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Now, for the actors. What is their reason for walking into such a hopelessly unworthy piece of trash with EYES WIDE O-P-E-N? You decide for yourselves. I already have an opinion.

They are DELUDED by the dark side of their "craft": one of the hallmarks of a peculiar, insular "universe." It's a collective myth, a legend, and an atmosphere that shapes and molds, as much as it is molded, by its participants. It is a culture of perversity informed individually by a common thread of people with low self-esteem achieving unimaginable fame and money before coming to terms with their devils; admired not for themselves, but for a commercially hyped persona that isn't real. Sometimes there are tormenting childhood experiences that breed Freudian responses.

Add to this a self-destructive and fictional, often infantile, culture that is influenced by a compounding of abnormal behaviors exhibited by luminary examples within their field, many highly egotistical and maladjusted people who have left a legacy of almost a century of foolish cultural misinformation, bizarre nonsense, hedonism, hollow "intellectualism", vanity and exhibitionism, financial irresponsibility, anchorlessness and insecurity, self-loathing, unrestrained flights of fancy and arrogance, and substance abuse; with no yardstick for measuring restraint. In short, their lives -- more likely than not -- stand for a monumental LOAD OF.. __IT. It's hard to point UP when you don't know where "up" is.

Unfortunately there are never-ending rivers of idolaters throughout succeeding generations who cannot make a distinction between wealth and quality. In one of my favorite quotes, John Kenneth Galbraith has explained this dysfunction in admirable brevity: "Wealth, in even the most improbable cases, manages to convey the aspect of intelligence."

A cheaper and more intellectually honest production would have incorporated all of the actors mounting turntables in the nude and spinning before the cameras for about 15 minutes so that history could confront their foolishness unfiltered and voyeurs could get their fill without having to wade through hours of filler. The best thing about this movie is you freedom to ditch it. At the least, the most obvious lesson is that actors, as well as theater owners, are mere mortals with impeachable judgement.

The central drama concerns Gonzo's growing sense of lineal alien-ation. He's been having analogous, repeat dreams of being left off of Noah's ark because he couldn't tell Noah what his species was. But, Noah wasn't heartless, as a hilarious moment reveals.

Eventually his obsession is answered in a most unusual way. Gonzo's relatives make contact... and how! At first, his cereal communicates a message of hope. There are some FUNNY sub-plots, too. A government conspiracy that's really creatively done and Miss Piggy's rise to fame from lowly "coffee pig," climbing over beautiful Andie MacDowell on the way. I'm not going to tell you much because you deserve a good time and surprises. This movie's full of both.

As usual with the Muppets, you can also count on some rich parodies and cleverly concealed life lessons. (Kids'll never suspect they're learning. Could life be better? Oh... and "K. Edgar Singer" heads up the secret alien-hunting government agency disguised as a cement plant.)

So, to quote James Brown's soundtrack hit "Get Up Offa That Thing" and come have some real fun! Vixen says take your kids or GO WITHOUT THEM. I heartily agree. You will, too!

As a well-optioned female shoved a screen-filling shot of her g-stringed buttocks in our faces, a couple of 13ish kids were giggling discreetly on my right. I saw no parental units in attendance. If I had, I would have questioned ALOUD the reasoning behind exposing their sons to material too adult for them. It's irresponsible personal and parental conduct! And it hurts the fabric of society.

A number of minutes later, the offense was complete when a fine looking petite appeared in over-sized night attire only to spin her rear into view, exposed through an open flap! Any dialog concerns aside, this is inexcusable for children and young adults, except among profligate mind-midgets.

Sadly, this movie should have been a logical generational bridge between parents and their kids, and great fun for both. Most of it could be. Some of it, totally unnecessary, prevents that. This is what Hollywood's really good at these days... really messing up what could be great family entertainment. It's the scumming-down of society!

That said, if you are an adult, you might find this high-budget overhaul of our golden childhood favorite absolutely fascinating with neat-o inventions and great comic timing, and virtually non-stop humor. Some of the sight gags will have you rolling.

In a refreshing twist, the character of James West is now played by a bronze-American, Will Smith. Smith has the perfect personality to carry off the new direction of this screenplay, as does Kevin Kline who plays Artemus Gordon. Because they are so perfectly mated to the contemporary screen play, this movie (except as already noted) never seems to skip a beat between it and the old series. It's as if things just progressed into a newer paradigm.

Though the original series was riddled with humorous lines, there is a much more contagious humor in this version. Also, nothing is lost in translation regarding the cleverness of technological marvels invented by Gordon. They are, however, even MORE fascinating than in the series! And the bad guy has equally neat nefarious toys. Each is a machine age version of modern concepts.

There is a bit more rivalry and equality between THIS Gordon and West, there are some quite clever disguises that will genuinely fool you for a moment, and the evil Dr. Arliss Loveless's magical, multi-legged gun platform is both terrific special effects and a real scream.

I watched the whole show and thought, until the credit roll, that Dr. Loveless (who appeared a great deal smaller in the series) was actually Dennis Quaid in heavy make-up. That the character was actually played by Kenneth Branagh was astounding, equally for his acting range, the fiendish humor he projects, and the makeup talent employed in this film.

He was a superlative stand-out in a strong field of stellar performances which included the hillarious part of busty Miss Lippenreider, played by Sofia Eng. (In the Bond fashion, a terrific pun.)

The on-screen chemistry was excellent. I enjoyed it HUGELY... being an adult with a keen appreciation of good, spontaneous humor; a lover of fantastic contraptions, and the possessor of a razor sharp NEURAL FILTER. Others may want to avoid it for reasons already stated.

As in real life, you are in for a surprise. This is a top drawer mystery-suspense. Do NOT try to find out the ending before going to this show! Move away from anyone trying to tell you about it... they're NOT your friend.

Manchurian Candidate is old cardboard compared to THIS movie. Believe it! Though it seems to wander through a rather low-key beginning, it's always adding important dimensions to your repertoire of analytical tools and almost imperceptibly building momentum until, before you realize it, you are riveted to an unstoppable freight train of events.

Caped Vixen and I became very much absorbed in all aspects of this movie. Snacking was so intense that chewing and sucking buried the needle on our Mandibular Dine-O-Mometer! ALWAYS a good sign.

And don't, for a minute, believe that this isn't a value-added experience. Just on the basis of this film, you can now develop flawless insights about your neighbors without even the usual wiretaps.

