Who Are You
I really wanna know.
BY GREGORY
I think Billy Joel reached an early -- possibly all-time -- career peak with The Stranger, a poignant work of self-
expression more psychologically revealing (and, in the case of the title track, creepy) even than Camus. Right down to
the haunting and oh-too-relatable cover image. That such sweetness (“Just the Way You Are”), not-so-sweetness
(“She’s Always a Woman”), angry autonomy (“Movin’ Out [Anthony’s Song]”), rocky romance (“Scenes from an
Italian Restaurant”), and spiritual vexation and release (“Only the Good Die Young”; “Vienna”) could all be wed under the
banner of lost (stolen?) identity proved a masterstroke. Thirty years later, with all the damned gadgetry by which people
currently define themselves and their Friends™, it seems that true, organic Identity has slipped even further from our
grasp. How timely, then, that two new films -- one ostensibly pure populist popcorn pizzazz and the other a subtly
brilliant art-house darling -- arrive to probe the uncomfortable question of what makes us who we are -- and how
obliviously we may fumble that essence.
The films are Away From Her and Spider-Man 3: the latter a LOUD global cha-ching! boasting the budget,
approximately, of a particularly fancy lunar mission; the former a work of quiet portraiture coming in at under $5 million
Canadian. What have they in common? The same themes that made Billy Joel a superstar three decades ago (see above).
Adding a layer, I am of the belief that movies reflect their times and the people enduring (or, in the case of the fortunate
and/or delusional minority, enjoying) them -- far more than merely depicting bad guys bludgeoning good guys, or old
people having feelings. As roles and identities are now pummeled by a merciless, highly addictive tidal wave of
Information, we have entered the age of The Stranger as Everyperson, and thus these two films prove more universally
telling than was likely intended in their original conceptions.
Which isn’t to say that we can’t have fun with this ÜberCiné Double Bill™ (the beauty of which being that both films
are, in their ways, superb).
With no further ado: In this corner, weighing in at 5,000+ screens, is reigning champion Sam Raimi -- a fun geek from
Michigan who used to chase his buddies around in the woods, with beans for budget. And in that corner, weighing in at
-- what, a dozen screens? maybe twenty? (Research has indicated that it opened on four) -- is fledgling feature director
Sarah Polley – a British girl from Canada and a lifelong Industry veteran of refreshingly expansive range and intellect,
who used to do things like portray Ramona Quimby and sing Jane Siberry songs.
As a helpful primer for you, Reader, allow me to illuminate the respective narratives of these two movies. Spider-Man 3
concerns affable youngish photographer Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire, playing broad and simple…mainly) struggling
against Sony’s injunction that this particular sequel must contain so many adversaries and points of conflict as to make
Batman & Robin or X-Men: The “Last” Stand appear as elegant as Noh theatre. Meanwhile, Away From Her concerns
Julie Christie finally winning another Oscar.
The thing is, Peter Parker visits his wannabe Broadway star girlfriend Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst, still primarily
petulant) for her big singing debut, then smooches her in Central Park within a big spiderweb made out of goo spurted
from his own body. Normal enough, as such things go. (We’ll leave the ramifications to the Women’s Studies Dept.)
Then some meteorite hosting what appears to be furious, CG-animated crude oil-type Gunk smashes down (unnoticed?),
and a bit of said Gunk (what of the rest of it??) affixes itself to the back end of Peter’s Check-Out-How-Humble-And-
Earnest-I-Am! scooter. Whoops. The crux of this overly complicated (but enjoyable) movie is that the Gunk is, y’know,
a space symbiote -- meaning in lay terms that it attaches itself to living things and violently catalyses their Shadow
emotions (see: Jung 101) -- generally causing a ruckus (IMHO, the very best scenes in this movie) with a generous side-
dish of bringing forth the standard “I Don’t Even Know Who You Are Anymore!” response from the unlucky romantic
partner. Meanwhile, Julie Christie’s Fiona is a lovely Ontario woman who develops Alzheimer’s Disease, inadvertently
forcing her own version of Mary Jane -- her devoted husband of four and a half decades, Grant (Gordon Pinsent; every
bit as worthy come trophy-time) -- to come to terms with the agony of her losing herself (more gradually, as the Gunk
here is internal and slower) as well as everything they had together.
