too neat into the plot. (Since Pirates of the Carribean I'm starting to notice the rise of a “Magic Pirate” stereotype.) Fortunately De Niro doesn't try to hack up an English accent, so he comes off as a longshoreman with his own dirigible.

Don't get me wrong, Stardust is a very fun film and it has one thing that many quest movies lack: momentum (I'm looking at you Krull). The audience gets easily swept along with our main characters, though at times it fees like you're being pulled along by an over-enthusiastic 5 year old. It also uses special effects to a practical purpose, without overemphasizing the “ooh, ahh” aspect of them.

It's also a fantasy film that was made for fans of fantasy. Much of Stardust's clunkiness is easily overlooked by the fandom demographic. (And Gaiman's writing has an popular following itself) But unless you're the type that gets easily obsessed with fairies and dragons, this may come off as interesting to you as a Star Trek sequel.

Line of the movie: “Murdered by pirates, heart torn out and eaten, meet Victoria. I can't quite decide which sounds more fun.”

Four stars. Put two under your tongue and dissolve slowly.

Blue (1993)

(Originally released as Trois Couleurs: Bleu)

Starring: Juliette Binoche, Benoit Regent, Florence Pemel, Charlotte Very, Helene Vincent, Philippe Volter

First, The Lowdown: The wife of a famous composer loses her husband and daughter, and runs away from her grief.

A hitchhiker walks down a country road. Yet another car passes by ignoring him, but then swerves off the road and crashes into a tree. He approaches slowly, then increasingly urgently when he sees the extent of the damage.

One of the passengers, Julie, wakes up in a hospital bed. She is severely concussed and her arm is in a cast. She can barely speak, and after waking the attending doctors regretfully inform her that both her husband, Patrice, and daughter did not survive the crash. Too lost in a fog of pain and painkillers, she passes out.

So severe are Julie's injuries that she cannot be moved from the hospital to attend the funeral for her husband and child. Because her Patrice was a famous composer charged with writing a symphony for the unification of Europe, she watches his memorial on a portable television. When Julie is finally mobile, she tries to kill herself, but cannot bring herself to follow through with it.

Returning to the expansive villa that was her home with Patrice, but it is filled with too many memories. Still Julie shows no grief and arranges to have the house and all of its belongings sold. Olivier, Patrice's colleague (and Julie's lover) arrives to take care of some of Patrice's notes. Olivier still cares for Julie very much and is worried about her well being. Julie makes love to him one last time before leaving without another word.

Julie moves into a flat in Paris, hoping to live anonymously and without attachment. However, this is not as easy as it seems – the more she flees the feelings of loss and sorrow for her husband and child, the more they surface tangentially. And despite her attempt to live unassumingly, Julie finds out that it is that trait that endears people to her.

Watching this film is very much like seeing Chagall's stained glass window at the U.N. come to life. As the first of Krzysztof Kieslowski's celebration to the French tricolor, Blue represents “liberty” Ironically, it is this precise concept that imprisons Julie. By sidestepping the avalanche of sadness caused by losing those she loves, Julie thinks she has liberated herself Juliette Binoche's performance is very serene, she maintains a Buddhist-like neutrality throughout most of the film, rarely showing extremes of emotion. (Another eastern allusion: she is shunning all attachment because of the “trap” that comes with it.)

Blue is a very visual film that relies on very little cinematic trickery to make it's point. Slawomir Idziak's cinematography is very painterly, but doesn't resort to broad, bombastic strokes to portray emotion. Kieslowski also knows how to use a film's score to emphasize his points, the film “blacks out” and fills with Van Den Budenmayers “Funeral Music” when Julie is confronted with her sorrow. It's nice to see a director use a fine brush on his cinematic canvas instead of sloppy euphemisms.

Line of the Movie: “Now I have only one thing left to do: nothing.”

Five stars. No animals were harmed during the making of this.

The Namesake (2006)

Starring: Irrfan Khan, Jagannath Guha, Ruma Guha Thakurta, Tabu, Sandib Deb, Sukanya, Tanushree Shankar

First, The Lowdown: An American-born son of Indian immigrants is divided between the culture of his country of birth and the traditions of his parents.

A train cuts across the Indian countryside. Inside a young man, Ashoke, wants nothing more than to read his book, Nikolai Gogol's The Overcoat – but an older man sharing his cabin on the train keeps talking to him. While the senior man extols the virtues of travel, the train derails – putting Ashoke in the hospital.

Ashoke recovers quickly. Quickly enough to meet the fiancée his parents have arranged for his to marry – Ashima. Ashoke is studying engineering in New York City, and after the couple marry, he takes her overseas to live with him. Life in New York is vastly different than India, however – the winters are harsh and cold, the sky seems perpetually gray, and while America has many technological wonders, everything is so confusing.

Soon after the pair have a son, who the initially name Gogol, a family nickname that will traditionally be changed when the child is older. As Gogol grows up, however, he becomes more attached to his name that when he begins to attend school, he refuses to go by the official name his parents have settled on, Nikhil. This would become a decision that Gogol would later regret when he grows to be a teenager named “Gogol Ganguli.” Gogol is even more upset when he finds out that the Russian author that he got his namesake from would later starve himself to death.

A quick trip to the homeland, however divides Gogol's relationship with his ancestral country feeling completely disconnected outside of America. But a visit to the Taj Mahal would give him a new goal – to study architecture. After he graduates, Gogol stops using his nickname and starts going by Nikhil.

In college, Gogol falls in love with Maxine – a loving Caucasian with open-minded parents. For all of her liberalness, Maxine still is unsure how to act in front of Gogol's parents. (For example, Gogol warns her about the Indian taboo of displaying open affection, but Maxine can't resist kissing Gogol's mother on the cheek when she says goodbye.) College away from his home has given Gogol freedom from the traditional ties that he felt burdened by as a child and more and more he distances himself from his parents. When his father dies, Gogol realizes that no matter how much space he puts between himself and his family, there is no escaping the fact that he is Indian.

Jhumpa Lahiri's The Namesake takes much of it's drama and humor from a subject she frequently visits in her writing: cultural dissonance. First with Ashima's indoctrination into American living (overinterpreting the “rice” in Rice Krispies, Ashima puts chili powder on them.) And with then Gogol's assimilation as a native-born American with Indian parents. (Lahiri's characters frequently have to deal with being the “Indian” person, even though they were born in Britain or America – to Indian parents).

Even more so is the message that as while they would prefer their children to hold to the traditions their parents grew up with, it is more important for Ashoke and Ashimi that their children feel adjusted in America. Gogol's earlier rebellion against his parents upbringing is met with a sigh of disappointed resignation instead of an angry row. Gogol even later finds out that his desire to respect his parent's traditions is not necessarily shared with other foreign-born people of Indian ancestry.

Line of the Movie: “You remind me of everything that followed. Everyday since then has been a gift.”

Four and a half stars. I do the rock.