As the movie opens, our unsuspecting widowed protagonist, Michael Faraday (Jeff Bridges), pulls up behind a neighborhood kid stumbling forward in the middle of the street. He gets out, rushes to check out the boy who seems unresponsively in a trance, only to find him in shock and terribly mangled with burns and blood geysers.

Faraday rushes the boy to E.R., where his nervous tension rises to new heights and complicates the process of admission. Later, the parents, Oliver and Cheryl Lang, are located and arrive showing the appropriate dazed amazement and concern. But, Faraday -- as a byproduct of his recent occupational metamorphosis and keen perceptiveness -- senses something on a subconscious level. It registers fleetingly in minor body language.

After that profound ice-breaker, he and his own son, Grant (Spencer Clark), gradually become enmeshed in a growing familiarity with the newly acknowledged Langs (played by Mason Gamble, as the son Brady, and by the disarmingly unlikely parental duo of Tim Robbins and Joan Cusack.)

It is against this backdrop of blossoming consanguinity that familiarity breeds creeping trepidation, eventuating in Faraday's creative use of resources at his disposal to pursue increasingly sophisticated, though amateurishly ham-handed background research on Lang. In his building agitation and alarm, he shares all of his discoveries with his sleep-over-grad-student-girlfriend, Brooke (Hope Davis.) Her response grows from mild distaste to complete exasperation as Faraday quickly appears to be abandoning his school room principles in mad pursuit of a red herring. But, a chance encounter in a parking garage churns a plate shift in her outlook and leads to... Oh, I won't say.

Suffice it to say, at this point the movie straps on JATO packs and eventuates in the stratosphere of suspense and intrigue! The sophisticated plausibility of the theme gives this movie a rather overwhelming dimension that remains when the lights come up and you are supposed to shrug it all off as merely entertainment.

If you are a Sleuth of Mystery or just like a great conspiracy thriller, this is the movie of the year for YOU. Go and take fellow investigators, but leave junior private eyes at home. This is too advanced for them. The chords of violence are as much psychological as they are overt and there is the inevitable contextual coarseness in some dialog.

Nigel Hawthorne always seems uncannily like an urbane and sensible Mel Brooks. I can never get that dichotomy out of my mind while watching him on screen. None-the-less, he's always splendid and this role as the unshakably loyal and generous family patriarch is no exception. He is, in fact, the spiritual embodiment of this part.

This movie is not a dusty old time capsule, but a very revealing look at how manners, forbearance, reason, and thoughtful gentleness are healers in the sea of human uncertainty and abrasion; and are, by far, the better model for society than the thoughtlessness of today... not to mention, the better example of love.

Unlike some productions that spring from a play, this had no feeling of having been rooted in the overt artificiality of the stage; but, rather, WAS genuine experience.

As is appropriate when dealing with events in real history, you feel as though true history is unfolding before your eyes, with the pageant of human flaws inherent since Adam and Eve. However, each such flaw is overcome nobly; echoing the higher estate of man in God's image.

Every player in this film gave a memorable performance. I can still see each one in my mind's eye. Sarah Flind was perfect as Violet, the Winslow's servant. Jeremy Northam WAS Sir Robert Morton. There could be no better portrayal. As I earlier alluded, I LOVED Nigel Hawthorne's reserved, thoughtful and warm dignity and the enduring and unflappable love he expressed so well. You'll love the wonderfully respectful accommodation between he and his strong-willed daughter, Catherine (superbly played by Rebecca Pidgeon), who never allows her progressive will to overpower her charm, her reason, or her consideration for others. She, coming from an entirely different universe in human viewpoint, plays incredible harmony to her father's example of gentle and thoughtful love... always understanding it, always reflecting it, always innately a part of it regardless the outward differences in their views; and willing to sacrifice all in life to be of comfort and aid in time of deep family trouble. It's enough to make a grown man cry... because it's beautiful, not because of weakness.

In our story, we confront a diverse family and the usual assortment of quaint British personalities at their periphery. The eldest son, Dickie (Matthew Pidgeon), is just not ready to get serious about life and seems a bit anchorless but good humored about it, and all that. A good sort, though wasting his substance a bit. His sister, Catherine, is a head-strong but decorous feminist of the period, stalwartly devoting her time to the suffrage cause. The mother, Grace Winslow (deftly portrayed by Gemma Jones), is a model of prim, yet doting and nurturing, dignity. Her air of natural charm is enhanced by her undiminished natural beauty. Catherine is possessed of a delicious mischievous streak that licks out at the appropriate satirical moments. Violet, the maidservant, is oafishly endearing and built like a tidy beer keg... sincere and sweet, though a little slow at times. And, encircling all of them is a warm and generous spirit that manifests itself in congeniality.

Then comes the dark moment. It seems that the family's youngest scion, cadet Ronnie Winslow, has been sharply ejected from His Majesty's Naval Academy for filching a five shilling postal note from one of his peers. He is discovered amid the bushes of the yard during a pouring rain, holding a rather ominous missive from the Academy head and fearful of daddy. O-O-O-O-H! Can anyone spell "Whoopin' time"? But, of all the people in the world, he discovers that his dad is the one person he can count on most, as he believes his son's protestations of innocence and places his entire substance and loyalty behind him.

It's a contagious spirit and each member of the family rallies in their own individual way. Eventually much of the Nation does, as well. But the struggle is among the stuffy meanies in government. (Isn't it always so?) The ending is... Well, you'll just have to go and see. I'll not tell.

OH! And, see if you're snatched by the inkling that, maybe, the story might -- just might -- be teasing us: that maybe young Winslow (Guy Edwards) just might be... UNINNOCENT as charged? What shall we think of his blasé detachment at the end, that little sly look in his eyes, the rather nonchalant passivity in contrast to his fearful emotionalism in begging his innocence at the beginning.

Just childish ambivalence? Or, was it manipulation's Freudian slip? (Children seldom rightly appraise the sacrifices of adulthood, not being direct participants. Therefore, punishment can seem the very worst of consequences to the child mind.) The incomprehensible realm of adult sacrifice that adolescence avoidance may set in motion is, to the child, well... incomprehensible. Therefore, such avoidance would not necessarily be premeditatedly evil, per-se; but, more, a vigorous self defense from that perspective.

I just wonder if we aren't meant to be teased by this question, even to the end: a little bonus after the show. (Sometimes it's difficult being a Sleuth of Mystery. We sometimes find enigma where there IS none... or IS there? Or is there NOT?) Is there a tempest in a teapot... or just a demitasse of Luzianne? And, are brother and sister Winslow ALSO brother and sister Pidgeon?

