And I don't even want to waste words on the storyline in this film, or the absence of any redeeming aspects that might make this some kind of an artwork worth your viewing time. A dismal project truly lacking in any kind of entertainment value all the way around.

If you've actually read any of my mind-wanderings, I think you know how much I love the work of Johnny Depp. I swear, I am not here to be a Depp apologist a-hole, I give you my word. Okay, flixsters, mahalo for following me this far. What I want to say is this:

I am one-hundred-and-ten -percent sick of nepotism. That's right. Nepotism -- with a capital N -- that rhymes with . . . Okay, so I can't for the life of me think of any word that actually rhymes with N and fits cleverly here, but I'm po'd. When will the spouse of Tim Burton get up the spine and tell him that she shouldn't ever be cast in every borating single one of Tim's movies? Or even the rest of Tim's movies until he gives up. Forever and for always. Wife Helena absolutely sucks the total energy out of this every time she appears. She is no Angela Lansbury for sure.

This movie's even more disappointing than I'd have possibly guessed it might. And Alan Rickman is on my all-time favorite actors list. It takes a lot of good work for a still-living actor to make my all-time favorites list. Don't bother to rent this one, flixster buddies. Serious an fo'real kine. See the Angela Lansbury original for a better take on Steven Sondheim's great musical work.

Walter, I say, with great guilt, that I could not bear another syllable of this one. Not another frame, not another cut, not another jot, not another iota.

In fairness to me, I have been on an all-Bollywood, all-the-time crusade recently, so you'll see how highly, if you check my history of reviews, I've rated some BW product.

Seriously, Walter, I was climbing the walls a few minutes into this one.

I'm sure, because I'm a long-time flixster supporter to the bitter end, upholding the flixsterian democratic ideal that we are all entitled to our own opinions, no matter how narrow and inflexible they may be, that this one will most assuredly get big star ratings from other flixsters -- just not from me.

It's another one, Walter, for our list.

Please feel free to label me old, insensitive, and unbending, if you will, but I tried. I truly gave it the "old college" try. Just as with tripe like so-so Blue, or actually decent White -- the best one in a threesome of not-often-under-gushed-about fodder --, and seriously-most-disappointing and wholly vacuous color-trio buddy Red.

I really, really, really tried, Walter. But, as you know even way up there in the far East-North, time is precious, and life is short.

I mean it: long live GOOD Bollywood.

Kelly, what up? Man I miss her--and I'm not saying that Top Gun was any kind of compensation for my loss.

Hopkins? Please. Do let us celebrate a Shakespearian trained actor who can play a psychopathic killer who bends the system? How novel. Geez, friends, I'm far from that kind of schooling, but I've played Roger Chillingworth. My Roger Chillingworth would slurp down Hopkins' still-beating heart with a kind of lip-smacking smile that would seriously, no pun intended, chill your spine, I kidney you not. The juiciest villain role I've ever had the opportunity to sink my teeth into, and I'm not eating my heart out waiting on an Oscar for it either.

Over my dead body in moviedom life, and, hopefully, not over my real-life dead body, would I vote Hopkins an Oscar for this or anything he's done. But then I never went well with beans of any kind, and I'm more of a white wine type meat. Hopkins himself is actually even more over-rated than this movie. One star for the movie, minus Hopkins. One lucky actor, that Hopkins. Bite me.

This is a beautiful story about the much vaunted redemptive power of love and, employing a benevolent sense of humor in his examination of the human comedy, Kieslowski actually effects redemption for all the principal characters of his trilogy when they are plucked from death at sea, saved absolutely by their creator, regardless of whether we think them worthy of being saved or not. Yes, regardless of what we may think, Kieslowski does believe them worthy, just as the old woman is worthy of being helped by Jacob to recycle her bottle. Perhaps the next best amusing detail is that the cheating woman and her lover are lost in the Channel on their yacht, she of the rather unreliable weather prediction service. Sadly, however, Trintignant's dog is also lost.

Flixsters, this 1963 movie is wonderful. Really. I'm not just saying that because I'm an old guy. I promise. Yes, there are hokey moments. Hokey with a capital H. As Walter might say, you can tell from the dialog that this is a movie adapted from a play. It is very clever at times, dialog driven, and very Hokey, as I say, at times. We're talking 1963 here, flixster friends, but romance, and more specifically romantic comedy, when it's done well, is truly timeless. This is what happens, no matter when a movie is made, when you get four very smart, very camera savvy actors to click together. And click they most certainly do. Cliff Robertson, Jane Fonda, Rod Taylor, and Robert Culp are chemistry dynamite here together. A true pleasure to experience, and it's climbing into my Top 100 right now.

Danish filmmaker Lars von Trier, a leader in the Dogme 95 movement (which eschewed artificial lighting and props and promoted digital video), is legendary for his one-of-a-kind approach to moviemaking and the memorable fruits of his labors. In this collaboration with fellow director Jorgen Leth, von Trier challenges Leth to remake his 1967 movie The Perfect Human and documents the entire process, allowing viewers to see two geniuses at work.

