Unless something large changes soon in my life, something as life altering as a new career or an unexpected pregnancy, it is safe to say that full length reviews aren't in the cards for this site in 2004. Nearly all attempts --or rather attempts at attempts have been artistic still births. So herewith some thoughts on films that have been gestating in my head on films that I haven't reviewed yet . They all prominently feature MOTHERS! in some way or another.

Before you ask, yes, the histrionic all bold caps w/ exclamation point was called for and is intentional. Hollywood's got a mommy fixation this year. And it's more than a little Oedipal. We're a long way from Donna Reed territory. And yes, The Manchurian Candidate also belonged herein. If Streep's queen-bitch Mother wasn't eating for two, how else to explain the heaps of scenery she was devouring? But, alas, I already discussed that one.

Mama's Getting Hot

The Door in the Floor
At the beginning of this intriguing film adaptation of John Irving's A Widow for One Year, the camera introduces us to a stone cold beauty in the form of Kim Basinger. We linger on her unflinching gaze. But the eyes aren't penetrating. Though she's staring straight as us, whatever she's seeing is far far away. The Mother, we quickly learn, is not entirely among the living. She may have a living breathing trouble child (Elle Fanning) to care for, but her heart and soul is with her two dead children, killed years before.

If she can't steal the worst mother of the year award from Meryl Streep's Manchurian prima donna, she's impressively, no, tragically sure of her own unfit status. It's an empty void. A vacuum of a person. This is not to say that Basinger's performance is vacuous, merely that the soul of the character has left the room. The actress, lovelier than ever, is completely keyed into her character, perfecting the closed off nature of someone who tragically didn't make it through the stages of grief. She never came back out the other side.

So, to Basinger's vacuum Yin we get Jeff Bridges void filling Yang. His performance is even more impressive, or at least the character is more instantly large, and the movie springs to life whenever his eccentric formidability comes into focus. The audience is quick to embrace the more vivacious soul but as the movie progresses, as his behavior gets uglier --or rather seems uglier, we learn our lessons about damaged souls. They come in different flavors. The kids are dead. But neither of the parents, to twist the vernacular phrase, well... The parents are not all right.

Marion's sexual escapades with her husband's young apprentice finally release her from her emotional paralysis but don't liberate her from herself the way they would in a lesser more test-screened homogenous picture.

The characters in Door in the Floor are not particularly likeable, and their actions are occcassionally downright deplorable, but the film is
B

A Home at the End of the World
Given the accomplishment and the actorly bravado of Door, the summer's other acclaimed book-to-film adaptation had the bar set high. This film's source material (from The Hours author Michael Cunningham) covers nearly the entire life of Johnathan, a young gay man from Ohio Entirely unbalanced.
C-

Gypsy '83
The road trip tale of Gypsy '83, a wonderfully fresh film for the Goth set, is born of an oversize Stevie Nicks fixation. But Madonna might also be a hidden kindred spirit of the film's heroine (Sara Rue). Like the great pop star of our time, 's spirit and persona are largely shaped by the absence of a mother figure. Sara's mother abandoned her rather than died but for a child it amounts to much the same thing. Gypsy tries to fit an awful lot into its some of which works and some doesn't. The search for the mother is heartfelt but the true power of this funny indie stems from the well observed friendship between and her Goth plaything, a misfit gay teen. The chemistry betwen the two actors is near-wondrous.
B-

Young Adam
on fire with her shocking new passion. But Reid never lets loose the way you might imagine a more traditional choice for this type of role, Helen Mirren, might. Even the ending, a tough clear eyed  erasure of sorts feels like it should work, like it should really shake you... and it does. But not to the extent it feels it should have. The film never quite delivers the last blow. Like the title character, it merely seems to recede and vanish.
B-

The Mother
Hanif Kureishi writes beautiful screenplays. But beautiful screenplays don't always make for great films.  It's possibly a matter of temperaments this time out. Were Anne Reid (the lead actress) and Roger Michell (the director) the right collaborators? Their efforts at illuminating the provocative text, though interesting or even extremely well played in individual scenes, feel counterintuitive to the general thrust of the endeavor. Intellectually, I thought it was a fascinating piece but emotionally I just couldn't connect to it. It seemed too detached, too quiet for a film so concerned with the blood in our regions. The high point of the picture for me was the aftermath of a sex scene (the bulk of which take place between Anne Reid and the always magnetic Daniel Craig)
Anne Reid as a widow remarks that she's "burning up". The movie wants to be on fire with her shocking new passion. But Reid never lets loose the way you might imagine a more traditional choice for this type of role, Helen Mirren, might.  Even the ending, a tough clear eyed  erasure of sorts feels like it should work, like it should really shake you... and it does. But not to the extent it feels it should have. The film never quite delivers the last blow. Like the title character, it merely seems to recede and vanish.
B-

Kill Bill, Volume 2
on fire with her shocking new passion. But Reid never lets loose the way you might imagine a more traditional choice for this type of role, Helen Mirren, might.  Even the ending, a tough clear eyed  erasure of sorts feels like it should work, like it should really shake you... and it does. But not to the extent it feels it should have. The film never quite delivers the last blow. Like the title character, it merely seems to recede and vanish.
B

-Nathaniel R

Related Reviews:
Kill Bill, Volume 1
Queer Cinema Discussion (brief notes on A Home at the End of the World )
Top Ten of 1999 (honorable mention to: Edge of Seventeen)