This is a WONDERFUL movie. Go see it. You'll find it delightfully refreshing as either a light afternoon indulgence or as the polish for a special evening. And, there is a special reward: the subversive undercurrent of clever British wit that lilts throughout the entire movie... what I have gleefully termed "sabotire."

A friend said that this movie was very true to the novel on which it is based, which leads me to wonder how they could want another dose of it at the movies. I was an innocent merely stumbling into the path of this baneful, careening freight train.

The immediate impressions grow worse in retrospect. This is a tough movie with a contagious negativity that made Vixen and Diaper long for a mental colonic.

Soon after a chance encounter with Captain Elisabeth Campbell a professional call brings Army Criminal Investigator Paul Brenner (John Travolta) to the scene of her apparently brutal, ritualistic murder. Campbell (played semi-nudely by Leslie Stefanson and more revealingly by a convincing and anatomically correct special effects mock-up) is spread-eagled on her back with ropes and tent stakes, in a combat training area of the base commanded by her dad. A lacy cloud of underpants rings her neck and a cinched rope holds them in place, completing the ensemble.

Outwardly, it seems senseless and unprovoked, but the greater evils are not yet revealed and there's a passel of them in this story! It might better have been called "Caisson Place." Seething beneath the spit, polish, and snappy salutes is a treacherous soap opera of murder, deceit, faithlessness, selfishness, sadomasochism, rape, bondage and revenge... all revolving around Captain Campbell and about half of the officer corps.

But the real devils are, as yet, undisclosed. This segment of the story is the most repugnant and, naturally occurs at the end. The revelation, though the most repulsive and troubling, is also strangely anti-climatic as it unravels ignominiously in the bruising shadows of the violence that precedes it.

Aside from Travolta, you will recognize the attractive and notable Madeleine Stowe as his counterpoint in both an unfinished prior relationship and as his investigation teammate, Sarah Sunhill. Nice that they are both Warrant Officers and can't pull rank when their past moments of unresolved kissyfacing return as professional indigestion. You will certainly recognize pig-farmer-turned-General James Cromwell and guess who's popped in from The Mod Squad? I'll leave that as a secret. You'll definitely recognize Colonel Kent, but you probably won't recall his name. He's a decent character actor.

The actor who REALLY shined, even though in a small role, is John Beasley. I've seen him many times before but, again, failed to recall his name. His moving portrayal of West Point psychiatrist Colonel Slesinger is impressive, powerful and charged with emotion; turning it into one of the most estimable and memorable parts in the film.

I wouldn't suggest this film if you want to end the day without psychiatric consultation. Obviously it's not one for the kiddies, the postman, or impressionable deviants and manic depressants. Diaper Wife Companion, the vivacious and lovely Caped Vixen, rued having gone and likely your wife will echo that sentiment.

Go buy some ice cream cones and take a tree-shaded walk instead.

Caped Vixen comment: The General's Daughter is especially tasteless opening on Father's Day weekend.

As before, this latest incarnation heaps a big clown slap on the Bond genre. An equally enduring, though less endearing, element is that almost everything is an allusion to some, often base, element of sophomoric humor. The naming conventions directly mimic the bawdy connotations from the 007 series, only more outrageously. For instance, characters include "Number Two", "Ivana Humpalot", and "Fat Bastard" (which, in itself, is a shameless exploitation of a current hip-hopper's lewd stage name.) Then, there are "Felicity Shagwell", "Robin Swallows", the less obvious "Basil Exposition", and the "Pecker" pair.

The last example brings up a less savory comic stunt: the use of actual human names, mostly the names of stars who played themselves, to facilitate an excruciating stream of penile gags. Along a similar line, is Austin Powers' agonizing nude romp -- or leisurely streak -- through his luxury hotel lobby with clever arrangements of food and other items suggesting his private parts as he passes behind them. It was extremely creative and well choreographed, and equally tasteless. In sum, this picture becomes a velvet-gloved blackmail of the movie ratings system... eking out a PG-13 for material which, if not so cleverly insinuated, would surely have landed it in solid "R" country.

Playing the part of Number Two was easy lunch money for the guru of suave, Robert Wagner. Reprising his parody of the often-wooden supporting characters in classic Bond episodes, he isn't really supposed to ACT... and he doesn't, with good humorous effect. Rob Lowe pulls off an amazing clone of Robert Wagner's performance, as the younger Number Two. It's extremely deft and effective, because he never "over-plays" it. Kristin Johnston is hilarious as the nefarious sex kitten Ivana Humpalot. Playing the part of Powers' chest hair was a very obnoxious mat of faux gorilla thatch.

If you are able to shed the assault on your values and feverishly relish yet another assault on James Bond in the way that only Mike Meyers can do it, then you may want to go see this. It's not a sleeper and is quite funny but you've been warned! Leave painfully mature people, kids under 18, suggestible fiends of all categories, and those with taste at home and the damage will be suitably localized.

ENTRAPMENT

Next, we are in the outer office of the Waverly Insurance Company and it is the following morning. We are watching several key people discussing the theft, including claims manager Hector Cruz (extremely well played by Will Patton) and claims investigator Virginia Baker (temptingly dangled by Catherine Zeta-Jones.)

"Gin", as she's known, analyzes that the job could only have been pulled off by international cat burglar extraordinaire Robert MacDougal. Hector demures but Gin hangs tough and her view prevails. She gets the go-ahead to entrap the stealthy grandpop in a scheme to steal a priceless historic mask from a European showing that has received international publicity.

The first night abroad is unexpectedly challenging as she wakes up to find Mac relaxing in the shadows of HER bedroom. HE's found HER first. She baits the trap and he accepts on HIS terms then vanishes. I mean VANISHES. VAMOOSE!

Ms Zeta-Jones is undoubtedly one of the hottest kittens on the screen and a first rate actress who flirts with the eyes incessantly. And, it takes someone of that caliber to hold their own opposite Sean Connery who, as you'd expect, plays "Mac" MacDougal better than anyone else could ever HOPE to do it. There is a charming on-screen chemistry between them that makes every moment of the movie entertaining. The cat-and-mouse banter between them, her impish scheming, his mercurial character who is at once charming, witty, and dangerous.

This highly intriguing and sophisticated plot always has Gin two steps ahead of Mac while Mac is, concomitantly, two steps ahead of Gin in a convoluted, multi-level brain-twister that really keeps you glued to the action. This, combined with a new Jaguar convertible being shot up as our doubtful duo flee a fleabag art hustler, becomes an unbeatable combination when you throw in the Millenium Bug, the totally believable sexual tension between them, the uncertainty that you can sometimes cut with a knife, and the always edgy and unpredictable professional relationships in the movie.