With Peter and Fiona as our primary analogues, we may further explore the chemistry of their lives and loves. Fiona’s
world is a sweet North Country haven, a series of crisp, wintry tableaux (Polley is an excellent technical -- as well as
emotional -- director; and her editor-husband David Wharnsby ain’t chopped liver neither) through which she blissfully
cross-country skis until one evening she has trouble remembering where (and, to an extent, who) she is. She and Grant
greet her sad diagnosis with the warmth and humour of love, but nonetheless a disturbing chapter has begun: Grant will
need to take Fiona to a sterile live-in facility where, very most likely, her mental decay will continue, albeit in relative
comfort. On the other hand, Peter’s world is New York City, all noise and zaniness, in which he swoops around as
superhero Spider-Man (see: previous movies; all about equally good, IMHO) with his identity-concealing mask blithely
ditched almost as much as worn. Given that he’s already got two quite disparate identities to juggle, what a surprise it is
when the Gunk follows him home to his humble apartment and transforms his Red Suit into the ominous Black Suit --
bringing forth Peter’s Dark Side (and Hallelujah for that -- the Hitler hairdo and slightly overdone eyeliner make a great
giggle, and watching the normally borderline-annoying Maguire swagger and sneer is truly a treat). Essentially affording
Peter some much-needed Mojo (or is it Chutzpah: He actually answers his apartment building's payphone with
“Shalom!”), the Gunk (which inexplicably knows how to emulate the mask without actually affixing itself to it) proves
highly addictive. Witness Mary Jane -- already crushed and fired via lousy reviews as her boyfriend’s superhero star
rises ever higher -- having to contend not only with her own consuming jealousies but also with a boyfriend turned big-
time Playa (and I don’t mean “beach”).
The crux, then: Getting into the Black Suit turns a person into an aggressive, self-obsessed asshole -- rather like an SUV.
Granted, Spider-Man 3 is ostensibly about the hero zipping around saving people from bad guys (and lots of skyscraper-
girders) in really outrageously hyperkinetic CG environments, whereas Away From Her – but for one hilarious patient
who has slipped permanently into his former job as sports commentator (the comical parallel in Spidey being Bruce
Campbell as a “French” maître d’) -- focuses on gentle and vulnerable moments between and among mostly senior-age
people (imagine an entire movie of Aunt Mays -- Rosemary Harris excellent as usual, incidentally), with no special effects
whatsoever (unless you count the eerie-feedbacky soundscape -- “This music is weird!” -Person Sitting Near Me At
UCLA -- plus a commons room smoked up way beyond health code regulations) -- however, at the end of the day (or
year), I think that, beyond “Venom is wicked cool!” (I wasn’t so impressed) or “Greatest performance of the year!” (I
was so impressed), what will really resound from both of these films is the deeply sorrowful notion of someone beloved
no longer being who they used to be. The difference is that Peter’s disintegration involves heightened libido and even
violence (witness his nastily overconfident battle with on-again-off-again friend-adversary Harry Osbourne; James
Franco) -- all of which causes pain to the already screwed-up Mary Jane -- whereas Fiona’s knives to Grant’s heart are
quietly cruel, as when she greets her man as a Stranger and flatly says, “You are a persistent one, aren’t you?”
