Reviews

I must say after viewing this I only wanted the all-too-oft mentioned Kleenex(tm) box to *THROW* at the television.

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Okay, Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr fall in love on a transatlantic cruise and though they are both bound by fiancees, they agree to meet in six months atop the Empire State Building.

Well, SOMETHING dreadful occurs offscreen to Miss Kerr (we only hear a shriek) and it is never sufficiently explained, one can assume she is paralyzed and unable to walk, but one would think she had been stricken with something terminal, from the odd way she is periodically hospitalized because she is "sick." Does she inform poor Cary, like any sensible person would do? NO, she keeps it from him, senselessly *ashamed* of her handicap. Lepers are more socially responsible than her character is, and rather than wonder if they will get back together in the latter portion of the film, I am left wondering if "handicapped," "disabled," or the by-today's-standards politically incorrect "crippled" was a Blacklisted Word by 1950's standards. At the very very end, Grant struggles to say it, but cannot! STUPID and senseless. The film nearly likens the mere glimpse of (gasp!) a wheelchair as though it were something shocking indeed. Kerr's character even meets up with Grant, well after the mystery-accident, and we KNOW they want to clear things up, but no! She simply can't. I hissed at the television in incredulous anger "What is the big d*mn DEAL?" A sensible person having been presumably plowed by a taxi would simply contact the other when possible and explain.

Wouldn't one?

However *this* character goes into some sort of odd funk in what must be a self-pride issue, needlessly heightened by the non-sequitor choruses of little children at a couple of points. This sudden pathos, indeed suggesting another director stepped in, shifts what might have been a tamer, light romantic comedy ala Doris & Rock into a guilt-ridden, dark pall.

Absolutely senseless.

Kerr's misappropriated shame makes this film incredibly annoying, and renders a somewhat tangible love-story into a true anamoly. I would only recommend this picture to loyal Grant/Kerr fans, not the casual observer. You will want to throw things...

My Stars, my "One line summary" sounds camp, but this picture was truly lovely and very moving for me.

I had seen it years ago, as I am a fan of anything involving period re-creations, but seeing it again recently moved me way past the perfect 1963 backgrounds and the Melmac cups in the kitchen cupboards...

This review may contain *spoilers*, so Viewer Beware.

Michelle Pfieffer portrays a woman obsessed with the glamour of the Kennedy family, particularly Jackie, and is thrilled to catch a glimpse of her as the First Couple arrive at Dallas Love Field Airport on November 22 of '63. Circumstances (humorous ones, at that, in the form of fabulously annoying character actress Peggy Rea) don't allow for her brush with celebrity, and of course the assassination crushes her. Her husband is less than sympathetic as she explains her need to attend the funeral. She escapes anyway, and catches a bus to Washington. She meets up with a black man and his young daughter (Dennis Haysbert and Stephanie McFadden) and the journey becomes very complicated indeed. Intrigue and mystery cloud his initial introduction, however Pfieffer's character is concerned for him, especially for the daughter's welfare. Soon the trio are entwined, and stubborn ethics keep them from abandoning one another. This is when they are suddenly on their own, and the story takes off.

Visually, the mixture is wonderful - the extremely "white" and VERY blonde Pfieffer, trying her hardest to look like Jackie even down to her home-made suits, and the curious "coloured man" and his silent, somewhat frightened daughter. Both actors are absolutely excellent as two individuals who become literal victims of their own time. There are the subtle vocal references to the child as "a coloured girl" by Pfieffer, who holds no prejudice but simply talks the way everyone else does; and then the stronger and much more "controversial" implications of the man and the woman and any kind of a relationship they may have, however shadowed by the mores of the early 60's, the confusion and upset the World is undergoing due to Kennedy's murder, and even the geographic locales they travel through.

We are reminded that Pfieffer's character is still a married, albeit unhappily, woman of principle, and that the mere sight of an interracial couple in that time would cause near hysterics - still we WANT them to overcome it all, and the fact that the very human need for love has to be compromised by the times is communicated intensely yet with enough restraint that the characters do not suffer being imbued with too much "foresight."