This is a high-energy, riveting suspense-mystery. Also, Ving Rhames is perplexing and superb as Thibadeaux, Mac's nefarious aide. He's playful yet menacing, threatening; and turns out to be as complex as Mac and Gin. Oh... and there's a little trouble on the 50th floor of the International Clearance Bank in Kuala Lampur that requires a parachute and there's the use of argon gas on laser beams, too. (Actually, this involves the creative recycling of the famed 88 story, stainless steel wonder known as the Petronas Towers... the World's Tallest Building!)

This was a movie good enough to evoke the heightened sensations that come at the edge of adventure (like watching our protagonists do the full Tarzan from 50 stories up in the sky.) Vixen and I well know this sharpness from many of our more glamorous cases. The nose is a fierce crime-fighting tool when properly attenuated by challenging circumstances, as are the ears. There is a super sensitivity to the finger tips, the reflexes are feline quick. On the periphery of danger we move like cats. We think like dogs. We love like rabbits... Just kidding!

But, while we are visiting that subject, there was NO NUDITY (though some is hinted) in this thriller. Violence was slight, given the genre, and suspense was real real high. There were at least three incidents of cussing, all of which could have been avoided; thus proving that, with just a little more effort, you could make a great movie without ANY of Hooeywood's distasteful crutches.

If you're like the Fearless Diaper Duo and enjoy intriguing, challenging spy stuff, definitely GO! You should also be able to flesh out your mission team with mature teens, an adventurous spouse, friends, and even your postman or a field trip from the local sanitarium. (Tip for sanitarium groups: Promise them an Easter egg hunt if they're good. They don't know when Easter is.)

Like Matrix, this is a very brain-teasing adventure. Things are DEFINITELY not the way they first seem, but for an even lo-n-g-e-r period of time. In fact, they are definitely not the way they SECOND seem.

Playing off of the intrigue of the tormented 1930s, we join action already in progress during that era. Natty ole gipper Hannon Fuller (convincingly interpreted by Armin Mueller-Stahl) is bailing out of some late night hoochie-coochie with the cuties at his usual hide-away, a lush nightclub in the Wilshire Grand Hotel. On the way out, he lays a fantastical opus on the bar keep that is for someone else. Unknown to him, though he should have suspected, the bar tender is not one to respect privacy and what he reads eventuates in personal helplessness and unresolved angst.

Fuller, decamping for home, does a real Clark Kent number, ditching the togs on his way in and sliding into the sack with his high-mileage steady. (You KNOW she's got to be wondering if the boy's got a new squeeze toy. Little does she know, he's got a whole PASSLE of 'em.... and this is BEFORE Viagra.)

Right when you've got him figured out, he WAKES UP on a lab slab in current-day Intergraph Computer Systems. Several floors above, on the 13th floor, is the flower of his creative mind: a vast computer bank that controls the alternative reality from which he's just "returned." It is a fully modeled simulation of his favorite year, 1937, though still in beta testing. But this simulation is much more real than the term implies. In fact, it's identical to REAL life except for a few flaws.

All of the company's main players seem to have a body double in the virtual world, patterned directly after them, though with a different name. These doubles actually have a fully developed consciousness of their own; but, whenever their personal "program link" from the future decides to vacation in them, that VR consciousness is over-ridden by the personality of their real counterpart.

(Digressing for a moment, I almost bought a computer from Intergraph Corporation. I know that they are heavy into CAD and graphics, and animation, and computer-aided dispatch systems, and PC and Apple compatibles, and... well.. weather programs, and INTERACTIVE REALTIME 3D VISUALIZATION... Uh oh. The also cooperate with the government on computer projects. Could it be that Intergraph could have also designed US? Maybe this explains why the dinosaurs disappeared so immediately.) Go to their website and ask them what happened to the dinosaurs and whether they designed us. www.intergraph.com

Resuming our narration, Fuller is SPOOKED and fears his days are numbered. He zips out to a local dive to call his protégé, Doug Hall (played by Craig Bierko.) Didn't that boy ever hear of cell phones? Well, that little techno-lapse got him stabbed into Heaven... REAL fast.

Then the old bag of secrets gets a rip and surprises just come tumbling out. Suddenly Fuller HAS A DAUGHTER. And, what's more, she's come to SHUT DOWN THE WHOLE PROJECT! Whoa! But, the ole gadabout had a trick up his sleave. Before his untimely departure, he changed his will "in favor of the employees" and made Doug (or "Douglas", as HE called him) Chairman of the Board. That left his daughter, Jane (Gretchen Moll), checkmated. (Confidentially, she's worth the price of admission, even at evening prices.)

As an investigation is mounted to solve the murder of her father, the Columbo-esque police investigator, Larry McBain (deftly played by Dennis Haysbert), is skulking around casting shadows on all of the potential perps. His stare would wilt a turnip. You're not sure he's a good guy.

But, that's the way of this suspenseful, multi-dimensional maze. It's chocolate candy for your imagination! You're constantly off-balance in a great mental chess game all the way to the very end. There's always a new curve.

This was a Diaper Duo Double Delight. We both enjoyed having our brains teased. And you just have to see how incredibly 1937 is recreated on the screen. It's a majestic piece of work. But, typically, there are gray skies. The nasty old "F" word appeared several times and the action scenes packed a wallop! There was enough energy to make a rugrat cry for a semi-automatic. So, leave the vulnerable, including teens, at the putt-putt course.

It's difficult to criticize this movie. Aside from its serious flaws, both Diapers really liked the basic story. It is a fairytale about the improbable... the impossible and, therefore, the precious possibility of true and enduring love between members of different human "universes".

Men, you may want to bring some kleenex... in case your wife needs it (OR, in case your Coke "burps" through the lid hole of your cup during vigorous straw-action and it gets in your eye. This has been a reported casualty during "women" movies.) I personally experienced bouts of uncontrollable laughter, with only a mustard-stained napkin to tidy up. Need I say more?

Well... YES. Be warned!

William 's roommate, Spike (played by Rhys Ifans), is the vehicle for a great deal of what is unwholesome in this movie. In a vision that still begs for soap and water, he was like afterbirth with a stubble, traipsing about blithely in stale underpants the shade of gray misery. Worn into submission, these tired troopers clung nauseatingly about evey scintilla of his anatomy and drooped to betray a certain cleavage that would make any refrigerator installer proud. Earlier, in preparation for a first date, Spike tried to select the "right" t-shirt to wear. His choices included one with a large arrow pointing to his zipper area that proclaimed something like "The fun starts here." Then, among a flurry of others, there was the one that said on the front "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." (Quite a charming sentiment. It even had a couple of little hearts, too.) Then on the back of the shirt it concluded "Let's go F%(#."