Of course, whenever people get lost they tend to attempt to project their joy and affection onto the most convenient
“easy” candidate, and in the case of Spider-Man 3 this is Opie’s daughter, Bryce Dallas Howard -- nearly unrecognisable
in a hottie-blonde get-up. As police captain’s daughter Gwen Stacy, she is the balm for Black Suit Peter’s burn, and --
especially in a slammin’ nightclub scene which, for my money, delivers the movie’s true centrepiece – she is used
(although, in the throes of Bad Peter’s passion, she does not initially realise it) as a pawn for the affections of Mary Jane,
who has been demoted from brief Broadway glory to lowly singing waitress. Especially given that honchos with
boatloads of money were apparently yanking Raimi’s strings, the sequences of romantic struggle and heartache prove
unusually touching for a superhero movie -- and I don’t generally find Dunst and Maguire all that interesting, but in this
milieu they cook. On a slower simmer, the parallel in Away From Her has Fiona discovering -- much to Grant’s bravely
concealed dismay -- her Alzheimer’s soulmate in also-degenerating old flame Aubrey (Michael Murphy, appropriately
blank, manages one uncomfortable chuckle). He needs her, he sketches her, she clings to him. It’s pathetic, especially
for Grant, but -- as with Mary Jane -- there’s not a whole lot he can do about it, while the hints of troubled backstory
prove achingly tantalising.
Of course, in addition to the decidedly not-Zen loss of Self, both films summon forth a host of supporting characters to
heighten the melodrama. If any kids happen to read down this far, they’ll be interested in knowing whether or not I think
Sandman (Thomas Haden Church, grimacing for all he’s worth) and Venom (Topher Grace, basically being a meanie)
are, y’know, cool. Well, I’ll join the ranks in stating that they’re not Green Goblin- or Doc Ock-cool, but they’re okay.
Sandman’s sad backstory involves Theresa Russell and Perla Haney-Jardine as his long-suffering family, as a police
chase lands him in one of those huge, outdoor Molecular-DNA-Transmogrifying doohickies conventionally protected by
a flimsy chain-link fence with one lame warning sign hanging on it. Boom: He’s CG-outtakes from the Mummy movies.
Okay. As for Venom, he’s a leering, rotten, Catholic photographer (A Catholic villain; how imaginative of Hollywood!)
who accidentally catches fragments of the Black Suit and turns into a sort of fanged, screeching, Super-Vicious Super-
Spidey. Again: Okay. Except, like, how come he can shoot webs (which, in the first place, should zip out of Peter
Parker’s ass -- just like a spider -- if you think about it, which we’d better not) when he hasn’t actually been genetically
transformed, as Peter has. Mysterious. Oh, well. Mainly I caught some good giggles when Peter, exasperated, asks,
“Where do all these guys come from!?” -- after having just battled a villain in a speeding money-truck.
In Away From Her, the stakes are just as high, but the interactions could be said to be a bit more subtle. As the woeful
love-triangle of Grant, Fiona and Aubrey tests Grant’s mettle, Aubrey’s lonely wife Marian (Olympia Dukakis, funny,
sharp and very touching) takes a shine to Grant, tries her best to issue him (via dancing, most poignantly) into a new
chapter (and bed). Meanwhile, Grant’s ordeal at the mental facility is handled with particular deftness, as stern chief
nurse Madeleine (Wendy Crewson, tough role, excellent) informs Grant that when Fiona’s condition “progresses” she
will need to move to the dreaded second floor, and compassionate assistant Kristy (Kristen Thomson, the movie’s
brightest spark) does her personally-beleaguered best to bring forth Grant’s cheer in his painful bewilderment. There’s
also an amazing scene involving a young wannabe “Goth” named Veronica (Deanna Dezmari, spot-on) who first
presumes that Grant is a patient, and then is romantically wowed by his dedication. Nobody actually gets hung up via
black webs in a taxicab atop a skyscraper, but the scope of human emotion is nonetheless mesmerising.
That's probably because both of these films spring from Literature: Alice Munro's short story "The Bear Came Over the
Mountain" and some comic book, respectively.
