bejasus

This film probably has the highest ratio of great lines/minute of any film other than "Withnail and I." If you liked "Withnail and I," you might like this one. For all their differences, the two films share many of the same characteristics: a great script, a couple of grifters as main characters, quotable lines, funny scenes, and one or two moments that will break your heart. The two main characters in this film are also scroungers -- but at a high-end London hotel. The film follows them as they try to climb out of a hole they've dug for themselves, but the plot is less important than the characters. It's a great cast, working with a clever script. Like "Withnail and I," it's funny and ironic, but about love and hopes and individual identity underneath all that. Some of the scenes -- the funny ones and the bittersweet ones -- have stayed with me for years. I think it is John Malkovich's best role (which is saying something); Andi McDowell's also (which is saying less, but she is well nigh perfect in this).

Ondine had so much going for it: Neil Jordan, Colin Farrell, Stephen Rea, the southwest coast of Ireland, the selkie myth, the complexity of modern Ireland. But the film was surprisingly poor. It starts off very promising, and that promise is a film that offers an interesting mix of fairy tale and realism. But the mix gets muddled about halfway through, and the last twenty minutes are ridiculously poor. The scenery is beautiful. Colin Farrell at his most handsome. The soundtrack is lovely. But the acting, across the board, is mediocre -- primarily, I think, because the screenplay just doesn't hold up. But I also think the little girl is weak, and woman who plays Ondine is just vacuous, not mysterious. I forced myself to watch it a second time, just in case I just came to it with false expectations, and found it to be worse the second time around. Once you know the ending, you can see that the earlier scenes don't add up: they were "tricks" that the film plays on you.

I wanted to like this, and it started strong, but Downton Abbey is just terribly written and awkwardly paced. Every time it creates a little tension, it seems to want to relieve it, post-haste. And the resolutions it comes up with are often trite, sometimes out of character, and almost always anticlimactic. It's fluff at best, with some entertaining bits and pieces. Maggie Smith, in particular, carries the whole thing, like Atlas. But it's Maggie Smith, not the character and definitely not the script, at work in that one consistently good thread. By the last episode, even the lethargic, bland yellow lab got under my skin when it appeared, as if all its scenes had been shot in the same 10 minutes.