Along with the kleenex and some soap and water, you might also want some Tidy Bowl; because, like a virgin boozer, some of the speech (including the F word) and some segments of allegory ran straight for the backdoor and all the way out to the garbage can.

These tactless concessions to "art" soiled what is, otherwise, a great story about people and relationships. Without the filth, it is tender, funny, engaging, lovely, and beautifully intuitive. Degeneracy is never honesty. Let's demand better from film profiteers. This could have been a good story for everyone.

As the brilliant light of George Lucas's imagination flickered to black and closing credits began to swoop up from the netherworld below our window on intergalactic extrapolation, Caped Vixen and I raced to our waiting Car Fighter, crouched and itching for action. Filled with high-energy Exxon propellant juice, she sprang into high performance after we removed the metallic, plasma green solar arrestor from her windscreen.

We were nearing sub-warp speed as we bolted back to the Cave to share these early returns with you! THE VERDICT? This is the BEST STAR WARS EVER!! That's no hyperbole.

This is a 21st century Flash Gordon on steroids with several truly bad "Emperor Mings." The animatronics, robotics, uniforms and costumes, settings, and sound effects are nothing short of ASTOUNDING! And you have NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THE SPECIAL EFFECTS IN THIS MOVIE! It's also gripping drama and science fiction at its best; and with a big screen presence that, along with Dolby Labs' latest THX sound, fully dominates your senses!!

Unlike the previous Star Wars releases, the acting is mega-notches higher. In this, the first of the new prequels, we are introduced to the young Anakin Skywalker (superbly represented by Jake Lloyd) who will be the father of Luke Skywalker of sequel fame (AND who becomes the brooding and deluded Darth Vader of same.) We meet the YOUNG Ben "Obi Wan" Kenobi (Ewan McGregor) and his Jedi mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn (played admirably by Liam Neeson). Minor, yet important, showings are made by old friends C3PO, Jabba the Hut, Yoda, and the evil Master Sith (that pimply old venomous shrew whom you just know signifies all of the evil of the rumored New World Order.)

Queen Amidala (beautifully portrayed by Natalie Portman) is a SUPER SPLENDID addition to the Star Wars serial. She's dumbfoundingly mesmerizing in her stately bearing and all of her regal finery. She's going to influence contemporary fashion in a neat way.

You will grip your chair arms with white knuckles as Qui-Gon Jinn and the evil, dark-hooded apprentice Sith, Darth Maul (who looks like he borrowed his face from Alice Cooper), go at it with lightsabers blazing. I'll bet they were powered with Eveready Energizers, because they just kept on going and going and going!

AND GUESS WHAT PARENTS? There was no nudity and the worst language we heard was "doo doo" (used once.) This should be great entertainment for all of the family, bar none!

Now for an incisive wrap-up from the ravishing Caped Vixen:

Greedy Traders want to control the universe with higher taxation so they surround and start a hostile takeover of little planet Naboo while lying to Queen Amidala.

Lessons to be learned are: Gamblers loose, good wins - repeatedly and in spite of overwhelming odds, friends (new & old) are a treasure to cherish & defend, even a klutz can do good, sports announcers look quite normal with two heads, and bad guys don't even look appealing.

Best Quote: "Your focus determines your reality." by Qui-Gon Jinn

This is a modern day myth (not a religious story) to be simply enjoyed for its value as a moral tale and its superb imagination. We've gone back to catch more of the intricate detail (language, clothing & machine design work, etc.) - This is just as good the second time around!

Looking for a different piece of Star Wars' collectibles?  Although I found my neat ORIGINAL Jar Jar mug at a swank gift boutique on Chicago's Navy Pier) I found the same thing at the Flying J truck stop on our way back from the nearly frozen north.  Who says you have to go to Taco Bell? (Though we love Taco Bell.)

Vosloo! GESUNDHEIT!

The Mummy's name is Imhotep. He's crawling with bugs and ready to rumble!

He's scary (sort of.) He's mean (sort of.) He's RAMBO to the bone. With just the right electric Gattling gun, this mummy (Arnold Vosloo) could be even money against that OTHER Arnold! And, unlike the OTHER Arnold, he's got friends with boils and pimples.

But, let's go back to the source of the boy's troubles. When he was three thousand years younger, he was entrusted with lots of stuff; but, Imhotep played with the Pharaoh's Girl Toy... scantily clad Anck-Su-Namun. The Pharaoh caught them and, before he could say lickety-split, he got all diced up and turned into Mombar Mahshy by Girl Toy and Imhotep.

Just as they finish, the Pharaoh's body guards raid the joint. But, Girl Toy comes up with a stellar distraction so that Imhotep can fade. Later, in his hideout at Hamunaptra, the City of the Dead, he and his priests whip up a full body makeover for her but Pharaoh's guards crash the party and put Girl Toy on hiatus along with the priests. Then they put the wraps on Imhotep and give him a single occupancy about the size of a Tokyo condo. They throw away the key and, for three thousand years, there's nothing for the boy to do but sharpen his nails on the inside of the box lid. (Remember: this was before tic-tac-toe!)

Imhotep also gets the grisly Homdai (THE CURSE OF THE LIVING DEAD) and a pestiferous passel of skin-munching scarabs to keep things eventful.

Centuries and centuries pass until 1923, all without Girl Toy or sunlight. And, thanks to the bugs, he's down to skin and bones. Hamunaptra has become a figment of esoteric mythology, sort of like snipes.

Then, one day, a band of adventurers rediscovers Hamunaptra and a bunch of Bedouins, led by Ardeth Bey (Oded Fehr), chases them off.

One of plunderers, Rick O'Connell, finds an interesting object before he is ejected. We don't know that until four years later when the curiosity winds up in the hands of Jonathan (Cairo barfly, scholar, and pickpocket played by John Hannah) who gives it to his sister, Evelyn, to sell for him to the curator of the Museum of Antiquities where she works.