Incidentally, Spider-Man 3's soundtrack feels extremely gratuitous and tacked-on by A&R execs, but Neil Young's
"Harvest Moon" is so of a piece with Away From Her -- it fills a significant early montage -- that the otherwise
substantial film would lose something vital without it.
Although both directorial contenders are Getting At Something here, I still fiind myself preferring Pulp Raimi to
Meaningful Raimi, as much of Spider-Man 3 (right down to its climactic battle) reminds me of a messy rehash of
Darkman -- which is, for the most part, a compliment. The man is a natural entertainer. As stated, the Self-loss scenes
prove best, but moreover one gets the feeling that Sam is vying to blow some zany yuks into a gigantic machine -- and
while this film is less amusing than, say, Army of Darkness (which trades on winks instead of megadollars), the franchise
generally gets my blessing for its fun factor, this installment included. The true revelation, however, is Polley behind the
camera, filling each frame with such knowing (and, often, difficult) feeling that her expressive abilities surely belie her
twenty-eight years. Away From Her is one of the most confident and unforgettable debuts I have ever seen, made all the
more impressive by the tenderness she shows for the fragile humans of her tale. I can’t wait to see what she does next.
And, speaking of doing things next, Billy Joel is sort of a New York Superhero -- plus he’s technically a Senior. Since the
dilemma of Self-loss caught my attention through both the explosive web-slinging and the sombre mind-losing, perhaps
this strange age is a good time for the Piano Man to revisit The Stranger. In between movies, I for one would like to hear
his revised take on where we now go, behind the masks.
Away From Her
Entertainment Value: 10/13
Style: 12/13
Philosophical Insight: 12/13
The Bottom Line: The Bittersweet Here
Spider-Man 3
Entertainment Value: 10/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
The Bottom Line: Do ya love me, Mary Jane?
-Gregory Weinkauf, 3 May, 2007
I really wanna know.
BY GREGORY
I think Billy Joel reached an early -- possibly all-time -- career peak with The Stranger, a poignant work of self-
expression more psychologically revealing (and, in the case of the title track, creepy) even than Camus. Right down to
the haunting and oh-too-relatable cover image. That such sweetness (“Just the Way You Are”), not-so-sweetness
(“She’s Always a Woman”), angry autonomy (“Movin’ Out [Anthony’s Song]”), rocky romance (“Scenes from an
Italian Restaurant”), and spiritual vexation and release (“Only the Good Die Young”; “Vienna”) could all be wed under the
banner of lost (stolen?) identity proved a masterstroke. Thirty years later, with all the damned gadgetry by which people
currently define themselves and their Friends™, it seems that true, organic Identity has slipped even further from our
grasp. How timely, then, that two new films -- one ostensibly pure populist popcorn pizzazz and the other a subtly
brilliant art-house darling -- arrive to probe the uncomfortable question of what makes us who we are -- and how
obliviously we may fumble that essence.
The films are Away From Her and Spider-Man 3: the latter a LOUD global cha-ching! boasting the budget,
approximately, of a particularly fancy lunar mission; the former a work of quiet portraiture coming in at under $5 million
Canadian. What have they in common? The same themes that made Billy Joel a superstar three decades ago (see above).
Adding a layer, I am of the belief that movies reflect their times and the people enduring (or, in the case of the fortunate
and/or delusional minority, enjoying) them -- far more than merely depicting bad guys bludgeoning good guys, or old
people having feelings. As roles and identities are now pummeled by a merciless, highly addictive tidal wave of
Information, we have entered the age of The Stranger as Everyperson, and thus these two films prove more universally
telling than was likely intended in their original conceptions.
Which isn’t to say that we can’t have fun with this ÜberCiné Double Bill™ (the beauty of which being that both films
are, in their ways, superb).