Stephanie McFadden as the 6-year-old daughter is incredible as well, her facial expressions saying so much more than the six or seven lines she speaks in the whole picture. Her poignant close ups drive the viewer to WILL her to understand, to see what is happening around her, comprehend it, see beyond it, but of course she cannot. Much of the story is this way, one wants to just clear away the limitations and the social ills and let them all BE. There are moments of tension (rednecks [they are even credited as such!] that pass the couple on the road and then come back to stir up trouble) balanced by those of palpable relief (a curious, inexpressive old woman and her retired husband, who take the three in for a night). This is sufficient to provide a realistic level of suspense, even angst, but it is the triumph of overcoming barriers, whether they are bad husbands who just don't know any better, or suspicious and bigoted backwoods policemen, that make for the emotions one experiences while watching.

This picture left me wondering who and where these brilliant people are, the writer, Don Roos, and dual-producers Sarah Pillsbury and Midge Sanford, and particularly director Jonathan Kaplan. Why haven't we heard of these folks, and why wasn't this beautiful film hailed in 1992? Rarely, very rarely, have I seen a picture that left me wanting to personally congratulate the folks directly responsible for it!

Needless to say, but important to emphasize, production values shine in all forms, as the film contains some spectacular period-recreations of downtown Dallas and other townships, even down to the store-front displays and seas of vintage vehicles buzzing around (Oliver Stone eat your heart out!), and the shockingly realistic Love Field Airport scenes, complete with the obligatory Pink Nubbly Suit on an incredible Jackie K. look-alike, are stunning. The interiors, the magazines in the racks, everything, is spot on; and the photography is breathtaking, as unpicturesque as a bus in the middle of Nowhere, Virginia, may seem to be.

A splendid, highly recommended motion picture in ALL regards.

Multiple stars. Much praise!

I adore 1962's Lolita, and having just viewed the beautifully photographed and somewhat more serious-from-the-get-go 1997 version, my thought is, if only the two films were combined I would be thoroughly delighted.

Impossible as this is, I so enjoyed Shelley Winters as Charlotte Haze (1962), trying to win over the droll professor Humbert, who, of course, is drawn to board with her so as to be close to her lovely young daughter Lolita. Charming as James Mason played it in '62, Jeremy Irons won me over thoroughly as he seemed so genuine and so dastardly attractive, that I might be moved by him as well if I were 12 years old! In retrospect, Mason seemed almost too old. Irons also brings about a deeper sympathy for his Humbert in the same way Tony Perkins did for Norman in "Psycho." He is so adorable and sort of lost, that you've gotta like him! Sue Lyons also seemed too old, in the '62 version, yet her aloofness and dated teen-aged ways charmed me, as did her recurring "theme", which the '97 Lo (Dominique Swain) lacks.

The matter of the sinister Clare Quilty (Frank Langella) **POSSIBLE SPOILER!*** is dealt with in a much more harrowing manner in the later film, and adds genuine drama to the story (WHO is this person, WHY don't we see his face clearly, WHY is he always in the background, etc.), and he is a thousand times more ominous than Peter Sellers' goofy characterization of same in '62. As vulgar and frightening as Quilty is, I understand him and his motivations much better, and merely the fact that he is kept a dramatic secret until the latter part of the film is much more gratifying plot-wise. The back and forth flashback nature of Irons, his confrontation with Quilty, somehow add much more suspense than the almost amusing confrontation in the '62 version and the dreadfully serious latter third. Somehow the continuity in the '97 version is maintained, perhaps *because* the humor is kept to a minimum in the first half? An interesting debate. **End Spoiler!**

Also, the many delightful humorous moments in Kubrick's '62 version are done away with almost entirely in this picture. The very sexually suggestive, "Broad-Minded" friends of Mrs. Haze, the Farlowes, are reduced to a mere mention; and there are none of the awkward social scenes, such as Mrs. Haze's constant flirting, the difficulty Humbert and Lolita encounter in checking into a Motel the first time, and the tedious scenes with the porter and that ridiculous cot. If these elements (a scary Quilty, the humor, the cot, Winters as Charlotte and Irons as Humbert) were magically woven into one film, I would dance and dance, as it would then seem to me, perfect.

I highly recommend BOTH pictures, however, for all the above mentioned favorable reasons. The cinematography and period locales in the later film are stunningly photographed and historically accurate down to the period candy packages and road maps in the glove box, and the costumes, cars, the COLOR, and even the incidental radio-music works splendidly. The shots of the nasty old coin-operated "Magic Fingers" unit in one of the many Motels along the way brought back fond, if not dreary, childhood vacation memories...

A lovely film, but see both! It is like a nice variation on a theme, sad as it may be.