Evelyn (Rachel Weisz) discovers part of its secret, but the curator manages to mess it up. So, they're back to square one until Jonathan comes clean about where he got the artifact. This leads them to the jail where Rick (Brendan Fraser) is waiting to be hanged. Evelyn saves Rick and picks up a smelly and uncouth Egyptian partner (the jailer played by Omid Djalili). They set out for the first leg of the trip to Hamunaptra on the Sudan, a creaky side-wheeler. But, Ardeth Bey and his boys (ever on the prowl) attack them and some rambunctious cowpunchers who are also heading for the same place, and they have to swim for it when the boat catches fire.

Many saddle sores later, they all bust into Imhotep's desert crib and jack his books and fairy dust bottles. He come out of his crate drooling for nourishment and knuckled up to roll on them, because he needs that fairy dust and one of those books to restore Girl Toy, who's looking like a giant beef jerky in an old tablecloth.

First, he goes after each of the grave-robbers who took a fairy dust bottle and sucks them dry as prunes to "assimilate their organs and fluids" so he can "regenerate" himself. Then, he tosses their leftovers into crumpled heaps like discarded underpants and re-collects the bottles! Incidentally, he unleashes the curse of the ten plagues on the world and gets a ten-finger-discount on some used eyeballs and a tongue from the first bandit.

This being a modern Hollywood production, the grave robbers do a little cursing of their own... five times, in fact; and, theirs is not the kind that you want kids to hear! If this isn't shocking enough, I must also warn you that Brendan Fraser has some of the weirdest facial expressions I've ever seen this side of a fun house mirror. Combine that with excruciatingly spastic camel riding and you've got... one strange sight.

Regardless, Diaper Wife Companion and I thoroughly enjoyed this tongue-in-cheek adventure filled with dynamic special effects and period dialog. It is a fitting update to a musty tale. Go see it, but only with adults because Girl Toy wears less than a Calcutta beggar in summer and the cussing is cussed.

This movie is a celebration of human imperfection, inclusive of careless and immoral living. It revolves around a tight group of air traffic controllers working and playing in shoulder-to-shoulder camaraderie, in sort of devil-may-care prolonged adolescence. They're not pilots but they've "seen them on TV" and have a full-blown (if not over-blown) case of ersatz ego.

Their pressure-cooked world gins up a daily ragout of operating room humor and sometimes dangerous detachment that is further accentuated with near-lethal doses of locker room eccentricity. All of this, one would surmise, is nature's way of keeping the drooling wolf of insanity from the door. (Didn't work in one guy's case.)

If the writers had kept it on the high road, it could have been a MUCH more enjoyable movie. As it is, it felt forced. Maybe it's because I have met some controllers and have a relative who is one. I didn't like what I perceived as an exploitation of these hard working people, depicting them as shallow, puerile egotists with equally childish and unsophisticated spouses.

The central tension of the movie is an unhealthy competition between two hotshot controllers Nick Falzone, the reigning golden boy, and the new guy Russel Bell.

Russel (Billy Bob Thornton) has a quiet way of being just as competitive and obnoxious as Nick (John Cusack).

Nick, sensing a rival, starts probing and challenging Russel from the outset. Then he takes advantage of a cry-for-help from Russel's wife. His impetuous nature eventually brings on most of his own misfortune, as the collected and deliberative Russel gives it all back to him with a bonus.

As Nick's wife, Connie (Cate Blanchett) and kids go packing, Nick has two "deals" (freezing at his scope) in thirty minutes, each nearly causing a mid-air collision. (If he gets three in TWO YEARS, he's ground beef.) After the movie, a REAL controller said "If we were like that, we'd be having ten deals a day."

Naturally there's a buddy element in every good "GUY" movie. Nick's got one and he helps Nick relocate the starter button to his life... just in time, in fact, to vector in Connie's return flight to wrap up the marriage.

In a valiant, purely embarrassing play for her forgiveness, he... OOOPS! Almost told you the ending! I wonder if Billy Bob's related to the Thornton's Donut Shop people?

Now a word (or words) from Caped Vixen: I enjoyed the movie more than Dark Diaper - sort of on the romance novel lines I suppose, since the morals are loose to none.

See it if guys on cafeine intrigues you.

Additional Dark Diaper caution: There is an adulterous bedroom scene during which Russel's wife's 38s slip out of their holsters!

If you like David Spade you will definitely enjoy this this little jewel. It's his best. His usually unbearable high school humour has been replaced with an admirable comic "sophistication." In fact, he's developed sort of a professional polish that hints at an ability to go beyond comedy.

Don't get me wrong, you'll still find plenty of gross accents such as the dog poop inspection and the dog vomit scene (So don't despair Spade-o-philes!) but there is the bonus of a sweet story.

Dylan Ramsey (David Spade) falls madly in love with a sophisticated, cello-playing little French import next door named Lila (Sophie Marceau). Dylan must overcome Lila's understandable indifference to him, her old boyfriend (who has flown in from Paris for a second taste), and Dylan's own non-suave persona.

But Ramsey has an edge on the competition; he secretly swipes Lila's terrier in order to "help" her find the dog and thereby spend time with her. As expected the dog is mnore than a match for him and everything that CAN go wrong does! Through every embarassing moment of it, we are treated to David Spade's wonderfully wry humour. The dog poop scenes are a bit much for mature audiences but the bare rear end and crude inuendo are not for youngsters.

Great scenes include Dylan's Neil Diamond lip-sync which had us all rolling in the aisles! This is a love story and all ends well, for just about everyone (old boyfriend gets his in the end).

Speaking of END, the outtakes at the end were a hoot - stay and see 'em all!

This is a sweet, funny movie about giving yourself the "space", clawing out the space, in which to outgrow the common pubescent flaw of unguardedly accepting others' opinions of you as fact: that straight jacket of childhood's often cruelest moments. Thus, this movie is about refusing to let your memories suffocate you, about taking charge and getting healthy for the rest of your life.

And, tell me I'm wrong... I dare you! But, Drew Barrymore is the perfect little imp to play the lead part. She imparts a wonderful glow of sympathy, natural good humor, vulnerability, unaffected sweetness, and charm which really pulls her role together. And, to play this part with the commitment she gave to it, she has to have a great capacity to laugh at herself... always a healthy sign (and a good example for those able to recognize it.) She's a cutie.

This is about a rather cloistered newspaper go-fer (copy editor), Josie Geller, who steps up to the plate and asks to have a real assignment. But, nobody credits her with the qualities for becoming a successful reporter. However, providence works independently and... during a regular weekly meeting between reporters, the Chicago Sun-Times' big cheese, and underlings (Josie, etal), a reporter is canned because he failed to do a good job with one of the "plum" assignments that the big cheese regularly tosses out. These assignments are the cherished product of his own "inspiration", gut instinct... whimsy. By happenstance, he notices Josie at the table and (oblivious to her status) impulsively gives HER his latest brainstorm to cover. Thus, in a moment of splendid serendipity, her big opportunity knocks. She gets a REAL assignment... and blessed by the big cheese himself.