With no further ado: In this corner, weighing in at 5,000+ screens, is reigning champion Sam Raimi -- a fun geek from
Michigan who used to chase his buddies around in the woods, with beans for budget. And in that corner, weighing in at
-- what, a dozen screens? maybe twenty? (Research has indicated that it opened on four) -- is fledgling feature director
Sarah Polley – a British girl from Canada and a lifelong Industry veteran of refreshingly expansive range and intellect,
who used to do things like portray Ramona Quimby and sing Jane Siberry songs.
As a helpful primer for you, Reader, allow me to illuminate the respective narratives of these two movies. Spider-Man 3
concerns affable youngish photographer Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire, playing broad and simple…mainly) struggling
against Sony’s injunction that this particular sequel must contain so many adversaries and points of conflict as to make
Batman & Robin or X-Men: The “Last” Stand appear as elegant as Noh theatre. Meanwhile, Away From Her concerns
Julie Christie finally winning another Oscar.
The thing is, Peter Parker visits his wannabe Broadway star girlfriend Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst, still primarily
petulant) for her big singing debut, then smooches her in Central Park within a big spiderweb made out of goo spurted
from his own body. Normal enough, as such things go. (We’ll leave the ramifications to the Women’s Studies Dept.)
Then some meteorite hosting what appears to be furious, CG-animated crude oil-type Gunk smashes down (unnoticed?),
and a bit of said Gunk (what of the rest of it??) affixes itself to the back end of Peter’s Check-Out-How-Humble-And-
Earnest-I-Am! scooter. Whoops. The crux of this overly complicated (but enjoyable) movie is that the Gunk is, y’know,
a space symbiote -- meaning in lay terms that it attaches itself to living things and violently catalyses their Shadow
emotions (see: Jung 101) -- generally causing a ruckus (IMHO, the very best scenes in this movie) with a generous side-
dish of bringing forth the standard “I Don’t Even Know Who You Are Anymore!” response from the unlucky romantic
partner. Meanwhile, Julie Christie’s Fiona is a lovely Ontario woman who develops Alzheimer’s Disease, inadvertently
forcing her own version of Mary Jane -- her devoted husband of four and a half decades, Grant (Gordon Pinsent; every
bit as worthy come trophy-time) -- to come to terms with the agony of her losing herself (more gradually, as the Gunk
here is internal and slower) as well as everything they had together.
With Peter and Fiona as our primary analogues, we may further explore the chemistry of their lives and loves. Fiona’s
world is a sweet North Country haven, a series of crisp, wintry tableaux (Polley is an excellent technical -- as well as
emotional -- director; and her editor-husband David Wharnsby ain’t chopped liver neither) through which she blissfully
cross-country skis until one evening she has trouble remembering where (and, to an extent, who) she is. She and Grant
greet her sad diagnosis with the warmth and humour of love, but nonetheless a disturbing chapter has begun: Grant will
need to take Fiona to a sterile live-in facility where, very most likely, her mental decay will continue, albeit in relative
comfort. On the other hand, Peter’s world is New York City, all noise and zaniness, in which he swoops around as
superhero Spider-Man (see: previous movies; all about equally good, IMHO) with his identity-concealing mask blithely
ditched almost as much as worn. Given that he’s already got two quite disparate identities to juggle, what a surprise it is
when the Gunk follows him home to his humble apartment and transforms his Red Suit into the ominous Black Suit --
bringing forth Peter’s Dark Side (and Hallelujah for that -- the Hitler hairdo and slightly overdone eyeliner make a great
giggle, and watching the normally borderline-annoying Maguire swagger and sneer is truly a treat). Essentially affording
Peter some much-needed Mojo (or is it Chutzpah: He actually answers his apartment building's payphone with
“Shalom!”), the Gunk (which inexplicably knows how to emulate the mask without actually affixing itself to it) proves
highly addictive. Witness Mary Jane -- already crushed and fired via lousy reviews as her boyfriend’s superhero star
rises ever higher -- having to contend not only with her own consuming jealousies but also with a boyfriend turned big-
time Playa (and I don’t mean “beach”).