Allowing? Allowing! Oh, mahalo nui loa for the crumbs. Flixster friends, I would call your attention to the word "geniuses." Now I know I'm not a smart man. Perfect proof of this fact is that I often make the stupid assumption that when someone uses a word, say a word like "genius" or "geniuses," that this use of the word somehow matches my own idea of what the word means. In this case, I am disappointed in my clueless assumption yet again. I am not watching my idea of geniuses at work here. What I am watching is two very self-absorbed guys, who aren't geniuses in my universe, playing an irritating game, and that game is boring me to death. If only one of them would pull out a gun and introduce the ultimate obstruction -- killing the other one so the pain/film would end abruptly -- like unexpectedly opening the door so that the string goes taught in surprise and pulls the tooth out instantly, when you least expect it. A move like that would be pure genius in my personal dictionary.

Walter, if you haven't already guessed it, I have another winner for our little list.

Even worse, I'm particularly po'd right this minute because, in wasting time watching this piece of cruft, I just realized I've missed two-thirds of a two-hour documentary on Thelonius Monk. Dare I say, a "genius" in my book. Borat this borating movie.

My God, this is painful to watch. Beautifully, lovingly painful. In very much the same way as both Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet and the more recent Memories of Tomorrow (Ashita no kioku ). Absolutely devastating and emotionally draining.

I am no expert in the French language, but there seems to be, given my cursory web search, a bit of a split translation decision on the meaning of La Môme. Is it "the kid" or "the bird/sparrow"? Either works well, although with gender indications, from what little I can figure out, I'd think that the weight would go to "the bird/sparrow." Both are indicative of key aspects of Piaf's life as portrayed: The abysmally harsh but ultimately positive, in terms of her art, shaping influences of her childhood plus the "big" voice from the physically unimposing figure, and the "fact," the primary "artifact" of her talent, her historically recorded "voice."

What a hard and tragic story. You were indeed 100% psychically ahead of your time, Sabina. Cotillard has now garnered her acting due on an international scale. The Oscar is the least she should receive. I don't know Edith Piaf except from a few popular recordings, really, outside of what we see here, but I know in my gut that, as Misael says, Cotillard not only fully encompasses this Piaf role, she is Piaf. "Inhabits" does not even begin to do justice as the perfect description of her performance.

06/07/07: I definitely agree with Sabina on this one. Everything I've read indicates that we will not be disappointed by Marion Cotillard's performance.

We all know the story, we all know how the wheel of fortune turns on these two (age-appropriate actors!) playing possibly the most star-crossed lovers in literary history, yet I always watch this very best film adaptation of R&J with the excruciating yearning to see it turn out differently. I feel I know why I have studiously avoided subjecting myself to the exquisite pain that Zeffirelli brings to the screen: The film is so "true" that it kills me each time with its precise insight into the concept of abject despair. Yea, verily, not only did the course of true love never run smoothly, but it always seems to run, newly realized, as absolutely badly as it can in this tale for the ages of doomed romance.

As I say, Zeffirelli made a point of being the first to cast two actors very close to the actual age of Shakespeare's fated duo. They are so refreshingly young and spontaneous in their acting that this alone is a reason to watch. But the entire cast is so appropriately Shakesperean in their synergy that I can't actually believe anyone has dared to try staging this again since Zeffirelli.

Amazingly, standing out above all others, as I knew many years ago, is John McEnery as Mercutio. His performance alone will repay you for the time you invest in viewing this. What an absolutely perfect casting move. He is Mercutio. And after him, as well, no others will do.

While I agree with you -- to a very small extent --that the terrorist bomber is a figure to be pitied, Roger, sent out to waste his/her life -- and often the lives of innocent victims, which is where pity stops -- by a "braintrust" that is too cowardly to do the deed themselves -- think terrorists like bush/cheney and their ilk -- I have to say that the following statement by you, Roger, gives me pause:

"When religion is involved, it sidesteps the issue, since religion provides an absolute rationale."

The "issue" is the rationale behind going through with a suicide bombing. Ah, Roger, did you listen to the speech that Kais Nashif (Said) gives when he is about to be cut from the project? This speech is the heart of the film, Roger. Don't you understand that he's not talking about his religion, but about what a lousy life he leads and that he refuses to return to it? His life sucks, Mr. Ebert, and that is the absolute "rationale" behind what he finally does. Now that really is pitiful. It's pathetic. I would really rather have him say the principal motivating factor is his religion. Then at least we could imagine that Said believes he's found a higher calling, no matter how twisted it may be. Let's kill innocent people -- and that bus is full of them -- because we have lousy lives. Great. Well, at least it beats bushco: Let's kill innocent people because we're rich, but we want to be richer.

I tell you, flixster friends, this really really really gives one pause. I wonder what Siskel would have said in return? Roger, you ignorant slut? Oh, sorry, that's the Saturday Night Live take on 60 Minutes. Siskel would probably just laugh out loud.

This has been called Stephen Sondheim's masterpiece, and I wouldn't disagree. For musicality, however, I'll take A Little Night Music, or even his integral part in West Side Story as evidence of his better work. There is nothing you'll hear here that you'll come away wanting to whistle or hum, I assure you.