In a devilish comedy of errors, she prepares for the assignment and can't get anything right. But, she is undeterred. A hilarious string of consequences paves her unorthodox stumble to success, including a breakthrough encounter with some latter-day Bob Marleys and a pan of Rastafarian "cake."

What's best... there's love, popularity and success waiting for her at the end of the gauntlet, not only for her but for HER BROTHER who unselfishly helps her and gets his own dream answered.

This rates a double high-sign on our enjoyment meter. Twizzlers and liquid refreshment vanished quickly as we were sucked into this engrossing tale. We both loved it. What's nice is that most of the family can and WILL love it, except rug-wrigglers, and tough punks whose manhood might be challenged by a "girl movie." (The only flaw might be the insinuation that a reckless abandon precipitated by spiked cake is a model pathway to opportunity. This insidious nuance can be nipped in the bud before the movie starts.)

CALLING ALL JACKIE CHAN WORSHIPERS! All true Shoguns hear the call. This is an action-packed whirlwind. Though it only starts off like World War Three, this high-energy kungfu ballet rapidly builds up steam from there. So, it won't disappoint.

This is, as usual, terrific fun with great stunts and humor. All of the classic elements are there. The unsynchronized voice-over, the constant tempest of danger always bedeviling our protagonist. But, there is a clever new twist. Does he have a twin? You'll have to go and find out.

But, don't take those who might get a blanched ear from bad language.

There are at least four unfortunate verbal violations in the movie. Also, be sure to stock up on nutritional provisions. The action scenes will draw down your energy reserves quickly forcing the unwary into an untimely and inconvenient forage for reinforcements, right as key elements of the plot (WHAT plot?) are unfolding. A great afternoon celebration of BIFF! BOFF!

WHAM! and KABLOOEY!

This is a quality movie about some pretty disconnected parents; distracted, ill-attuned, "makin' it" but failing with their kids. People I never quite got to like because, even to the end, they never quite got it right. This is also about the oldest child who got overlooked, under-credited, under-appreciated, taken for granted despite the fact that he was often more mature than his parents, literally became the parent of the household when his brother was abducted, and kept his parents from falling apart at the seams when stresses made those seams tenuously frail.

This is also the story of the same kid and his mother, each of whom harbored great burdens of guilt over the loss of the abducted brother... each for their own reasons; but, primarily due to the nagging sense that they had been irretrievably, inexcusably callous, thoughtless, or selfish in those scant few moments leading to the boy's disappearance.

The rest of the family becomes the punching bag of this guilt, especially the husband who valiantly struggles to be a beacon of strength. But, then, there is an unfortunate element to his behavior which the wife aptly nails later in the story... he enjoyed being in charge just a little too much. The only one not showing flaws is the baby of the family.

The mother, Beth Cappadora (skillfully played by Michelle Pfeiffer), is a true flake. Self-absorbed, superficial, distracted, unaware of how disconnected from her kids she is. Her photography is her life... THEY are her appendages. Like arms or legs, you take them for granted until one falls off. "Checking in" is not the same as being actively involved with your kids and she and the father, Pat Cappadora (aptly portrayed by Treat Williams) are equally afflicted. It's easy to be steaming in the wrong direction when you're just "phoning it in."

I don't like these people. But, I did feel sympathy for the oldest child, Vincent. Jonathan Jackson, who played this part, is an actor beyond his years. (Where do you get a name like Jackson and look so Dutch or German?)

When Ben, the middle child, disappears, you initially feel that the family will knit closer together. You rapidly become disappointed by the two parental figures. Their weaknesses are simply magnified. If they hadn't had the financial freedom to absorb the shocks and make room for each other, the parents wouldn't have made it together.

Much, much time passes, though, and a certain evenness-of-keel returns to the family. But, there are many unresolved, repressed matters that regain the stage when a nearby stranger named Sam (Ryan Merriman) pops in from out of nowhere and re-tilts their domestic gyro.

He proves to be the key to solving the riddle about Ben and, through his strength, selfless and love, everyone grows a bit... quite a bit. Amazing what the fellow who mows your lawn can sometimes share! The ending is lovely and heart-warming, though I never gain complete respect for the parental units.

This could be scary and very disturbing for younger children and postal workers. Also, don't take the local asylum inmates on a field trip to see it. Otherwise, you could check it out.

WHAT A GREAT REDO! Guess I just relate better to Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn. This was very funny. These two can say more in a squint than most of us can say in a paragraph... me included.

You know the drift... Henry and Nancy Clark, two unseasoned suburbanites from out-of-town, take a bite from the Big Apple and find it's laced with acid (literally.) They bumble into "Andrew Lloyd Webber" who sticks them up on the street (after their plane takes a wrong turn, they miss their train, take a disastrous tour in their rental car, and their luggage disappears) and everything tumbles hilariously downhill from there until the glare of sophisticated tree lighting suddenly catches them sprawled in the throws of rediscovered passion as Mayor Guilliani and several hundred guests at a gala in Central Park's Tavern on the Green look on in horror.

The stint in the park followed their doctoral work in urban sciences in which they haplessly become part of an armed robbery escape.

All the time they are being beset by beastly events, they are waking up from the somnambulism that had been settling over their lives in O-H-I-O. By the end of the film, they get the complete New York Overhaul, accented with cross-dressing, being the scapegraces of a mounted police chase, and rappelling between hotel balconies two steps ahead of the law. All of this after being evicted from their posh accommodations because their daughter had spent the limit on their one remaining credit card squirreled away in Henry's sock before they were mugged.

There is no nudity, cussing and only humorous innuendo as our couple tries to hold it together during their Big Adventure... all on the night before Henry's all-important job interview.

This movie was just good, clean fun even considering the close encounter with a sadomasochistic strumpet and the Rottweiler chase. This is a real bonehead romp that adds up to a great afternoon getaway!

As our story opens he is separated from his wife, Barbara, and their pre-school child and is philandering about with abandon and with no obvious sense of regret until he is caught one too many times. It's never certain that his contrition over that gaffe is more than a dodge to avoid unpleasant consequences at work. Indeed, even to the end of the movie, he remains impenitently in pursuit of cutie-bootie.