The crux, then: Getting into the Black Suit turns a person into an aggressive, self-obsessed asshole -- rather like an SUV.
Granted, Spider-Man 3 is ostensibly about the hero zipping around saving people from bad guys (and lots of skyscraper-
girders) in really outrageously hyperkinetic CG environments, whereas Away From Her – but for one hilarious patient
who has slipped permanently into his former job as sports commentator (the comical parallel in Spidey being Bruce
Campbell as a “French” maître d’) -- focuses on gentle and vulnerable moments between and among mostly senior-age
people (imagine an entire movie of Aunt Mays -- Rosemary Harris excellent as usual, incidentally), with no special effects
whatsoever (unless you count the eerie-feedbacky soundscape -- “This music is weird!” -Person Sitting Near Me At
UCLA -- plus a commons room smoked up way beyond health code regulations) -- however, at the end of the day (or
year), I think that, beyond “Venom is wicked cool!” (I wasn’t so impressed) or “Greatest performance of the year!” (I
was so impressed), what will really resound from both of these films is the deeply sorrowful notion of someone beloved
no longer being who they used to be. The difference is that Peter’s disintegration involves heightened libido and even
violence (witness his nastily overconfident battle with on-again-off-again friend-adversary Harry Osbourne; James
Franco) -- all of which causes pain to the already screwed-up Mary Jane -- whereas Fiona’s knives to Grant’s heart are
quietly cruel, as when she greets her man as a Stranger and flatly says, “You are a persistent one, aren’t you?”
Of course, whenever people get lost they tend to attempt to project their joy and affection onto the most convenient
“easy” candidate, and in the case of Spider-Man 3 this is Opie’s daughter, Bryce Dallas Howard -- nearly unrecognisable
in a hottie-blonde get-up. As police captain’s daughter Gwen Stacy, she is the balm for Black Suit Peter’s burn, and --
especially in a slammin’ nightclub scene which, for my money, delivers the movie’s true centrepiece – she is used
(although, in the throes of Bad Peter’s passion, she does not initially realise it) as a pawn for the affections of Mary Jane,
who has been demoted from brief Broadway glory to lowly singing waitress. Especially given that honchos with
boatloads of money were apparently yanking Raimi’s strings, the sequences of romantic struggle and heartache prove
unusually touching for a superhero movie -- and I don’t generally find Dunst and Maguire all that interesting, but in this
milieu they cook. On a slower simmer, the parallel in Away From Her has Fiona discovering -- much to Grant’s bravely
concealed dismay -- her Alzheimer’s soulmate in also-degenerating old flame Aubrey (Michael Murphy, appropriately
blank, manages one uncomfortable chuckle). He needs her, he sketches her, she clings to him. It’s pathetic, especially
for Grant, but -- as with Mary Jane -- there’s not a whole lot he can do about it, while the hints of troubled backstory
prove achingly tantalising.
Of course, in addition to the decidedly not-Zen loss of Self, both films summon forth a host of supporting characters to
heighten the melodrama. If any kids happen to read down this far, they’ll be interested in knowing whether or not I think
Sandman (Thomas Haden Church, grimacing for all he’s worth) and Venom (Topher Grace, basically being a meanie)
are, y’know, cool. Well, I’ll join the ranks in stating that they’re not Green Goblin- or Doc Ock-cool, but they’re okay.
Sandman’s sad backstory involves Theresa Russell and Perla Haney-Jardine as his long-suffering family, as a police
chase lands him in one of those huge, outdoor Molecular-DNA-Transmogrifying doohickies conventionally protected by
a flimsy chain-link fence with one lame warning sign hanging on it. Boom: He’s CG-outtakes from the Mummy movies.