In a truly pathetic moment in Steve's life, he does what he calls "speed zoo" with his daughter in an effort to make it to a crucial reporting connection afterwards. (She is whisked about in a stroller as he callously and distractedly calls out animals to her, passing them in a blur of motion, until she is thrown from the stroller and winds up more shaken than stirred.)

Later, during a tender bed-side apologia as his life is falling apart, he promises his daughter (exquisitely played by his REAL daughter) that they will go back and "play SLOW zoo next time." She's innocently excited and asks if they can see the hippopotamus (which had been her main desire the first time) and he assures her of it.

But, in a truly sad insinuation at the close of the movie, he is shown buying her a stuffed hippo "just like the one at the zoo." His chances with his daughter and his wife seem to have run out.

As poignant as this thread is, it's not the main story line... merely an accent to flesh out the flawed nature of our protagonist. The central theme is a death row inmate who will be injected out of existence in a matter of hours. A man who Steve's nose-for-news says is INNOCENT.

Unfortunately, Steve's already been wrong about a similar high-profile case about a year earlierly and nobody will give him a serious ear except for Alan, his long-suffering, sympathetic Chief Editor (adeptly rendered by James Woods). And there are plenty of obstructions lining up to get in his way (many of them self-inflicted.)

Here the story draws an ironic parallel. Two flawed men: Frank Beachum (exceedingly well played by Isaiah Washington) who reformed his life, is faithful to his adoring wife and child, and is falsely condemned to death; the other... Steve Everett who is still unrepentant, flagrantly unfaithful and yet free to wound others and squander his new lease on life.

How this story plays out is a real edge-of-the-seat nail-biter that goes down to the wire and past it. You never know how things will evolve or what they mean. In fact, given the imperfections and doubts that are so pervasive in the plot, you don't have a clue about how this taught drama will end.... and I'm, sadly, not going to help you. You'll just have to go see it.....

James Woods has never disappointed me and, as Alan Mann, he did a great job of presenting the right amounts of humor, loyalty and empathy as the bedeviled Oakland Tribune Editor-in-Chief.

Every cast member did a commendable job. And I'm not being effusive. It's deserved. Clint Eastwood not only acted but was very instinctive, perceptive, and restrained as the director. A few words of caution though: While this is truly a top-drawer Clint Eastwood film, (this imprimatur also generally means) don't take folks under 18! The dialog is fertile ground for a seedy vocabulary. The lifestyling is obviously not up to "role model" standards either. And there is also the panty shot that bares a bit too much along the edge of the leg opening.

That said, there is nobody who can add to a movie what Clint Eastwood does. He's like a priceless watermark. I've never gone to one of his movies that I didn't like and I liked this one... But, I liked this one enough to see it twice, and it was absolutely as absorbing the second time around.

It's a well considered, but wholly materialistic, multi-level construct that parrots the commonly-held human misconception of a separate physical world from God: a fictional state of imaginary dualism between metaphysical reality and some gauzian, threatening "physical reality" doing constant battle with it. But, in this movie it's been diminished to a sort of... "now we see through a glass darkly" kind of thing but with the twist that what comes later (after gaining a little wisdom) is a corrected MATERIAL view. Boy! What a long way to go for so little.

IN ANY EVENT...

In this version of existence, the Matrix plays the role of our material world and Heaven is played by a much-disfigured "reality" that the matrix disguises. Everyone in the Matrix is going along blissfully ignorant of the way they are being duped by a terrible error into seeing and validating things that don't really exist (as in our human concept of reality.)

The sophistication of the analogy itself and the execution of the plot elements is not readily apparent until the movie progresses. It gradually reveals a very clever blend of elements of thought simultaneously on different levels.

Every such titanic clash between good and evil, "truth" and "error", deserves a "Christ figure" and this one comes in the form of Keanu Reeves as the character "Neo."

Out of nowhere there is a momentary side trip into eco-terrorism with the almost dismissively satirical insertion of the shop-worn mantra that humans are some destructive "virus" amid the otherwise harmonious ecosphere. Thankfully, it's done rather obligatorily, as would a prostitute rendering sex to the sixteenth customer of the day; and then things get back on track.

The "track" is a cleverly eclectic mishmash of cinematic expression tools and vehicles. I found every type of recycled plot hook incorporated. There was the super-human mystery of "The Shadow", the super-human strength of Superman, the super-natural body morphing of "Predator" and "Terminator II", and the eerie supra-natural quality of Boris Karloff's "Frankenstein." (At some point my mind began echoing "It's ALIVE!") Then, in one sequence, there is an interestingly different adaptation of the popular alien abduction scenario! For body-jolting PUNCH! there is an adequate grafting of the tough action and pyrotechnics of the Die Hard movies... and the lingering feeling that, at any point, you'll wake up to the reality of a bleeding edge British heavy metal video come Calvin Klein ad. BUT, once again, the total effect is quite gooo0oood.

But, wait. Ain't seen nothin' yet, bucko. Add the plot elements of a role-reversed sleeping beauty scenario and an American mega-city backdrop with a distinctly Canadian culture warp ("Authorized" is spelled "Authorised" on a caution sign.) Then, for sake of cultural sensitivity, add the biggest hoot of all: a peculiar harkening to abolitionism, in which a ghetto-bound black woman is the all-knowing oracle of wisdom mentoring a black champion in league with a team of lesser beings, mostly white, striving passionately to save all humanity from slavery.

Whew! The only thing missing was a homosexual superhero with a gender-shifting ray gun. What untold horrors of discrimination could that omission betray?? Tsk, tsk.

As I hinted earlier, the first 20 minutes of this movie seem unbelievably poorly acted with very spastic timing and you almost feel as if leaving would be an act of self-mercy. But, after the evening train came blaring by outside - adding an extra dimension of sorts, the film got a clue and everything began to knit together and become interesting... even engrossing. The plot and acting began to click and the special effects became astounding and thrilling! Diaper Wife Companion and I both came away feeling as though we were, ultimately, well-entertained. The true resurrection element to this film was that we ultimately got our money's worth, indeed at evening prices.

But, all under-age life forms should be shielded from this movie. Though there is scarcely even a hint of anything sexual, there is, shall we say, more than a casual hint of bad language. There is also a lot of graphic violence, in which Diaper and Wife Companion reveled, that might impart an unhealthy world perspective to rug-suckers and the like. Some of the more durable and mature sorts, however, might come away lusting for more. Again, don't bring postal types or wimpies. Give them a chance to hold on to their innocence. Instead, take action-oriented adults who can deflect the occasional cinematic blood spatters and wounds of inappropriate speech.