Okay. As for Venom, he’s a leering, rotten, Catholic photographer (A Catholic villain; how imaginative of Hollywood!)
who accidentally catches fragments of the Black Suit and turns into a sort of fanged, screeching, Super-Vicious Super-
Spidey. Again: Okay. Except, like, how come he can shoot webs (which, in the first place, should zip out of Peter
Parker’s ass -- just like a spider -- if you think about it, which we’d better not) when he hasn’t actually been genetically
transformed, as Peter has. Mysterious. Oh, well. Mainly I caught some good giggles when Peter, exasperated, asks,
“Where do all these guys come from!?” -- after having just battled a villain in a speeding money-truck.
In Away From Her, the stakes are just as high, but the interactions could be said to be a bit more subtle. As the woeful
love-triangle of Grant, Fiona and Aubrey tests Grant’s mettle, Aubrey’s lonely wife Marian (Olympia Dukakis, funny,
sharp and very touching) takes a shine to Grant, tries her best to issue him (via dancing, most poignantly) into a new
chapter (and bed). Meanwhile, Grant’s ordeal at the mental facility is handled with particular deftness, as stern chief
nurse Madeleine (Wendy Crewson, tough role, excellent) informs Grant that when Fiona’s condition “progresses” she
will need to move to the dreaded second floor, and compassionate assistant Kristy (Kristen Thomson, the movie’s
brightest spark) does her personally-beleaguered best to bring forth Grant’s cheer in his painful bewilderment. There’s
also an amazing scene involving a young wannabe “Goth” named Veronica (Deanna Dezmari, spot-on) who first
presumes that Grant is a patient, and then is romantically wowed by his dedication. Nobody actually gets hung up via
black webs in a taxicab atop a skyscraper, but the scope of human emotion is nonetheless mesmerising.
That's probably because both of these films spring from Literature: Alice Munro's short story "The Bear Came Over the
Mountain" and some comic book, respectively.
Incidentally, Spider-Man 3's soundtrack feels extremely gratuitous and tacked-on by A&R execs, but Neil Young's
"Harvest Moon" is so of a piece with Away From Her -- it fills a significant early montage -- that the otherwise
substantial film would lose something vital without it.
Although both directorial contenders are Getting At Something here, I still fiind myself preferring Pulp Raimi to
Meaningful Raimi, as much of Spider-Man 3 (right down to its climactic battle) reminds me of a messy rehash of
Darkman -- which is, for the most part, a compliment. The man is a natural entertainer. As stated, the Self-loss scenes
prove best, but moreover one gets the feeling that Sam is vying to blow some zany yuks into a gigantic machine -- and
while this film is less amusing than, say, Army of Darkness (which trades on winks instead of megadollars), the franchise
generally gets my blessing for its fun factor, this installment included. The true revelation, however, is Polley behind the
camera, filling each frame with such knowing (and, often, difficult) feeling that her expressive abilities surely belie her
twenty-eight years. Away From Her is one of the most confident and unforgettable debuts I have ever seen, made all the
more impressive by the tenderness she shows for the fragile humans of her tale. I can’t wait to see what she does next.
And, speaking of doing things next, Billy Joel is sort of a New York Superhero -- plus he’s technically a Senior. Since the
dilemma of Self-loss caught my attention through both the explosive web-slinging and the sombre mind-losing, perhaps
this strange age is a good time for the Piano Man to revisit The Stranger. In between movies, I for one would like to hear
his revised take on where we now go, behind the masks.
Away From Her
Entertainment Value: 10/13
Style: 12/13
Philosophical Insight: 12/13
The Bottom Line: The Bittersweet Here
Spider-Man 3
Entertainment Value: 10/13
Style: 10/13
Philosophical Insight: 10/13
The Bottom Line: Do ya love me, Mary Jane?
-Gregory Weinkauf, 3 May, 2007
| REVIEWS |
| ÜberCiné |
™
| All Material Here © ÜberCiné (unless otherwise noted) - All Rights Reserved. |
 | |  |
| "I'll...erm...erm..." © 2006 Lionsgate |
| "I'll save you!" © 2007 Columbia Pictures |